The Pleasure Rites Series

by Ines Johnson

  Khial would often sit on the sidelines and watch Dain's fathers play with him. Watch the affection they had for each other and their wife. Watch them hug and kiss. They offered the same affection to Khial, but soon realized that it was difficult for him to receive. Khial remained wary of grown men and women. The only person whose embrace felt right was Dain's.

  There was an ancient saying: Home is Where the Heart is. Whenever Khial laid his head at Dain's heart he felt peace, he felt safe, he felt home.

  And now his home was gone.

  The rusty bed groaned as Khial slumped down onto it. His shoulders caved in, curling around his chest. He'd chosen a cot in the corner, the farthest away from the others. As the night settled, the room began to fill with bodies. They were a haze to Khial, who couldn't see much farther than his hands. He clenched and unclenched his left hand. At turns trying to dull the ache in his chest. At other points trying to get feeling once more in his limbs.

  "Did you hear me, turd? I said, that's my bed!"

  Khial looked up slowly. The thick body of a man came into focus. Slightly less filthy than the others, this man looked young, younger than Khial.

  The man surveyed Khial from head to toe and then back again, as though Khial's two halves didn't quite fit. Khial knew he must look filthy from wearing the same clothes for days. He hadn't taken anything with him when he left the house. When he'd felt Dain's spirit leave his body, Khial felt himself become untethered to this world. What need did a balloon have of clothing? Cloth was like string and Khial wanted to be free.

  The man peered down at Khial, his menacing mug changing slowly to something else. "If you're comfortable there, I would consider letting you share with me."

  "I beg your pardon?" Khial tilted his head to the side, his foggy brain grasped for comprehension.

  The man grinned. "Oh, I'll make you beg."

  In a flash, the grin turned to a leer. A hand reached out and cuffed Khial at his ear. For a moment, Khial stared at that meaty palm. His chin pressed into the soft flesh left by the space between the man's thumb and forefinger. Khial realized with amusement that he was being manhandled. Literally.

  A chuckle broke the surface of Khial's fogged brain and then his world turned off kilter as the meaty fist gave him a powerful shake.

  "You think yourself funny, you little pansy?"

  Khial met the man's eyes and startled. His head ticktocked the other way, and then swung back again as he grasped for focus. The man's eyes were green, like Dain's. Only there was no mischievous light in the man's eyes. Khial glanced behind the man to see a crowd had gathered. They stood at a distance, no one willing to lend their own hand.

  "It's clear you don't belong here, pansy. But since you stopped by I'll make you mine for the night. What you show me under the sheets will tell me what I do with you in the morning."

  Khial's head straightened. He faced the vile man head on. Of all the insults hurled at him, the man's claim of ownership brought Khial out of his stupor. The only man who could lay that claim was gone. Khial clenched his hands to get feeling in them. Clenched them once more and then swung his arm.

  The element of surprise must have been on his side. The man released him and stumbled back. Both he and Khial stood there in shock. The man must not have thought it in Khial. Khial could not have blamed him. Though he'd watched his fathers do it time and again to each other, he'd never hit another human being before.

  It felt good. Getting that aggression out of him. For half of his life people had looked at him as though violence would burst from his person at any moment. That he would unleash the monster his mother had created. Though he'd never committed a single act of violence in his entire life, people in polite society would cringe as he walked by. Khial would often cringe as he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

  When he looked again at the man on the floor, bile rose in Khial's throat. His meal threatened to encore. Gone was the elation at releasing the aggression. Khial reached out his hand towards the man. He was met with a swift kick to the face.

  Khial fell back sideways onto the bed. By the time he sat up, the man had regained his feet, and he didn't stand alone. Two other men stood beside him. The man charged towards Khial.

  Khial clenched his fists once more, willing the adrenalin, the anger, the aggression to return to him. It didn't.

  He unclenched his five fingers, releasing his tie to the world. He envisioned the blue balloon sailing off into the heavens.

  Khial closed his eyes and waited for the pop of impact.

  Then, he heard it. Pop! But he didn't feel it.

  And then another. Pop! Followed by a succession of pops. Khial opened one then another eye. A flurry of robes flashed before him.

  The monk moved like Khial played. Fluid, never ceasing the melody. Khial watched the notes form as the monk's feet spun, spread, and came back together. His arms spread wide, striking out but wrapping around a neck instead of punching. His hands came together cupping an incoming fist and twisting it to its limit without snapping the joint.

  When the monk had finished, the three men lay in heaps on the floor. Incapacitated and bruised, but not bloody. The fight had been elegant, no brute force used.

  "Out! Out!" The shelter manager bellowed from above.

  Jian looked up at the man. The fight seeped out of his rigid shoulders, an inscrutable looked settled on his handsome face. It may have been shame. That would make sense. The man was a monk. Didn't monks swear never to harm?

  Jian turned to Khial and motioned for him to precede him. Once outside, Jian looked around, appearing lost for a moment. The moon glowed bright as the sun in the dead of night. The silent streets had emptied of all souls.

  "What are you doing here?" Khial asked.

  Jian tilted Khial's head back and surveyed his bruise. "I came for you."

  The cradle of Jian's warm palm threatened to tether Khial once more to the earth. But then Jian's harsh tone snapped the string.

  "Those places are dangerous," the monk admonished. He placed both hands on Khial's shoulders and gave him a shake. "They're no place for a lord."

  Khial could only focus on the warm feel at his shoulders. Moments ago, they had been numb, but he could still clearly feel where each of the monk's fingers touched him, pulling him down to the ground.

  Khial shook the sensation off. "I'm not lord of anything."

  "Your birthright made you a lord."

  "My birthright?" Khial laughed. "My birthright is one of insanity and murder."

  The monk shook his head. "We write our own pasts, Lord Khial."

  Khial ignored that. "I didn't know monks could fight."

  Jian put them both in motion towards the inner city. "The great thinker, Buddha, had a constant adversary: Mara. After a time, Buddha saw Mara lying in wait to trap him. Buddha did not run from his adversary. Buddha told Mara, I see you. Can you guess what he did next?"

  "Buddha sucker punched Mara in the face?"

  Jian made an amused sound in his throat. "No," he said.

  He eyed Khial as his grade school teacher had when he’d tried to teach him something. Khial's grade school teacher knew he was smart. Knew that Khial listened, but refused to allow the lesson to penetrate.

  "The Buddha said to Mara, 'Come have tea.' Buddha wanted to understand his adversary, for only then could he truly defeat him."

  "I didn't see you ask any of those thugs for tea," Khial challenged.

  Jian's laugh was humorless this time. "No, I understand men like that. I was a street turd before I was a monk."

  Jian reached out and put a hand on Khial's shoulder. Again, the heat from his fingers penetrated through the fog of Khial's brain.

  "I am sorry for your loss, my lord. I know you must be grieving, but your family needs you."

  "I don't have a family."

  "You have a wife and a child."

  Khial's chin dropped to his chest. He hadn't thought of Chanyn in the last three days. He'd assumed she would not care
to keep the bond with him, especially after losing both the baby and Dain. But the monk had said wife and child.

  Khial thought back to the day of Dain's death. They had been together, Dain and Chanyn. Dain had said he felt the Goddess, that she'd blessed the union. She'd blessed Dain and then took him away, out of Khial's reach, leaving an empty vessel behind.

  "Dain was my home and now he's gone."

  "Dain is at your home," Jian said.

  Khial's breath hitched, his eyes widened. Jian rested his hand once more on Khial's shoulder. The compassionate expression on the monk's face deflated any false hope that seeped into Khial's chest.

  "Dain lives inside your wife's womb. That child is a part of him. As much as Chanyn cared for Dain, she didn't know him as you did. That child will need to know its father, both fathers. That child will need you, Lord Khial."

  Khial looked up into the night's sky. The stars twinkled at him, beckoning him to sail away.

  Jian began walking once more, back to civilization. Behind him, Khial followed. His feet heavy with each step on the earth, each strike of his heel a new tether.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  "She's lost the one mate and the other deserted her. Certainly the property reverts to the family." Dain's uncle, Bil, pawed at an ancient china bowl on the windowsill. His lips curled, barring a sharp grin.

  "A male's bloodline does not usurp a woman's rights." Chanyn's Aunt Angyla stood near the fireplace on the other side of the room, away from Bil, looking down her nose at her surroundings and its occupants.

  They'd gathered in Dain's office. Chanyn sat on the settee where Dain proposed to her weeks ago. The memory clung to the forefront of her mind, strong and bright.

  Bil moved before the window, blocking the morning sun. Angyla crossed in front of the fireplace, the last ember went dark. Chanyn cradled her elbows to her chest, rubbing the goose bumps that rose. Along with the bumps, another memory rose in her mind.

  At the age of ten Chanyn woke to find her mother gone. She'd felt sad, but not scared. She understood the workings of the ruins she lived in. She knew how to gather food from the garden and collect water from the rain barrels. She was alone, but she lived relatively the same as she had each day of her life. Not much changed that day, not even when her mother returned the next morning.

  Tonight, in a room full of family members, Chanyn felt an, aloneness, unlike before. In the space of a month, she'd met her true love, found a true friend, and earned the trust of an ally. After a lifetime of being alone, for the first time Chanyn felt abandoned.

  Bil and Angyla continued to bicker over Dain's property and wealth. Chanyn tuned them out.

  A warm hand took Chanyn's. The grasp was awkward.

  Merlyn.

  She rubbed Chanyn's hand as though she were trying to wipe off a smudge. Her unpracticed smile was lopsided. "Don't worry. Mother won't let him take your wealth. Though it's probable that she will entangle the funds in the family coffers beyond your reach."

  "The money doesn't matter to me."

  Chanyn's currency had always been love and affection. Dain's friendship alone filled her well, and then he brought her Jian. Chanyn would give every cent of the money, every acre of the property to these people if only she could have Dain and his generous heart back.

  Merlyn opened her mouth. Then closed it. She took a breath, leaned into Chanyn and spoke. "Did you love him?" The edges of her eyes bunched when she said the word love, squinting as though peering into the sun.

  Chanyn looked into her cousin's curious eyes. Eyes that reminded her of her mother. But unlike her mother's quest for data, there was the growing warmth of compassion at the corner of Merlyn's eyes. Chanyn realized the younger woman asked because she wanted to understand, not catalogue the answer.

  Chanyn nodded in response. "I do... did love him." The tense tripped her tongue.

  Merlyn leaned in closer, eager. "Could you describe the indications to me? But not viscerally, quantitatively if possible?"

  Chanyn tried to find the words to give the feelings measurement, and failed. "I felt a part of something. I felt wanted. I felt..." And there the feelings failed her, so she reached for a fact. "He was my friend."

  Merlyn nodded at this last statement, as though she could grasp the fact better than the meaning. Her eyes went dreamy, unfocused, as though she were peering into the past. "I had a friend once."

  Chanyn squeezed her cousin's hand. "You have a friend now."

  Merlyn startled. Then relaxed under Chanyn’s hand. Chanyn gave her cousin another squeeze. And then she gripped her cousin's hand tightly. A wave of nausea threatened. Chanyn took a couple of deep breaths. Merlyn awkwardly patted her back. The rubbing motion wasn't helping, but Chanyn didn't want to dissuade the other woman's infantile steps toward affection. She needed a steady hand right now.

  Her stomach convulsed again. Chanyn’s hands flew to her womb as though she could protect the novel life in there. Her aunt and Bil continued to argue, their voices grating on Chanyn's nerves as she held her breakfast in, refusing to let go of anything more. Dain had given Chanyn his entire world, and the moment after he left the earth she was barely clinging to what remained.

  The nausea relaxed its grip and she stood up. "Quiet!"

  All eyes went to her. Chanyn took a deep breath, preparing to speak. Unfortunately, she'd stood up a little too quickly.

  Chanyn dashed for the china bowl that Bil coveted and promptly emptied her belly into it.

  When she straightened, Bil's eyes were bright. "She's ill." He barely masked the delight.

  "No, idiot," said Angyla. "She's pregnant."

  "But, she lost the baby," Bil protested.

  They all looked to Chanyn for conformation.

  "The sudden vomiting so closely after first meal suggests a second pregnancy," Angyla continued. "The sickness happens due to a high level of hormones the body produces to protect the placenta. That indicates this pregnancy will be viable."

  Chanyn took another deep breath. She straightened her spine, wiped her mouth, and prepared to speak. But something in the door caught her attention. Actually, it was someone.

  Jian.

  He stood in his robes, a bit disheveled as though he hadn't slept or washed in the day he'd been gone.

  Chanyn wanted nothing more than to run into his arms and hide while he soothed her.

  "Is that a hound?" Aunt Angyla sneered. "You let hounds into your house?"

  Chanyn saw Jian's eyes lower, his head bow. She was about to tell her aunt off when she caught something behind Jian. Or rather someone.

  Chanyn did take off running then. She moved past Bil as he pocketed a smaller piece of china, past her aunt who pressed herself into the far corner, past Jian whose arms opened for her. Chanyn ran straight up to Khial and wrapped her arms around his neck. She could tell this startled him, because for a moment he stiffened. Then tentatively, slowly, his arms came about her. Chanyn couldn't stop herself. She began to weep. As her body began to shake, Khial's grip on her firmed.

  "Out," she heard him say. "All of you. Out."

  He spoke quietly, but his voice resonated, brooking no argument.

  From her place buried in his neck, Chanyn heard the shuffling of feet passing her by.

  "Lady Merlyn," she heard Khial say. "You're welcome to return whenever it pleases you."

  Chanyn couldn't see her cousin's response, but felt certain she would be seeing Merlyn sometime soon.

  Chanyn didn't know how long she stayed wrapped up in Khial. She kept her focus on his strong arms, the soft cushion between his neck and shoulder, the strong beat of his heart. He was the first to break the silence.

  "I'm sorry," he said.

  Finally, Chanyn broke away from him. They were alone, just the two of them.

  "Promise me—" Chanyn had to stop, clear her throat and try again. "Promise me you won't leave me again." It took courage to beg. Chanyn had no fear facing down a wild animal, but a pair of greedy humans proved
a far different story. She never wanted to face the beasts on her own again.

  Khial hesitated.

  Chanyn went on. "I know I'm not him. I'll never be what he was to you. But you and I are the only two people who loved him. And now his child grows inside me. I can't do this alone. I mean, I could, but I don't want to. I don't want this child to grow up without its father, like I did. I want it to have a loving home, like Dain did. I don't know what that looks like. You do."

  Khial looked at her, helpless. "I always felt like a guest here."

  She clasped his hands in her own. It wasn't like in the romance novels where the lady's hands were dainty and the man had large paws. Both Chanyn and Khial had strong, callused, capable hands. "We could do it together. We don't have to be true bonded mates in the physical sense if you don't wish it. But we could be the parents we never had."

  Khial looked at her doubtfully, but Chanyn could see a slight flicker in his eyes. "You'd trust me with a child?"

  Chanyn frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"

  "Don't you know about my parents?"

  "I know they made bad decisions and hurt one another. My mother was not an ideal parent either. But we don't have to be them. I trust you. You've always been honest with me. You were distant because you didn't know me and you were trying to protect Dain. But I don't think for a second that you would hurt anyone or anything. For Goddess sake, you could barely handle a boar."

  Khial's bark of laughter took them both by surprise. He looked down at her midsection and then into her eyes.

  "I don't know what kind of father I'll be," he said. "But I promise I won't leave you again."

  Chanyn heaved a sigh of relief. She was hugging him again before she realized he might not like it. But he gave no resistance.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jian knew that Lord Khial's eviction didn't extend to him, but he left the room nonetheless.