“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, relax. I’ll be five minutes.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“The hell you are. This poor guy has enough problems without you scowling at him.”
“Remember me not caring?”
“Remember me telling you to relax? Go wait in the lobby for me. Go on, go. Or I won’t have sex with you for a month.”
There was a moment’s silence then the male footsteps retreated. They sounded like they were stomping. Outside the door, the woman paused. Her scent wafted toward Bael.
He put his head in his hands. He was so screwed.
There was a gentle knock on the door. “Yeah,” he called dispiritedly, and the door opened and shut almost silently. He didn’t look up. He knew who he’d see. The most beautiful woman in all the Realms, no doubt wearing something stunningly elegant, moving like a goddess and smelling like an angel.
“Mr. Var?” she said in a soft, wonderful, melodic voice.
“Baelvar, your majesty,” he said, and looked up at her miserably.
Shock flashed across her perfect features. “Bael?”
“Yeah,” he said wretchedly, and flopped back on the bed.
Chance stared at him, her perfect elegance all gone. “Bael? I-I-I must have gotten the wrong room.”
“Nope.”
She stared some more. She gaped. “But-Bael?”
“Yep. Well, Baelvar if we’re being picky. Your majesty,” he added.
“I was told…you were having problems…” Slowly, it seemed to sink in. And when it did, her face changed. “Oh Bael,” she said, deep sympathy in her words. He wanted to cry. Especially since her perfect, lust-inducing presence had done absolutely nothing for his libido. “I suppose this means…who is she?”
He buried his head under the pillow with a moan.
Chance’s footsteps retreated from the bed. Bael stayed where he was. Well, now he was royally fucked. Except that he wasn’t. He’d have laughed if it wasn’t all so hideous.
A couple minutes later he heard the door open again, felt the strong, powerful presence of his king and lifted his head from the bed.
“Baelvar.” Dark stood there with his arm possessively around Chance. “I suppose I should offer congratulations.”
“I didn’t know it would be…” Bael gestured helplessly at Chance. As if things weren’t bad enough, he’d gone and hired the king’s mate as a fluffer. Well, maybe this could work to his advantage. The king would kill him and the whole mess would be over.
“You requested the most desirable woman in all the Realms,” Dark said, his quiet voice like a distant rumble of thunder.
“Yes, but I didn’t, uh…”
“Dark, stop torturing him,” Chance said. “I take it from this you’ve tried…er…being with other women?”
Bael nodded miserably.
“And I take it you’re not happy with this turn of events,” Dark said.
He was going to die. Who’d be happy with that?
“Who is she, Bael?” Chance asked. “Who was the last woman you were with?”
He closed his eyes. The last woman he’d been with-and the only woman he ever could be with again.
“Kett,” he said, and heard their combined intake of breath.
“Oh,” Dark said.
“You’re so screwed,” Chance said.
“No,” Bael flopped back down again, “that’s part of the problem.” He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Any tips on how to tell her?”
Chance and Dark were silent a moment. Then Dark wordlessly handed Chance her suitcase, from which she withdrew a piece of chainmail.
“You might need this,” she said.
The annoying thing, Kett thought as she adjusted her chinstrap, was the dreams. Damn fantasies, attacking her every night since she’d gotten home. She was amazed Jarven hadn’t said anything, because she’d woken herself once or twice with moaning and he was only upstairs.
One night, when she’d been dreaming most pleasantly of Bael stroking her clit with one hand and the inside of her pussy with the other, while his tongue dipped inside her ass, she’d actually been woken by the force of her own orgasm. An orgasm induced by a dream lover. It was insane.
Maybe she should get Chance to track Bael down. Her cousin could probably do it. After all, Kett had drawn a total blank on the cave symbols, and if the Koskwim library didn’t have the info, then no place would. She’d even asked the Order if anyone had taken out a contract on her or Bael, but the response had been negative.
Maybe Bael might know. Maybe he’d been off investigating what happened while she’d been trying to forget.
Or maybe he’d just been shagging around and he’d completely forgotten about it. And her.
She squeezed her eyes shut. No more Bael. He damaged her calm, and she’d only just settled into it. No more fights with tigers, no more psychopaths coming after her family, no more jail sentences.
I just want a quiet life.
She eyed up the dragon tethered in the paddock, a snowy valley at the foot of the mountains. The sensible thing to do would be to get Jarven to help her drug it, but Kett felt the need for a punishing physical workout. Again. Since she was still entirely unable to change her shape and just fly up there and pop the pill in Fira’s mouth, she’d have to resort to ropes, chains and her own physical skill.
A fleeting thought of Bael, some ropes, chains and physical skill came to mind, but she pushed it firmly away and prepared to exhaust herself.
Again.
Kett brushed a few flakes of snow from her face and sighed. This whole thing would be a lot easier if she could just change her damn shape and fly up there. But no matter how hard she tried, she was stuck as a bloody human. She’d have to ask Striker about it when she saw him, which didn’t add to her general store of happiness. Being indebted to anyone made her furious.
Being indebted to Striker made her very afraid.
Fira was tethered to five steel pegs set in concrete deep into the snowy ground. The tethers were chains as thick as Kett’s biceps, and they were linked to the dragon’s metal collar and harness. It had taken Kett all morning to tie the beast down-how in hell Jarven used to do this before she turned up, able to fly, she’d no idea-and now all she had to do was attach the sixth chain to the ground, lasso Fira’s head, get out of firing range and aim the tablet into her mouth.
Fira needed to have her wing mended, but that wasn’t something Kett was likely to try while the dragon was still moving around. Not anymore. So a huge dose of tranquillizer was needed.
She approached the sixth chain, snowflakes blowing idly around as she went. Fira was usually a fairly placid dragon, but most creatures tended to get kind of cranky when people started trying to force things down their throats.
“Now then, girl. Be good, stay nice and still, and we’ll get this done in no time. There’s a good girl. There’s a good girl now.”
She kept up the mindless patter, trying to distract Fira. It had worked for the last five chains, and this one seemed to be going the same way.