Shortly thereafter, with his coin purse much lighter, Aryn found himself staring into the eyes of two women who had more familiarity with rough usage than gentle, and he didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to do.
But he sure as hell couldn’t touch them with the smell and sweat of other men all over them.
So he was shown to a rather opulent room and fed while the ladies were taken to bathe. One of the women moved to shove Eira and Aryn rolled out of his chair and caught her hand, smiling silkily. “I realize this is a house of pain and pleasure, but I’ve paid well for these ladies. Any marks on them tonight will come from me, and only me. Otherwise, I mark you,” he warned.
By the time they returned, he had decided to just leave. Slip them what little money he had left, and leave.
Eira took one look at his face and knew.
So did the other. Her name was Shaelin and she was bolder than Eira. She moved like a spring storm, fast and light, sliding her arms around his neck and plastering herself to his front, cuddling her curvy little body against him. Under the guise of kissing his neck, she whispered, “Please. Don’t leave. They watch us, if you leave they’ll know. And we’ll be punished.”
Aryn froze. He lowered his head and caught her face as if to kiss her, nuzzling his way around and down to her ear where he asked, “What?”
She giggled flirtatiously, ran her hands over his shoulders to keep up her act. In that same nervous tone, she continued, “You don’t belong in here. We both know that. But if you leave without us…performing our duty, we get punished. We’re being watched. It’s one of the house entertainments.”
Well, hell.
Threading his fingers through her hair, he licked and nuzzled his way down to her ear, then her neck as Eira moved behind him and started tugging at his clothes. He ushered them to bed, his mind racing.
“And just what…duty must you perform?”
Shaelin smoothed her hands down his chest as she answered. “We must obey your commands. Please you.”
Aryn couldn’t touch them. Couldn’t do this, not here in this house of forced carnality.
But he wouldn’t have them punished, either. Stroking a hand down Keely’s cheek, he murmured, “I see.”
The woman behind him was still tugging as his clothes, his leather vest unlaced all the way down the front and the heavy buckle of his trousers now hanging loose. If he didn’t do something soon, she’d have him utterly naked.
Taking Eira’s hand, he tugged her around from behind him and nudged her down until she sat beside Shaelin. Eira, her form delicate and softly curved, shivered, goosebumps roughening her flesh. Although Aryn was warm enough, he doubted the women were so he moved over to the fire to toss on another log.
“I can do that—”
Aryn finished the task even as Shaelin moved to intercept him. Slanting a smile in her direction, he said, “And I can do it as well. You’ve both bathed and smell so sweet. I don’t want you dirtying your hands over a log when it’s just as easy for me. Besides, I’m still trying to decide how to spend the time.”
He nudged her back to the bed and noticed that when she sat this time, she sat closer to Eira.
Wondering, he settled in the luxuriously soft chair and leaned back. “If I took pleasure in watching, Shaelin, would you please me that way?”
Neither pretended not to understand and while Eira’s gaze fell away, her cheeks a soft pink, she didn’t pull away when Shaelin took her hand. Keely’s smile was downright luscious, even if her eyes remained wary. “I think Eira and I would be most delighted, sir.”
“Lovely.” Aryn glanced around, keeping it casual. “Let’s lose some of the light in here. Shaelin, the candles. Eira, pull back the bedclothes. You’re a bit chilled. That’s a lass.”
As he’d thought, once the candles were doused, the light from the fire barely reached the high bed. Aryn thought he’d located most of the peepholes and knew anybody watching would need excellent night vision to see much of anything…save for the one almost directly behind him, and the one above the bed.
A plan already forming in his mind, he gestured at the girls. “As you will, loves.”
* * * * *
Tyriel waited until nearly midnight.
He hadn’t yet returned from the house.
Clenching her jaw, she slid into bed.
“If y’would not be so stubborn, little elf, I could help—”
“I’m not touching you. There is no reason that you should be able to speak to me,” she said coolly.
“I can speak t’ you at any time I choose, so long as you are near,” Irian murmured huskily as his body shimmered into view. He moved to lie beside her, studying her with dark, fathomless eyes. “I can bring him t’ you, whenever you want him.”
“Hardly. Because I only want him if he wants me in return,” she said. “Leave me be.”
Then she rolled onto her side, giving the enchanter her back as she wondered if maybe she shouldn’t just pack up and head back to the Kingdoms with Jaren when he arrived.
* * * * *
She smelled it on him as he walked in, early the next morning. Sex and sweat, rich, pungent. But something was different.
She smelled two women.
Holding back the screams of pain and rage, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and rose. He glanced at her but she ignored him as she gathered her clothes. She didn’t bother pulling anything on other than the large shirt she’d worn and as she strode out, she could feel Aryn’s eyes on her.
But she didn’t look at him. It hurt too much.
By the time she reached the small communal chamber set aside for washing, her eyes were hot with tears she refused to shed.
* * * * *
Jaren arrived later that morning.
Tyriel was wiping down a table when she felt his presence, then a moment later, his rage.
“A princess of the People acting the menial?” He stood rigid in the doorway, face expressionless.
The words came into her mind, chilly and remote. But the hot anger she saw in his eyes was a burning fire.
If he hadn’t had years and years of deference to her father bred into him, he probably would have crossed the space between them, jerked the cleaning rag from her and paddled her ass.
She turned her head slowly and winked at him.
It only made the rage in his eyes burn hotter.
Jaren Everess, Lord of Remme, one of the legendary De Asir, vengeance killers, narrowed his dark, glittering green eyes at her audacity. His skin was pale, almost translucent ivory that glowed against the emerald of his eyes. His high, arched brows, his carved cheekbones and pointed chin, all were the defining features of the beautiful elvish race.
But Jaren was…more. He was beauty with a hint of danger, a poisoned rose, an arrow carved from black diamonds, fascinating, sensual…utterly compelling.
He moved in a way that made women sigh and wonder if he could fulfill all the sensual promises he seemed to offer.
Tyriel knew, for a fact, he could.
She had sighed dreamily over him a time or two in her youth, and while he had trained her in the halls of De Asir.
Until she had met Aryn she had always thought Jaren was the most sensual, desirable man-creature she had ever met in her life.