The Pleasure Rites Series

by Ines Johnson

  He'd kept a steady hand on the young lord the whole way home. Only moments ago, the man could barely make it up the steps to his home. Ghosts lived in those sky blue eyes. Jian didn't feel an ounce of jealousy, bitterness, or regret when Chanyn ran into Lord Khial's stiff arms. Instead, he wanted to instruct Lord Khial on how to hold her properly. That she liked it when you rested a firm hand at the small of her back. That she'd become entirely pliable if you placed a second hand at the base of her neck.

  But Jian held silent. Instruction was no longer his trade. He'd promised the rest of his life to the Goddess, away from her daughters and the men who aimed to please them.

  Jian walked down the hall with the same heavy steps that Lord Khial marched up them.

  "You're not staying the night?" The manservant, Rianald, materialized before him.

  Jian kept his back to the staircase that led to the sleeping quarters. He shook any last desire from his head.

  "You have honored this house," Rianald bowed. "You have done well for this family. I'm sure the Lady Darlyn smiles on you alongside her son from their place with the Goddess."

  Jian's mouth wouldn't work to respond. He bowed.

  He stepped outside the front door of the house into the windless day. A pressure pushed him backwards as he stepped over the threshold. Jian pushed his way on and heard raised voices.

  "That girl needs serious guidance!"

  At the base of the stairs stood Lady Angyla and her daughter Lady Merlyn.

  "Marrying the son of murderers and the son of pornographic actors." Lady Angyla spotted Jian and her face soured even more. "And cavorting with sex workers."

  Jian looked away.

  A conveyance pulled up to the curb and a manservant hopped out to take Lady Angyla's hand. She glanced back at the house with disgust. "That girl is a lost cause. Come along Merlyn."

  But Lady Merlyn hesitated. She turned to Jian and climbed one step.

  "You're a..." The lady leaned in and whispered. "A Pleasure Hound?"

  Jian wasn't quite sure if he should answer after her mother's admonishment. He bowed his head.

  Lady Merlyn climbed two more steps. "Do you happen to know a hound by the name of Jaspir?"

  Jian did know that name. "Yes, my lady. I trained with him."

  She took the remaining steps until she stood level with Jian. "So, he's still... at the temple?"

  "No, my lady. Jaspir did not take the vows. For a Pleasure Hound to take the vows his heart must be free. You cannot serve the Goddess and man. A hound is only the vessel of the Goddess, to be used by her. Jaspir's heart belonged to another."

  Lady Merlyn's golden-brown eyes brightened, reminding Jian of Chanyn's. "Because of love?"

  "Yes, my lady."

  Lady Merlyn's hand rose to her lips, then hovered at her heart.

  "Did you know Jaspir?"

  Lady Merlyn nodded, her smile brightened her face. Again, Jian saw the family resemblance. "He was my friend." And then a frown dragged one side of her smile down. "But if he's not at the temple, where is he?"

  "The last I heard he was working at... The Stallion."

  Lady Merlyn's frown deepened, bringing the other side down. By the look on her face, Jian assumed she knew what kind of carnal establishment The Stallion was.

  "My lady?" The manservant from the car came forward with his hand outstretched. Lady Merlyn descended the stairs and allowed herself to be put in the car.

  Jian stole one more glance at the house. He tucked it tight into his memory, and then walked away.

  He strolled slowly, leisurely. The steps he'd taken recently limited him to the confines of the temple. In the last five years, when he found himself outside of the temple, he'd walked with a purpose to get food or supplies. But now he simply walked for the joy of it. Feeling the earth crunch beneath his feet, the strength and the certainty in the firmament of the Goddess who cradled them all.

  Jian concentrated on stepping lightly on the earth. Imagining first his skin, then his muscle, and finally the bones of his feet touching the earth lightly. He gave himself over to the exercise fully, allowing the earth to support him. Knowing that with each step toward the temple, he was headed in the right direction. Back to his life's purpose, to be in total service to the Goddess. Behind him, Chanyn remained in good hands. She and Lord Khial would make it together. Jian focused his attention on letting her go, replacing his arms around her waist, his lips on hers with Lord Khial's.

  He lost himself in the simple task of walking. One foot in front of the other. Needing to please no one but the Goddess. Needing to think of nothing. Empty. Weightless. An offering that She would find pleasing to fill up with her will.

  The walk from Chanyn's home to the temple took thirty minutes at a leisurely pace. Somehow, morning turned to night before Jian returned home. He saw that he had a welcoming party.

  Elder Gerry sat in an old bamboo chair just outside the entrance to the temple. His face upturned, gazing at the stars. It was a favorite pastime of the old monk. He'd taught Jian to read the stars. In the night's sky, Jian spied Orion burning bright. Often depicted as a great warrior, Orion's story also told of epic love, sacrifice, and constant pursuit.

  The two men returned their gazes to the earth at the same time. Elder Gerry sighed and the peace Jian had cultivated over his walk cracked.

  "I never told you why I came to this place," Master Gerry began. "As a second son, I fell in love with my brother's bond mate. She and I were great friends. I knew she preferred me to my brother. So, one day I told her of my feelings. She admitted she felt the same way. We made love. Once. And then she married my elder brother as promised."

  He closed his eyes as though shaking the memories from his head. "I couldn't watch them, day in and day out. So I left. I left her and my family behind. I came here and I dedicated myself to the Goddess. Soon, I came to love the Goddess—not more than my lady, but differently. It’s not equivalent—what I felt for that girl and what I feel for our deity."

  Elder Gerry rocked back in his chair, his face upturned to the stars once more. "She became ill ten years ago, the girl I loved. I had great responsibilities here. If I left the temple, even for a few weeks, it would have put the brothers in a bad way. So I stayed. She died.

  "The Goddess is my one true love. Most people love another human being. If they're lucky, that love is returned. Men like us who have not received the love of a mother; we are perfect servants to the Goddess. We can devote our entire selves to her. She is our mother, our friend, and our one true love."

  Elder Gerry looked Jian square in the eyes. "If Lady Chanyn called out to you again, would you go?"

  Jian didn't have to think about his answer. It was, "Yes." If Chanyn stubbed her toe and called out to him, he'd go to her.

  Elder Gerry nodded. "And that is why you cannot cross this threshold to rejoin your brothers. Our mistress is a selfish one. To serve as we do you must give all your heart to Her. We serve all her daughters equally, not one more than another."

  Jian stared down at his feet as they took a step back.

  "What you feel for your lady is not wrong. Neither is it right. It just is. You will be sorely missed. By me, most of all."

  Elder Gerry rose from his chair and came to Jian, halting his backward progression.

  Elder Gerry embraced Jian. "Our ancient brother Rumi says that there is a field beyond the ideas of wrongdoings and rightdoings. One day I'll meet you there, my son."

  Jian untied his robe and put on the proffered cotton shirt that Elder Gerry held out to him. The material itched his skin. He took the sack of his belongings. Then he walked away from his home.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Khial clenched and then unclenched his fist, his shoulder ached from being suspended in midair.

  "Dain told me that the garden is so lush because his mother still watches over it," Chanyn said beside him.

  "Oh?"

  Chanyn's hand perched on Khial's arm. His elbow pointing toward her
breasts, as he'd seen bonded males of high society walk with their ladies. Khial felt ridiculous.

  "Does it bother you to speak of him?"

  Khial clenched the fist of his suspended arm. The bunching muscles caught Chanyn's fingertips in the crook of his elbow.

  Chanyn nudged her fingers out of his crook. "I can stop if it bothers you."

  "No, no." Khial unclenched his fist, but they automatically clenched again. "Well, yes. It’s just too soon right now. But another time. Perhaps."

  Chanyn removed her hand entirely from his arm. "Khial, do you mind if we sit down?"

  "Of course." Khial guided her to a white metal bench in a shady spot of the garden. The sun and clouds jockeyed for a place in the late afternoon sky. Chanyn sank onto the bench and rubbed her neck. Khial rolled his shoulders round.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "You're a bit taller than me. It was a little awkward holding your arm like that."

  "I thought that's how ladies and gentlemen walked," he said. "Arms out at odd angles like that?"

  A light rumble of laughter shook Chanyn's chest, bringing the outline of her nipples into view.

  "Let's make a promise," she said. "Let's not do things because we think it’s what we should be doing. Let's do them because we want to do them. And let's teach our child to do the same. Deal?" She put out her hand. The motion pushed her breasts together so that they swelled above the neckline of her dress.

  Khial touched her hand briefly. "Deal." He sat down, his arm stretching along the back of the bench. The indent of her shoulder pressed into his side. He'd sat just like this with Dain an innumerable amount of times. The rightness of the intimate position unsettled him.

  Chanyn's hand grasped her belly. She inhaled sharply, and her body jerked.

  Ice skittered down Khial's spine. He sat up, rigid, unsure. He looked to her lap for any sign of blood. There was none. Chanyn sat still, eyes closed, cheeks puffed, holding her breath. Khial's hands braced in front and behind her, not sure if he should be prepared to lay her down or scoop her up.

  Finally, she inhaled slowly. "It passed."

  When she saw the stricken look on his face she grimaced in apology.

  "Khial, it’s called morning sickness. Merlyn says it lasts a few weeks at most. And that it’s a good sign."

  Khial nodded stiffly. He knew all these things, but he couldn't help the little voice inside his mind, the voice that called to him in nightmares and memories. The voice that wanted to poke and pop anything Khial became attached to.

  He retracted his arm from behind Chanyn and folded his hand in his lap. They sat there quietly for a long moment, looking out over the lush garden. Darlyn, Dain's mother, had been full of so much love and she gave it freely, to people and plants alike. It didn't surprise Khial that the garden continued to be lush long after her passing. He wished he had an ounce of that feeling to share with this child and its mother.

  "I was serious last night Khial. I don't expect anything... husbandly from you."

  Khial's lips upticked at the word husbandly.

  "Don't make fun." She bumped his shoulder with hers. "You're as clueless as I am about all this."

  He looked over at her; the bark of laughter got stuck in his throat. With the sun backlighting her brown face and liquid eyes, Chanyn took his breath. She brought the plump lower lip into her mouth, pulling it with one tooth. Khial‘s mouth watered. He saw Chanyn's eyes flare.

  "Khi?" She placed a hand in the crook of his elbow.

  Khial's dick jerked to attention. The sudden rise after days of dormancy proved more painful than pleasurable.

  He stood. "I'm going out."

  Her face looked horror stricken.

  Khial held up his hands as though he could stop her assumption. "Just for a while. I won't do that again, Chanyn. I promised."

  The look of horror was slow to melt away. "You'll be back by dinner?"

  He nodded.

  She stood and held out her hand with her smallest finger extended. "Pinky swear."

  "What?"

  "It’s something I read in a book. If you break a pinky swear, your little finger will fall off."

  Khial extended his finger and linked it with hers. They shook on it, both grinning like schoolgirls. With their fingers still entwined, Khial leaned down and kissed Chanyn on the cheek. His lips tingled on contact. When he pulled back he paused for the slightest second, an inch from her mouth, before putting a breath of distance between them.

  "Now you know I've told the truth," he said. "If I lose my pinky finger I won't be able to play the violin any longer."

  She released his finger. Khial turned and left.

  It took him twenty minutes of driving to realize where he was headed.

  In Khial's worst nightmares, people looked at him with accusing eyes, even though he'd walked away from his mother all those years ago. Now, in reality, people looked at him as he walked toward her.

  "She's had no visitors," the guard said in answer to Khial's question.

  "None?" He'd always assumed his mother's followers, deranged men who paid homage to her work or her lineage, had been visiting her for years. They had to have done so in order to carry out the assassination of Dain's parents. An assassination Khial believed was called out due to his defection from her household.

  The guard shook his head. "Not once in the ten years she's been here."

  The guard had to wave Khial ahead twice. He stood, stuck in place. Khial walked slowly into the interior of the prison. He heard her before he saw her. He stopped to listen.

  She breezed through the song, a song he still fumbled. The place where he always tripped up, she sailed through effortlessly. When that song ended, she immediately began another, more difficult than the first.

  Khial crept to her door slowly, as though sneaking up on an opponent in a gunfight from a Western film of the twentieth. It took him five breaths before he gathered the courage to peer inside the cell door.

  The woman in the room playing the violin looked nothing like the memories he lugged around of his mother. She was wrinkled and gray. Her brown skin looked sallow and unhealthy. Her hair a riot of curls upon her head. She looked... helpless.

  "We do the best we can," the guard said. "But she doesn't speak and she often gets violent. You can try and talk to her if you like."

  Khial shook his head. He couldn't form a sentence even if he wanted to speak with her. There was too much chatter in his head. If she’d had no visitors, then who could have caused the accident of Dain's parents? If there was no one to listen to her, who hid the cure to Dain's illness? If there was no one to follow her, whom did Khial have to guard Chanyn and the baby against?

  His mother stopped playing abruptly. Slowly, as though she could sense him, she began to turn towards the door. Khial caught a glimpse of her eyes, the same crystal blue as his own, the same vacant void as the day he was born.

  Khial yanked away before she could glimpse him. He walked quickly back down the hall and out the door. Never looking back, once.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chanyn dug her hands into the cool earth. She didn't recognize the weed she displaced. Somehow, the scrawny plant found its way amidst the lush flowers that blocked its kin from the sun. The robust flowers dwarfed and shadowed the wayward weed, but it only stretched its brown leaves higher towards the sun.

  Chanyn reached for a clay pot. She filled the pot with fresh soil. Reaching for the weed, she pushed its roots into its new home and set the plant in the direct sunlight.

  "What are you doing?" Khial's form blocked out the sun. A scowl darkened his features further.

  Chanyn swooped the potted plant into her arms. "Was it important? Should I not have pulled this one?"

  Khial barely glanced at the plant as he helped her to her feet. "Chanyn we have servants to do this. You don't have to work. You don't have to do anything."

  "I like gardening. It's peaceful, especially in an area where I won't run into wild animals trying to steal my
dinner or my life."

  Khial sighed, releasing his scowl. "I don't want you to over exert yourself." He gave her still flat belly a fleeting look. "Please?"

  The please unfolded Chanyn's arms. She kept forgetting that she had dominion over all and everyone in this house. Khial had no power or right to make her do anything. Everything he asked of her would be a request, a request she had the right to deny.

  She handed the plant to Khial who set it back in the sun. Then she let him guide her into the house. Once inside, he brought her to the sink and washed her hands. She'd seen him tune his instrument one morning. He adjusted each string, one by one, with such care and focus.

  One by one, Khial washed the soil from each of Chanyn's fingers.

  Chanyn gazed at the concentration set in his strong jaw. His eyes were screwed in scrutiny. His tongue sneaked out of his mouth as his focus increased. Chanyn forgot to blink as she watched his every move, wondering if this is what he looked like as a boy. Would their son make that same face?

  She blinked.

  They wouldn't be having children. Not of their own flesh, made together. Khial didn't look at her like that, and she should be glad he didn't. She loved another man. A man she couldn't have. A man who, after coming to her aid, left without a word. Jian's priorities were crystal clear.

  "What is it?" Khial stopped the water and dried her hands. "Did I hurt you?" His face screwed as he looked for damage.

  "No, Khial. I was just..."

  Khial tossed the towel into the sink. "You were thinking about him?"

  "Dain?"

  "No, the monk. Jian."

  Khial put his hand on her lower back and walked her down the hallway. Chanyn forgot to speak as she concentrated on that hand at her lower back. The warmth of it. The weight of it.

  "I wish things could have been different for both of us, Chanyn. But I'm learning we can't change the past. Sometimes we can't even see the past clearly for what it was."

  They entered Dain's office. Chanyn sat once more on the dainty couch where Dain had proposed.

  "My fathers would've done anything for my mother. They did... they did horrible things to prove their affection. Growing up, that was my definition of love. I've been so afraid of being like my parents all my life. My choices were emotion-less, like my mother, or obsessive, like my fathers. I'm still learning that I get to choose who I want to be. Dain..."