by Ann Gimpel
Oh what the hell? Why not?
“I want one of the upstairs rooms and double rations this week.”
“Done,” he panted and moved a hand to rub his erection.
“Looks like you started without me, Were man,” Renn cooed. “Take us somewhere nice and private.” He held out his hands. She dove into them and he fastened his mouth around one of her nipples. Renn winked at Keira over his shoulder and gave her a thumbs up. Sex between Fairies and Weres was pretty simple with a lot of hand and mouth action since Were cocks were too big for actual fucking. And Fairy cocks too small if the sexes were reversed.
“Hey, Simon!” Keira grinned, feeling pleased with herself. “Where’s that client of mine?”
He stopped suckling long enough to shoot her an annoyed look. “Having it off with Darla. Wait for him in the lounge.”
She nodded. Darla liked the Weres in all their forms, so maybe the client wouldn’t give her any problems—if he was even still interested in more sex once Darla was done with him. Darla loved her job. Keira suspected she’d have signed on even if she weren’t a bond servant. A powerful hedge Witch, she could’ve broken free any time, but she claimed Were energy amplified her own. Who knew? Maybe it did.
Simon strode down the hall holding Renn in his arms and ducked into one of the customer rooms. That was a no-no too, but she wouldn’t say anything. Anticipation of a room to herself and enough food so she wouldn’t have to spend her hard-earned money buying extra was almost too good to be true. And for an entire week.
Should’ve asked for two.
She sauntered to the reception room, pulling enough magic to partially dry her hair and clothes. It took more energy than it should have. She’d drained the reservoir holding her paltry power getting back to Were Calls. Keira needed food and sleep to recharge.
Still on the damp side, blonde curls fluffed around her face and rioted down her body. The large room, decorated with leather couches, low tables, and colorful throw rugs was empty, so she arranged herself fetchingly on one of the sofas to wait. A reasonably well-crafted painting of a Bacchanalian orgy hung on the opposite wall. She’d always loved it, with sprites, Fairies, Weres, and Witches coupling every which way.
Keira tugged her dark blue, stretchy top lower to show a good bit of cleavage and hiked her black skirt north to expose her legs to the tops of her thighs. She glanced critically at her efforts and twitched the fabric, so it didn’t look quite so staged. A pitcher of the Weres’ favorite alcoholic drink, a mix of rum and spices, sat on a table. Keira gazed longingly at it. She wasn’t supposed to have any, but no one was there to see. She crept across the room, tipped about half the pitcher down her throat and floated back to the couch. The wonderful effects of the drink warmed her all the way to her toes. She arranged her top and skirts again to look suggestively wanton.
Sounds of passion drifted through the walls. Were Calls was having a busy night. There were always at least ten girls working. All types of Weres frequented the bordello. Wolves, bears, tigers, even the occasional bird or mountain cat. Keira’s hands strayed to her breasts. May as well get herself ready. Besides, the customers really liked walking in on the girls diddling themselves. Simon said it was a huge turn on.
Closing her eyes, she thought about Simon’s cock. It was huge, thick at the base and so long it stretched her, tickling places no one else did when he was inside. She rubbed a nipple between two fingers, feeling it harden. Her other hand crept under her skirts. Keira was surprised by how wet she was. Usually, the Weres didn’t get her going. Maybe it was the booze. She slid a finger under the lace of her thong. Then two.
The alcohol made her head buzz deliciously. Instead of Simon, the face and body behind her closed lids shifted to Barrett. Keira grinned. She’d given up trying to oust him from her sexual fantasies months ago. Her orgasms shot her to the moon when she thought about him.
She felt her skin heat, and her fingers moved with a mind of their own. Her breath came fast, catching in her throat. The bracelet around her upper arm tightened. Cursing, she remembered the rules. Orgasms were to be saved for the customers. Were Calls wanted the merchandise as perky as possible—for its patrons. Reluctantly, she moved her hand from between her legs, but kept on rolling a nipple between her fingers. She was considering getting a bit more of the rum when she heard footsteps and looked up expectantly. This was one time she wanted a customer. He could finish what she’d begun.
Simon, looking flushed and flustered, pulled the door open and waltzed into the room. His eyes widened when he saw her. She wondered if she’d overdone things a bit and pulled her top up and her skirt down. She started to ask him about Renn, but bit her tongue. He must have a john for her. No other reason he’d have left the Fairy.
He scanned the large, empty room. “Did your client ever—?”
She shook her head. “Nope. And I’ve been here since you met me earlier. Haven’t seen a soul.”
He nodded and creased his forehead in thought, puzzling through something. Weres had a complex social order. The one who’d asked for her earlier must be near the top of the heap, or Simon wouldn’t bother to be subtle. He finally muttered, “I guess it’ll be okay. Darla probably fucked him senseless.”
Keira laughed. She knew exactly what he meant.
“Someone else requested you. I told him you might be otherwise occupied, but he said he’d wait until you were free. He should be here within the hour.”
“Who?” Her brows quirked in mild curiosity.
“Barrett.”
“What?” Keira was on her feet in an instant and so hot she almost came on the spot. She put her hands on her hips. “But he’s not a Were.”
A corner of Simon’s mouth turned down. “Funny, I thought the same thing. Turns out he’s half and has the papers to prove it.”
“I’m sure you’ll check them over carefully.” She clapped a hand over her mouth and spun out of reach in case he wanted to slap her. Weres didn’t take kindly to being instructed by underlings.
A corner of his mouth turned downward. “Don’t worry, darling. Were property is for Weres only. I know the rules as well as you do.” He turned to leave.
“Simon?”
He looked over his shoulder at her, his features screwed into an annoyed expression. “What?”
“You’ve been with Renn for a couple of hours. How about two weeks of my own room and double rations?”
His face turned an unpleasant shade of red, and he balled his hands into fists. For a moment, she wondered if he was about to shift into his wolf form. “Fine,” he growled. “But if you open your yap, all bets are off.”
“It’s a deal,” she crowed, but the door slammed shut, cutting off her words.
Chapter Three
Barrett stood behind the cluttered counter of his shop, surveying its twenty or so occupants. His thoughts strayed to the hooker from Were Calls. He’d finally discovered her name. Keira. He smiled, still not believing his luck. Caelin had contacted him just a few hours before. The Daoine Sidhe leader needed help rescuing her from the Weres.
The mission was fraught with danger, but Barrett couldn’t wait. It would give him a stretch of unbroken time with the silver-eyed woman to get to know her. His cock swelled and pushed against the front of his worn jeans, just like it did every time he thought of Keira. It clearly had highly specific ideas about what getting to know her meant. Barrett shook his head in disbelief. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had this effect on him.
He glanced at the clock. It was close to three a.m. Normally, he stayed open until five, or even six if he had customers. Tonight, he’d have to come up with something believable to get them all out of his shop.
A group of Weres—maybe cats from the looks of their multicolored locks—huddled in front of the herb canisters arguing the relative merits of horsetail versus Iceland Moss as a way of focusing blood-linked rituals. Several pairs of Witches dotted the store. Two stood in front of the aphrodisiacs locked in one
another’s arms. They might have been fucking. It was hard to tell with their robes. Barrett chuckled. From the looks of things, those two scarcely needed chemical assistance.
A raven swooped past, landed on the counter, and cawed at him. Its talons dislodged a book and a large puff of dust. Barrett rolled his eyes and sneezed. “I’ve told you, Lance, I don’t speak that language. If you want to talk with me, I need your human form.” The air shimmered. A beautiful man with liquid dark eyes and floor length dark hair emerged, dressed in a form-fitting black jumpsuit.
“Sorry.” He bowed his head in deference to Barrett’s superior magical ability. “I need something to strengthen the invisibility illusion. I have to go to my mate’s for a celebration…” His words trailed off, and he looked sheepish.
Barrett understood exactly. He snorted. “And you want to make certain you can get away from your in-laws if they get feisty.” Lance nodded, still looking uncomfortable. Barrett pointed to a far corner of the raised balcony that ran along all four sides of the large room about ten feet off the floor. “Behind the bones and the cask of spelled blood, you’ll find a silver canister…” The raven was back in bird form and on the move before Barrett finished speaking. “Hurry,” he called after the bird. “I’m closing early tonight.”
He wondered if he should’ve told Lance how expensive that particular item was, then shrugged. It didn’t matter. If the Were raven didn’t want the herb, he’d just put it back on the shelf. It had been a while since he’d cleaned that quadrant of the upstairs anyway.
The bell over the front door chimed. Barrett groaned. He moved from behind the counter intent on locking the door, so he could at least contain the number of magicians he’d have to shoo out of his shop.
The couple in front of the sexual stimulants had taken to the floor. Any doubts he’d had about their activity dissolved. Even in the shop’s dim light, the thrusting and moaning were unmistakable. He wondered what it would be like to have Keira beneath him like that. His cock throbbed, and he pushed it to a more comfortable position where the zipper of his denim jeans didn’t jab him.
Long before Barrett made it to the door, he spied Caelin working his way around the overflowing shelves and counters. Barrett’s eyes widened, and he glanced at the clock again. The Sidhe leader wasn’t due for another hour. Barrett met him near the center of the shop. “You’re early—” he began.
“Do not speak my name. Too many Weres in here. They still don’t care for me.” He spread his arms expansively. “Good thing I came early. Why are all these people still here?”
Barrett bit back defensiveness, which wouldn’t buy him anything. “Because I didn’t expect you yet.”
Caelin drew his dark cloak closer about him and skewered Barrett with eyes so deep a blue, they appeared almost black. “Work on getting rid of them. I’ll repair to the upper level. The fewer who see me here tonight, the better for you—and for me.”
Barrett found himself staring at empty air. A chill marched up his back. Caelin was powerful. Undisputed leader of the Daoine Sidhe, even after the disastrous war he’d pushed them into, he ruled with an iron fist. He’d been alive for thousands of years compared to Barrett’s paltry few hundred.
He cleared his mind. First things first. He started with the upper floor and herded people toward the register if they wanted to buy something and toward the door if they didn’t. He locked the door behind every departing patron and ignored outraged knocks once newcomers discovered they couldn’t get inside.
It took over an hour, but finally the only customers left were the indefatigable fucking Witches. “Excuse me.” He bent close and tapped the male on a shoulder. When it didn’t work, he tapped harder.
“What?” The young male Witch twisted his head around to look at him. “Can’t you see we’re busy here?”
Barrett nodded. “Yes. I left you alone as long as I could. I remember what it was like to be young. But you have to move the party elsewhere. I’m closing early tonight.”
“Huh?” The female opened emerald green eyes. They zeroed in on him.
“Closing early. Come on, get up and get moving. I have things to do.”
With a fair amount of cursing and grumbling from both of them, he herded the randy couple out the door. They didn’t buy anything, which pissed him off. If they were just using his store for a no-cost motel, they could forget about it. He made a mental note of their faces, so he could boot them out if they showed up again.
“Well, that certainly took you long enough.”
Barrett looked up from locking the door behind the Witches, not surprised to see Caelin standing twenty feet away. He ran a hand down his face, feeling suddenly tired. “Yes, too long. Sorry about that.”
“Did you make the call?”
“Hours ago. They’ve probably given up on me.”
Caelin twisted his mouth into a wry expression. “Oh, they’ll let you in. Were bordellos never close.”
“Not that I wouldn’t welcome any excuse to spend time with Keira, but are you certain about her? I’ve seen her in the shop from time to time. Quite a looker with those masses of golden hair and her odd silver eyes, but I never sensed anything out of the ordinary in terms of her magic. About all I could feel was whatever the Weres shielded her with.”
Caelin blew out a breath. He sounded impatient. “We’ve been over this—”
“Tell me one more time. I’m the one sticking my neck out and pretending to have Were blood. If they catch me, God only knows what they’ll do.”
“If they catch you, you’ll call on every scrap of magic you can pull and get the hell out of there.” Caelin grinned at him. “With the girl.”
“Your faith in me is touching. They killed a lot of us during the war.”
Caelin ignored his last statement. “Keira is nearly twenty-one. Her birthday is just a week away. She will come into her full powers. If she doesn’t have a crash course in magic before then, she could finish the job the rest of us started when our war got out of hand.” His voice ran down.
Sensing something, Barrett leaned close. “There’s a whole fucking lot you haven’t told me.”
Caelin nodded and studied the floor for long moments before looking up.
“Well?” Barrett urged. “Spill it, or I may not go.”
“You deserve to know, but the tale is so fantastic, it’s even difficult for one steeped in magic to believe.” Caelin blew out a strained-sounding breath. “Danu came to me close to twenty-two years ago in a vision. She led me to Keira’s mother, right past the bordello guards. And she stood by while I had sex with her—joined in if you catch my drift. Danu told me I was her instrument that night, and the resulting child would be a Daoine Sidhe queen. Someone who could save our race and the world. It was just after Ivanne was killed and right before the war.”
Barrett thought about Ivanne, their last queen. Caelin believed she’d been poisoned by Weres, but no one had ever been able to prove anything. His skin prickled. Caelin still hadn’t told him everything. “It doesn’t make sense. If Keira’s mother was one of us, what was she doing in a Were bordello?”
Caelin shook his head impatiently. “Sorry. I wasn’t clear. Keira’s mother was only a vessel. Danu provided the female essence. That’s what I meant when I said she joined in.” He hesitated. “She told me hiding the child was critical, given Ivanne’s untimely demise. After the, uh, sex—” he colored “—Danu wove a spell, so the Weres wouldn’t be able to sense Keira’s Sidhe blood.”
“So you believe Keira has blood from Danu as well as your own?”
Caelin shrugged. “Probably.” He hesitated. “In truth, it’s hard to say. Either that, or she’s some kind of reincarnation of Ivanne.”
Barrett reined in the part of him that couldn’t wait to play Sir Galahad and save Keira. This tale was getting stranger and stranger. Some of it made no sense at all. He muffled his annoyance. Getting angry at Caelin never helped. “If your story is true, why the hell did you leave the child to
molder with the Weres?”
“Danu left me alone for so long after that night, I nearly convinced myself the whole thing was illusion. Besides—” Caelin nailed him with his dark blue gaze “—I had my hands full with the war. If you must know, the bald truth is I forgot about the child. A few weeks ago, Danu popped up again, frantic—”
“You don’t need to say anything else.” One corner of Barrett’s mouth turned downward. “I understand. Either Keira comes to terms with her magic, or there’s a good chance she could turn the world to dust. Danu forgot about her until the last moment. It’s very like a god. They don’t pay all that much attention to us. You chalked it up to imagination and then forgot about her too.”
Caelin nodded, a look of grudging admiration on his face. “Good summation. You should’ve been a lawyer.”
“Not much call for them anymore.” Barrett screwed his mouth into a grimace. “It’s amazing Keira has no idea—about any of this. She sees herself as weak magically. I’ve heard her bemoaning that to other customers in the shop.”
Caelin cocked his head to one side. “Well, she would see herself that way since her magic is very different from Were power, and she’s spent her entire life with them.”
“You’re her father. How come you’re not the one extricating her from them?”
“My magic is too strong. It bleeds all over the place. I’d never be able to mask it.” He smiled crookedly. “Good try, but you’re still on the hook.”
“Do you suppose the Fairies know?”
Caelin nodded. “They’d have to. They know pretty much everything, but they’re sworn to silence.”
“Oh, that’s right. It’s the part of the Covenant that keeps them a free people. Noninterference with other magic wielders.” Barrett sighed. “Let’s get this show moving. Do whatever it is that will convince the Weres I’m one of them.”