by Cat Marsters
* * * * *
“I need to go out after breakfast,” she told Bael in the morning. He lay there looking sleepy, tousled and warm, and so fuckable she almost backed out of her plan.
“I’ll come with you.”
“No. It’s—” Shit, she’d spent all night trying to think of an excuse he wouldn’t muscle in on, and all she could think of was, “It’s a, uh, female stuff.”
As far as Kett was concerned, it was as bad as playing the helpless female, but she’d never known it to fail. Bael nodded quickly and said, “Sure, whatever you need. I’ll wait here, shall I? Will you be long?”
“I don’t know. I also need to do a favor for Chance,” Kett improvised.
Her instructors at Koskwim had always told her that one day she’d find herself in a situation where wit and intelligence were required, rather than snarling at someone and threatening to bite their bollocks off. This appeared to be such a day.
When Bael looked expectant, she added, “Striker stuff. You don’t want to know. I’ll be gone all day.”
Bael made a face. “I’ll come with you.”
“You? And how will you help? You’re terrified of anything to do with Striker and you’ll probably just get into trouble beating up someone’s kelfs.”
“You said they treat them horribly here anyway. They’d probably like me for it.”
“Well, you’re still not coming. Stay here.”
Bael saluted. “Sir, yes sir!”
It has to be like this, she told herself as she got dressed. It’s better for us both. Last night had been beautiful, but she couldn’t risk the rest of her life on “beautiful”. Sooner or later Bael would screw her over, like all her other lovers had.
And if he didn’t, then the inevitable Curse of Kett would fall on him and get him hurt or killed or whatever else the gods could think of.
End it now, before it’s too late.
She ordered a massive breakfast and Bael did the same, whispering across the table what he wanted to do to her as soon as the meal was over. Forking up a slice of sautéed drac, a flying sea serpent that tasted vaguely like dodo meat, he slid his other hand under the table and caressed her thigh.
“I’m going to lick you until you scream, and then lick you some more,” he murmured. “I love licking you out. Love the taste of your cream on my tongue.”
Kett gritted her teeth and forced herself to think of Treegan scores.
“I’m going to find a mirror and fuck you in front of it so we can both watch,” Bael said, his finger edging up her thigh, perilously close to where Kett was doing a very bad job of keeping her arousal in check. “Stand behind you and slide in and out of that delicious little pussy of yours.”
“Stop,” Kett said, fixing him with a cold glare. “I’m trying to eat my breakfast and you’re putting me off.”
Bael looked a little taken aback, but he removed his hand and changed the subject.
As soon as she’d finished eating, Kett stood up, scraping her chair back, and said, “I’m going. Try to stay out of trouble.”
“Sure I can’t come with you?” Bael asked, catching her hand. “I’d really like to. Come,” he added, looking up at her with molten green eyes. Kett snatched her hand back before she could succumb.
“I don’t want you to,” she snapped. And added, “Come.”
She turned and stalked away, ducking and weaving through the streets in case Bael tried to follow. When she failed to pick up his scent, she headed toward the flea market and made some purchases.
Ducking out of sight behind a commercial stable, she took out her scryer and concentrated on Tyra, the Order’s librarian.
“I need something to knock a man out,” she said without preamble.
“Right hook should do it,” Tyra replied, barely looking up from her paperwork.
“No, I mean something I can slip into his drink. Something to make him think he’s drunk.”
“Try alcohol,” Tyra said. “Kett, I’m very busy—”
“And something that will make him lose his sense of smell,” Kett added. “Just temporarily, when he wakes up.” She didn’t want to do Bael any lasting damage. “I’m in northern Sisilia.”
Tyra frowned at her. She crossed to a filing cabinet in the massive, cave-like library and flicked through its contents.
“Anosmia,” she murmured, taking out a card. “Cadmium is rather damaging in the long term—”
“No,” Kett said firmly. “He needs to be fine. Just knocked out for a little while and have no sense of smell when he wakes up.”
“And it must be something you can find in northern Sisilia?” Tyra asked. “Really, Kett. I do wish you’d do your own research.”
“I do wish you’d develop a sense of humor,” Kett snapped. “We’ve all got impossible dreams.”
Tyra gave her a disapproving look but finally came up with a drug Kett could buy from an apothecary.
“And you’re sure it won’t really harm him?” Kett persisted. “The damage will only be temporary?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Tyra took off her spectacles. “Just what sort of mission are you on?”
“A personal one,” Kett said, and in light of Tyra’s helpfulness, neglected to add “bugger off” before she ended the call.
A short time later, she changed her shape to match her new clothes, plumping up her breasts to fall out of the slutty corset, making her feet smaller to fit into the battered heeled boots, filling out her hips to make the flounced skirts sway. She erased all her scars, changed her face enough to look like a different person and added a beauty mark for good luck.
One of her purchases had been a hand mirror, and she peered into it. Dammit, but she could never change the color of her eyes, and her hair was damn stubborn about staying curly. Well, maybe that was to her advantage.
Rolling her clothes into a bundle, she stowed them under a trough and tucked her last purchase, the packet of gray powder recommended by Tyra, into her skirt pocket.
“Showtime,” she muttered to herself, and went back to the inn.
* * * * *
Bored within minutes, Bael wandered out to the stable yard to harass the kelfs a bit, then remembered Kett didn’t like it and headed to the inn’s tavern to sulk instead.
Maybe it wasn’t a kelf who killed my mother. Kett seemed so surprised by the idea, and Bael had to admit he’d never heard of another Nasc being seriously hurt by a kelf. But had his father—his brilliant, infallible father—really been wrong? Or had he been lying? And why?
Now Albhar seemed adamant it had really been this shapeshifter he was after. His former mentor had been rattling on about the poor creature for years, the one that got away, but he’d never accused it of murder before.
Idly, Bael wondered what he really wanted the creature for.
In his pocket, something vibrated. It was not an unpleasant sensation but it startled the hell out of him until he remembered the scryer Nuala had given him. He pulled it out and saw Albhar’s face.
The two of them stared at each other. His former tutor looked older, more grizzled than Bael remembered. His eyebrows appeared to have been singed in one of his endless, futile magical experiments. The man barely had the power to light a candle, but still he tried.
“Bael?” asked the old man eventually. “What the devil—how did you get one of these things?”
“It was a present,” Bael said defensively. Albhar always made him feel defensive, like a little boy still getting into trouble.
“From who?”
My mate’s stepmother. “Just a friend,” he said. “Did you want something?”
“No, I was just…well, I suppose I must have been thinking of you.” Bael began to smile at this admission, then abruptly scowled when Albhar continued, “Wondering when you were going to stop gallivanting around and show some damn responsibility for once. One of your houses burned down last year, boy, and you didn’t even notice.”
“I was just—look, I’m busy,” Bael sn
apped. “Don’t you have a shapeshifter to catch?”
“Oh, we do,” Albhar said. His faded eyes sparkled a bit. “Boy, when we find it, you’ll need to come home. You’ll need to see it.”
“Why?” Bael asked. “Because it killed my mother? My father always said a kelf did that.”
“Yes, well. You never liked kelfs anyway,” Albhar said vaguely. “Your father never did either.”
“No, I don’t suppose he did.” Bael ducked under a low door to the tavern’s dark interior, frowning. Nasc and kelfs, eternal enemies.
“But it was the shapeshifter, boy. I’m sure of that. If you find it you’ll bring it to us, won’t you?”
“How am I even supposed to know what I’m looking for?” Bael began, but Albhar cut him off.
“It’ll be the perfect revenge. Sacrificing it for your father’s ritual.”
“Sacrificing it? The ritual will kill it?”
“Oh yes.” Bael didn’t like the gleam in Albhar’s eyes. “Very much so. Everything will be better once we’ve caught it, boy.”
Unease tugged at Bael. “Don’t call me boy,” he said, and shoved the scryer back in his pocket. Albhar’s voice faded as the connection was lost.
“You look sad.”
He glanced up into the face of a young serving maid. She was wearing a corset laced obscenely tight, pushing her breasts up and out and right into his face. With a jug of beer in one hand and a damp cloth in the other, she smiled sympathetically at him as he took a seat.
“Want to talk about it?”
Bael shook his head. “No.”
“Oh, come on. A problem shared is a problem halved.” She started to wipe the table.
“I don’t think you’d understand.”
She cocked her head. “Why not? I’m a good listener, try me.”
Bael shoved a hand through his hair. “I’d rather wait until my mate gets back.”
“Your mate? Where’d he go?”
“He?” Bael stared at her a moment, then realized her mistake. “No, I don’t mean mate as in friend, I mean as in girlfriend. Wife.”
“You’re married?” She glanced at his hand, and he remembered the human custom of wearing rings to denote marriage.
“Yeah—well, it’s complicated,” he said, and she slid into the seat next to him.
“My name’s Marisa,” she said. “Tell me.”
Bael tried to put her off, but she kept topping up his beer and eventually he gave in. A little lightheaded from the unknown quantity of alcohol she’d been plying him with, he told her about being Nasc, and what having a mate really meant. It was incredibly unlikely she’d know anyone even remotely connected to Albhar or tell him Bael was Nasc. Albhar wasn’t stupid, he’d put two and two together.
Not that Bael didn’t trust Albhar, but sometimes things slipped out, and if those shady bastards with the Federación knew there was a Nasc Mage about, his days would be numbered.
“So you really can’t have sex with anyone else?” Marisa asked, her eyes widening. Funny, she had silver eyes, like Kett’s. He’d thought they were unique to Kett and her father.
“Do you know Kett Almet?” he asked.
Marisa shrugged. “Don’t think so. Sounds foreign. Off-Realm?”
“Peneggan,” Bael agreed. “You have the same eyes as her.”
“Lots of people have gray eyes,” Marisa said.
“No, they’re silver.”
“No, they’re gray,” she said, her smile slipping a little. Then it returned. “Why, do you like silver eyes?”
“I do,” Bael said, thinking of the way Kett’s flashed and sparked.
Marisa placed her hand on his arm and a flash of heat zapped through Bael.
He nearly jumped off his chair.
“Hey, calm down,” she said, laughing. “I only touched your arm.” Leaning in close, she whispered, “Imagine what might happen if I touched you elsewhere.”
Bael reeled back. “No,” he said. “Nothing’s going to happen. I have a mate. I can’t have sex with anyone else.”
“Can’t?” Marisa pouted. “Or won’t?”
“Can’t,” he snapped.
Her fingers caressed his arm, sending sparks through him again. “I’ve never believed in ‘can’t’,” she purred, and before Bael could entirely realize what she was doing, she’d snaked one hand under the table and cupped his crotch, which responded enthusiastically.
“Mmm,” she said, fluttering her lashes at him. “Feels to me an awful lot like you can.”
Bael leapt to his feet so fast his chair fell over. People stared.
“Get off me,” he muttered, and fled the room. The walls rocked and swayed—how much had he had to drink?—and the stairs danced, uneven and badly laid. He stumbled along the wonky floor to his room and staggered inside.
Locking the bedroom door, he hurled himself at the bed, shaking. What the hell had that been? She touched his arm and arousal spiked through him. She cupped his cock and it jumped up to say hello.
Who the hell was she?
Bael’s brain was distinctly fuzzy now. He tried to remember how much he’d had, but that damn Marisa had never let his mug get empty. How big had that pitcher been? Endless…
The room spun around him and Bael closed his eyes, just for a minute.
* * * * *
Maybe hours later, maybe minutes, he awoke to the soft, wet touch of a woman’s mouth on his cock. Head still fuzzy, he lay there, trying to work out if he was dreaming or not. But even his hottest dreams hadn’t felt this good. A hot, wet tongue slid up and down his cock in long strokes, smooth and practiced. Soft hair caressed his hips, his thighs.
Bael opened his eyes but the curtains were drawn, the room dark, and all he saw was a head of dark, curly hair, bent over his groin.
He smiled. Kett had come back and decided to wake him up by giving him a blowjob. Well, that was damn nice of her. He made an appreciative noise and slid his hand into her hair. She rewarded him by sucking him into her mouth.
“Oh gods, yes,” he moaned, eyes fluttering closed again. “Shit, that feels good. You’re so good at that.”
She moved her head and he began to thrust in time. His cock was incredibly hard, so full it felt like it might burst, but then it always did when he was with Kett. He’d never felt like this with anyone else before. Never had such incredible, mind-blowing sex with anyone.
Her fingers caressed his balls, which tightened and drew up, ready to come.
“Kett, I’m gonna—I’m gonna—”
“Mmm,” she said, and the vibration had come shooting out his cock, right down her throat. She took it, swallowing hard, and continued to lick him. Bael lay back, his head still fuzzy but in a much more pleasant way, and stroked her head. He was getting hard again, the pressure of Kett’s mouth and the sway of her breasts against his thighs making him incredibly hot even after his orgasm had drained him.
“I want to lick you,” he said. “Come up here, I want to lick that delicious pussy of yours.”
Without lifting her head from his cock, she maneuvered herself around so she straddled his face, and Bael eagerly pulled her down to him. Her cunt was dripping wet, the folds swollen and pink, and he dipped his tongue inside happily. He loved her taste, could lick her for hours.
Her hand stroked roughly up and down his shaft as she teased and tormented the head. Burying his face in her pussy, he flicked her clit with his tongue and reached down to cup her breasts and stroke her nipples.
She gasped, brought her head up and moaned. “Good,” she choked. “So good.”
“I could lick you forever,” Bael said, and drove his tongue deep into her pussy. Kett writhed, then sat up and slid down his body until her pussy rubbed his cock. Holding his throbbing length in one hand, she rubbed it against her sopping-wet folds, the tight nub of her clit, and rocked her hips.
“Do you want me inside you?” Bael asked, sitting up and pressing her smooth back against his chest.
She nodded, an
d as he brushed her hair away from the back of her neck, kissing the damp skin there, she fed his cock into her hungry pussy, taking him in all the way and squeezing tight around his whole length. Bael cupped her breast with one hand, slid the other down to stroke her clit and rocked his hips against hers. He couldn’t thrust into her properly like this, but it was a great position for slow, glorious fucking.
“I only wish we had a mirror,” he whispered, and she squeezed her internal muscles around him.
“Your cock feels so good inside me,” she moaned. “Just like I knew it would.”
“Mmm,” he said—then frowned as he realized what she’d said.
“You’re so big. I felt it, under the table, but I didn’t realize it was this big.” Her fingers joined his between her legs, but while his rubbed her clit, hers stroked his balls and the base of his cock, slippery with her own juices.
“You—”
She writhed against him, her back rubbing his hard nipples, and Bael suddenly went cold as he realized what was wrong. Her back was completely smooth.
Not scarred.
“Kett,” he said, and she giggled.
Bael went completely still.
“You can call me Kett if you’d like,” she said, “but it’s actually Marisa, remember?”
He breathed in, trying to capture Kett’s scent, but smelled nothing. Panic swamped him and for a moment he couldn’t move.
Still bouncing happily on his cock, she said, “You passed out, poor baby, but I couldn’t wait to see what that big juicy dick of yours felt like in my mouth.”
“Get off me,” Bael said, shoving her away and scrambling backward. Horror consumed him as the girl with the dark curly hair turned and looked at him with a face that wasn’t Kett’s.
The barmaid from downstairs was sprawled there on the bed, legs open wide, pussy slick and swollen, and his cock leapt at the sight. She arched her back, her bountiful breasts aimed right at him, and stroked her own pussy.
“Come on in, lover,” she purred, and Bael leapt backward so far he fell off the bed.
“Get out,” he said. “Get out!”
Her face fell. “But we were having such a good time,” she pouted. “Is this because I sucked your dick before you were awake? Well, I’m sorry, babe, but I couldn’t resist, and you did enjoy it.” She licked her lips. “I can still taste your come.”
