by Cat Marsters
Or both. She ducked behind the snooker table.
The door finally closed and conversation dimmed as all the locals watched the newcomer walk across the stained wooden floor to the bar.
“I’m looking for someone,” he said, and Kett rolled her eyes, because if she hadn’t guessed already, now she knew it was Bael.
“Who would that be then, sir?” Bill asked.
“A woman.”
Kett stifled a snort. She’d been here six months before the locals caught sight of her in a t-shirt and spied her breasts. Before that, they’d assumed the new dragon trainer was a man. Most of them still thought of her that way.
“Only woman here’s my daughter,” Bill said now, with an overlay of heavy protectiveness.
“No—I mean, a specific woman. Tall, dark curly hair, scar on her cheek, limps slightly. Very hot. And angry.”
Angie stifled a giggle.
“Her name is Kett.”
One of the snooker players snorted. “Kett’s not a woman.”
“Er,” Bael said, “I’m pretty sure she is.”
Kett felt her face get hot.
“Is she here?” Bael asked, and from behind the snooker table, Kett shook her head frantically at Angie, who gave a small shake of her head to her father.
“Sure, she’s hiding behind the snooker table,” Bill said cheerfully, and Kett shot him a filthy look as she stood up. “Drink?”
“Whatever she’s having,” Bael said, beaming at Kett, who pinched the bridge of her nose and reminded herself that if she got thrown in prison for killing Bael the week before Yule, her father would disown her.
Actually, maybe that would be a good idea.
Then Bael winked, and despite herself Kett felt something go twing in the region of her underwear.
“Is there a reason you’re here, or are you just stalking me?” she asked, trying to dispel the feeling.
“I need to talk to you,” Bael said.
“I hate those words,” Kett muttered. Louder, she asked, “What about? You know who strung us up in that cave?”
The pub suddenly got a lot quieter.
“Er, no,” Bael said.
“Then what could you possibly have to tell me that I’d be interested in?”
“Uh.” Bill put Bael’s beer on the bar and he picked it up, suddenly looking nervous. “Is there somewhere quieter we can go?”
“No,” Kett said. If they went somewhere quieter, she might forget that he’d almost gotten her killed earlier and jump him. Which would just be stupid.
“Outside, maybe?”
“You did just come from outside, I take it?” Kett asked incredulously. “It’s below freezing and it’s been snowing nonstop for weeks.”
“I really would rather talk to you in private,” Bael said.
“Well, tough.”
He sighed, drank some of his beer then tugged her over to a quieter corner of the pub. Since every single person there was silently listening, it didn’t make a whole lot of difference.
“Okay,” he said.
Kett waited.
“Okay.” He drank some more beer.
Wow, he really was nervous.
“Okay—”
“Bael?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop saying ‘okay’ or I’ll punch you.”
“Ok—” He swallowed. “Right.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You know your cousin, right?”
“Chance? I’m acquainted with her.”
“Well. You know how she’s sort of our queen?”
“Sort of?”
“Well, is. Because she’s the king’s mate.”
“Yes.” Kett folded her arms and leaned against the wall.
“Right.” Bael drank some more. “Uh. You’re not sleeping with Jarven, are you?”
Kett blinked at this mad conversational segue. “Why is that any of your business?”
Bael looked miserable. “It just is. Are you sleeping with anyone?”
She narrowed her eyes. “No. Happy now?”
“Have you, er, slept with anyone? Since me, I mean?”
“I really don’t see—”
“Just answer me. Please,” Bael said, and Kett saw the desperation in his eyes.
She blew out a sigh. “No,” she said. “I live in the middle of fucking nowhere and there are no eligible men here between the ages of eighteen and eighty. Except for Jarven, and he don’t count.”
Something flared in Bael’s eyes but it was hard to tell what. He drank the rest of his beer all in one go then held it out to Bill. “More, please.”
Bill silently refilled it, watching them intently, and Kett sighed. Bael was clearly really uncomfortable talking about this in public, but equally as clearly he wasn’t going to go away until he’d said it.
Maybe he did know something about the cave. She ought to hear him out.
“Bill,” she asked, “mind if we go upstairs?”
Amusement flared in the landlord’s face before he nodded. “Go ahead,” he said, and Kett picked up her mug of beer and led Bael to the door behind the bar that separated the pub’s private and public sections.
Upstairs was a small parlor, away from the sounds and smells of the bar. But Kett wasn’t used to drinking in such a clean atmosphere, so she lit up a cigar while Bael looked around nervously.
“Talk,” she said.
He sat down opposite her and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re not making this very easy,” he said.
“Wasn’t aware I was supposed to.”
He sighed. “Okay. Here’s the thing. I’m Nasc, right?”
“Right. What’s your animal?”
“Don’t distract me. I’m Nasc. Do you…know very much about us?”
Kett waved her hand to say she didn’t.
“Right. Well. Your cousin is mated to one.”
“We covered this already.”
“Yes, but do you know what that means? Mated?”
“I figure it’s like being married, only more…animally. More sex, maybe.” She blew out a smoke ring.
At the mention of sex, Bael’s eyes darkened. Well, she couldn’t blame him. If it had been half as good for him as it had for her, he’d be desperate for more.
“Well, yes. Sort of. It has a lot to do with sex.”
“What a surprise.”
“Once a Nasc is mated, they can’t have sex with anyone else.”
“Like marriage, then.”
“No, I mean literally can’t. It’s physically impossible.”
Kett blinked, an image of the insanely virile Dark being unable to get it up suddenly flashing into her mind. “Seriously?”
“Yep. And we can only have children with our mates too.”
“So…once you’re mated, that’s it? No get-out clause? No divorce? No shagging around on the side?”
“Nope. Once you’ve found your mate, that’s it.”
“Huh. Well, I suppose it’s a better system than ours.” Her fingers curled into a fist, remembering. “So long as you’re really, really sure you want to be mated to that person.”
Bael cleared his throat, drank some more beer then cleared it again. “Um. Well. That’s the thing.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That can’t be the thing; you already said ‘the thing’.”
“Well, this is another thing. Or part of the same thing. Um. You don’t actually get to decide if you want to be mated or not.”
“You don’t?” Kett scowled. It reeked of arranged marriages to her, and in Kett’s mind, an arranged marriage was like executing a random person when a crime had been committed. You might get lucky and get the right person, but chances were you’d just condemned someone innocent.
“No. It’s sort of a fate thing. Once you find each other, that’s sort of it.”
“Fate,” Kett said skeptically.
“Well, yes.”
“That’s bollocks,” she said.
“I thought you’d say th
at,” he sighed.
“No, it is. The whole fate thing. Written in the stars and all that. There’s not a thing written down can’t be changed.”
“It’s not written anywhere,” Bael said, looking miserable. “It’s just true. Once you find your mate, that’s it.”
He looked at her then, and those green eyes connected with something inside her. A nasty suspicion started in Kett’s mind.
“Please don’t be telling me what I think you’re telling me,” she said.
“What do you think I’m telling you?” Bael asked warily.
“That you think we’re these fated mate things.”
He swallowed. “Well, yes.”
Kett looked at him. He appeared to be serious. And not particularly cheerful about it, either. Well, fuck this.
She picked up her beer and drank some. Then some more. Then some more, until the mug was empty. Then she went to the stairs and yelled, “Bill, I need more,” and handed down her mug for a refill.
His bushy eyebrows waggled at her as he filled it. “How’s it going up there? Don’t you two stain my rugs.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kett snapped, and took her beer back.
Bael was sitting where she’d left him, gnawing on one fingernail. She hadn’t seen him look so uncertain since she’d met him—but then, she reminded herself sternly, she hadn’t met him very long before he’d buggered off again.
They hardly knew each other. This was insane.
“Look,” she said, sitting down again. “This is stupid. We can’t be those mate things because I’m not Nasc.”
“Neither is the queen.”
Dammit, he had a point. “Well, are you sure they’re these fated mates?”
Bael nodded morosely. “Yes. They even gave me details.”
A piece slotted into place in Kett’s head. “You talked to them about this?”
“Had to talk to someone! I haven’t been able to have sex with anyone since you!”
A small touch of pride warmed Kett. Then irritation squashed it. “Is that how you found out where I live? Chance told you?”
Warily, he nodded.
“She is so dead.”
“Don’t you threaten my queen.”
He said it mildly, and Kett snorted. “She’s my cousin. And I could definitely kick her ass.”
“Look, we’re not talking about her.”
“No, we’re talking about your recent fit of insanity. I say recent, because based on the evidence so far, they seem to hit with the same regularity as the sunrise. Bael, I’m not your mate. We hardly know each other!”
“Chance and Dark hardly knew each other. In fact, he tried to kill her several times, but they still—”
“Still not talking about them,” Kett said, glaring at him.
He was a loon. Well, she already knew that, but he was twice a loon now. If he thought she was going to jump for joy at his mad proposal—because that’s what it was, a proposal, horribly mixed in with a fait accompli—then he wasn’t just insane, he was also stupid.
Why her? She was a divorced ex-con with a crippled leg and a mad family. She wasn’t young, she wasn’t beautiful and she did nothing but yell at him. All she had in her favor was that she was great in the sack, and frankly Bael could probably get that anywhere.
Kett didn’t like fate. She didn’t like the idea that things were meant to happen and there wasn’t any way to change them, and she really didn’t like the idea that there was a preordained destiny out there for everyone. Especially for herself.
She’d heard enough predictions about how she was going to either go insane, get locked up in jail or die young—or all three—to be completely sick of it.
Even if two out of three had come true already. And sitting here listening to Bael, she wasn’t entirely sure about the third.
Added to which, she didn’t want a mate. Husband. Boyfriend. Whatever. Other people got in the way—they always had, they always would. Other people got you hurt, or they got hurt because of you.
Alone was best. It always had been.
Kett ran her hands over her face. It was just as well she couldn’t currently change her shape, or Bael would probably think it was a sign they really were meant to be together. She needed to make it clear to Jarven that Bael wasn’t to be told—in the unlikely chance that Jarven actually decided to speak to anyone, that was.
“Well, look,” Bael said. “There is one way to be sure.”
“What’s that?”
He cocked his head. “Actually, two.”
Kett stubbed out her cigar. “Go on, then.”
“Well, you could have sex with someone else. If you’re my mate, that should be impossible.”
Kett opened her mouth to tell him there wasn’t anyone within a fifty-mile radius she’d even consider having sex with, but then it occurred to her the idea had merit.
She had to pick up Striker and Chalia tomorrow and take them to Elvyrn. She hadn’t planned on staying, but maybe if she did, she might find someone to hook up with. Nuala was always trying to set her up with someone. The idea of a single woman in her thirties seemed to be completely unnatural to her stepmother.
Yeah. She’d go to Elvyrn, endure the family Yule gathering and shag some stranger. Then she could prove to Bael that this was all bollocks.
Shag a stranger. She used to do it all the time when she was younger. Why in the Realm had she stopped? It was always so—
Empty.
Exciting!
Sordid.
Liberating.
Sad.
Cool.
Childish.
Adult.
Pathetic.
She sighed. “Okay, what’s the other option?”
“Well, you could have sex with me.”
Kett snorted. But Bael seemed to be serious.
She tried to ignore the stab of heat that came from the idea. “What would that prove?”
“That I’m your mate.”
“Er, no. It wouldn’t.”
Although, it would be an excuse for more of those fireworks Bael had given her last time… No. Bad Kett.
“Well, it would to me.”
“You’re not the one who needs convincing!” She hoped her hard nipples weren’t visible through her shirt.
“Yes, I am. I need to be convinced my penis isn’t broken,” Bael said plaintively.
Kett laughed. She couldn’t help it. She clinked her mug against his and stood up. “Well, you try, I’ll give you that.”
“This isn’t funny,” Bael said, standing too.
“Is to me. And look at it this way. If I didn’t think it was funny, I’d probably be beating you up. Bael, you’re a nutball. I’m not sleeping with you. End of story.”
Chapter Six
“This doesn’t mean anything,” Kett moaned as his mouth closed around her nipple.
“Mmm,” Bael agreed, a rather wonderful vibration.
“I’m just horny. And like I said, there are no other men around here. Or I’d be letting one of them suck my tits.”
His hand slid around her waist, under her shirt, and his fingers dipped under the edge of her dragonskin jeans. The cold wind bit against her skin and she gasped.
“Whose idea was it to have sex outside?” she demanded breathlessly, her head falling back against the cold stone of the pub wall.
Bael raised his head and the wind chilled her wet nipple.
“Yours,” he said, his voice husky. “Still, it’s one way to ward off the chill.”
“Speaking of,” she said, “I’m about to get frostbite to the nipples.” And she pushed his head back down to her breast. Bael laughed and ran his hot tongue around her cold flesh, making her see stars. His gloved fingers started unfastening her fly.
I must be mad, she thought. Having sex outside in the snow with a man who is clinically insane and thinks I’m his destined mate. This is totally—ooh, that’s nice.
That’s very nice.
Bael had taken his
glove off, which in other circumstances might have engendered frostbite, but he was keeping his fingers warm by burying them between her legs. His thumb caressed her clit while his fingers slid inside, stroking her slick pussy.
Kett wasn’t even really aware her own hands were moving to his fly until she felt his cock thud heavily against her fingers, thick and hard. She ripped off her glove and wrapped her hand around it. Gotta keep it warm, she thought vaguely as Bael’s fingers did wonderful things to her, or it’ll get cold and drop off, and I want it fucking me.
“Sweet fuck, Kett, that’s good,” Bael moaned, even though all she was doing was holding his cock. “Gods, I want to be inside you.”
His teeth scraped her nipple, and Kett yelped, “Yes, me too. Inside me. Now!”
Bael didn’t waste any time. He shoved her jeans down, pulled her bare right leg around his waist under his coat and pressed his hot cock against her wet, desperate pussy.
“It’s you,” he breathed, and surged into her. “It has to be you.”
Kett wasn’t really listening. He filled her up, all the way in, so thick and long and so damn good. Maybe this mate thing wouldn’t be so bad. She’d get fucked by Bael every night. Get that wonderful big cock ramming up inside her whenever she wanted it. Those magic fingers working her clit, just like they were doing now, oh dear gods…
With each thrust he pushed her back against the wall, nearly shoving her off her feet. Well, foot. Her right leg was wrapped tight around his waist, pulling him deeper inside her with every stroke.
She braced her hands on his shoulders and hopped her other leg up, clenched tight against his hip so she was being supported solely by his cock.
“Oh gods,” she moaned, as Bael’s hands gripped her hips tight. “Oh fuck, yes. Harder!”
Bael obliged. Every slide of that huge, thick penis inside her was wonderful, so slick and hot, filling her up and stroking pleasure into her. It was getting unbearable now, heat spiraling up inside her, consuming her, and her body started to shake. Someone was crying out and it sounded like her, but Kett wasn’t really sure and she didn’t really care either, because she was coming, coming hard out in the snowy yard behind the pub with Bael’s cock plowing deep into her.
