“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 Associee 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
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
“Who?”
The last woman he’d slept with. His mate.
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.
And he really would be a carcass.
Someone had already strung him up in a cave to die. It sounded like one of the Federacion’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
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
“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 actually 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,
“I’m coming with you.”
“The hell you are. This poor guy has enough problems without you scowling at him.”
“Remember me not caring?”
