Liam looked at the screen. Merlyn could see him schooling his features. "Do you find him attractive?" Liam didn't meet her eyes when he spoke.
"What does that matter?" Merlyn rarely gave mind to anyone's features. Though, she had found Jaspir pleasing to the eye. "His genes are what matters."
And then she frowned. She had never considered Liam's feelings on the matter of a bondmate. He was always in the labs, running her data. He had no friends that she knew of, but then, neither did she. She knew men were more interested in sexual intercourse than women were. The activity of her male mice told her as much.
"Do you find him attractive?" she asked.
Liam's eyes shot to hers, wide. "No."
"Would you prefer you were attracted to him?
Liam paused, and then, "No."
Merlyn often had trouble correctly identifying the subtleties of facial expressions. She knew that with Liam she could ask and he would tell her directly.
"Have I offended you, Liam?"
He closed his mouth and sighed through his nose. "No, my lady. I just..."
He paused, looking into her eyes. Merlyn couldn't quite read the expression in them. She was about to ask for clarification when he began to raise his arm. His hand was before her face, his fingers stretching out. Merlyn watched them, transfixed. Before they could make contact, she jerked back. Her sudden movement bumped the table and a loud crash sounded behind her.
It was her plant. The one Jaspir bred for her. It lay in shambles on the ground, pot shattered, and dirt spilling out like black blood.
"Oh, no." She sank to her knees, trying to shove the dirt back around the exposed roots.
"I'm sorry," Liam said behind her. "I didn't mean to..."
But his words faded behind her as she gathered the plant to herself. The plant had already been fading. There was no way it could survive such an impact. She had to do something to save it.
5
Jaspir awoke with a start. His sheets were a damp tangle, his dick an unbendable rod. He'd dreamed of her again.
It was kind of sick, having wet dreams about kissing a twelve-year-old girl. But it was the only image he had of her. It had been nearly a decade since last he'd seen her. He'd been secluded in the Temple of the Pleasure Hounds for five years of training. After refusing to take his vows, he'd ended up in Stallions, where he'd spent the last five years of his life. The bordello was far on the other side of town where he was unlikely to run into any young lady, much less one of her stature in society.
Jaspir got out of bed and went to the washroom. He splashed water on his face, but when he closed his eyes, all he saw was her face. The cold water that hit his lips seemed to sizzle from the heat of his memories of that one single kiss. His fingers twitched at the memory of touching her slender shoulder. She'd stiffened on impact, and then relaxed into his hold. He remembered the small moan that escaped her mouth as he pulled her closer and met her lips.
He could have been imprisoned if he'd been caught taking liberties with her. At the time, his young mind rationalized that the reward was worth the risk. It hadn't occurred to him that she might not wish for his advances. If she had screamed, or run for an adult, his life would've been over. But she hadn't shoved him away, she'd sunk into his embrace. She hadn't run off and told an adult. They'd been caught by another child.
Jaspir shook off the memory of the scrawny red-haired boy who was likely kissing her at this very moment. The boy had been dressed in fine linen while Jaspir had on itchy wool, caked with dirt, and spotted with holes. The memory of the little lord looking down at Jaspir in disgust and contempt deflated his morning erection.
Jaspir went to his closet. These days all of his clothing was fine. Fitted silk of bright colors that were pleasing to women. Soft linen that caressed his skin. There were only day clothes. He always slept naked, an occupational habit. He dug past the silks and reached for cotton trousers and a linen shirt, dressing for out of doors. It was his day off and he needed to get some fresh air. In addition, he needed to trade his newest gifts for cash and add that to his stash of money for his land. In less than a year, Jaspir would be free of anyone's desires but his own. He'd have something that belonged to him that no one could take away from him, or take him away from.
Dressed, he headed out of his room and down the hall. The sounds of passion rose from behind a few doors. He caught the looks of a few male customers as he entered the commons, a waiting area where potential clients mingled with the available steeds. Stallions wasn't only an establishment for women, but for well-to-do males as well. On any other day, Jaspir would set his gaze to smolder and single out the man with the newest money. Wealthy men were fickle, with short attention spans. But the one's who'd scraped together their pennies to make it past the Concierge, those would scrape and save again; be utterly devoted to their private stallion. Coming back to ride him as often as they could afford.
Jaspir averted his eyes and headed past the common room for the exit beyond the Concierge's desk. He saw Garren, leaned back in his chair mimicking a position of power. Garren had grown up on the streets and turned tricks for any john with a piece of copper. He'd been popular for a short time at Stallions for his boyish good looks, but those looks had faded. Jaspir spied a few
