Dark Prince's Enigma

by I. T. Lucas

  “What did Dalhu sacrifice for Amanda?”

  “His life in the Brotherhood, to start with. That was the only home he’d known, and since he was most likely under your father’s compulsion, it must have been very difficult to do.”

  It still didn’t tell him much about the man himself. “Was he one of Sharim’s soldiers? I know that the clan either captured or killed that entire unit.”

  “No. It happened much earlier than that.” Carol lifted the wine glass to her lips and drank all that was left in it.

  Something about his comment must have upset her.

  Carol’s angelic expression had turned so vicious that Lokan was inclined to reconsider his opinion about her not being an assassin. The way she looked now, he could envision her holding a gun and pulling the trigger.

  His curiosity prompted him to get to the bottom of this, but given how distraught Carol appeared, he decided it would be wise to drop the subject and move to a more agreeable topic.

  “Would you like me to pour you more wine?”

  “Yes, please.”

  For the next several moments, they ate in silence that was disturbed only by the occasional sounds of delight he was making. He did it to please her, but he didn’t have to feign his enjoyment. The ossobuco Carol had made was superb.

  Leaving her plate half full, Carol pushed it away and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “What I find hard to believe is your claim that you weren't attracted to Ella. I might not be as old as you, but I’m not young either and I know men. No male can stay indifferent to that kind of beauty. And the fact that she is so young and innocent only enhances her appeal.”

  Carol seemed to be in a combative mood, and he wondered how to appease her. She wouldn't believe him if he denied his attraction to Ella flat out, and compliments weren’t going to work either.

  After pouring himself another glass of wine, Lokan leaned back in his chair. “There is a difference between appreciating beauty and physical attraction. Ella’s face is like a work of art. She is beautiful to look at, I would have to be blind not to see that, but that doesn't mean she stirs desire in me. I like her strong personality, and I find her fun to talk to, and if for some reason I was forced to mate her, it would not have been a hardship. But my preference leans towards more mature and experienced bed partners. I don’t have the patience to coax and convince and teach. I like women who are confident in their sexuality and know exactly what they want.”

  She arched a brow. “Could it be that you prefer what is easily available? I know men like you—successful, busy, and demanding. Lack of patience is not your only problem; lack of time and exacting tastes are big factors too. Paid company is often the answer. I doubt you’ve done much courting in your long life.”

  Regrettably, she wasn’t wrong. But that was the reality for immortal males under Navuh’s rule. There were no immortal females for them to join with, and humans could only be temporary bed warmers.

  “There is something to what you’re saying. I can, or rather could, pay for the best and get exactly what I want without having to go through the process of trial and error most human males are forced to go through in their search for suitable mates. Perhaps if a mate was my goal, I would have put more effort into it. But since there were no immortal prospects for me, all I was interested in were suitable bed partners.”

  He took another sip of wine. “Hypothetically speaking, though, if I had my pick of immortal females, I would have gone for the older and more experienced. What on earth could a nearly one-thousand-year-old immortal male have in common with an eighteen-year-old human girl?”

  His lengthy answer seemed to mollify Carol, and as he talked, the dark cloud hovering over her delicate features gradually dissipated.

  Lifting her wine glass, she smirked. “Then you’re in luck because I’m much older than any of the humans you’ve been with, and vastly more experienced.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “I doubt it. Not the age, but the experience. I’ve been with many pros.”

  She put the glass down. “Don’t forget the age factor. While human females who engage in sex professionally have twenty years at most to practice their craft, their immortal counterparts have centuries.”

  “That’s true. But I can’t imagine an immortal female engaging in sex professionally. The only immortal females I know of are clan members. My father might have several in his harem, but since they are his property and not free to offer their bodies to anyone else, they are irrelevant to this discussion. The clan females are free to do as they please, but since the clan is rich, they have no need to degrade themselves like that.”

  Frowning, Carol crossed her arms over her chest. “What if a female chooses to do it for fun? We are just as lustful as immortal males.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone selling her body for fun unless she is mentally unstable or perverted.”

  If the blaze in an immortal female’s eyes could kill, he would have been incinerated on the spot.

  “Do I seem mentally unstable to you? And for your information, only a Doomer could accuse a female of being perverted just because she enjoys sex and is not shy about it.”

  Why was she getting so huffy?

  “I’m not talking about enjoying sex or even promiscuity. I have nothing against a female with a healthy sex drive. I’m talking about selling her body for money. That’s the degrading part.”

  Pushing to her feet, Carol threw the napkin on the table, strode to the bar, and picked up the phone. “Get me out of here,” she barked into the receiver before slamming it back down.

  “Why are you so angry?” Lokan got up and walked up to her. “It can’t possibly apply to you.” He reached for her waist.

  “That’s where you are wrong.” Turning faster than he’d expected, she moved out of his reach and headed toward the door.

  He knew better than to follow. The mechanism had already engaged, and the door was starting to move. After that phone call, if he chased Carol to the door, Arwel was going to shoot first and ask questions later.

  Pushing through the opening before the door completed its swing, Carol disappeared from view, and a moment later the door started closing again.

  In the silence that followed her stormy departure, Lokan remained rooted to the spot, bewildered and perplexed.

  Carol engaging in prostitution was inconceivable. She must have been offended by him looking down at sex workers in general.

  The world was changing, especially in the West. Everyone was so touchy, and things that had been perfectly okay to say only a few years ago were now anathema. Had prostitution been added to the list of those taboo subjects?

  If she’d stayed a moment longer, Lokan would have apologized, even though he felt justified in his sentiment that selling one's body for sexual use was degrading.

  Lokan thought of himself as a progressive male, and his views weren’t chauvinistic or misogynistic in the least. As long as a woman wasn’t pledged to one male by matrimony or other contractual agreement that demanded exclusivity, it was her prerogative to do with her body as she pleased.

  But selling it?

  And the same was true for men. Some males sold their bodies for money as well.

  On the other hand, as a user of such services, it was hypocritical of him to sneer at the people offering them.

  Maybe that was what had pissed Carol so much?

  Was she ever coming back so he could apologize profusely and get his only ally and source of information back?

  Perhaps he could ask Arwel to communicate his apology to her. After all, the Guardian had an interest in her staying around and not going back to her job at the café. With Carol gone, it would be back to the sandwiches from the vending machines.

  Lokan was sure that Arwel was just as sick of them as he was.

  29

  Carol

  Don’t cry. Don't you dare cry.

  Not waiting for the door to finish its swing, Carol squeezed out through the narrow opening. “Clos
e it.”

  Arwel punched the close button, and the door started its reverse track. “What happened?” he asked.

  “Weren’t you listening?”

  Carol started toward the elevators in a brisk walk.

  “The audio was muted all the way down. I was just glancing at the video feed from time to time to check that you were okay. You seemed fine, just sitting and talking while eating. Then he said something that pissed you off. I felt your anger, but since you weren’t anxious or distressed, I ignored it.”

  “It’s my fault. I’ve been fooled by his pretend sophistication and charm and have given him too much credit. I should have known better than to expect a Doomer to be truly progressive.”

  Arwel called up the elevator and then leaned against the wall. “I’m not going to ask what he said and get you upset again. But is this it? Are you quitting?”

  “I’m going to sleep on it.”

  Her disappointment and disillusionment didn’t mean she could abandon her mission. In fact, she’d acted most unprofessionally and was kicking herself for it.

  Her biggest mistake hadn’t been expecting Lokan to have progressive ideas but allowing herself to believe that something real was happening between them.

  Subconsciously.

  Consciously, she’d convinced herself that she was playing a game, and doing it well, too. Lokan seemed to be infatuated with her, but then he was playing a game as well.

  Except, in her stupidity, she’d bought it.

  When they got up to her temporary apartment, Arwel stopped outside her door. “Do you want me to get the tray and the food containers from Lokan’s cell?”

  “Yes. Thank you. I’m going to grab a shower, so you can just let yourself in and leave everything on the counter.”

  “No problem. Anything else I can help you with?”

  “You can kick Lokan in the butt for me.”

  He smirked. “I’ll happily oblige.”

  “Just kidding. Good night, Arwel.” She leaned and kissed his cheek.

  “It’s too early for good nights, but same to you.”

  Opening the door, Carol hoped her roommates weren't there. She didn't feel like talking with anyone. All she wanted to do was to get into the shower and scrub herself clean.

  Damn Lokan for making her feel dirty.

  Especially since she’d never felt like that before, not even when she’d been an active courtesan. Her clients had been carefully chosen, and she hadn’t invited into her bed anyone she hadn’t been interested in. Not all of them had been handsome, but that wasn’t what she’d been after.

  Power excited her much more than good looks.

  Regrettably, damn Lokan had both and much more, and it had messed with her head. Suddenly, she wanted more than just great sex or what it could get her, money wise or information wise.

  Carol had always enjoyed the game and had prided herself for being exceptionally good at it. In modern terms, it was like turning a hobby into a job.

  None of her relatives had sneered at her chosen occupation, not even when she’d been active. They might not have thought highly of it, but there was a big difference between that and calling it degrading.

  The only time she’d ever felt degraded had been listening to Lokan and looking into his eyes when he’d pissed all over her life choices.

  But what the hell did she expect from a freaking Doomer?

  He was such a hypocrite. If he thought selling sex was degrading, then he should feel degraded for buying it.

  After the shower, Carol made herself tea and took the mug to her bedroom, then lay awake staring at the ceiling.

  Now what?

  Could she go back into Lokan’s cell tomorrow and pretend that nothing had happened?

  That was what she should do. The question was whether she could hold on to the act while keeping her heart out of it. Right now, she was too emotional to make a rational decision. The best thing she could do was to sleep on it and wait until tomorrow.

  The truth was that she didn’t need to seduce Lokan to keep him talking. She could just dangle it as a possible reward and never deliver. She could bring his breakfast in, chat a little bit, and leave. Then repeat the same thing at lunch and dinner.

  No more eating with him. Instead, she was going to leave him hanging and go hunting for a hookup. It had been way too long since she’d had some fun.

  But wait. The celebration party for Ella and Vivian’s safe return was happening tomorrow, and there was no way she was missing out on that to serve a meal to the freaking Doomer.

  He would have to heat up his freaking lunch in the microwave and eat alone. In fact, she wasn't planning on coming back for dinner either. She would bring him all three meals in the morning, and then let him stew in his own juices for the rest of the day.

  Or, even better. She could have Arwel, or one of the other Guardians who had gotten stuck babysitting Lokan, bring him sandwiches from the vending machine. That would teach him a lesson.

  The problem was that he didn’t even understand what she was mad about, so he wouldn’t know what she was punishing him for.

  Should she tell him?

  No way.

  It would be too painful having him look at her with disdain.

  30

  Lokan

  There wasn’t much to do in a cell, even a spacious one. After Carol had left, Lokan emptied the containers she’d left behind, eating every last morsel. If she wasn’t coming back, this could be his last decent meal, and he wasn’t going to waste any of it.

  When that was done, he took the tray to the counter and did the inconceivable, wiping the table clean.

  Quite domestic of him.

  In his Washington apartment, one of his bodyguards usually did the honors. Not that there had been much to clean because Lokan had been eating mostly in restaurants, but still. Wiping tables or rinsing up mugs had been beneath him.

  As he heard the door mechanism engage, Lokan watched it swing open, hoping it was Carol coming back to either explain what had angered her so much, or yell at him, or just pick up the tray.

  But it was only Arwel.

  “I came for the dishes.” He walked in.

  “Did Carol tell you what got her so upset?”

  The Guardian shrugged. “You must have said something chauvinistic. She told me to kick your butt, which I would have gladly done, but then she said she was kidding, so your backside is safe.”

  He’d figured that much himself. Maybe he should ask Arwel if mentioning prostitution or looking down on it was the newest politically incorrect thing?

  If that was it, then it was another proof that the Western world was losing its collective mind. His father was probably loving it because it reinforced what he’d been claiming all along, that humans were like sheep who need a strong shepherd to lead them.

  Except, Navuh’s idea of shepherding wasn’t benevolent. If his father had his way, he would have the whole of humanity enslaved, with immortals as its masters, and him as the absolute ruler of them all.

  Talk about a dystopian future.

  Lifting the tray, Arwel turned around and headed for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Good night, Arwel.”

  The Guardian glanced at him over his shoulder. “I suggest you try really hard to come up with the most sniveling apology you can think of. I like having good food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

  Arwel had just confirmed what Lokan had suspected. Carol might not be coming back.

  Damn, how had he messed things up so badly?

  And more importantly, how was he going to fix it?

  The best way was to admit that he’d been a hypocrite, retract his comment about prostitution being degrading, and then talk about how vital the service was to society, and especially to immortal males. As far as he could tell, her clansmen were in no better situation than the Brothers. Only a few had been lucky enough to secure mates, and the rest had to either use paid services or go out hunting for
sex in clubs and bars.

  The question was whether she was going to buy it. Perhaps a better way to approach it was to admit that it was just as degrading for the client?

  At least it would be closer to the truth.

  Except, paying for sex had never made him feel degraded. It was just the way things were. Where there was demand, supply would follow, and it had been this way forever.

  So maybe Carol was right, and as long as the service was provided voluntarily, there was nothing degrading about it for either party.

  Could he say it with conviction, though?

  Because Carol would see right through him.

  She’d seen through his game to charm her, but she hadn’t minded that because she’d been playing the same game.

  Perhaps once she cooled down a little, she would be more reasonable. After all, prostitution was illegal in most of the world. And as long as a person could get arrested for offering sex for money, there was no way the occupation could be regarded as respectable.

  Surely, he wasn’t the only one who thought like that.

  With nothing better to do, Lokan reached for the remote and flicked the television on. It wasn’t connected to the outside world, so he couldn’t listen to the news and find out if there were any new developments that he should be aware of. There was, however, an extensive selection of movies and shows he could watch.

  Scrolling through the offerings, he wasn’t paying particular attention to the display. He was still thinking about Carol and how much he missed her company.

  Should he attempt dream-sharing with her?

  Since he’d discovered the ability by chance several centuries ago, he’d only succeeded in dream-sharing with a handful of human females. Other than with Ella, it had always been about dream sex.

  He’d attempted to invade the dreams of several human generals in an attempt to uncover their war plans, but it had never worked. Then he’d tried to invade the dreams of less prominent human males, but that hadn’t worked either, so he’d figured he could only dream-share with females.