Page 22

Lyr,

Drink this, I’ll be back soon.

Damon Darekul.

It’s not Damon’s handwriting.

“And you just drank this?” says Damon, turning to Lyr, who is writhing on the cot, shot through with pleasure. Damon is sure he knows what this is.

“You said you were fetching supper,” Lyr says breathily.

“And you thought I would just put it outside the door and leave. You thought your supper was just a cup of wine?”

“I thought you might have been called away to attend to something,” Lyr smiles at him. That smile is beautiful, teeth showing against blood-flushed skin, eyes lighting in Lyr’s pretty fine-boned face. “What does it matter? Just a cup of wine? I thought perhaps you sent a servant so you could avoid me, for the last night. I’m glad you changed your mind.” His voice drops to a breathy tone, “Master.”

Damon picks up the goblet and sniffs it. He doesn’t need to. The familiar scent merely confirms his suspicions.

“You’ve been drugged,” Damon says. “That wine contained foribunda. The pleasure drug.”

Lyr laughs, tinkling and breathy. “I haven’t been drugged. This isn’t foribunda. I’ve had foribunda. This is you. Looking on you is pleasure. I like you. I like you so much, Damon. I didn’t expect you to be like this.”

“You’re acting like a whore.”

“A whore?” Lyr says sweetly. “But I am a whore. I’m your whore.” His voice drops low again. “Master… Your pleasure slave.” He wets his lower lip with his tongue. “You should command me to please you.”

“I will not,” Damon says sharply. “Wait here. Stay right there. Do not move. Do not go up on deck no matter how desperate you become to find a man to fuck you. Do you understand?”

“A man to fuck?” Lyr looks hurt. ”Damon, I wouldn’t. I only want you. I told you.” Lyr reaches for Damon with both arms.

Damon pushes him down on the cot and Lyr groans at the touch. “You might think that now. Foribunda is savage. This is just the start.”

Lyr makes a soft sound. “Damon, come lie with me.”

“No. Stay there.”

He leaves Lyr writhing like a slut and marches to the front of the ship. He hammers on the door of Atticul’s cabin. Atticul answers the door himself, wearing only a loose shirt. Behind him, Damon can see Opeth sprawled on the bed again. She’s naked.

“Yes?” Atticul says as if Damon is interrupting some vital business.

“Did you drug Lyr?” Damon spits.

Atticul huffs out a breath. “What? What’s Lyr?”

“The pleasure slave you forced on me.”

“Lyr?” Opeth comes from the bed, wrapping a sheet around her hips and stands behind Atticul. Her naked body is pale and shaped like a work of art. “What has happened to him? How is he?”

“Oh, him. Your sinful pleasure slave,” Atticul drawls, stroking Opeth’s naked body, without a care for what Damon might see, or think of it. “What of him?”

“Someone gave him foribunda.”

“Really,” says Atticul with a smirk. “Was it you? Did you want to persuade him to open those thighs for your hard cock?”

“I have not touched him,” Damon growls. “I still have not and you have drugged him to try and encourage me to fall into sin.”

Atticul steps back from the door. “Do I look like I have the time to drug your whore, Bastard?” He pulls Opeth in front of him, showing her naked body to Damon.

Opeth squeals. She pulls out of Atticul’s grip and slaps his face, before storming back to bed.