by Cat Marsters
“Kett?” Chance asked. “You still with us?”
Kett shook herself and started down the hill toward the white tower. “Sure,” she said. “Just thinking.”
“About Bael?” Chance asked slyly.
“Only how I’ll clock him one next time I see him,” Kett muttered.
“Will you be staying on the island?” Dark asked, and she shook her head.
“No. I’m going to look in the library for those cave symbols and unless the answer immediately presents itself, I’m going home.”
“Elvyrn?”
“No,” Kett said patiently. “Home home. In the mountains, with the dragons. They don’t ask annoying questions,” she added in an undertone.
“They don’t speak at all,” Chance said, rolling her exquisite eyes.
“Thus the basis of their appeal.”
As they grew closer to the beautiful tower, to the still rocks, to the chattering water of the courtyard’s fountains, Kett heard the clash of steel, the thunder of hooves and the cries of unsuccessful opponents.
“You know, if you wanted us to track down Bael,” Chance began, and Kett shot her a venomous look.
“I’d honestly be quite happy never seeing him again. Besides, given his penchant for princesses, he’d probably go after Eithne or Beyla, and then Tyrnan would kill him. Actually…” She trailed off, considering.
“Have you considered that he might have something to do with why you were strung up in that cave?” Dark asked, and Kett shook her head.
“No. Well, I mean yes, I considered it, but I just don’t expect he’s got the brain power for it.”
“Harsh,” Chance said.
“Or the motivation. He don’t know me.”
“He could be an agent for someone else.”
“Someone else stupid,” Kett opined. “He was strung up with me too.” She chewed her lip, wishing she had a cigar handy. “The only starting point I’ve got is the Federación.”
Thunder crossed Dark’s face. Even Chance’s radiant countenance dimmed a little.
“And there ain’t a lot of information on them,” Kett said. “And frankly, right now I’ve half a mind to just forget about it.”
“You could have been killed,” Dark said, and Chance nodded vigorously.
“The Kett I used to know would never—”
“The Kett you used to know got herself whipped and beaten and divorced and jailed and killed,” Kett snapped.
Silence blew about them. Kett stomped ahead down the hill, her voice nearly lost in the wind.
“I just want a quiet life.”
* * * * *
“So what I want to know is, how good are your girls?”
It wasn’t a question Bael had ever figured he’d be asking. He’d never actually had to pay a woman to sleep with him before. Well, not with actual money. And yet here he sat, discussing terms with a woman who amounted to a pimp.
A very ladylike, elegant and well-spoken pimp, but a pimp nonetheless. Although she probably called herself a booking agent or something.
“I assure you, Monsieur Var, that each and every Associée is well schooled in the arts of pleasuring a man.”
“Right,” Bael said, not correcting her on his name. Var wasn’t his surname, it was his animal twin. But he really didn’t need to get into that with her now. “Well, so is BonBon LeSalle, and she could get an erection out of a stone. And yet…”
And yet busty, cute, giggly BonBon had been faced with a limp-dicked Bael. And it wasn’t just her, either. She was simply the latest in a long line of unsuccessful girls. After he’d gotten home from Nihon—narrowly avoiding the Emperor and his entourage—he’d gone for a quick pint or two at a local bar and, feeling a little crappy over stealing away from Kett with not so much as a goodbye, he’d tried to distract himself with some female company.
And got nowhere. It had never happened to Bael before, but he’d shrugged it off as the result of too much alcohol or not really fancying the girl enough. But it nagged at his mind, and the next night he’d found himself with another girl. And the same problem. Then another and another. And no matter how much stroking, licking, stripteasing, breast-wanking or deep-throating they tried, his uncooperative penis hadn’t even twitched.
Bael was so alarmed he’d asked his father’s old friend, Albhar, a man with a library full of magical knowledge inside his head, if he could find any problems. But all Albhar had done was wave a few crystals at him, tell him he was fine and mutter on about Bael’s lack of magical ability.
“Your father could have done this for himself,” he said, and Bael, as he always did when his sainted father’s research was mentioned, stopped listening.
After that he visited a doctor, who gave him a totally clean bill of health.
Which meant there was really only one answer. And that terrified him even more than the thought of a useless penis.
“Do not worry, Monsieur. You have assured me there are no medical grounds for your,” the tiniest pause, “condition, and I am confident that any one of our girls can help you.”
“One? No no, I want two. Or three. At least. The more the merrier. The best you’ve got.”
“Monsieur, that will be quite an undertaking—”
“I can pay,” Bael said.
“Oh yes, I am sure of it. However, I mean that an assignation of this type will take time to coordinate.”
“No,” Bael said, desperation rising. “I don’t have time. I need to know now. I need to know.”
The lady took off her spectacles and regarded him. “Monsieur, have you considered that this could perhaps be the result of…anxiety?”
“I am not anxious,” Bael said through gritted teeth.
“Forgive me, but you seem a little…desperate.”
“Well, I am fucking desperate! I have to be able to fuck another woman.” His fingernails were digging into his palms. “It can’t be her.”
“Who?”
The last woman he’d slept with. His mate.
Kett.
He shoved that thought away. He couldn’t take a mate. Just couldn’t. What the hell was he supposed to say to his men? To his advisors? That he just felt like getting married?
Not for the first time, Bael cursed his heritage. All the secrets. All the conspiracies. All the fucking rituals and prophecies. He couldn’t bring a woman into that. Even a woman like Kett, who’d never be intimidated by a bunch of spooky old men with beards.
Especially a woman like Kett, who knew he was Nasc. Putting her together with the men who knew he was a Mage…well, hell, he trusted his men, he trusted Albhar and the other advisors, but news like that surely wouldn’t stay secret for long. If the Federación knew there was a Nasc Mage out there, they’d be on him like vultures on a carcass.
And he really would be a carcass.
Someone had already strung him up in a cave to die. It sounded like one of the Federación’s rituals to him. Which meant he needed to keep a really low profile, forget about the cave and try to live as normal a life as possible.
Which ought to involve sex at some point.
“Look,” he said in a quiet, desperate tone. “If all your girls are so damn skilled, there’s got to be one available who can help me. I just need to prove this. It’s not a psychological thing,” he held up his hand to stave off her protests, “it’s not performance anxiety or stage fright or whatever the fuck you’re going to politely call it. I need the best girl you’ve got, someone who makes men come in their pants just by breathing. I don’t even need to actually have sex with her. I just need to get a hard-on.”
The booking agent blinked at him, then put her spectacles back on. “Don’t need to actually have sex?”
“No. Not really.” He just needed to know if he was able to.
“Hmm.” She turned in her chair and extracted a file from the cupboard behind her. “Well, strictly speaking she is retired, but…”
“But?”
“But if you’re not actuall
y going to…engage with her, then perhaps an arrangement can be made. Are you willing to travel?”
“Sure.” He felt a surge of hope.
“Excellent.” She read the file then smiled. “You will need to cross the Wall into Peneggan.”
“Great.” Bael found a smile for her. “No problem. Love Peneggan.” He frowned, trying to remember if he’d been thrown out of there any time recently. No, he didn’t think so.
“I will make the arrangements.”
* * * * *
Which was how he found himself in a plush hotel room, quivering like a nervous teenager, waiting for this avatar of sexuality to burst into his life and make him normal again. He even found himself praying, which was an interesting experience since he couldn’t remember the names of any gods.
Someone came along the hall, a woman, a young woman, and he concentrated on hearing her.
“…really, Dark, he’s not even going to touch me.”
Wait, she sounded familiar.
“I don’t care.” A male voice, deep and angry and…yes, horribly familiar.
Oh hell.
“It’s not like I’m cheating on you. Hello, you know I couldn’t do anything anyway.”
“I’m not finding that a comfort.”
“Dark, relax. I’ll be five minutes.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“The hell you are. This poor guy has enough problems without you scowling at him.”
“Remember me not caring?”
“Remember me telling you to relax? Go wait in the lobby for me. Go on, go. Or I won’t have sex with you for a month.”
There was a moment’s silence then the male footsteps retreated. They sounded like they were stomping. Outside the door, the woman paused. Her scent wafted toward Bael.
He put his head in his hands. He was so screwed.
There was a gentle knock on the door. “Yeah,” he called dispiritedly, and the door opened and shut almost silently. He didn’t look up. He knew who he’d see. The most beautiful woman in all the Realms, no doubt wearing something stunningly elegant, moving like a goddess and smelling like an angel.
“Mr. Var?” she said in a soft, wonderful, melodic voice.
“Baelvar, your majesty,” he said, and looked up at her miserably.
Shock flashed across her perfect features. “Bael?”
“Yeah,” he said wretchedly, and flopped back on the bed.
Chance stared at him, her perfect elegance all gone. “Bael? I—I—I must have gotten the wrong room.”
“Nope.”
She stared some more. She gaped. “But—Bael?”
“Yep. Well, Baelvar if we’re being picky. Your majesty,” he added.
“I was told…you were having problems…” Slowly, it seemed to sink in. And when it did, her face changed. “Oh Bael,” she said, deep sympathy in her words. He wanted to cry. Especially since her perfect, lust-inducing presence had done absolutely nothing for his libido. “I suppose this means…who is she?”
He buried his head under the pillow with a moan.
Chance’s footsteps retreated from the bed. Bael stayed where he was. Well, now he was royally fucked. Except that he wasn’t. He’d have laughed if it wasn’t all so hideous.
A couple minutes later he heard the door open again, felt the strong, powerful presence of his king and lifted his head from the bed.
“Baelvar.” Dark stood there with his arm possessively around Chance. “I suppose I should offer congratulations.”
“I didn’t know it would be…” Bael gestured helplessly at Chance. As if things weren’t bad enough, he’d gone and hired the king’s mate as a fluffer. Well, maybe this could work to his advantage. The king would kill him and the whole mess would be over.
“You requested the most desirable woman in all the Realms,” Dark said, his quiet voice like a distant rumble of thunder.
“Yes, but I didn’t, uh…”
“Dark, stop torturing him,” Chance said. “I take it from this you’ve tried…er…being with other women?”
Bael nodded miserably.
“And I take it you’re not happy with this turn of events,” Dark said.
He was going to die. Who’d be happy with that?
“Who is she, Bael?” Chance asked. “Who was the last woman you were with?”
He closed his eyes. The last woman he’d been with—and the only woman he ever could be with again.
“Kett,” he said, and heard their combined intake of breath.
“Oh,” Dark said.
“You’re so screwed,” Chance said.
“No,” Bael flopped back down again, “that’s part of the problem.” He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Any tips on how to tell her?”
Chance and Dark were silent a moment. Then Dark wordlessly handed Chance her suitcase, from which she withdrew a piece of chainmail.
“You might need this,” she said.
* * * * *
The annoying thing, Kett thought as she adjusted her chinstrap, was the dreams. Damn fantasies, attacking her every night since she’d gotten home. She was amazed Jarven hadn’t said anything, because she’d woken herself once or twice with moaning and he was only upstairs.
One night, when she’d been dreaming most pleasantly of Bael stroking her clit with one hand and the inside of her pussy with the other, while his tongue dipped inside her ass, she’d actually been woken by the force of her own orgasm. An orgasm induced by a dream lover. It was insane.
Maybe she should get Chance to track Bael down. Her cousin could probably do it. After all, Kett had drawn a total blank on the cave symbols, and if the Koskwim library didn’t have the info, then no place would. She’d even asked the Order if anyone had taken out a contract on her or Bael, but the response had been negative.
Maybe Bael might know. Maybe he’d been off investigating what happened while she’d been trying to forget.
Or maybe he’d just been shagging around and he’d completely forgotten about it. And her.
She squeezed her eyes shut. No more Bael. He damaged her calm, and she’d only just settled into it. No more fights with tigers, no more psychopaths coming after her family, no more jail sentences.
I just want a quiet life.
She eyed up the dragon tethered in the paddock, a snowy valley at the foot of the mountains. The sensible thing to do would be to get Jarven to help her drug it, but Kett felt the need for a punishing physical workout. Again. Since she was still entirely unable to change her shape and just fly up there and pop the pill in Fira’s mouth, she’d have to resort to ropes, chains and her own physical skill.
A fleeting thought of Bael, some ropes, chains and physical skill came to mind, but she pushed it firmly away and prepared to exhaust herself.
Again.
Kett brushed a few flakes of snow from her face and sighed. This whole thing would be a lot easier if she could just change her damn shape and fly up there. But no matter how hard she tried, she was stuck as a bloody human. She’d have to ask Striker about it when she saw him, which didn’t add to her general store of happiness. Being indebted to anyone made her furious.
Being indebted to Striker made her very afraid.
Fira was tethered to five steel pegs set in concrete deep into the snowy ground. The tethers were chains as thick as Kett’s biceps, and they were linked to the dragon’s metal collar and harness. It had taken Kett all morning to tie the beast down—how in hell Jarven used to do this before she turned up, able to fly, she’d no idea—and now all she had to do was attach the sixth chain to the ground, lasso Fira’s head, get out of firing range and aim the tablet into her mouth.
Fira needed to have her wing mended, but that wasn’t something Kett was likely to try while the dragon was still moving around. Not anymore. So a huge dose of tranquillizer was needed.
She approached the sixth chain, snowflakes blowing idly around as she went. Fira was usually a fairly placid dragon, but most creatures tended to g
et kind of cranky when people started trying to force things down their throats.
“Now then, girl. Be good, stay nice and still, and we’ll get this done in no time. There’s a good girl. There’s a good girl now.”
She kept up the mindless patter, trying to distract Fira. It had worked for the last five chains, and this one seemed to be going the same way.
“Good dragon. Good, scaly fire-breather. You behave, I’ll give you a villager for tea.”
“Is that why they’re all scared of you then?”
Kett was so startled she stumbled as she turned, tripping and yanking hard on the chain to keep her balance. That sounded like Bael’s voice! Great, now she was hallucinating as well as horny.
Then she looked up, and there he was, coming over the rise with his eyes sparkling and his cheeks pink from the cold. Kett lost her balance and fell flat on her ass into the snow, and the chain went taut.
Fira, not happy at having her collar yanked sideways around her neck, gave a bellow—and when a dragon bellowed, fire usually followed.
It followed.
“Get down!” Kett screamed, scrambling to her feet and launching herself at Bael just as Fira sent a huge jet of fire over their heads. His body was hard beneath the layers of winter clothing he wore, and as he thudded to the ground she was pushed heavily against him by the force of the fall.
The heat of the dragon flame burned through her protective clothing. The stuff would stop her from turning into a crispy-fried Kett, but it didn’t stop her from feeling as if she’d been roasted alive. She curled into Bael’s body, tense and breathless until the dragon reared back with a cry.
Then she raised her head, and Bael was grinning at her.
“You fucking idiot!” she yelped. “You could have gotten us both killed!”
“It’s nice to see you too,” he said, cupping the back of her neck.
“What the fuck did you think you were doing?”
“You look really great in armor.” His fingers wiggled into the gap between her helmet and jerkin, and just for a second she shuddered at the feel of being touched by someone else.
Then she remembered who was doing the touching, and what a twat he’d just been. She catapulted to her feet, her skin so hot it felt sunburned, and clenched her fists to keep from kicking him.