Sursein Judgment

SURSEIN JUDGMENT Jet Mykles

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Warning This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Sursein Judgment Jet Mykles This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by Loose Id LLC 870 Market St, Suite 1201 San Francisco CA 94102-2907 www.loose-id.com

Copyright © March 2009 by Jet Mykles All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

ISBN 978-1-59632-924-9 Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Raven McKnight Cover Artist: Anne Cain

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Chapter One  Divine justice entered the courtroom, worn like a mantle by the most gorgeous person Rynnis had ever seen. Rynnis rose with the rest of the court, the clank of the chains attached to the shackles on his wrists and ankles loud over the rustle of bodies and scraping of chairs on the wood floor. For the moment, the depression and despair of Rynn’s last few weeks of incarceration were replaced by surprise. That was not Judge Fallon, the county’s elected official. That couldn’t be anything but a sursein judge. A flurry of excited whispers erupted as a burly bodyguard clad from shoulders to boots in snug black clothing led a shorter, slender, robed man toward the desk at one end of the room. Rynn had never seen a sursei in the flesh. He doubted anyone in his small farming hometown ever had. There were so few sursei that many people wondered if the divinely blessed judges were just a myth, a story told to discourage criminal acts. But everyone had heard tales of the flowing black-edged purple robes and the matching indigo mark centered between the brows. It might have been Rynn’s fancy, but it felt like the presence of a god had entered the room. He had to wonder if the man’s painfully beautiful features were part of the divine blessing. Even though Rynn wasn’t exactly an admirer of male beauty, he could appreciate an amazing example when he saw it. He wasn’t particularly tall, the top of his head on level with his bodyguard’s chin. Hair the color of bright afternoon sunlight was bound in a tight braid that extended from the nape of his neck almost the length of his back. The sursei’s face was beardless and smooth, very nearly feminine, even with its sharp lines, his skin a pale, flawless gold. Only the shape of his brows over closed eyes and the stronger curve of his jaw under an emotionless mouth betrayed him as masculine. A stylized triangle—the mark of his god, Surseine—etched in indigo between his sweeping brows, just over the bridge of his straight nose, was the only dark spot on his face. Nothing of

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his body showed, due to the abundance of his purple robes of office, but it would be a crime against nature if the body didn’t match the head. Behind Rynn, the noise level picked up. He managed to glance over his shoulder to see more people filing into the dark-paneled courtroom like bees into a hive. The six rows of wooden chairs were all filled up, but people kept cramming the empty spaces to stand along the wall. Some of them didn’t look like they belonged there at all. He certainly didn’t recognize anyone. Word about the sursei must have gotten around. Why didn’t anyone tell me? Of course, he’d been holed up in the jail for the past few weeks, waiting for trial. Rynn exchanged a look with Sheriff Trent, who stood beside him. The older man didn’t look shaken at all, dark eyes calm under the broad rim of his felt hat. He gave Rynn a small, encouraging nod, then turned back to face front. Rynn bit the inside of his lip. Across the room from him, Mr. and Mrs. Dotall’s heads were bowed over their table, whispering furiously with Victor Messingal, their lawyer. With a sigh, Rynn glanced at the empty chair his supposed counselor had abandoned just a little while ago. Then, with a resigned shrug, he faced front again himself. As the sursei’s guard led him behind the judge’s desk, a slim woman also with braided white-gold hair and wearing smart black and purple pants and a jacket to match the judge’s robes followed and took her station at the table beside the desk. She opened a case on the table and extracted a disk recorder and a number of folders. The sursei sat on the padded, high-back chair, the huge bronze seal of the national department of justice above his head on the wall behind him. Eyes still closed, he ran long-fingered hands delicately over the edge of the surface before him in the manner of the blind before he leaned forward to fold his hands primly on the polished wood. The beefy bodyguard watched until the judge was settled, then took his place just behind and to the right. Still standing, the woman turned on the recorder, then faced the chamber and spoke in a clear voice. “By sursein justice, Judge Shasertai presides.” The sursei opened his eyes. Rynn was not the only one to gasp at the sight. Like his robes and the triangle between his brows, his eyes were solid purple. There were no pupils, whites, or irises, just shining violet ringed by the pale gold of his eyelashes. The effect was unnerving. Surseine, the god of justice, was blind, or so they said. Therefore, when they imparted His justice, so were His judges. Sursein judges held court in a trance that removed normal human eyesight and replaced it with divine perception. A sursei in trance, it was said, could detect lies that normal human judges couldn’t see. Rynn hadn’t really thought about it before, but faced with the real thing before his very eyes, he wasn’t of a mind to doubt. “Please be seated,” said the woman, doing so herself. Shoes scuffed on the hardwood floor behind Rynn as those in the abnormally large audience who could be seated did so. Rynn started to sit, but the sheriff’s hand on his arm stopped him. “What are the charges in this case?” asked the sursei, blind eyes staring at a point high on the far wall.

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The woman stood and read from an open folder. “As it pleases Surseine, Mr. Rynnis Lort is accused of causing the death of Lynnette Dotall, the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Paulson Dotall of the county of Taft. Charges are brought forth by Mr. Paulson Dotall.” “Manner of death?” “Heart failure due to the ingestion of the drug commonly known as hextasy.” “Reason the plaintiff is not the state?” “The state-appointed coroner determined death to be accidental. The family maintains that Mr. Lort was negligent in administering the drug.” “Relationship of the accused to the victim?” “Engaged to be married.” “Very well. Bring forth the accused.” The woman nodded at the sheriff, then resumed her seat. Sheriff Trent took Rynn’s arm and led him around the table. The chains linking Rynn’s shackles clattered in the eerily quiet room until he stopped a few paces before the edge of the judge’s desk. He was tall enough that his eyes were almost on level with the judge’s even though the desk was raised. The sheriff had provided Rynn with a secondhand suit in some scratchy material that morning, apologizing when he’d had to clamp the cuffs over it. Rynn didn’t mind so much, although he missed his normal work boots and the unfamiliar tie felt like a premature noose around his neck. He felt every inch the country bumpkin he knew himself to be, but he put aside embarrassment at what he couldn’t help as he focused on the judge. The innocent have nothing to fear from Surseine. That was what he’d always been told. The woman at the table spoke. “Sursei, be advised the defendant is not accompanied by counsel.” Those violet eyes fastened on Rynn. Or seemed to. Rynn was pretty sure the eyes moved, but it was hard to tell since the whole orb was one solid color. No emotion showed as the sursei studied him, then blinked slowly. “Where is this man’s counselor?” Rynn glanced at the sheriff, whose lips were drawn tight. Rynn glanced behind him at the empty chair that Anne Weist had abandoned. What am I supposed to say? He’d barely seen her since he’d been taken into custody, but she was all he had. When she left the courtroom without even a word… “Have you no defense counsel?” The sound of that voice was like fingers nabbing Rynn by the scruff of the neck to spin him around. Rynn swallowed in a dry throat. “I did, sursei, but she…” A door at the back of the courtroom banged opened, getting everyone’s attention. Rynn half turned to see Gregor Payton himself hasten up the aisle in a crisp gray singlebreasted jacket and pleated slacks. Rynn recognized him because he was Anne Weist’s boss and a well-known man in Taft and the surrounding county. Anne Weist sidled into

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the courtroom well behind him, but she remained standing quietly by the door. Swapping his briefcase from one hand to the other, Payton raised the free hand to smooth over his oiled hair as he passed through the crowd and approached the desk. “Gregor Payton, sursei, for the defense.” Rynn exchanged looks with Sheriff Trent. Maybe the gods were looking favorably upon him this day. Gregor Payton was the best-known defense lawyer in the area. Does he even know anything about the case? The judge’s head turned. The lighting was right so that Rynn saw the shine on those eyes as they moved to focus on the newcomer. “Where have you been, counselor?” Payton pulled a folder from his briefcase, then set it on the scuffed floor beside his polished leather shoes. He straightened, smoothing his tie with one hand as he faced the judge. Rynn recognized the folder from Anne Weist’s few visits with him. “My humble apologies, sursei. I’ve had to take over this case from one of my subordinates. It seems to have gotten lost in the shuffle.” Rynn glanced back at Ms. Weist, but her expression remained empty, her manicured hands folded in front of her. Funny how it was found as soon as a sursein judge took the bench. “Due to this fact,” Payton continued, “I would like to request a continuance to consult with my client.” “Denied.” Rynn was glad that cold look wasn’t aimed at him. Payton cleared his throat. “But, sursei—” “Consider it the penalty for being ill prepared.” “With respect, sursei—” “Your client is already in chains for a civil matter, and I assume he’s being kept in custody. Do you have an explanation for that, counselor?” Payton opened the folder, but he spoke sooner than he could have read the answer. “Due to the nature of the accusation, the local authorities considered him a flight risk.” At Rynn’s side, Sheriff Trent startled but kept his peace. “Indeed. We are reluctant to allow a possibly innocent man to spend another night in jail while you are readying a defense that should have been long done. We will proceed today. You may appeal if the outcome is not satisfactory.” Rynn suppressed a sigh. Even he knew that no one won an appeal against a sursein verdict. It was difficult, at best, to refute divine justice. Surseine was one of three federally recognized gods, legally respected regardless of regional faith. To his credit, although it was clearly not to his liking, Payton simply nodded. “As you say, sursei.”

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The judge’s eyes fastened on Rynn again. “Your name.” It was not so much a question as a calm demand. Payton consulted the still-open folder. “His name is—” “He’s perfectly capable of answering for himself, counselor.” “But I’m his—” “We are aware of who and exactly what you are, counselor. In sursein court, we will handle the initial questioning. You’ll have your chance later on. If necessary.” Slowly, Payton closed the folder and his lips. Again the violet eyes were on Rynn. “Your name.” Nothing had really changed in the voice, so maybe Rynn just imagined that there was less of an angry bite in the judge’s tone. “Rynnis Lort.” “Age.” “Twenty years, last spring.” “Occupation.” “I, uh, none?” “Explain.” “I was born and raised a farmer, but I was training to be a guardsman.” “Did you lose your family land?” “My father sold it before he died.” “To whom?” “Paulson Dotall.” “The plaintiff.” “Yes.” “Once your father sold your land, is this when your guard training began?” “No, sursei. I started training to be a guard just a few months ago.” “Why was this?” Rynn took a deep breath over the lump that formed in his throat. He tried to drop his gaze from the sursei’s, but found he couldn’t. “Lynny asked me to.” “Lynnette Dotall. The victim in this case?” Grief burned tears in his eyes, but he still couldn’t look away. The lump in his throat made his answering “yes” more of a croak. That violet gaze remained on him for a long, quiet moment. The only sounds were quiet whispering and fidgeting from the crowd behind Rynn and the soft scratch of pen on paper from the woman seated below the bench. Slowly, though, even those sounds faded away. There was only the sursei and he. The weight of grief lifted, still there just below the surface of Rynn’s thoughts, but it was slightly removed, like the old sadness for the parents who had died in his late childhood. A gray haze swam before his eyes.

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He blinked, swaying, as the gray lightened to white. A pure white haze with the sursei at the center of his attention. “Lynnette Dotall was your fiancée.” Perhaps it was his imagination, but the sursei’s voice seemed softer. “Yes.” “And what was your relationship with her family?” “When my father sold the land to Mr. Dotall, we were hired to stay in the house with a few of the hands to work the fields. That continued after his death.” “When did Lynnette Dotall become your fiancée?” “Almost a year ago.” “When were you to be married?” Rynn’s heartbeat picked up, but he still felt oddly calm. “A few days ago.” “You have our sympathy.” “Thank you, sursei.” There was a wordless feminine cry from behind Rynn, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from the judge’s to verify that it was Mrs. Dotall. “Please tell the court what happened the night Lynnette Dotall died.” “We were out with friends in Halston, and we were”—he cleared his throat— “drinking. There was a man there, and he told us about this drug, hextasy. He was trying to sell it to this rich couple, but Lynny overheard.” The sursei’s gaze wouldn’t let go of him. “Go on.” “We bought some.” They hadn’t been the only ones of their group to purchase the drug, but he didn’t see the need to involve their friends, even if he’d not heard from any of those so-called friends since Lynny’s death. Besides, the judge hadn’t asked about them. “We took it when we were alone in our room later that night.” Harriet Dotall sobbed loudly. “Were you told what the drug would do?” “Yes.” “What were you told?” “That it was both a drug and a spell. The drug by itself would make the sex better. With the spell, it’d make it the best you ever had, but only if you were with the one person you most desired.” “Were you informed of the consequences if you were not with the one person you most desired?” “Yes.” “What were you told?” “That if you weren’t with that person, your body wouldn’t be satisfied. That you’d want to keep going, that you’d have to. You wouldn’t be able to stop.” Even through the

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distant haze that surrounded him, guilt stabbed Rynn’s heart. He swallowed, hearing muted echoes of Lynny’s tortured moans. “That eventually your body would wear out, and you’d die.” The sursei’s head dipped slightly in a nod. “And you took the drug knowing this?” “Yes, sursei. Lynny thought it was romantic.” Harriet Dotall’s shriek of protest was cut off. The sursei didn’t indicate that he heard. “Did the drug worked as promised?” “Yes. It worked as promised.” “Please explain what happened after you bought the drug.” “We went up to our room. Lynny mixed it up.” He paused, recalling Lynny’s face as she twisted open the cap on one of two tiny glass vials. It was strange remembering through the haze. He could somehow be more objective, as though he were watching a movie vid rather than remembering something that had happened to him. She’d opened the vial, then tipped it into the second vial to mix them. “She spread some on my neck, then spread some on hers. Then she said the incantation.” He’d asked her why the neck, and she’d reminded him the man said it’d work better if spread over a major vein or the heart. “Then we made love.” His eyes burned even if the grief that went with the tears felt far away. “It wasn’t enough for Lynny, so we did it again. I…managed to do it a third time, but after that I just couldn’t.” “You didn’t feel the frenzy?” “I did the first time.” “But the first time satisfied you.” “Yes.” “Go on.” Warm wetness streaked down his face and into his beard, but he kept his eyes on the sursei, and that kept the emotions at bay. “I couldn’t satisfy her. I called for help. We got her to a hospital. But it was too late.” “You were not the one she wanted most.” Slowly, Rynn shook his head. “Did you think you were?” “Yes. I loved Lynny.” “To be clear, Mr. Lort. Lynnette Dotall took the hextasy of her own free will?” “Yes, sursei.” After a long, silent moment, the sursei nodded. “Please be seated, Mr. Lort, Mr. Payton.” The haze keeping Rynn’s emotions at bay faded. Tears dampened his cheeks and beard, and his heart thumped a heavy fire through his veins. Suppressing a sob, he let Sheriff Trent lead him back to his seat and sank heavily into the wooden chair. Gregor

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Payton sat in a chair beside him and set his briefcase on the floor. He crossed one leg over the other, folded his hands over his knee, and never even looked Rynn’s way. Rynn took the handkerchief Sheriff Trent handed to him and wiped at his eyes. “Bring forth the plaintiff.” All eyes settled on the Dotalls and Victor Messingal. Both Dotalls resolutely ignored Rynn’s presence as they approached the judge. Mr. Dotall was barely taller than his wife, both of them small and on the pudgy side. It was easy to see the man who owned the most farmland in the county was an administrator rather than a farmhand himself. His white hands were callus free, except for maybe ones on the pads of his fingers from holding a pen or counting money. He held his bowler hat in one hand, his balding head shining in the bright gaslights. “Your name?” Mr. Dotall looked to Messingal, but the lawyer had learned his lesson by Payton. He nodded to Dotall and kept his tongue. Mr. Dotall faced the judge, his arm linked with his wife’s. “Paulson Dotall.” “Age?” The rounded man shifted his stance. “Fifty-eight years, this fall.” “Occupation?” “Land owner.” “Inherited?” “Mostly, yes. Although I have expanded my properties in the past few years.” “How many generations?” “Beg pardon?” “How many generations has your land been in your family?” “Ah! Oh. Three, sursei.” “Your grandfather was in the war?” “H-how did you know that?” “Answer the question.” “Yes. He was granted the land for his service to the king.” “Noble cause.” “Yes, sursei.” “Mr. Dotall, please allow this sursein court to express profound regret at the loss of your daughter.” Rynn could only see the Dotalls’ backs, but Paulson Dotall stood taller, raising his chin. Harriet Dotall’s shoulders shook silently. “Thank you, sursei.” “Would you please tell the court what you know of your daughter’s relationship with the defendant?”

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“She intended to marry him, despite our wishes.” “Why despite your wishes?” Mrs. Dotall’s head snapped up, and Rynn could see enough of her face to know she opened her mouth, but she didn’t speak. Some of the grief melted from her expression. A look at the judge, and Rynn wondered if the Dotalls were feeling the same emotional detachment settle over them as he had. Certainly, Paulson Dotall’s next words were calmer than Rynn expected. “He is a very minor retainer with no land of his own. He had nothing to provide for her.” “You made your disapproval known to her?” “We did.” “And what was her reaction?” “She claimed to love him. She was emphatic about it.” “Why do you say ‘emphatic’?” “She was…determined. She hounded us about him. She wanted me to make him one of my foremen.” “This was not acceptable to you?” “Rynnis Lort is not capable of fulfilling the duties I require from any of my foremen. He is uneducated.” Rynn knew there were many other complaints the landowner had about him, but Dotall kept those to himself. “Is this the reason she suggested he train as a guardsman?” “I don’t know for certain if that is the reason, but it’s what we suspected.” “What do you know of the night your daughter died?” “We thought she was staying the night with a friend in the next town. They said they were looking at the college there.” Mr. Dotall’s shoulders shook, even if his voice didn’t. “She left that afternoon in a carriage with Winridge Smythe, a friend of hers. We were led to believe they were properly chaperoned. She was supposed to be back the next night. We would never have allowed her to go had we known she planned to spend the night with that boy.” Rynn stared at the tabletop before him, guilt pressing his shoulders down. He shouldn’t have gone that night. He’d told Lynny they should just wait until they were married. But she’d wanted a night on the town, and he was always helpless to deny her. Winridge and her secret beau were two of the friends who had been with them when they’d purchased the hex. “Mr. Dotall, as far as you were aware, did Lynnette love Rynnis Lort?” That made Rynn look up again. It took Paulson Dotall a moment, but he did finally answer softly. “As far as I knew, she was smitten with him.” “Only smitten?”

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“I cannot say for certain. I was under the impression that she was infatuated. She was only eighteen, after all.” The judge nodded. “And you, Mrs. Dotall? Did your daughter love Rynnis Lort?” Harriet Dotall’s ponytail shimmied; her shoulders shook. Her mouth was open, but only a small squeak emerged. The judge waited. The onlookers waited. After two stuttering starts, Harriet Dotall’s voice finally came through. “No. She didn’t.” It was Rynn’s turn to gape. Whispers filled the room behind him. “How do you know this, Mrs. Dotall?” the judge asked. “There was a man, Gordon Vint. He was a guard lieutenant who moved to the capital a year ago. He was the man she loved.” “You know this because she told you?” Mrs. Dotall clutched a lacy handkerchief at chin level, but didn’t raise it to her eyes. “Yes.” “Why was she going to marry Rynnis Lort?” “Gordon Vint barely knew who she was. She’d decided that her attraction to him was just a fancy. She—” Her voice broke. “Take your time.” “She wanted to love Rynnis Lort. She believed he was a-a good substitute.” Crestfallen, Rynn sat back in his seat, the chains about his wrists clanging over his thighs. Lynny hadn’t loved him? “Do you believe your daughter would have taken a chance with hextasy?” “No! Lynny was a good girl! She wouldn’t have done anything like that. He must have forced her to take it!” “Have you known Mr. Lort to have homicidal tendencies in the past?” “Excuse me?” “Has Mr. Lort shown a tendency toward violence in the past?” “No.” “Were you concerned for the safety of your daughter when she was with him?” “No.” It was barely a whisper, but it still carried over the hushed silence. “He was always good to her in the past.” “Then why would you believe he would do such a thing?” Mrs. Dotall shook her head, although her wide eyes remained on the judge. “She wouldn’t do drugs like that.”

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“It’s quite common for young people to do a good number of things their parents think them incapable of.” When neither of the Dotalls commented, the judge continued. “Is it not possible that this occurred exactly as Mr. Lort related? That the young couple had a lapse in judgment? We have tried a great many people who have used this same drug with similar consequences. It’s astounding how many will brave the risks for the supposed reward.” Mrs. Dotall’s jaw worked, but the only sound that emerged was a small squeak. The judge folded his hands again. “We have heard enough. Does either counselor have more to add?” The Dotalls looked to Messingal. The lawyer cleared his throat. “Sursei, my clients contend the defendant gave this drug to their daughter, knowing it would cause her death.” “To what purpose? By their own side accusation, Mr. Lort was after their money and land. How would he gain if Lynnette Dotall were to die before their marriage? If that were his goal, would he not have given her the drug after they were legally wed?” The lawyer said nothing. “What is it your clients wish as reparation?” “They wish the defendant put to death. Or, at the very least, incarcerated so he will pay for his actions.” “We have heard enough. Please resume your seats.” No sooner had the Dotalls and their lawyer been seated than the sursei spoke again. “While the death of Lynnette Dotall is regrettable, we agree with the state and find no reason to punish Rynnis Lort with a crime. We find the defendant naive and shortsighted, perhaps, but do not believe he wanted or was in any case the cause of her demise.” The sursei sat back, hands spread on the desktop before him. “We are adjourned.” “No!” Mr. Dotall cried. “You will not do this!” The sursei was standing now, his gaze directed at a point far above Mr. Dotall’s head. “Our judgment is final, Mr. Dotall. You may appeal through normal legal channels. Your counselor can advise you.” “But our daughter is dead. Someone should pay.” “Punishing the man your daughter clearly cared for, if not loved, will not assuage your guilt, Mr. Dotall.” The bodyguard stepped forward to offer his arm to the sursei, who turned and took it. Paulson Dotall rounded and stomped over to Rynn’s table. Two deputies scrambled between him and Rynn, with the sheriff stepping forward to offer himself as another shield. Gregor Payton stood, turned, and walked from the room without a backward glance. Mr. Dotall pointed a pudgy finger at Rynn. “I don’t ever want to see you on any of my properties. Is that understood? Every one of my foremen knows who you are.”

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Of course they did. At one point in the near past, Rynn was going to be Dotall’s son-in-law. Harriet Dotall leaned against the railing separating the court from the audience, sobbing. Mr. Dotall strained to get through the deputies and closer to Rynn, but the younger deputies held him back. “Move away. Move very far away. I never want to see your face again!” “All right, Mr. Dotall.” Sheriff Trent stepped in Rynn’s line of sight. “That’s enough. Why don’t you just go on home now?” Victor Messingal came forward to help shepherd his client away. Settling under an overwhelming sadness, Rynn glanced toward the desk. The sursei, his bodyguard, and the woman in the suit were all gone. Without their presence, it was as though a veil of mystery had been lifted from the room and everything was back to being…ordinary. Dull. Depressing. More now that he knew that Lynny’s feelings for him had been a lie. Mr. Dotall continued to rave as they led him away, nearly drowned out by his wife’s hysterical sobbing. “Move away, Rynnis Lort. You’ll regret it if you don’t!” “That’s not good,” murmured Sheriff Trent. Keys jangled from his hand as he knelt on the floor beside Rynn’s chair. “Come on, boy. Let’s get these off you.” Rynn found his voice, although it was scratchy. “I didn’t do it. The sursei said I didn’t. Why’s he still…?” The sheriff shook his head as the ankle cuffs clanked to the floor. “Grief does awful things to a body, Rynn. Especially when it’s a parent dealing with the death of his child.” Rynn nodded and held out his cuffed hands. “But I loved her too.” Trent paused to squeeze Rynn’s forearm. His expression was filled with understanding. “I know, boy. I know.” He finished taking the wrist cuffs off. Around them, people were filing out of the courtroom. “You got a place to stay tonight?” Rynn raised one free hand up to scratch at his tangled brown hair. “I…no. I don’t have any money.” “Not enough to get out of town?” Helpless, Rynn shook his head. The sheriff tipped back the wide-brimmed felt hat perched on his head, thinking a moment. Then he stood. “Wait here.” With no particular reason not to obey, Rynn stayed. The sheriff disappeared through the same door the sursei had taken. What was he going to do? He’d never put his money in the bank like Lynny had told him. The bulk of it was probably still under that board back in his house. Some had been in his pocket when they’d arrested him. Would he get that back?

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“Hey, Rynn?” Startled, he turned to see a man in a dark brown jacket holding a little notepad and a pen. “Yes?” The man smiled, leaning on the table before Rynn. “I’m Jack Porter from the Halston News. How’s it feel to be a free man?” Rynn blinked, shocked. A reporter? “Uh, good?” “What are your thoughts on hex, huh? Any comment for our readers?” “I, uh…” “All right.” One of the sheriff’s deputies, Warren, stepped up to take the reporter’s arm. “No questions.” “Free press, deputy. Do you want me to write about how your department…?” The two men sank into a brief argument, much of which was over Rynn’s head. Both of them stopped when the sheriff returned. One look, and the reporter scuttled off. “Warren’s taking you back to the station,” said the sheriff as he bent down to retrieve the shackles that still lay at Rynn’s feet. Rynn’s eyes got big. “Why?” Sheriff Trent smiled as he stood. “You’re not in trouble. And I want to keep it that way.” His dark gaze swept over the dwindling crowd. People were starting to wander away. “I’ve got an idea, but I need to talk to someone first.” Then he was looking at Rynn again. “Trust me for a few hours?” Rynn agreed, then watched him go. What other choice did he have?

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Chapter Two  Rynn followed Sheriff Trent into the lobby of a swank hotel in downtown Taft. It was located in the high-rent district, not far from the passenger train station. A farm boy like him had no business in a place with fine woven rugs over tightly tiled floors. Heck, there were even gaslights lining the sweeping staircase to the right, and an elevator was displayed prominently across the lobby from the double front doors. The sheriff led him right up to the elevator door and pushed the button. Rynn stared at the etched metal doors and the shiny copper decorations around the edges, slightly alarmed by the muted sound of machinery clanking behind them. “Stop scratching.” Rynn blinked at the older man, then looked down to find his blunt nails digging through the thick wool of his clean, borrowed trousers into the meat of his thigh. “Oh. Sorry.” Balling that hand into a fist, he tucked both hands behind his back. At least the sheriff had let him ditch the jacket and tie. Now he just had to concentrate on not getting the white shirt dirty. “Don’t be nervous.” Rynn flinched at a dinging sound and couldn’t help but gape a little as the metal doors slid open to reveal a shiny little blue-carpeted compartment. A boy dressed in a uniform of a blue to match the carpet stood off to one side, holding open the doors. Warily, Rynn followed the sheriff into the box. “What floor, sir?” asked the boy as they turned to face the door. “Six,” Trent answered. The boy nodded and pulled a lever. Silently, the metal doors shut them in. Rynn clutched at a handrail set into the back wall when the floor beneath his feet jounced. “Rynn.” He blinked at the sheriff’s smile.

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“It’ll be all right, boy.” Rynn nodded. Trying not to realize that they were rising in the air, he focused on something else. “What if he doesn’t like me?” Sheriff Trent shrugged, the leather of his brown duster creaking loudly in the cramped space. “Don’t think it matters. He’s a man of the law. Hell, being sursei, he is the law. He’s agreed to take you at least as far as Vinton. It’s a lumber town. Young man your size should be able to find a job there easy enough. I’m sending references, and he’s agreed to vouch for your innocence.” “Really?” Again the sheriff smiled, reaching up to pat his shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Rynn. I know it, and the sursei proved it. It’s time to get on with your life away from the Dotalls. Just do me a favor and think before you do something like this in the future, huh?” Rynn swallowed over a sudden lump in his throat, then jumped again at the sound of another ding. “Sixth floor,” announced the kid in the uniform as the compartment settled to a halt. He pulled another lever, and the doors slid back open. Rynn was glad to step out of the elevator and follow the sheriff down the hall. The elevator doors had barely closed when a feminine shriek sounded ahead of them. Both he and Sheriff Trent froze, staring at each other. Then they heard the thunk of a heavy piece of furniture and the clatter of what sounded like chairs. As one, they turned and sprinted toward the sounds, urged on by another shout—male this time— and another female cry. The sheriff reached the appropriate door first, his pistol out of its holster, pointed up at the ceiling. He pulled Rynn behind him, staying at the side of the doorway as he reached in to knock. “Sursei, it’s the sheriff. Is everything all right in there?” All sound within stopped. “Judge?” “Just a moment,” the female voice called. A mutter of voices preceded the clatter of the door’s lock just before it was yanked wide open. On the other side stood the blonde woman from the courtroom. At least, Rynn was pretty sure it was she. The face was the same, even if it was now partly covered by the fallen half of what might have once been a neatly pinned hairdo. Holding the doorknob, she propped the other hand on the hip of her lemon yellow skirt. The ruffles at the neck and wrists of her white blouse looked mussed; the trailing ends of a black ribbon that probably should have circled her neck dangled over her breasts. “Hello, sheriff,” she greeted, two bright dots of color pinkening her cheeks. “Miss Kogin.” Rynn couldn’t see his face, but the older man nodded. He didn’t put away his gun. “Is everything all right?”

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She eyed the weapon, or tried. With an irritated huff, she blew at the curls that tried to blind her left eye. “Oh, we’re fine.” She glared over her shoulder. “Shas is just cheating again.” “That would be impossible,” came a calm reply behind her. Rolling her eyes, she stepped back. “Please, come in. Maybe you can talk some sense into them.” The sheriff hesitated, but then he took a few cautious steps into the room. Rynn stayed right behind him. Behind the woman, two men faced each other over a space that had clearly recently contained the card table that now lay on its side, out of their way. The tense positions in which they stood told Rynn that a fight was about to break out. To his surprise, one of the combatants was the sursein judge. The delicate, almost feminine man who had tried Rynn’s case just a few hours previous certainly looked more masculine now, if no less gorgeous. His violet robes were replaced with snug, worn jeans tucked into well-made, black suede, knee-high boots. The toned muscles of his shoulders and arms were on display thanks to his sleeveless black top, and as it was formfitting, it also showed what looked to be a honed chest. The white-gold hair that had been braided down his back before was now loose, flowing in gentle waves over his shoulders. Two long locks from his temples were drawn back and banded with a tie at the nape of his neck, the only effort made to tame the slippery fall of hair. His face remained in profile since he wouldn’t take his eyes off the other man, but that just showed off a flawless, sharply etched profile. Expressionless, he looked perfectly capable of snatching the gun from where it was tucked into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back and firing before the man staring at him could do the same. The man across from him scowled. Although good-looking, he could not compare to the judge’s delicate beauty. A trim, dark beard lined his square jaw, with a matching mustache shadowing a wide, thin-lipped mouth. Deep-set blue eyes were shadowed by thick black eyebrows. He was a little taller and a little wider than the judge, but he had a slim quality that the bulk of his dark blue jacket couldn’t hide. More coyote than bear. A grin hovered at the edges of his mouth. His fingers hovered over the pistol seated in a holster strapped to his thigh, at least three gold rings glinting in the ample light provided by kerosene lamps. “Gentlemen?” the sheriff asked, stopping just close enough to the men that he could keep them both in his sights. His gun he kept out but pointed toward the faded blue carpet beneath his boots. The tone in his voice was the one Rynn had heard a number of times in the jailhouse. The one he used to command instant respect. The sursei raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t budge. “Good evening, sheriff.” That voice. Smooth as fresh-strained cream. Rynn edged into the room behind the sheriff, gaze darting around to see if he could spot a possible weapon in case Sheriff Trent needed help. That’s when he spotted

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a third man, sitting on an easy chair in the corner, feet propped on a matching footstool, watching with a small smile. It was the judge’s bodyguard from earlier, his bulk nearly overfilling the chair. He had his big hands laced behind his bald head, and his dark eyes twinkled as he seemed to enjoy the show. Now Rynn was quite confused. “Oh, for goodness’ sake.” The pretty young woman muttered angrily to herself as she stepped right up between the sursei and his opponent. “Would you stop?” At her presence, the judge and the other man relaxed a bit, although their eyes remained locked. She rolled her eyes, reaching up to shove back the hair that hung in her face. “Please, Shas, we have guests.” When neither moved, she glanced beyond the judge at the seated bodyguard. “Harmon!” Chuckling, the bodyguard unfolded himself from the chair and strolled toward the center of the room. Rynn and the bodyguard were about the same size, although the bodyguard was probably a little broader than he was. Certainly he was older and held himself like the older guardsmen Rynn had known during training, wearing his experience like a badge. He, too, stepped between the two combatants, facing the man in the blue jacket. “Colton, why don’t you and me go in the other room for a minute?” Not waiting for an answer, he set one beefy hand on the man’s right arm, effectively ruining his chances at any kind of a good shot. The man’s eyes narrowed, and then he shook his head and backed down. “You’re a cheat, Shas.” The judge tossed his head with a laugh. Instantly, the tension in the room dissipated. “Again, I assure you, that is quite impossible.” The bodyguard led the other man toward an open doorway at the far end of the room, and finally the judge turned to face Rynn and the sheriff. Purple eyes. That one detail jumped out at Rynn as the judge stepped toward them. It wasn’t the eerie total color with no whites or pupils that he’d seen earlier in court. The judge’s eyes were now quite normal-looking except for the vivid amethyst that Rynn had never seen on anyone else. They were like perfectly round gemstones set in red-veined white marble. The strange color, though, seemed to go with the judge’s light complexion. Did all sursei have purple eyes, or was this one special? Pistol holstered, Sheriff Trent snatched off his hat and exchanged greetings and a handshake with the judge. Trent had met with him earlier about Rynn, but he was clearly not very comfortable in the judge’s presence. Then the judge turned to extend his hand to Rynn. A thick gold ring glittered on his middle finger, matching two thinner bands on his thumb and little finger. A full head shorter than Rynn, he had to tilt his head up to get a good look at Rynn’s face. “We’ve not been formally introduced. I’m Shasertai Kogin.” “Rynnis Lort.”

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“Yes, you are.” The judge folded his free hand over their entwined hands. “Forgive me. I know, technically speaking, I’ve seen you, but my experiences while in Surseine’s trance are nothing compared to when out of it. I see many things clearly, but others”—he shook his head as his gaze raked down, then back up, Rynn’s chest—“I miss entirely.” Rynn almost felt that gaze, and it made him want to scratch again. “It’s an honor to meet you, sursei.” The judge returned to studying his face and didn’t let go of his hand. Then a small smile curled up the corners of his full-lipped mouth. “Truth preserve me, you are a finelooking man, aren’t you?” Appearing beside him, the woman slapped the judge’s arm. “Shas!” Rynn’s eyes went wide when the judge raised the hand not linked with Rynn’s to draw his fingers down the beard on the taller man’s jaw. “Such rugged, handsome features.” “Shas!” Surprisingly strong fingers gripped the tip of Rynn’s chin, nudging his face sideways to reveal his profile. “Sheriff, is there a secret about the farms out here that I should know about?” The woman grabbed Shasertai’s wrist and tugged his hand away. “Stop that.” He gave her a wide-eyed look, full of false innocence. “You don’t think so?” He faced Rynn again and winked. “She thinks you’re good-looking too.” She threw her hands in the air, rustling her skirts. “Honestly.” The judge chuckled a little. He took one more perusal of Rynn’s face and then heaved a sigh. He released Rynn’s hand slowly, letting his fingers trail first over Rynn’s palm, then under his fingers, sending thrilling little tendrils of sensation up Rynn’s arm. “But I do recall some mention of a woman in today’s trial. A fiancée.” He cocked his head to the side, some of that silky white-gold hair spilling over his chest. “I realize you prefer sex with women, but have you tried sex with a man?” “Shasertai!” the woman all but screeched. For his part, Rynn could only gape. What was the man talking about? What was going on? The bodyguard had returned to right the card table. The bearded gunman stood watching the judge size up Rynn, his expression unreadable. The sheriff reached over to grip Rynn’s arm. “Excuse me, sursei. When we spoke earlier, I didn’t mean for you to think I was offering Rynn’s…uh, services.” The judge’s eyes closed partway, his half smile making things low in Rynn’s belly flip. A man just shouldn’t be that pretty. It was confusing. “I’m well aware of that, sheriff. I know exactly why you asked for my help. Help I’m still willing to give, regardless of Mr. Lort’s sexual preferences.” Still smiling, he turned away, speaking over his bare shoulder. “But you can’t blame me for trying.”

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The woman inserted herself into Rynn’s view of Shasertai’s retreating back, blocking the sight of slim, gently swaying hips. “I’m so sorry,” she said, taking Rynn’s hand in one of hers and the sheriff’s in the other. “My brother has a warped sense of humor.” Sometime during Shasertai’s introduction, she’d taken the pins out of her fallen hairdo and banded the long white-gold locks into a simple ponytail down her back. With her face exposed and the color of her hair, Rynn could easily see the resemblance between her and the sursei. She had the same delicate bone structure and pale features, but her eyes were a rich royal blue. Just as pretty, but the judge was more blatantly so. Why was that? To Rynn, she smiled as she tugged him and Trent farther into the room. “My name is Yolan Kogin. I’m my brother’s clerk and personal assistant.” “Keeper.” Shasertai’s murmur carried across the room even though his back was to them, his attention on pouring amber liquid from a crystal decanter into a delicate matching glass. She ignored him. “May we offer either of you a drink?” Shasertai turned, propping his bottom against the edge of the drink cabinet. “I’m told it’s the finest brandy in town.” His gaze flicked over to the men now kneeling beside the table to gather scattered cards. The bearded one glanced up and caught him watching, which only made the judge smile. “No, thank you,” said the sheriff, shifting so his overcoat creaked. “I’m still on duty. I just came to introduce Rynn and make sure everything was settled.” One bare arm crossed over his middle, the other elbow propped on it, Shasertai brought his glass to his lips, a wicked look raking over Rynn again. “I’m sure we’ll be just fine.” “Shas, please.” Yolan sighed. Again she spoke to Rynn, patting his arm. “We understand you might be in some danger due to this afternoon’s ruling?” Rynn realized now that he was having a tough time keeping his eyes off the judge. Knowing that was rude, he made himself face Yolan. “Well, I don’t know about that, ma’am…” “As I told you this afternoon, Paulson Dotall owns a large chunk of this town and the surrounding area.” The sheriff kept his attention on Yolan. “There are many powerful men in these parts whose livelihoods depend on him. If he blacklists Rynn, he’ll have no chance of finding a job anywhere in the county.” Rynn frowned. Things were moving so fast. This morning, he’d been pretty sure he might be hanged before the week was up. Now he was free, but it looked like he was banished from the only home he’d ever known. Wasn’t losing Lynnette enough? Yolan nodded. “That’s an understandable concern, sheriff. Quite understandable. We’re glad to offer to escort Mr. Lort to a more amenable area.” “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” Sheriff Trent fiddled with the brim of his hat. “They’re not all bad men, ma’am. But you know what money does to people.”

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“Yes. Indeed.” She smiled at Rynn. “Well, we’ve agreed to escort you at least as far as Vinton. You’ll stay with us here tonight; then we’ll leave in the morning by train. Most of the staff are with the coach right now, just the four of us here in the hotel.” She waved a hand to indicate the bodyguard. “That’s Harmon, Shasertai’s bodyguard. You’ll bunk with him. And this”—she indicated the other man—“is Marshal Colton Garrah. He and his four deputies travel with us.” Shasertai chuckled. “My dear companion.” Colton stood, glaring at him. Shasertai fluttered his eyelids in a ridiculously feminine manner. Colton shook his head and then turned to nod at the sheriff, suggesting they had met. Rynn also nodded in response to the man’s silent greeting. Yolan made a curt hand gesture toward her brother, who simply rolled his eyes and turned to splash brandy into a second rounded glass. “Yes, well.” Yolan smiled at Rynn as Colton bent to help Harmon right the table. “I think that’s it, then.” Rynn’s head was spinning, his eyes on the man in the dark jacket with the gun at his hip. Companion. Did that mean what he thought it meant? Together with the judge’s appraisal of him, it suggested that they were together. As a couple. He knew it was true there were men who preferred sexual relationships with other men, but he’d never met any. “Sheriff, I’m sure you have other things to do. If you’ll give me your letter of reference for Mr. Lort, I think you can go.” Yolan held out her hand. Sheriff Trent looked up at Rynn, searching. “Well, I…?” “Or did you have luggage, Mr. Lort? We can retrieve that in the morning, or you can have it sent to the train station. Not to worry about expenses. We’re well supplied to handle one more for such a short trip. Although, if you’d like to supply a stipend for Mr. Lort, sheriff, I can deposit it into the bank before we leave, then withdraw it when we reach Vinton.” Trent glanced at her, at the judge, then back at Rynn. “I just want to make sure Rynn’s all right with this.” She stared at the sheriff for a moment, and then her eyes went cold. “Oh. I see.” The judge’s warm chuckle was at odds with her chilly tone. A drink in each hand, he stepped up behind her, proving that he was a bare inch taller than she. He regarded both men over her shoulder. “Sheriff, I assure you that your young friend will be quite safe with us.” That unsettling violet gaze settled on Rynn. “No one will force him into anything against his will. You have my word.” “I appreciate that, sursei.” The sheriff’s voice was soft, almost apologetic. “And of course I trust the word of a sursein judge. But it’s Rynn’s decision.” Rynn tore his gaze from compelling purple eyes to look at the sheriff. The man had been nothing but good to him in the past month or so, despite all that had

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happened. “I…don’t know what to do.” His heart said to go, to leave all the ugliness behind, but at the same time, this town was the only home he’d ever known. Sheriff Trent reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “I know. It’s hard. But I think you should go. You’ll have a better chance at a good life outside of this town, away from all the memories.” “You think so?” “I do. Ain’t nothing keeping you here with Lynny gone.” Rynn shut his eyes over tears that threatened. He’d gotten good at not crying, though, somewhere over the last week. Lynny would have told him not to. Lynny would have wanted him to get out of the county she considered hideous and backward. She would have jumped at the chance he was being given and not had a second thought. He nodded and opened his eyes. “Okay. Thank you, sheriff.” Trent patted his arm and gave him a curt nod. “You’re welcome, son.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope, which he handed to Yolan. “Here’s that letter for Rynn.” “Excellent.” Her smile was back as she drew him aside. “Is there anything else…?” Rynn missed what else she might have been saying to the sheriff. Without her there, the space between him and the judge came alive with…something. He had an insane urge to step closer so he could brush against the man. The judge smiled, then winked and offered Rynn the second glass he held. “Have a drink.” Rynn took the glass and mirrored how the judge sipped. He had to close his eyes to enjoy the pleasant burn of perhaps the finest spirits he’d ever tasted. He felt a little like a colt breaking free from the paddock with the gate closing unheard behind him.

***** “Interesting young man,” Shas mused, eyes on the door that had closed behind the sheriff and the tall farmer-turned-guardsman. Yolan appeared in his line of vision, hands on hips, glaring. “Shas. No.” Although he knew exactly what was on her mind, he feigned ignorance. “No?” “You leave that boy alone.” Shas scoffed, returning to the drink cabinet with two glasses. The lovely brandy had set a pleasant buzz in his bloodstream. “That, my dear sister, was hardly a boy. He looked all man to me.” “Shas, no. Please? When he comes back, just let this one be.” He chuckled, refreshing the snifter the farmer hadn’t quite finished. “This one?” He glanced at Colt, but the dark-haired man kept his attention on the cards he was dealing to himself and Harmon.

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Yolan sighed. “He looks like a nice boy, and he certainly never met anyone remotely like you. He doesn’t need you to…” She hesitated, lost for words. “Broaden his horizons?” he supplied helpfully. She growled at him. “Yes. That.” “Oh, I don’t know.” He refreshed his own drink while he was at it, although he recognized that it should probably be his last for the night. “I might be doing him a favor. We are dropping him into the big, bad world, after all.” He turned to face the two men at the table. “What do you think, Colt?” Colton set the deck down and picked up his hand, not looking Shas’s way. “I think if the sheriff heard you talking, he’d find some other option for the kid.” Chuckling, Shas sipped the brandy. “Good thing he’s not here.” Harmon stared at his cards, sitting back in his chair. Colt glanced at his hand, then set the cards back down on the table in front of him. Only then did he look up at Shas. Shas smiled as they shared a heated look. The man was undeniably good-looking in that rugged lawman way that often fell into Shasertai’s type. He and the farm boy had some similarities in looks. Both dark, both bearded, both with that wild, heady flavor of the outdoors. But there the differences settled in. Colton Garrah was just a little above Shasertai’s height, with a compact, wiry build, whereas Rynnis Lort was big and burly. Colton’s hair was blacker than the soft dark brown curls the farm boy possessed. Colton’s eyes were piercing blue, where Rynnis had the innocent brown-eyed gaze of a trusting dog. Rynnis was, in fact, a startling combination of Colton, Harmon, and a favored dog he’d known back at the seminary. Shas dropped his gaze, licking his lips coyly. “Have no fear regarding our farm boy, Yolan.” He started toward his bedroom, crossing by the men at the table as he went. “I shall endeavor to keep my hands off him.” He set the second snifter of brandy on the table beside Colt and then slid the fingers of one hand over the marshal’s shoulder. The marshal stubbornly refused to look at him. “No.” How cute. Shas slid his fingers through Colt’s hair, laughing when the other man jerked away. “Yes.” It gained him a glare. “You can’t always have your way.” Shas grinned. “Why ever not?” With that, he started toward the bedroom door. He reached the door before he heard a small sigh from Harmon, then Colton’s chair scrape. Without looking back, he continued into the room and had set down his glass before the door closed behind him. Colt was there when he turned, leaning against the inside of the door, sipping brandy, and watching him. “I only humor you to keep you happy, you know.” Shas let Colt see his smirk as he pulled the gun from the holster inside the waistband of his jeans and set it on the nightstand. “I know.” “Yolan’s right. You really should leave the boy alone.”

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Casually, he grabbed the bottom hem of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. “I know. I will.” He shook his hair free of the clingy black material, then threw the shirt onto a chair. Colt started toward him, free hand up to begin unbuttoning his shirt. “Will you? My own experience suggests otherwise.” Laughing softly, Shas sat on the bed and leaned back on his elbows. “It won’t be easy. He is rather large and tempting.” Colt set his drink on the nightstand beside Shas’s, his thin undershirt now visible between the open sides of his shirt. “Are you that weak?” “Of course I am.” Shas lifted one leg, holding the foot toward Colt. “That’s why you’ll just have to keep me satisfied so I won’t give in to temptation.” Colt snorted, supporting the heel of Shas’s black suede boot as he reached up the inside of Shas’s calf to grasp the zipper at his knee. “You sure I’m enough? That’s a lot of farm boy.” “Yes. He is.” Shas let his eyes close dreamily, sliding to his back on the plush mattress. The boot came off, and Colt let his leg drop. Shas lifted the other one for the same treatment. “If I were a jealous man, I might have issues with that.” Shas hummed as the second boot slid off. “If you and I had any illusion that what’s between us is more than just sex, you might have cause.” “The boy is straight, you know?” Clothing rustled, and what sounded like another boot fell to the floor. “I am quite aware that his grief for his departed fiancée is genuine, thank you.” The last boot fell. “I saw it in trance.” A shadow obscured some of the light from the lamp on the nightstand. As the mattress moved, Shas opened his eyes to find Colton braced on all fours above him. Tufts of the dark fur that covered much of his chest peeked out from the edges of his undershirt. “You don’t believe he’s straight?” Shas grinned, reaching up to slide his hands over Colt’s shoulders and up under his dress shirt to his back. “You’re straight.” Colt let himself be drawn down to his elbows as Shas worked both of his shirts up to his armpits. “I am.” Now that he was in reach, Shas leaned up to nuzzle the crisp, short beard that lined his jaw. “Of course you are.” Colt growled, turning his head away but arching his neck to give Shas more to taste. “I still fuck women.” Shas bit at the taut, thick muscle just above the bend into Colt’s shoulder. “Of course you do.” Tiring of the conversation, he slipped his hands free of Colt’s clothing and pushed at the man’s chest. “Get your clothes off.”

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Surprisingly obedient, Colt pushed up and off the bed to do just that. Shas didn’t question. He knew better. He simply set to removing his own jeans. Because he had time, since Colt had more clothing to remove, he dug into the pouch of necessities that he kept on the nightstand to withdraw a small vial of oil. Kneeling so he was facing the wrought-iron headboard, he poured some on his fingers. “Eager, aren’t we?” Colt mused. Tossing his hair aside, Shas threw a hot look over his bare shoulder. “Always,” he answered, then murmured the words of the spell over the oil before drawing his hand back toward his buttocks. The oil tingled on his fingers, warming via the spell. It would also work to save Shas from sexual diseases. Not that he believed Colt to have any, but he’d established the safety procedure from the outset of their relationship, and there was no reason to cease it. Finally naked, Colt climbed up to kneel behind Shas. He set his hands to Shas’s hips as Shas easily sank two fingers into his own orifice. “So”—he dug his fingers into Shas’s hips as Shas began to rock to his own ministrations—“is this eagerness because of the farm boy?” Shas frowned slightly, then removed his fingers from his body to reach back and grasp Colt’s cock. Another property of the spell on the oil was that very little went a long way, and it didn’t wear off without speaking the words to dissolve it. He glanced back over his shoulder. “Does it matter?” Working the head and shaft of Colt’s cock with his fingers, he watched the transformation of Colt’s face from teasing speculation to mindless lust. Colt either forgot or declined to answer the question. He batted Shas’s hand away and gripped his own cock, the better to aim it for Shas’s ass. Which was just fine with Shas, who turned back to face the headboard, oiled hand reaching down to grip his neglected erection. He paused for an appreciative moan as Colt slid inside, then closed his eyes and languidly massaged himself as Colt got comfortable. Hot hands slid up Shas’s spine to land on the backs of his shoulders. He grunted, one elbow buckling so his chest fell to the mattress. “The kid’s not going to fuck you,” Colt murmured into his ear as he started a smooth, slow withdrawal. “You’ve got to leave him alone. You know that, don’t you?” Shas gasped as Colt slammed back inside. “Must we discuss this now?” He groaned, wanting to enjoy the thrust into his greedy body. Colt adjusted his knees inside of Shas’s and leaned up so he had a better angle. “I just hate to see you get your hopes up.” Shas let himself laugh as he pinched the head of his cock. “It’s a good thing I have such a…ah…good friend as you.”

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Chapter Three  The sheriff walked back to the hotel with Rynn from the jailhouse. On the way, Trent kept telling him that going with the sursei was a good thing and that Rynn would be better off away from Taft. Rynn noted that the sheriff kept repeating the obvious. It was almost like he was trying to convince himself, not Rynn. But Rynn just shrugged it off. He knew that people sometimes needed to hear themselves talk more than anything. Lynny had been that way. Lynny. That dull ache throbbed below his heart. The excitement of the day had distracted him, but in quiet moments he still missed her. She’d been his friend as well as his fiancée. Truth, she’d probably been a better friend. A beautiful, wonderful, smart friend who he’d looked forward to spending the rest of his life with, even if he didn’t care for her family. It was just as well that he was leaving town for parts unknown. She’d always wanted to see the world and experience everything. She would have been excited for him. He parted with the sheriff when they returned to the hotel lobby, thanking him politely when the man said he’d be fine. As previously instructed, he headed straight back up to the sursei’s rooms, although he chose to take the stairs rather than brave the elevator again. Harmon welcomed him back to the main room, which had all been set to rights, and offered him dinner. When he asked, Harmon told him that Shasertai and Yolan had already retired for the night and wouldn’t emerge until morning. Harmon sat across the table from Rynn with a plate of batter-fried steak and grilled potatoes, digging into his meal with relish. “By the way, don’t worry about what you saw earlier. Between Shas and Colt.” Mouth full, Rynn could only raise his eyebrows.

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Harmon slashed into his steak. “They’re always like that, but nothing ever comes to blows. They wouldn’t shoot each other. Colt wouldn’t be here if that was a danger.” Rynn thought of asking about what he thought might be their more intimate relationship, but he couldn’t seem to find the words, so instead he asked, “Why do they act like that?” Harmon chewed and swallowed before shaking his head. “Who knows why they do anything? Each one of ’em lives by their own rules. Both of ’em hotheads.” He gave Rynn a steady gaze. “But ain’t neither one gonna let you come to harm. Shas said he’d get you to Vinton, and he’ll do it.” Rynn blinked, unsure how to take this new bit of information. Strange thing to hear coming from a bodyguard for one of the men. He nodded. “Okay.” “So.” Harmon drank from the mug of ale beside his plate. “You ever been outside Taft before?” “Just as far as Halston.” “First time away from home.” Harmon sighed. “I remember when I left home. I’m from a little spit of a town up…” What followed was a pleasant meal and an entertaining story about Harmon’s younger life. Rynn was wholly fascinated. Harmon had been in the royal reserves. He’d fought bandits in the south. He’d actually been in places and fought in battles that Rynn had only seen news videos of. “How did you come to work for the sursei?” Rynn asked, leaning over his longempty plate. Harmon sat back with the last of his second mug of ale from the small keg on a table in the corner. He shrugged. “Needed some quiet time.” Rynn gaped, then laughed when he saw Harmon’s grin. “Right, then.” Harmon set his mug back on the table. “You look near to falling over, so you should get some shut-eye. Shas’ll be wanting to head out early in the morning.” Rynn held a fist up to a yawn, unable to protest. Harmon stood and pointed to the two large plush couches along the wall. Each had a neatly folded blanket and sleeping pillow on it. “That one’s yours; this one’s mine. That door in there is the toilet. We might as well get some sleep and enjoy the room to stretch out. Beds aren’t built for men our size on the coach.” At Harmon’s insistence, Rynn made use of the toilet room first. The modern convenience awed the young man, who’d always made do with an outhouse and either a sink or a water trough. First time he’d seen a working sink and toilet had been at the jailhouse, since the Dotalls had never let him far enough into their house to make use of theirs. But he figured out how things worked easy enough.

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He was less surprised to return to the main room to find Harmon seated on his couch with the low table pulled close, dismantling a pistol. He recognized the cleaning ritual. Without disturbing the bodyguard, he set his boots down beside his own couch, unfolded his blanket, and lay down beneath it. He must have been more worn-out than he’d realized, because he was asleep soon after his head hit the pillow.

***** He woke to a flurry of soft-spoken activity. Two men in porter uniforms were wheeling out a table laden with the previous night’s dinner while another was speaking quietly with Yolan beside a new table supporting covered dishes. Harmon stood beside the door, arms crossed, gun on full display in the holster strapped to his thigh. The two porters eyed it nervously, but he didn’t give them a second glance. Yolan handed a small clipboard back to a third porter and thanked him before she noticed Rynn sitting up. “Ah, good morning, Rynn. I trust you slept well?” He returned her smile. She was so pretty. Her frilly white blouse and long dark gray traveling skirt were sedate, but her carefully pinned-up, shining white-gold hair and sparkling blue eyes provided plenty of shine. He stood and ducked his head, glad that he’d kept his shirt and pants on while sleeping. Even so, he felt every inch the bumpkin in front of her. “I did, thank you, ma’am.” “Oh, no. No no no. Rynn, you must call me Yolan. In mixed company, Miss Kogin. But I am not a ma’am, madam, or Ms.” Her tone was gentle, and she still smiled, but he got the impression she was quite serious. Shasertai swept into the room. “‘Ma’am’ implies that she’s old, you see,” he said to the room at large as he headed for the food, “and our Yolan is not old.” He laid his hands on her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Are you, darling?” She batted at his hand but looked pleased nonetheless. “Hush, you.” Once again, the judge looked like anything but. Again he wore a snug, sleeveless top, this one in light yellow just a few shades warmer than the loose hair that fell about his shoulders. Belted black denim pants and the black suede knee boots completed his outfit, very masculine but for the way he moved. Without knowing, Rynn would have taken him for a dancer or an actor. Until the gun tucked into the waistband at his back or the triangle tattooed above his arched brows said otherwise. Shasertai caught him looking and, after a brief moment, approached. “As for me, lovely man, you must call me Shas.” Rynn saw the look of mild surprise Yolan gave the sursei behind his back, but he didn’t know what to make of it. He was too shocked anyway, taken aback by the sheer presence of the shorter man standing before him. “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”

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The judge drew a finger down Rynn’s face from temple to chin, tracing the untrimmed edge of his beard. “But you must, at least in private. Everyone who travels with me does.” Almost-white eyelashes failed to shield the sparkle of those gemstone eyes. “I won’t take no for an answer.” “Shas.” Yolan’s voice had a warning tone in it. He ignored it. “What do you say, Rynn?” Caught, unable to say anything else, Rynn nodded. He hoped the judge didn’t realize the nod was as much an assent as an attempt to shake the man’s warm, disturbing touch. “Let’s hear it, Rynn.” “What? Oh.” He swallowed. “Shas.” The judge smiled that impossibly beautiful smile. “We’re going to get along just fine.” He patted Rynn’s cheek, then turned back toward the food table. “Now, come and get some breakfast. We need to get moving soon.” Rynn followed and sat obediently, bewildered when the judge stood beside him with a plate and piled it high. For him. “Sir, you didn’t have to…” “Now, now, Rynn,” Yolan chided gently as she sat across from him at the table. “Shas is just going to scold you if you call him ‘sir.’” Rynn blinked, the surprise of the judge serving him having completely driven the name request from his mind. He glanced up to see Shas giving him an arch look. The judge nodded, and Rynn had to duck his head, hoping it was in time to hide his blush. He was saved from further comment by Colt emerging from the bedroom, buckling his gun belt. Emerging from Shas’s bedroom. “Shas, I’m going to go check on the others.” “You won’t stay for breakfast?” Yolan asked. He picked up his jacket from where it was draped over a chair. “No. I’ll meet you all at the train later.” He grinned at Rynn, his mood a complete turnaround from the sullen looks of the previous night. “Hey there, small town.” Rynn blinked, realizing he’d been staring. He murmured a “good morning,” then turned back to the plate Shasertai had set before him. The judge was already eating. “Tell Salas not to be late this time,” he called without looking up. “We’re not waiting for him again.” “Right you are, boss,” Colt said with a laugh, then left. Rynn was baffled. The marshal had come out of Shasertai’s bedroom. He was finishing dressing, wasn’t he? Didn’t that mean that he and the judge…? Or maybe it was just the judge’s earlier remarks that had Rynn thinking that way. Were they just having fun with him? He picked up his fork to start eating and caught the judge watching him. He had no idea what to make of Shasertai’s smile and wink, so he chose to remain quiet and eat.

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***** The next few hours saw the four of them fed, packed, and checked out of the hotel. Harmon went with Shasertai to the courthouse, then to the rail station, while Rynn followed Yolan to the bank, a sundry store, and then to the station. Rynn was fascinated by the rail coaches. He’d been to the station a few times, but never to board. The coach reserved for Shasertai’s private party was unlike any he’d ever seen. Located at the back of the passenger train, it was sixty feet of polished wood and brushed copper trimmed in deep purple. Yolan led him on board from the observation deck at the rear. “This coach was fitted for traveling sursei,” she said as he held her hand to steady her first steep step onto the stairs. “Thus the triane.” She pointed at the seal above the door, a polished gold plate etched in purple with the sursein triangle. “There are two servants who function as both maid and chef. Shas and Colt have the two staterooms. I sleep and work in the office. You, Harmon, and Colt’s deputies will sleep here.” “Here” being a surprisingly large parlor just inside the observation deck. Ten feet across, maybe fifteen feet deep. There were chairs along each side, with small tables between, as well as a small booth with two padded benches and a table between them. A bar was set up along the back of one those benches. Rynn supposed he and the mentioned men would be sleeping on the carpeted floor because those benches were barely long enough for two people to sit close, certainly not long enough for someone his size to sleep. Fancy white shades sheltered gaslights mounted on each wall, and a long, narrow hallway led from the room along what looked to be the length of the coach. “I need to get some work done, so why don’t you wait here? Shas and Harmon should be along soon, and Colt and the boys should already be here.” She waved at the chairs, then pointed at the wall across from the observation deck. “The facility is through there, and I’ll be just one door down the hall, in the office. The bar is fully stocked, so help yourself.” Then she was gone, disappearing through the door she’d mentioned. Out of curiosity, Rynn checked to make sure that he was right about the “facility” being the toilet room. He was. The three-by-six room was a tight fit for him, but there was a toilet, a shower, and a sink. Bemused, he set his bag down just outside of the facility door, then checked the bar. Crystal decanters sat alongside bottles of wine and spirits in a depression in the bar’s surface. An assortment of glasses and mugs were secured in a small cabinet. An amazing little icebox sat underneath two good-sized kegs, one of dark ale and one of pale beer. Delighted with his find, he took Yolan at her word, poured himself a mug of ale, then sat at the booth, facing the deck, excited to watch the bustle of foot traffic through the clear glass windows. Fascinated by the workmen hurrying back and forth as machinery began to clack and hiss, Rynn was caught off guard to hear people on the observation deck a short

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time later. He glimpsed Shasertai’s shining gold hair through the back windows and stood just as the judge led Harmon, Colt, and two other men through the door. The judge smiled as he approached. He had added a light, loose white jacket to his sleeveless outfit from the morning, the silk floating in his wake. “Ah, Rynn. How do you like our coach?” “It’s amazing, si—Shas.” The frown that had begun to form on Shas’s expressive mouth turned up into a smile. “I’m glad you approve.” He slid a hand briefly down Rynn’s arm. “Now, are you hungry? Should we feed you before we go?” In truth, Rynn was a little hungry since it’d been hours since breakfast, but he didn’t want them to go to any trouble for him. “No.” Those violet eyes narrowed. “Don’t ever lie to me, Rynn,” he said, voice mildly reproachful. “I can hear lies, in or out of trance.” Rynn blinked. “Really?” “Yes, really. Now, are you hungry?” “A-a little, but I can wait.” Shas studied him for a moment and then nodded. “There are roasted nuts and dried fruit in the drawer under that seat.” He pointed to the bench on which Rynn had been sitting. “Perhaps those will tide you over. I would offer more, but the conductor did tell me that we’ll be leaving soon. So, please sit. They’ll have lunch for us all within the hour.” He started for the passageway. “Is Yolan here?” Rynn stared at his back, still amazed by the fact he could hear truth. It had to be so, since he couldn’t tell a lie. “She said she’d be in the office.” “Good. Harmon, check on the staff, would you?” Rynn sat at the booth again, this time facing the front of the train, as Shas led the big bodyguard past and down the narrow hall. He had just picked up his mug again when Colt plopped into the seat across the tiny table from him. The federal marshal wore the same or a similar outfit to the one he’d worn the night before. Rynn decided the shirt was different—black instead of white—but the dark blue jacket he folded on the seat beside him was the same. The collar of his shirt was held closed by a bolo tie, the clasp a gold disk engraved with an eagle’s head. He set his felt hat on top of his jacket, then extended his hand to Rynn. “We weren’t properly introduced. Marshal Colton Garrah.” Rynn took the hand and shook it briefly. “Rynnis Lort.” Smiling, the man sat back in his seat. “Please, call me Colt.” Rynn ducked his head. “Rynn.” Colt nodded, still watching him. Rynn looked up at the two men who had followed Colt into the coach. Both had felt hats on their heads and pistols holstered to their hips.

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“These are my deputies.” Colt half turned to indicate them. “The big one’s Lorin, and the dark one’s Salas. They travel with me. Jimmie and Bay are usually here too, but I sent them on ahead last night.” Rynn nodded. He didn’t feel any particular menace from the three men, but they were certainly watching him closely. “Salas, pour up a few drinks, would you? Fresh up yours, Rynn?” He nodded to Rynn’s half-full mug. Rynn accepted, holding up the mug for the deputy with the walnut brown skin and slick black hair. He rarely passed up a good vintage like the one he’d tasted. Outside, men shouted, and a loud whistle sounded toward the front of the train. Within moments, the coach lurched as the train began to move. Rynn hoped he wasn’t being rude, but he kept his eyes on the retreating rail station rather than on the men in the car with him, eager to take it all in. He could see Colt watching him, though, tucked up in the corner of his bench with his arm draped over the back, his elbow threatening the bottles fit into the bar. “Ever been on a train before, Rynn?” “No, sir.” “Excited?” He couldn’t help what he knew must be a goofy smile. “Yes, sir.” Colt waved his attention to the window. “That’s all right; you go ahead and watch.” He accepted his drink from the deputy. “Ever been out of Taft before?” “Yes, sir.” Rynn wrapped a hand around his own mug but kept watching the buildings slide by. “I’ve been to Halston.” “Right, right, of course. That’s where you bought the hex.” Rynn went cold. Buying hex was, after all, illegal. He’d been made to pay the fine for that in addition to the jail time spent, yet another reason his personal finances were practically nil. His worry must have shown on his face. Colt laughed. “Relax, Rynn. I’m not going to bust your chops for that. I think you’ve been through enough thanks to the hex, don’t you?” Rynn nodded, turning his attention from the passage of trees to the depths of the fresh mug of ale in front of him. Suddenly, he wasn’t thirsty. Colt, however, was. He took his mug and drank it half down as both of the deputies sat in chairs along the opposite side of the car. One of them took out a small notepad and pencil. The other seemed content to watch the scenery. “So.” Colt cradled his mug with a sigh, wiping suds from his neat black beard. “Was it your first time taking hex?” “Yes, sir.” “Quite an experience.”

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“You’ve taken it?” Rynn asked, surprised. “Not the full deal, no, just the drug. The ex. That itself was something. The full thing must have been incredible.” Rynn stared morosely out of the window. “It was.” “You think it should exist?” “Excuse me?” “You think it was right for someone to sell you such a thing? A drug that killed your fiancée? She didn’t realize, did she? Few people really believe the hex will do exactly what it’s supposed to.” He cocked his head. “But we know better, don’t we, Rynn?” Rynn frowned. “Yes, sir.” “Tell me about the man who sold you the hex.” “The man?” Colt’s blue eyes bored into Rynn, every bit as sharp as those of the eagle depicted in steel at his throat. “What you haven’t been told, my friend, is that we’re on a mission. Me, my boys, and the judge. Shas heard about your trial, and we came to check it out on purpose. We know a lot about hex, and we’ve seen more tragedy because of it than I hope you ever see. Our mission is to wipe it out or find an antidote so nothing like what happened to you or your fiancée ever happens again. We’re on the right track. We know there’s only one source of it and one small, select group of people who know how to prepare it.” He waited for his words to sink in, then smiled to dull their sharp edge. “So, tell me about the man who sold you the drug.” Rynn blinked, thrown by the sudden switch in tone. Since he saw no reason to withhold the information, he began to talk. Scenery rolled by and the sun set over sparse woodlands as Colt asked him questions to get him to say more. The deputies remained silent, listening intently, one of them taking notes. “Well, isn’t this cozy?” Rynn jumped, eyes going immediately to the judge as he approached from the passageway. His light jacket fluttered as he passed right by the marshal and plunked down on the bench beside Rynn. His arm brushed Rynn’s as he leaned into the bigger man, but his eyes were on Colt. The deputies he disregarded completely. The scent of fine alcohol drifted from him to tickle Rynn’s nose. “Are we having a nice discussion?” Colt’s blue eyes stared levelly into Shasertai’s violet ones, with Rynn glancing uneasily between the two. He had no idea what was going on, but if Shas and Colt were…together, shouldn’t the judge be sitting beside him? Was this how two men in a relationship acted? “We were,” Colt said finally. “I was asking Rynn about the hex.”

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A strange pause before Shas sat up straight, taking the warmth of his touch away from Rynn’s oversensitive arm. “Good.” He hooked long, slim fingers in the handle of Colt’s mug and drew it toward him, gazing into it. “And what have you been able to tell Colt, Rynn?” Harmon stood silently behind the bar, watching. The deputies acknowledged his presence but didn’t seem bothered by him. The judge, however, made them squirm a bit. Not that Shas noticed, or didn’t seem to. Rynn looked to Colt, who answered for him. “It sounds like Rynn met with one of Jasen Charlotte’s dealers.” Shas lifted Colt’s mug to his lips. “Directly? How high up?” Colt shook his head without seeming to be bothered by the other man sipping his drink. “Can’t tell. But Rynn did hear from others at the tavern that he frequents Vinton.” “Excellent.” Shas set down Colt’s mug and gave Rynn a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Rynn. Jasen Charlotte is one of three men I would dearly love to give memory loss.” “Or plant six feet under,” muttered the bigger deputy, Lorin. Rynn looked from one man to another, frowning. “You seem confused, my dear Rynn.” Shas studied him calmly. “What’s on your mind?” “I was just… I mean…” Uneasy under the judge’s amethyst stare, Rynn turned to Colt, then to Harmon. “Is this how it works? The sursein? You hunt up people to convict?” Colt chuckled. “It’s not how it usually works, no. Usually the authorities would bring criminals to the sursei; the sursei wouldn’t go to the crime. But, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, our Shas has little to do with normal.” Shas snorted, standing so he could take off his jacket. “That’s not entirely true. Your traveling with me is not out of the question.” That made Colt laugh. “It’s normal to have federal marshals with you for one case, maybe two. It’s nearly blasphemous for us to chase down the criminals ourselves.” Shas glared down at him, neatly draping the jacket over the forearms he folded before him. “It’s not remotely blasphemous. As an ordained cleric of Surseine, I think I’d know this far better than you.” His arms were surprisingly toned, fully exposed by the sleeveless top. Rynn wondered how he stayed in shape. “Whatever you say, Shas.” Colt’s voice was far too warm for the topic at hand. “Yes. Whatever I say.” Shas’s voice matched Colt’s. Rynn snatched up his own mug of ale to cover his blush. What was he blushing for?

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Chapter Four  The office in the rail coach was barely five feet by seven feet and contained a small desk, two chairs, and a few cabinets, one of which folded down to become a bed. It was, therefore, not nearly big enough to fit three people comfortably. But three there were, Yolan and Shasertai seated, Colt standing with his back against the closed door. Beyond the one small window, the night obscured details of the scenery. “Jimmie says the dealer’s name is Richard Lawson.” Yolan read from the notes she’d made transcribing the telegraph message. “He knows where he’s been staying and the taverns he frequents.” She set the piece of paper down and looked up at the two men. Colt nodded. “Send back that we’ll be in Vinton tomorrow, as planned. He’s to prep the local sheriff only and wait for Shas before he speaks to anyone at the courthouse. Keep it under wraps.” Yolan nodded, then turned to verify with Shas. The judge continued to think for a moment, tracing the pads of his fingers along his jaw as he studied Colt. Then he nodded. Taking her cue, Yolan turned to the desk to start transcribing. The telegraph she would use was affixed to the corner of the desk. Shasertai stood. “Yolan, will you need me anymore tonight?” She didn’t look up. “No. But you will need to look at the files I put in your room. Sursei Talbot expects an answer by the weekend, and you’ll need to understand the current climate in Vinton.” “Yes, yes.” He bent to kiss the top of her head as he sidled past. Colt opened the door and stepped out into the passageway, holding the narrow panel open for Shas, then closing it behind him.

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Shas glanced to the left, just spying Rynn seated at the booth in the parlor. The younger man’s back was to him, his brown curls given a soft glow in the dim light. The booth looked so very small surrounding his bulk. Turning toward his stateroom, Shas paused to find Colt leaning on his door, watching him with a knowing grin. “Yes?” “Is he there?” “Excuse me?” Colt pushed from the door and closed the small distance between them so he could speak in a murmur. “Small town—is he there?” Shas frowned. “I’m not sure I appreciate the nickname you’ve given him.” Colt shrugged. “He doesn’t mind.” “You’ve asked him?” “Stop avoiding the subject.” “I’m sorry, was there a subject in your ramblings?” Colt’s grin widened. “You know you watch him, don’t you?” Shas rolled his eyes. Ignoring the tiny flip in the region of his heart, he pushed Colt aside as best he could and stepped toward his door. “What of it?” Colt slammed both his hands on the wall beside Shas, boxing him in just a step away from his stateroom. “You watch him a lot. You know you do.” Shas glared at him. Colt was stronger than he and more experienced in physical grappling, so Shas didn’t try to resist. Besides, he knew from the gleam in Colt’s eye that a tussle was exactly what the marshal wanted. Strangely, Shas wasn’t in the mood. “I said I’d protect him.” “He’s twice your size.” “And quite a bit younger. He’s hardly ever been out of his hometown.” Colt wasn’t deterred. “And he’s barely been off this train since we left Taft six days ago.” He leaned closer, pressing Shas between his chest and the lacquered wood wall. “You’re getting a mite obsessed, sursei. Tell me I’m wrong.” Shas couldn’t do that, since it was a dire offense to his god to speak a falsehood. He whipped his hands up to press on Colt’s chest, turning his head away from the kiss the other man intended. “I think you’re obsessed.” Surseine did not mind evasion. Colt chuckled and tried to press into the kiss again. Shas continued to resist. “What? Won’t let me kiss you?” Colt teased. “Afraid he might see?” Shas scowled. Colt didn’t like kissing much during normal times. Said it was too intimate for their casual affair. That he was being insistent now was telling. “Get off of me, marshal.” Colt was positively delighted by the low growl in Shas’s voice. It showed via the curve to one corner of his mouth. “So serious, sursei?” “Tired, marshal. It’s been a long day.” Which was not untrue. Rynn might not have left the coach, but Shasertai had. The majority of this very long day had been spent

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in front a panel of city council members with an eye to cheating the federal government. The lies they had told in his presence had thrust like pins into the back of his eyes. Colt’s gaze roamed his face for another moment before the marshal eased up. “All right.” His grin dropped into a sympathetic smile as he lowered the arm nearest Shas’s door. “Would you like some company tonight?” Part of Shas—the part that hated to be physically alone—wanted to accept. A larger part did not want to contend with Colt anymore without some sleep. “No. Thank you.” The last because he knew that, on some level, Colt meant him well. Colt nodded and stood straight. “You get your sleep, then. We have a full night ahead of us tomorrow in Vinton.” Shas nodded and slipped into his stateroom, closing the door behind him. The compartment was tiny, but was surprisingly comforting when it was just him. Designed for comfort, this small room was one of the few places Shas could be at ease. As he wasn’t especially tall, the six-foot-long bed was plenty for him alone. A small dresser and an overhead compartment held what few personal belongings he chose to keep close, and gas lighting lit the space. Two shuttered windows allowed him to watch the world go by when the blinds were not pulled as they were now. He stripped completely, then donned a soft, loose pair of drawstring pants. Crawling into the bed, he turned down the lamps and simply lay there, listening to the clatter of wheels on the tracks as the gentle sway of the rail coach rocked him. Colt was right. He had been watching Rynn. When he was in a room with the younger man, he often found his attention drifting over Rynn’s broad shoulders and curiously innocent expression. Rynn’s eyes were always full of wonder, but without seeming mindless or vacuous. Inexperience rather than dimwittedness. And not a dishonest bone in his body. Shas’s god-gifted abilities allowed him to see that clearly. Rynn simply had little or no practice at deceit. He absorbed new information like a sponge and had been shown to retain much, if not all, of what he had seen or been told. Shas often found himself wondering if he had ever been that open, that curious about the world. It disturbed him that Colt had noticed his distraction, however. It meant that Harmon and Yolan had likely noticed as well. Yolan would not be able to keep silent on it for very long. She’d known him all his life, been more of a mother to him than the absent woman who’d birthed them. He could only wonder how Colt had confronted him before she had. No more, he told himself, turning onto his side and closing his eyes. He’ll be staying in Vinton, and we’ll be moving on. Shas chose not to dwell on why that thought saddened him.

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Chapter Five  Colt slid a .32 Hartley revolver out of the worn black holster he held in his hands. “Are you comfortable with this?” Rynn eyed it carefully, then nodded. “Good. Put it on.” Colt reholstered the weapon and handed it to Rynn before turning away. “Lorin, you have extra ammo for that?” While Rynn slipped the holster onto his belt, Colt and three of his deputies checked their own weapons. Beyond them, the local sheriff and one of his deputies watched with cautious expressions. Shasertai was perched on a desk, observing with a small smile, Harmon standing protectively behind his shoulder. Rynn tried his best to hide his excitement and act as calm as the rest of them, but doubted he succeeded. Colt was taking him along to identify the dealer who had sold the hextasy to him and Lynny back in Halston. “Right?” Colt stood, hands on hips, eyeing each one of the four men who were to go with him. “We’re ready? Each of them, including Rynn, nodded. “Not quite,” Shas interrupted, sliding to his feet. He crossed the room to Rynn, holding up Harmon’s dark gray overcoat. “Here. Wear this.” Rynn blinked. Shas shook it. “It will cover the weapon. No sense in your being obvious about it.” Resigned, he reached for the garment, but Shas snatched it away. With a small frown, he lifted it again, inside facing Rynn. Finally Rynn figured out what he wanted. Turning his back to the judge, he allowed the shorter man to slip the heavy jacket up his arms to his shoulders.

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“There.” Shas turned him around so he could fuss with the lapels in front. “Now you be careful.” Violet eyes gave him a stern look. “Colt and his men are known hotheads. Don’t you let them get you into any danger.” Behind Shas, Colt rolled his eyes. “Oh, please.” The judge ignored him, continuing to speak up at Rynn. “You just remember that you are not a law official, and you are not to get involved in any kind of dispute. That weapon is purely for your protection. Is that understood?” Oddly touched by the judge’s concern, Rynn nodded. In the week’s trip between Taft and Vinton, Shas had been nothing but kind, careful to include Rynn and make him feel at home among strangers. All right, Shas seemed to find more than was necessary ways and means to touch him, but Rynn had come to accept that. The judge didn’t take it any further, and Rynn found that it didn’t make him uncomfortable. Well, except for the tingle in his groin and gut when it hit him yet again how amazingly beautiful Shasertai was. He’d finally decided it must be because a god blessed Shas. Certainly the divine touch would have an effect on someone, right? Underneath the excitement of tonight’s venture, Rynn fought a feeling of dread. Arrival in Vinton meant he’d soon part ways with the sursein party. But that was tomorrow. Tonight, he got to help catch a bad guy and, in a small way, help avenge Lynny’s death. “All right, enough with the mothering. You’re acting like Yolan.” Colt grabbed Rynn’s arm as he passed on his way to the door. “We’ll meet you in the courthouse later.” “I’ll be there,” Shas called after them. Rynn couldn’t help a last smile and wave for the judge before he followed the other men out the door. Once outside, they clambered into a horse-drawn police wagon that would take them across town. “Right.” Colt faced Rynn from his seat on the bench on the other side of the wagon. “Shas was right about one thing. You stay out of harm’s way. We have to play this one by the book, and you’re our only witness.” Rynn nodded, adjusting the long tail of Harmon’s overcoat. The bodyguard was just a little wider than him, so the jacket was roomy. “We just need you to identify this guy. We’ll take care of the rest.” Again Rynn nodded. They had only arrived in town shortly before sunset. The train had barely come to a stop before Colt had led them all out of the coach and through the rail station toward the sheriff’s office. Shas had even worn a full cloak with the hood drawn so no one could see his face. Colt and Shas were in agreement that they had to go after Jasen Charlotte’s dealer immediately, before anyone had any chance to tip him off to the sursein presence.

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The ride was relatively short, the streets of Vinton almost empty since it was early in the week, though they did have to leave the wagon a few streets away from their destination. What Colt called the “red-light district” of town was a lot more crowded than anywhere else. Colt and his men all agreed that they’d be better off walking. Rynn followed the five men through a crowd that was a lot like the crowd he remembered in Halston with Lynny. What he remembered of it, anyway. He had been drunk much of the time, but he did remember arriving to a crowd that had overwhelmed his small-town sensibilities. But Halston was smaller than Vinton, which meant this crowd put the one he recalled to shame. Painted women strolled the wooden sidewalks in what looked like their undergarments. Corsets pushed up breasts so prominent mounds looked like they might overflow. Long skirts were split up the sides to expose more shapely legs than Rynn had ever seen on a clothed woman. “Keep your mind on the task at hand, small town.” Jimmie, one of Colt’s deputies, chuckled. Rynn gave him a lost look that only made him laugh harder. “When we’re done, maybe we’ll bring you back here to celebrate, huh?” The older man cackled, slapping Rynn’s shoulder. As always, Rynn admired the man’s ability to speak and keep a lit cigarette between his lips at the same time. Rynn managed to keep his eyes in his head as the deputies steered him through the crowd. He ignored the invitations from the women, not nearly as smoothly as the other men, who managed to smile and talk to them without blushing. Lynny had been the one and only woman Rynn had ever had sex with, only the second woman Rynn had ever kissed. The prostitutes in Halston hadn’t been nearly as brazen. Finally they reached a door with a backlit sign proclaiming it to be the entrance for the Gambling Pony. Strange, pungent smoke threaded into Rynn’s lungs as he ducked underneath the heavy red velvet drapery that obscured most of the entrance. Amplified guitar music assaulted his ears as they passed through a dark, narrow hallway to emerge into a moderately crowded tavern beyond. Pocked wooden tables and matching chairs were scattered across a sawdust-strewn floor. There seemed to be two types of men seated and standing around the tables. The first were workmen. Rynn well recognized the suspenders and shirtsleeves of men who’d worked a full day and were now out to unwind. Taft had a similar crowd, although unwinding centered mostly on drinking rather than whoring or gambling. The second were dandies. Gamblers, mostly. Well dressed in colorful suits, stovepipe hats, and more colorful cravats. Oiled hair and jewelry flashed even in the dim light shed from the gas sconces mounted on the walls and the candle chandelier above their heads. Just about every man and quite a few women were visibly armed. Jimmie, Lorin, and Bay—Colt’s fourth deputy—fanned out into the crowd, with Colt and Salas staying beside Rynn. “Take your time,” Colt murmured, just loud enough so Rynn could hear him over the man performing on the stage across the right wall. “Look without seeming to look. Let’s get a drink.”

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Rynn followed Colt through the crowd, trying to be casual as he checked all the male faces. They didn’t even make it to the bar before he saw who he was looking for. Colt stopped when Rynn tugged on the back of his jacket. Rynn leaned down to put his mouth close to Colt’s ear. “He’s the one in the red suit at the table under the stairs.” Colt nodded but didn’t look. He took the last two steps to the bar and turned to face the room. Salas ordered three beers, and Rynn watched the guitarist onstage. “You sure?” Rynn nodded. He might have been drunk, but he remembered listening carefully to that man. Part of listening carefully had been staring at his long, thin face with the precisely waxed mustache. “All right, then. You stay here. Salas, stick with him.” Salas nodded, handing Rynn a frothy mug. Although he recognized the wisdom of keeping his distance, Rynn couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. His participation had come and gone so fast, he’d hardly had time to enjoy it. Ignoring his own beer, Colt stood away from the bar and reached up to comb his fingers through his hair. That was the agreed-upon signal that he knew their target. Once he was sure Lorin, Jimmie, and Bay had seen, he began to make his way across the room. “Calm down, small town,” Salas advised, smiling as he lifted his mug. “It’ll all be over soon.” Trying not to be obvious, Rynn watched Colt and his men converge on the man in the red suit. He continued his conversation, bent close to the middle of the small table, intent on the two workmen seated across from him. Colt and Bay had almost reached him when he looked up and noticed them. He sat back, glancing around the room, which was when he caught sight of Rynn. He must have recognized Rynn, because his eyes rounded and he sat back. His hand dropped out of sight below the table. Colt, Jimmie, and Bay all slowed, two of them in plain sight of the man in the red suit. His suspicious gaze took them in, but Rynn couldn’t be sure if he recognized them for what they were. One of his companions glanced over his shoulder, and Rynn was pretty sure he saw two small vials like the ones the man had sold him. Excited by the sight, Rynn forgot for a moment the tenseness of the situation and turned to Salas. “He’s got—” His words died out when he saw a small man at the end of the bar staring at them, his hand on the butt on the revolver at his hip. Salas couldn’t see, as his back was to the man. Rynn hadn’t formed words of warning in his mouth before all hells broke loose. Off in the vicinity of the table beneath the stairs, chairs scraped and a man shouted. Several voices raised in curt answer. A few women screamed. Salas, attention

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on the table, drew his pistol. The man at the end of the bar did the same. Rynn didn’t even think. The Hartley was in his hand and pointed at the man in the blink of an eye. Less than a blink from the man, whose eyes widened along with his mouth, the pistol half raised toward Salas and Rynn. Others around them scattered, but Rynn didn’t dare take his eyes from his opponent. “Rynn, we’d better—” Salas turned, saw Rynn had drawn, and spun toward his target. “Well, damn,” he muttered. With a little chuckle, he put up his own pistol. Handcuffs jangled. “You watch him while I cuff him.” Not until Salas had given him a nod did Rynn put up his weapon, so not until then did he know what happened elsewhere in the bar. Jimmie had the man in red bent over the table under the stairs, binding his hands behind his back. Colt stood by the one workman, inspecting the two tiny vials Rynn had seen. The patrons of the bar had given them a wide berth, perhaps thanks to the menacing stare Lorin cast over them, his revolver still in his hand. A stout little man in an apron had just stomped up to Colt, and Rynn heard him demand what was going on. A hand slapping his arm distracted Rynn. He turned to see Salas grinning up at him. “You done good, small town. Real good.”

***** Jimmie ushered Rynn toward the courthouse ahead of Colt, the two prisoners, and the rest of the deputies. It was chaotic, given the crowd of people between the wagon and the double doors. Rynn blinked and raised a hand to shield his eyes from an intensely bright spotlight blaring at them from the right. Because of it, he couldn’t even make out the features of the people who stood before it with microphones in their hands, yelling questions at them. Rynn had seen such scenes on news vids, but it was a strange experience in person. “Where’d they all come from?” Rynn asked, wide-eyed as he tried to hear the questions pelted at them. Jimmie dragged him along. “Buzzards. Just a bunch of buzzards circling the kill. Say nothing.” “Do they know what happened?” The deputy pushed at his back. “It’s their job to know, small town. And it’s our job to keep it from them as long as possible. At least in this case.” Rynn didn’t understand, but he obediently closed his lips and crossed into the cavernous but far quieter entryway of the city courthouse. The local authorities barred the doors to the reporters, but that didn’t stop them from yelling questions. “Tell them we’ll make a statement later,” Colt told the man who looked like he was in charge, “after the sursei’s seen the suspects.”

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“I’m afraid I must object to this.” A man with oiled light brown hair and a dark blue suit strode up the hallway and stopped a pace before Colt. “Are you Marshal Garrah?” Colt looked up at him, not thrown by the half-foot difference in their heights. “I am.” The man extended his hand, holding a thick, folded slip of paper. “I’m Lyonel March, Mr. Lawson’s attorney. And this is an order to release my client.” Two of the deputies grumbled under their breath. Richard Lawson grinned and stood taller. The other prisoner gave the lawyer wide eyes but kept his tongue. “Well. News travels fast in these parts.” Colt eyed the lawyer levelly as he took the paper and unfolded it. If Rynn didn’t know better, he would have thought Colt was fighting a grin. He read it briefly, then nodded. “While I’m impressed that you were able to get an official writ so quickly, I’m afraid this decree is worthless.” “It’s signed by a federal judge.” “It is. But a sursei is expecting to question these men.” The lawyer’s nostrils flared, but that was the only sign of reaction. “I’m not the only one who works fast.” Colt grinned, showing teeth as he handed the decree back to Lyonel March. “You are, of course, welcome to accompany us, Mr. March.” “I’d like to speak to my client first.” Colt wrapped his hand around Richard Lawson’s arm and tugged him forward. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. The sursei is waiting for both of these men.” Jimmie nudged Rynn into step behind Colt. Lorin guided the other prisoner along, with Bay bringing up the rear. The lawyer hustled after Colt. “Stop! You can’t do this.” “Watch me.” “My client has a right to speak to his attorney—” “Then you two had better speak fast because the sursei’s waiting in there.” Colt nodded toward an open door they were fast approaching. Richard Lawson tossed a concerned look over his shoulder at his lawyer, but Colt didn’t allow him to stop. “Wait!” Now the lawyer was showing some emotion, anger furrowing his brow. “We’re not ready for trial.” “It’s not a trial. The sursei wishes to question this man.” “For a sursei, it’s the same thing!” “Take it up with the judge,” Colt advised as he ushered Lawson through the door. They all bustled into a large office space. The blinds were drawn, and the gaslights were turned up. Shas sat behind a solid oak desk, dressed in an overlarge, flouncy purple coat that was reminiscent of his robes. His long hair was pulled back into a

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braid, and his fully purple eyes and lack of expression were testament to his trance. Harmon stood by his side, all dressed in black, his gun evident at his hip. Yolan sat at a smaller table to the side, folders and papers spread in neat piles before her. As they entered, she pressed a button on her recorder. The lawyer whispered furiously into Lawson’s ear as Colt led him and the other man to large, solid chairs that had been set before the desk. The layout reminded Rynn of a courtroom without all the trimmings. Jimmie pulled Rynn to stand with him by the wall, out of the way. The deputies and the local sheriff filed in. One last man, an older gentleman in a stark black suit, came in and shut the door behind him. Rynn took it all in, but his attention settled on Shas. He was the most compelling thing in the room and certainly the most colorful. His slicked hair looked like a solid gold cap shielding his skull. Rynn missed the teasing smile he’d come to expect on Shas’s full lips, but he admired the calm mask of the sursei very well. He didn’t envy Richard Lawson or his man if they planned to lie to that face. Colt stepped up to the desk and cleared his throat. “Sursei.” His voice was clearly pitched to gain everyone’s attention. “We’ve brought the men you wished to question.” Shasertai nodded. “Bring forth the suspects.” Mr. March stepped forward. “Sursei, I object. This is highly irregular. My client hasn’t been charged with anything, and I have not had time to discuss any of this with him.” He glanced at the second man, who stood beside the second chair, eyes a bit frantic as he gazed around the room. “With them.” Shas’s eerie purple gaze shifted to the lawyer. “Your name?” “Lyonel March, Mr. Lawson’s and Mr. Brick’s attorney.” Rynn blinked. March hadn’t even known the other man’s name before. Had they met? “Have you ever stood before a sursein judge, Mr. March?” “I have not, sursei, but clearly my client has rights—” “Your client certainly has rights, and Surseine, as the protector of those rights, will see that both of your clients are seen to fairly. These men have been accused by a federal marshal of dealing in a known illegal substance, and there is prior evidence alluding to this fact, including an eyewitness. The marshal has asked that we verify this upon apprehension of the suspects. That is what we plan to do.” “But—” Shas spoke as though March hadn’t opened his mouth. “Our questioning will be recorded and used as evidence in a trial, for which you will be given ample time to prepare. Is this satisfactory to you?” “No, sursei. I demand that I be allowed to speak with—” “March!” Everyone looked to the man in the black suit, who glared from the back of the room. “Stand down before you make more of a fool of yourself.”

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Sight of the older man rattled the lawyer even further. “Judge Banlor. But you yourself signed the writ—” “I’ve only just been made aware of the sursei among us.” And he didn’t look at all happy about it. “Stand down and allow Surseine’s avatar to proceed.” Lyonel March frowned at the older man but finally shook his head and faced the sursei again. “Very well. My sincere apologies, sursei.” Shas nodded. “Marshal Garrah, the charges?” Colt stepped forward. “Richard Lawson is charged with selling hextasy. William Brick is accused as an accessory to the same crime, as well as threatening the life of an officer of the law.” He went on to describe in spare facts the events of the night and the information that he had known prior that had led to the arrest. Lyonel March didn’t look at all surprised by anything Colt said. Once Colt had finished and stepped back, Shas folded his hands on the desk. “Bring forth the first suspect.” Lawson looked at March, who made a strange gesture with his head. Keeping his eyes on Lawson’s, he tucked his head to his chest and flicked his eyes down. Lawson nodded, then stepped closer to the desk. From his vantage at the side of the room, Rynn could see that the man’s attention was fastened on the near edge of the desk and not on the man behind it. “Your name?” Shas’s voice was filled with emotionless authority. “Richard Lawson.” “Age?” “Thirty-six.” “Occupation?” “Dealer in pharmaceuticals.” “Industrial or commercial?” Lawson cleared his throat. The chain and cuffs holding his wrists jangled a bit. Still, he didn’t raise his head. “Commercial, mainly.” “And where do you procure these pharmaceuticals?” “That would depend on the merchandise.” “And where is your excess merchandise now?” “I am currently all out of stock, sursei.” “My congratulations to you.” “Damn it,” Jimmie grumbled, distracting Rynn. Rynn bent his head toward the other man as Shas continued to question Lawson. “What? Jimmie shook his head, watching the proceedings. “He’s not looking at the sursei.”

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“Is that bad?” “Guess you haven’t seen many trials yet. If the person talking looks a sursei straight in the eye when he’s in a trance, the sursei can compel them to tell the truth.” Rynn thought back to his own experience. To the distant feeling that had come over him. Had that been Shasertai compelling him to truth? “Can’t he make him look at him?” “No. One of the stupid rules of the sursein court. Applies here too.” Jimmie shrugged. “The sursei or Yolan would have to explain it to make it make sense.” Rynn absorbed that tidbit as he turned his attention back to the questioning. Shas kept firing questions, and Richard Lawson answered in as few words as possible. A few times, he simply remained silent. Recalling his own trial, Rynn couldn’t imagine not answering the sursei. Soon enough, they reached Lawson’s accounting of the current night. “What were you selling to the men at your table?” Lawson hesitated, casting a sidelong look at his lawyer. March looked as though he’d been chewing gunpowder, but he had nothing to say to the man. Lawson took a deep breath, faced Shasertai—although he still wouldn’t look at him—and said, “I wasn’t selling, judge.” Shas hesitated. “That is not entirely true.” “I did not sell anything to Tim Smythe or his friends.” Another hesitation. “Was this because you were interrupted before the transaction was completed?” Lawson shook his head. “I did not sell anything tonight.” “The vials that were found at your table. Was it a potion commonly called ex?” “I believe so, sursei.” “Was it also laced with a spell to make it hextasy?” “I believe so.” “Was it yours?” “No, sursei.” Shas stared at the man for a very long moment, long enough for those watching to exchange glances. “Bring forth the second man accused.” “Ah, shit,” Jimmie grumbled. Again Rynn leaned toward him. “What?” “Shoulda started with Brick. He mighta given something away. But he’s seen Lawson now…” Jimmie trailed off, shaking his head. Rynn focused back on the proceedings and had to frown a bit. Shas’s mode of questioning had changed drastically. He fired off questions and barely let Brick get a

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full answer out, much less think. And they were questions that didn’t seem to have anything to do with the events of the night. “…kind of gun do you carry?” “A, uh, Volt twenty-two.” “Was it concealed?” “Yes.” “Did you have dinner at the Gambling Pony?” “Yes.” “What did you eat?” “Huh?” “Answer the question.” Brick shifted from foot to foot, his gaze nervously trailing from his feet to the edge of the desk. “Corned beef and hash.” “What did you eat for breakfast?” “I didn’t… Hey, what’s this got to do with—” “Didn’t you hear me, Mr. Brick? Your breakfast.” Lyonel March made a move toward Brick, but Colt stepped between them. The lawyer opened his mouth, but Colt took him off guard by slapping a hand to his chest and pushing him. “Marshal, what are you—” William Brick twisted his neck to look at the two men. “Face front, Mr. Brick.” Shas’s voice was sharp and rang with command. William Brick spun back to face front, his head whipping up. His wide eyes met Shas’s and held. “Sursei,” Lyonel March cried, stepping up to the desk, “I protest—” Harmon came forward, placing his bulk between the lawyer and the judge. Shas’s attention was completely on Brick, and vice versa. “Why were you at the Gambling Pony tonight, Mr. Brick?” The rapid-fire pace of his voice was gone, back to the modulated calm. Beside Rynn, Jimmie made an excited noise. “I…” William Brick hesitated, jaw slack, shoulders trembling slightly. “Sursei,” the lawyer called. “Answer the question, Mr. Brick.” “I was hired to protect Richard Lawson.” “Why was Mr. Lawson in need of protection?” Beside Brick, Lawson sneered. Lorin’s hand on his arm kept him from leaning into Brick. For William Brick, the sursei was the only person in the room. “He was dealing.”

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“What was he dealing?” “Mainly hextasy.” “Did the hextasy belong to Mr. Lawson?” “No. He’s a middleman.” “Do you know where Mr. Lawson obtained the drugs?” “No. Someone else goes with him for the buy.” “He was at the Gambling Pony to sell?” “Yes.” “And what were your orders?” “I was to look out for him and take out anyone who looked at him sideways.” “Define ‘take out.’” “Shoot. Kill. Quietly, if possible.” “You’ve performed this service for Mr. Lawson before?” “Yes.” It all went downhill for Richard Lawson from there. Lawson himself kept quiet, and the lawyer did everything he could to stop the proceedings. But Rynn was pretty sure the damage had been done. After some more questioning of Brick—which included an eyewitness account of Lawson murdering a man over a deal gone bad— Shas asked Lawson if he had anything else to say. He didn’t. Shas gave the order to have both men incarcerated and held for trial. Lorin, Bay, and the local sheriff took the prisoners away, their lawyer in tow. Jimmie could barely keep himself from dancing a jig as he led Rynn into the hall outside the room. Colt stayed behind with Shas, Yolan, and the local judge. Once in the hallway, Jimmie and Salas exchanged a gleeful handshake and backslap. “I think that calls for a celebration,” Jimmie declared. “What do you say, small town, you want to go have a drink? Maybe get you a woman?” The deputy jabbed his gut with an elbow. “He can’t,” Colt said from the doorway. He motioned to Rynn once he had their attention. “Rynn, we need you in here for your statement while Shas is still in trance.” “Oh. Right.” Rynn smiled at the deputies and shrugged. He was touched they’d invited him, but truth be told, he was kind of glad not to go to the red-light district. “You guys go on,” Colt said as Rynn passed him by. “Take the night off. You earned it. Tell Lorin and Bay too. Check in at the hotel tomorrow morning.” “Sure thing, boss.” Rynn came to stand before the desk, facing Shasertai. He’d watched and admired the judge’s handling of the questioning, but he felt strangely at home as his eyes met that overwhelming purple gaze. Yolan sat not two paces to his right, and Harmon stood right by his side. Behind him, Colt and the local judge were in the room. But Rynn had

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no eyes for anyone except the sursein judge. His sharp features made intriguing shadows on the smooth skin of his face, so beautiful even when expressionless. Purple orbs fastened on him. “Please state your name for the record.” Rynn let the detached feeling slide over him, hardly thinking as he answered Shasertai’s questions. It was all information he’d given to Shas and Colt before, but this must be for an official record. “Thank you, Mr. Lort.” Rynn shook himself slightly as the detached feeling melted away, allowing him to think for himself again. Shas asked a few follow-up questions of Colt, checked with Yolan that she was satisfied she had a full accounting, then declared the questioning proceeding at an end. The local judge came forward to exchange a few words, then, with a nod for Colt, left. After the door closed, Shas sat back in his seat, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. His shoulders sank; his head fell back a little. Colt stepped up beside Rynn. “You can almost feel the god letting go of him, can’t you?” Rynn glanced at the marshal, then back at Shas. “Is that what’s happening?” “Yep. He won’t do this in mixed company, but since we’re alone…” He said it with a strange, small grin. “Can he hear us?” “Not right now. Give him a few minutes, though, and he’ll be back to normal.” Harmon squeezed Rynn’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go out in the hall?” Rynn nodded, but stopped when Colt caught his arm. “No. Stay.” Harmon glowered at Colt. “He should go.” Colt grinned up at the taller man without removing his hand from Rynn’s arm. “He should stay. I want to ask Shas about something that concerns him.” Harmon shook his head, his frown growing. “Now is not the time, nor the place—” Colt interrupted him with a laugh. “About a job.” “A job?” Rynn asked. Harmon kept his attention on Colt. “We can talk about that later.” “Why not now?” “Now is not a good time.” “Now is an excellent time.” Rynn glanced from man to man, knowing something else was going on, but clueless as to what it was. Colt laughed again. “Go ahead and sit.” He gestured to one of the chairs in front of the desk, taking the other one himself. “Shas’ll be with us in a moment.”

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Chapter Six  Shasertai was often asked but rarely tried to explain what it was like for him in trance. He’d heard some judges describe it as sitting in a hollow room where truth was a pleasant melody and falsehood a discordant strike. Others likened truth to silk and velvet on the skin as opposed to the burning daggers of lies. In the few instances Shas had bothered to attempt an explanation, he’d likened it to a black world where sight was unnecessary because the musical layers of audible truth were all-encompassing. There was one particular side effect of coming out of the trance that Shas knew was shared by many sursei but was not often discussed. Since sursei were seen as dignified and respectable, it would not do to let it be widely known that most sursei, when released from trance, were horny. Among themselves, sursei believed that the suppression of most of the senses during the trance seemed to bring them back in full force when it released. Some sursei believed that denial of those base urges made a judge stronger, that the sexual urge was a temptation that the devout should forswear. Shas was not of that school. As the heat of the norm chased away the absence of the trance, Shas reached back to draw his braid over his shoulder and into his lap. With his eyes closed, he began to unravel it, reveling in the slide of silken hair over his fingers. This was part of his ritual, his return to normalcy. By the time his fingers reached his scalp, he felt entirely human and incredibly hot, full and hard within his snug trousers. He opened his eyes. Expecting Colt, he was caught off guard to see Rynn’s big brown eyes watching him. At first, all he could do was stare back. “Rynn.” The name escaped his lips as a husky sigh before he could restrain it. The erection in his lap throbbed, forcing him to catch his breath. Beside Rynn, Colt leaned back in the matching chair, lacing his fingers in his lap as he affected a calm that belied the evil twinkle in his eyes. “We thought it a good time to talk to Rynn about a job.”

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Shas gripped the arms of his chair, knowing he wanted to launch himself at Colt, but unsure if it would be to throttle him or to kiss him. Alarmingly, the compelling desire for the latter was aimed at poor Rynn, who very obviously didn’t know what was amiss. “Oh?” Behind the seated pair, Harmon held out his hands, palms up, and silently shook his head. Which meant this was all Colt’s doing. Colt’s mock innocence was further evidence. It was a good thing Shas wasn’t armed in trance. “Yes. I think Rynn proved himself quite capable tonight, don’t you think?” “Yes.” Shas still couldn’t answer past monosyllables. Colt nodded. “So I was thinking of offering him a job as a deputy.” He grinned at Rynn. The younger man’s surprise was evident. He twisted his bulk in the large chair to face Colt. The stretch of fabric over the bulging muscles of his upper arms caught Shas’s attention. “Really?” “Sure, why not? You didn’t want to work in some dreary old lumberyard, did you? You fit right in with us.” Colt’s grin turned sly when he directed it at Shas. “Doesn’t he?” Shas breathed in, distantly amused that he might just come in his pants. He hadn’t felt quite this charged in a long time. Then again, he hadn’t been denied contact fresh out of a trance for quite some time, either. Not since well before he had joined Colt on the road. On his exhale, he managed to modulate his voice to something resembling normal. “Yes. He does.” Colt’s lips twitched, hiding a laugh since he was well aware of what Shas was experiencing. “So what do you think? Can I offer him a job?” Then he turned to Rynn. “I have to ask, see, since I’m technically attached to Shas at the moment. If I weren’t on assignment, I wouldn’t bother.” Rynn’s blinking stare was almost comical as the double meaning of the words was lost on him. Unfortunately, it was also unbearably adorable. Shas became certain he would fit perfectly in the big man’s lap and would happily endure any bruises those strong, callused workman’s fingers placed on his person. “Are you asking me to be a deputy? Don’t I need training for that?” “Under normal circumstances, sure. But, again, we’re not in a normal situation here. You’ve got guard training. That’s enough for a start. The boys and me can train you in the rest.” Colt gave Shas another sly grin. Shas reached down to adjust the fabric over his crotch. Colt saw and nearly burst out laughing. Shas shot him a look, then leaned forward to fold his hands on the desktop, thankful the piece of furniture sat between him and Rynn. But he needed to cut this conversation short and either tackle Colt or send them all away so he could take care of himself. “That arrangement sounds acceptable to me.” Rynn tore his confused gaze from Colt to stare openmouthed at Shas. “Really?”

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Shas nodded, trying not to melt under the full brunt of the man’s rugged youth. His fingers itched to sink into the trimmed dark hair lining Rynn’s square jaw and make their way into the soft, dark mahogany curls about his head. He wanted to nibble on that full bottom lip as he pressed his body against the firm muscles he knew were encased in Rynn’s simple gray shirt and black trousers. He wanted to dig inside those trousers to discover if the full glory of the bulge he’d admired between powerful thighs was as delectable as he imagined. “Yes,” Shas answered, meeting that honest gaze, “but there is one matter we must both accept before you may take the job.” “What’s that?” Colt cocked his head, waiting. Shas focused on Rynn. “You have to know that I happen to find you extremely attractive.” Colt gaped, caught halfway between hilarity and horror. Harmon crossed his arms and stood back, nodding slightly. Rynn’s jaw also fell open, displaying a sweet pink tongue that sent Shas’s thoughts into a downward spiral he struggled to contain. “You…?” Shas nodded. “I assure you, it is not the reason I agree with Colton’s offer. I too think that you’d make a welcome addition to our party. I enjoy your company, regardless of my attraction, and I know that the others would be glad to have you among us. However, I can’t deny that I am attracted to you. I can promise you that I will not molest you or force you into a sexual situation that would make you uncomfortable. I am aware that my attentions are not within your taste, and I respect that.” Rynn swallowed, still shocked. Shas took pity on him. “I propose that you think on it tonight. Come back to the hotel and stay with us tonight. Yolan will be able to answer any details of employment you might have, as will Colt. You can give us your answer in the morning. If you choose to remain in Vinton, we will proceed with your introduction to the master of the lumber mill tomorrow afternoon. Is that acceptable?” Rynn glanced at Colt again and then turned around to swipe a look at Harmon for good measure. When he twisted to face Shas once more, his wide, genuine grin made Shas’s heart flip. “I can sleep on it, sure, but I’m pretty sure I’m gonna say yes.” Shas allowed himself a small smile. “Are you certain?” Rynn nodded without hesitation. “I’ve enjoyed being with you too.” A flush crept up his neck. “I mean, all of you. I really liked… I mean, like… I mean…” The truth of his admission was like a fresh, cool drink to Shas. So open, so honest. Another quality that Shas found very attractive. He shook his head. “I’d like to take the job.” Colt chuckled. Even Harmon smiled. Shas nodded. “Regardless, you should speak with Yolan tonight. Colt, will you take Rynn back to the coach?”

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Colt frowned. “Me?” Shas gave him a mockingly sweet smile. “Yes. You and Rynn may discuss his employment on the way.” “Yeah, but…what about…?” “I believe that I have things well in hand here.” Colt’s jet-black brows drew tightly together. “Are you sure?” “Quite.” Colt stared, then shook his head. “Fine.” He got up. “Come on, Rynn.” The bigger man stood, but he closed the distance to the desk to hold his hand out to Shas. “Thank you,” he said, full of excitement as Shas took his hand. “Thank you so much.” Bemused, Shas watched him follow Colt out the door, ignoring Colt’s final glare before the door closed. Harmon had not moved. “I’m sorry about that. I tried to tell Colt…” Shas shook his head, raising a hand. “No need to apologize. I can see well enough what our dear marshal intended.” “Should I stay?” “No.” He trusted Harmon with his life and appreciated the man’s friendship, but there was nothing physical between them. He wanted to keep it that way. “Just…give me a moment.” Harmon nodded, then left the room. No sooner had the door closed the second time than Shas was sprawled back in his chair, legs splayed as he fought the buttons of his trousers. He bit back a groan as his palm and fingers wrapped around his sensitive shaft. He would have preferred the hand to be that of a workman or, better yet, have the hand be a sweet, smiling mouth surrounded by a soft brown beard. But he would take what he had for right now and work on suppressing his desires.

***** Later that night, Colt slipped into Shasertai’s room after Shas had already turned down the gaslight on the nightstand. He paused at the side of the bed, a black and gray silhouette in front of the light, drawn curtains behind him. Shas admired the sloping curve of strong, wiry shoulders and the darker shadow of thick hair that crisscrossed his bare chest and bisected his flat stomach. When Shas said nothing for a long moment, Colt chuckled. “You’re pissed.” Shas rolled onto his back, cool sheets covering his nudity as he considered the other man. “I’m not pissed.” Colt hesitated for a brief second, his smile faltering. “Why didn’t you let me know when you got back?”

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Shas chose not to answer. Colt propped his hands on lean hips, just above the low waistband of his drawstring pants. “I didn’t expect you to tell him you’re attracted to him.” “You perhaps expected me to launch myself at him?” Colt made bold to prop one knee on the edge of the bed. “I thought you might send him away to think about it.” Shas considered protesting the move, but didn’t. “Which I did.” Cautiously, Colt placed the other knee on the bed, and one hand came down on the mattress. “I didn’t think you’d send me away.” His free hand slid over the sheet across Shas’s thigh. “You okay?” This time Shas did protest. He grabbed Colt’s wrist before it could proceed any farther and lifted the hand away. “Stop.” “What?” “Go away.” “Oh, come on, Shas. Let me make it up to you…” Shas stopped Colt’s forward progress by shoving his hand away and sitting up. “I said, go away. Now. We’re done.” “What?” Shas leaned over to turn up the bedside lamp, deeming the illumination necessary so Colt would see the point. “We. Are done. No more.” Colt pushed back to his feet, standing with hands on hips. He tucked his tongue in his cheek for a moment’s thought as he studied Shas’s face. “Are we?” “Yes. We are.” “Strange how you come to this conclusion just when small town joins us.” “Not strange at all. Rynn’s presence has revealed certain issues that must be nipped in the bud.” One brow raised, Colt crossed sinewy arms over his chest. “Oh?” “One, that I have allowed this dalliance between us to go on for too long.” “You’ve allowed?” “Yes.” Shas calmly combed loose hair back from his cheek. “I see now that I’ve been lazy and careless in regards to you and me. Also, this has revealed a jealous streak in you that I don’t at all care for.” “Jealous?” Other than his blue eyes narrowing a hair more, Colt kept his anger in check. “I’m not jealous.” “No? Why did you bring him to me this afternoon?” “I was just teasing you.” “And you have been doing so. Constantly. Are you even aware of how often you’ve brought up my attraction to him in the past week?”

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“I’ve just been trying to point out to you that you’ve got a thing for him.” “To which I have admitted and am coping with.” Shas crossed his arms over his bare chest and settled back against the headboard. “You, on the other hand, cannot seem to let it lie.” Colt frowned, releasing his own arms to prop his hands back on his lean hips. “All right, maybe I went overboard. I’ll stop.” Shas nodded. “Thank you.” Colt smiled. “It doesn’t mean we have to quit having sex.” “Yes. It does. This has gone on long enough.” “You’re serious.” “Yes.” The scowl was back as Colt pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You were the one who seduced me, remember?” “I do. Perhaps it was a mistake. I didn’t think you’d become so attached.” Colt threw up his hands. “I’m not attached.” “Then you won’t mind that it’s over.” “I’m not attached. But I am sort of, I don’t know, used to it now.” Shas heard the truth of that statement, and it sealed his resolve to sever the sexual side of their relationship. Shas narrowed his eyes. “I am not, nor will I ever be, someone’s convenience.” “That’s not what I said.” “You didn’t have to.” “If anything, I was your convenience.” “And you are no longer convenient.” Colt shook his head. “You’re a cold bastard.” “That you’ve known.” “Always have to be in control of everything.” Shas kept his gaze direct. “Always.” Colt’s nostrils flared. At least a dozen replies dashed through his mind, practically visible to Shas through the clear blue lenses of his eyes, but he held them all in check. In the end, he adopted his normal casual snort and turned. “Whatever you say, sursei.” Shaking his head, he opened the door and left.

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Chapter Seven  Rynn sighted down his arm and fired the Hartley revolver twice, quickly. The first bullet flew wide of the tin can, but the second knocked it off the square fence railing. “Not bad.” Harmon stood beside him, squinting at where the can had been. “Not bad at all.” After the events of the previous night, Colt had told Harmon to get a feel for how Rynn actually handled a gun. So here they were in an empty paddock beside a longabandoned stable next door to the rail yard. The engineer had assured them that no one would bother them or be in any danger from stray gunfire there. Harmon crossed his arms and leaned heavily against a sturdy fencepost. “When’s the last time you held a weapon? Before last night, I mean.” Rynn shook his head, plucking bullets from the open box that sat on the fence. “Not for a few months. I’m better with a rifle, though.” “Ace and Hartley?” “Jones and Smithson.” He slid bullets into the revolver’s cylinder. “Do they make those anymore?” “It was my father’s.” “Ah.” Harmon took the pistol, holstering it at his hip. “Your father teach you to shoot?” “The rifle, yeah.” He nodded toward the pistol. “Guard training’s where I learned revolvers.” “Did they teach you hand-to-hand?” Shas asked from his perch on a hay bale beside the next post. Rynn fought a flush. The judge hadn’t done anything weird or funny toward him all morning, hadn’t even brushed up against him like he’d often done in the past week,

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but Rynn was hyperaware of him just the same since the previous night’s confession. What did it mean that Shas was attracted to him? Did it mean he liked to look at Rynn? Did it mean he wanted to kiss him? Rynn had been attracted to plenty of women and had never wanted to go any further than that. Or did he want to have sex? How did two men have sex anyway? To Rynn’s mind, there wasn’t a place to put everything. He cleared his throat, keeping his focus on loading the gun. “We learned grapple fighting and some bludgeon weapons. We were going to get to swords eventually.” “Begin with guns, the truly dangerous weapon,” Shas mused, seemingly unaware of Rynn’s unease. “It seems rather backwards, don’t you think, Harmon?” The bodyguard shrugged, dipping into the pocket of his vest for a pouch of tobacco and his rolling papers. “No. Pretty standard, actually. If they need to call out the recruits for an emergency, they need to know how to handle a gun.” “I suppose.” The judge stood, his body seemingly boneless in its grace. Today he wore a modest dress shirt over belted dark slacks and low boots, but even in those clothes, his loose, shining hair and exquisitely carved features made him look exotic. Once he’d gained his feet, he reached back to draw his pistol from the holster at the small of his back. He offered it to Rynn. “Have you ever fired one of these?” The gun was as extravagant as the man. Milky white ivory was carved and finished with purple enamel for the butt and either gold or similarly hued copper or brass covered the steel of the shorter-than-usual muzzle and delicate trigger. No cylinder, which meant it was, at most, a two-shot weapon. Rynn shook his head. “I’ve never seen one like it.” “You’re not likely to again.” Shas chuckled, hefting it. “Here, try it.” “Oh, no. I couldn’t.” “You may. As Harmon has often told me, it’s good to be familiar with a variety of weapons.” Rynn glanced at Harmon, but the big man was concentrating on the finishing touches of rolling a cigarette. Setting down the Hartley, Rynn took the small weapon from Shas. The surprisingly heavy weapon was clearly made for a more delicate hand than his, but his finger did fit on the trigger. Shas stepped back. “Go ahead.” Trying not to be so very aware of the man behind him, Rynn lifted his arm and sighted the last tin can on the far fence rail. He could barely even see the weapon in his hand. He squeezed, and the small gun quietly spat its bullet across the cleared paddock to rip the can from its perch. He stared, brows raised in shock. “Wow. That’s quiet.” Shas laughed. “Yes, it is. I had it made a few months before I left the college to come on the road. There’s a silencing spell in the cylinder.” Rynn turned the gun over in his hand to admire it, then offered it back to its owner. “I didn’t know sursei were taught to shoot.”

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“Most of us are not. I chose to learn.” He grinned at Rynn. “I don’t like to be helpless.” Rynn laughed. “Who could ever think you were helpless?” Shas blinked at him, then smiled wide with a small laugh. “Why, thank you, Rynn.” “Well, how are we doing out here?” At the sound of Colt’s voice, Shas’s smile dimmed. “We’re just fine,” he threw over his shoulder as he took his weapon back from Rynn. “Care to join us?” “No, thanks.” Colt leaned on the fence from outside, crossing his arms on the railing, facing them. “Did you actually have small town shoot that tiny little thing of yours?” Rynn heard the taunt in Colt’s words. He glanced at Harmon, but the big bodyguard didn’t seem to be paying the other two men any attention, intent on his cigarette. “I did,” Shas answered coolly, tucking the weapon in its home behind his back. “I thought he might like to try something different.” The two men exchanged a look that made Rynn worry that they were both armed. What had happened? Oh, gods, was Colt mad because of what Shas had told Rynn last night? Could he be jealous? Rynn’s thought process froze at the very idea. “Yes, well, not everyone needs to sample differences like some.” “But it doesn’t hurt to offer.” Rynn startled when Harmon grabbed his arm. “C’mon, Rynn,” he said calmly, turning Rynn to face the far end of the paddock. “Let’s reset the cans for another round.” They were across the open area and out of earshot of the others when Rynn had to ask. “Is something wrong? With them?” “Nothing more than usual.” Harmon bent to pick up one of the heavy cans. “Don’t worry about it.” “Did something happen?” “I expect. But they’ll work it out.” Rynn wanted to know and didn’t want to know. And he was confused why he did want to know, since what was between Shasertai and Colt was none of his business. His confusion kept him quiet as he and Harmon reset the eight cans on the fencepost. “So.” Harmon patted his shoulder as they headed back. “We’ll have to grapple, you and me, so I can see your hand-to-hand skills.” “Sure.” Rynn’s attention, however, was on the two men who stood quietly, not looking at one another. Shas wore a cool look like Lynny used to when she was mad at Rynn but wasn’t ready to lay into him yet. Colt smiled, but there was something dark to it.

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Colt tipped his hat back as they came within hearing. “Rynn, have you ever—” “Shas!” The sound of Bay crying out turned them all toward the wide path that led back to the rail yard. The young deputy was running at full tilt, alone and agitated. He skidded to a halt right by Colt, his eyes locked on the judge. “Shas, Colt, you’d better come. Richard Lawson’s dead.”

***** Shas dismissed Judge Banlor, the mayor, and the local sheriff from his presence after a heated hour of questioning. Richard Lawson and William Brick had both been killed during their transfer from the court jail to a larger prison in the neighboring county. Brigands had set upon the armed transport and killed everyone, prisoners and guards alike. Even the horses pulling the armored coach had been slaughtered. The three officials of Vinton had given Shas all the information they had, but it wasn’t much. Shas was far too angry to question them in trance, but his own ability to hear truth assured him that they told him what they knew. Once they were gone, Shas picked up the nearly empty crystal tumbler beside his hand and hurled it at the wall. It shattered, raining the carpet with thick, sharp shards. Of the six others in the coach with him, only Colt, Harmon, and Yolan didn’t flinch. “Imbeciles!” Shas ranted, shooting to his feet. The men not seated scrambled to stand at the walls of the coach, giving him room to pace. Colt sank in his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he glared out the window across from him. “Did you get a sense that any of them were hiding anything?” “Banlor knows something more, but everything he said was truth.” “You think there’s a chance of getting more out of him?” “Not without a formal inquisition. Whatever he knows is buried under layers of truth.” “What about the mayor?” “That woman is a figurehead, nothing more.” He stopped at the door leading onto the observation deck, scowling at the sunset that began to paint the sky. “I doubt she even realizes how little she knows of her city.” “The sheriff?” “As far as I can sense, an honest man who will do what he can to help but doesn’t have much to stand on.” All was quiet behind him as the others let him seethe. He despised that justice had to include so many incompetent and unscrupulous people. Even with Surseine’s avowal

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of guilt, there were plenty of loopholes through which cunning criminals could slip. Especially ones like Jasen Charlotte, who seemed to have no qualms about killing his own people. He spun, focusing on Colt. “What about the lawyer? Marsh.” Colt pinched his bottom lip between thumb and forefinger. “The sheriff said he’s nowhere to be found.” “I’m not inclined to think that the sheriff could find him if Charlotte’s men hid him,” Shas growled. “Or killed him,” Colt added. “Or that.” He looked to Jimmie and Bay. “Go. Find him. Or at least find word of him.” The deputies nodded, and he stepped aside to allow them out of the coach. Colt stood, reaching for the jacket he’d slung across the back of his chair. “The lawyer’s not enough, regardless.” “You have another suggestion?” “No.” He shrugged into his jacket. “But I do have a few other ideas.” “Such as?” Blue eyes met his. “Better you don’t know.” Having seen that determination on Colt before, Shas nodded. “Agreed.” Colt picked up his hat. “I’m going to find Lorin and Salas and get some horses. You should keep on track toward Gabon. We’ll either send word or meet you there.” Yolan stood. “You’ll need papers.” As his sister drew Colt into the office, Shas busied himself with pouring a drink. “Rynn? Harmon?” He held up the whiskey decanter. Both men declined, so Shas splashed pale liquid into only one glass. He’d downed the first and was pouring a second when Colt reemerged, tucking folded papers into the inner pocket of his jacket. Colt stopped when he came up beside Shas, and they shared a heavy look. Despite their personal differences, they were perfectly in agreement about this particular matter of justice. Finally, Shas nodded and held out his hand to Colt. “Good luck, marshal. And keep us posted.” Colt shook his hand and nodded. “We’ll get him.” “Yes. We will.”

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Chapter Eight  Shas sat back in his chair, closing his eyes to listen. “Keep going; you’re doing fine.” Rynn hesitated, and then his low, sonorous voice started to slowly sound out words, continuing the passage he’d been painstakingly reading aloud. Shas had learned a week ago that Rynn barely knew how to read. What he did know had come from his fiancée and not through any schooling, formal or otherwise. Rynn had offered the information to Harmon during one of his many impromptu training sessions. Technically, Shas should have rescinded the job offer on finding this out. While reading wasn’t a requirement for all law enforcement officers across the nation, it was required for federal officers and was certainly needed if he was going to be any help in ongoing investigations. But rather than do what he should, Shas and Yolan had altered his job description for the meantime. Instead of working for Colt, he now worked directly for Shas as another bodyguard. There were no set requirements for the job, and it could be used as a stepping-stone into a federal deputy position. Even before the change was official, brother and sister had taken it upon themselves to beef up Rynn’s reading and writing abilities. Shas took a deep, calming breath, feeling his shoulders relax. Languidly, he reached up to pull his braid from behind him into his lap, idly trailing his fingers over it. He wasn’t even wearing his gun and didn’t miss it. He and Rynn were alone at the moment. The hotel in Gabon was known for its security, so Harmon was enjoying a rare night off with Jimmie and Bay. Colt had sent word, but he, Salas, and Lorin were yet to arrive in town. Yolan was taking tonight’s opportunity for a long, leisurely bath. Rynn had stayed behind, technically to guard Shas and Yolan. Shasertai had decided it was a perfect time to help Rynn with reading. “What’s this word?”

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Opening his eyes, Shas sat forward to look at the book Rynn turned so he could see. The book was new, but the story was one practically everyone knew, a fairy tale that had been around for years. Light and entertaining. Perfect for a beginner. Leaning close to the big man, he noted the dark tan on the blunt finger that pointed to the word in question and couldn’t help himself from reaching out to circle the wrist to move the hand. Ostensibly so he could see the word better. Really he just wanted to feel the soft rasp of the dark hair on the back of the man’s arm. “‘Epitome.’” “Really?” Shas chuckled. “Yes. The spelling is misleading.” “What does it mean?” “It means ‘perfect example.’” Rynn frowned at the word, tried out the sounds with his lips. Shas watched those lips, not for the first time wondering what they would taste like and if the mustache would tickle or scratch. Then Rynn nodded and read through the sentence. The light went on in his eyes, and he nodded, clearly now understanding. Shas smiled and sat back. Normally, he was an awful teacher. He knew this about himself. His patience with the learning capacity of others was minimal, at best. However, he found a new well of tolerance with Rynn. He enjoyed the light of discovery in those large eyes and craved the smile of delight that went with understanding. Tonight, it finally became apparent why. Rynn’s voice was soothing. Rynn’s company was soothing. Rynn was a rare being in Shas’s experience: open, honest, and curious. On a daily basis, Shas dealt with people who lied or spoke halftruths, people who were trying to keep something from him. This was true even of the people with whom he traveled. Rynn, however, was none of those. He asked honest questions even if he thought they might be considered dumb. He admitted when there was something he didn’t know. Shas had yet to hear an untruth pass his lips. For someone who could hear lies, Rynn was a truly special find. The fact that Shas found him ruggedly beautiful was a bonus. His shaggy brown hair had been trimmed short, exposing rather large ears and a lantern jaw. The jaw was camouflaged by a thick beard a few shades darker than his rich mahogany hair. Shas ached to both comb his fingers through that soft, curly pelt and to shave it off so he could see Rynn’s entire face clearly. He wanted to wrap his arms around that thick neck and let those burly arms crush him against that wall of a chest. He wanted very badly to lay Rynn on a bed, spread his legs, and discover the delights between the protection of his powerful thighs. But he kept his hands to himself. Mostly. Yes, he took occasional advantage to touch Rynn, but he was always careful to keep it casual and never bring attention to it. Another rare occurrence for him. But he’d promised the younger man that he wouldn’t take advantage, and as sursei, he was more than bound by that promise. But, for the solace of Rynn’s company, Shas would more than happily endure the tortures of his imagination.

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More at peace listening to Rynn read than he had been in months, Shas was rather peeved when someone knocked at the door. “I’ll get it.” “No!” Rynn dropped the book and shot to his feet, thrusting a beefy arm in front of Shas. “You can’t answer the door. I’m the bodyguard.” Shas smiled, warmed by Rynn’s care. True, it was his job, but Shas would take the sentiment where he could get it. “All right. I’ll get myself a drink.” Surprisingly, he hadn’t wanted any alcohol all evening. “Would you care for something?” “No. Thank you.” Rynn ducked his head at Shas, then moved for the door. Despite what he’d said, Shas took the opportunity to watch. The trousers were baggy, but the ass inside them looked to be nicely taut. If only he could take a squeeze, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop at just one. “Who is it?” “It’s Salas. Open up.” At the sound of the deputy’s voice, lascivious thoughts faded into the background. Hand on the gun at his waist, Rynn cautiously unchained, unlocked, and cracked the door. Once he saw who was on the other side, he backed up and let Salas in. A third of the buttons of his dark blue shirt were unbuttoned, and his jacket had obviously been donned in a hurry. There was a light of excitement in his dark face. The deputy’s eyes immediately sought out Shas where he still stood at the table. “Evening, sursei.” “Salas. Did you just get into town?” “Yessir.” He grinned. “And Colt needs you downstairs. There’s a woman you need to meet.” “A woman? Me?” The situation must be real since Salas didn’t smile at the mild gibe. “She says she’s a mage and she’s got information on how hextasy is made.” Interest rose. “Do you believe her?” “Colt wants to, but he’s not sure. That’s why he sent me up here for you.” “I’ll get my jacket.” Rynn offered to stay behind with Yolan, but for whatever reason, Shas wanted him to tag along. Rynn didn’t question; it wasn’t his place. He just followed the judge and the deputy to the elevator. He was almost used to the moving boxes now after almost two weeks in his new job, but the tiny compartments still unnerved him. He managed to stay quiet, though, listening to the other men talk. They’d found the woman in a town that Rynn hadn’t heard of, but he gathered it wasn’t far from Vinton. After speaking with her, Colt had rounded everyone up and brought her to Gabon for Shas to talk to. He’d secured a room on the second floor just before sending Salas upstairs.

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“She seems legitimate,” Salas said, watching the lights that indicated the floors counting down. “Not that you can tell a mage on sight. She came willingly and hasn’t tried anything.” Shas finished buttoning his jacket. “Did she say what field she was in?” “No, at least not that I heard. She might have told Colt.” Shas nodded. He must have caught sight of Rynn’s frown out of the corner of his eye, because he turned up to Rynn to explain. “There are different types of mages. Herb, healing, folk, metallurgy… Mages can practice in more than one field, but because of the amount of study and dedication involved, most focus on one.” He laid a hand on Rynn’s arm. “When we’re with her, do not let her touch you. Nontheological magic is grounded in the physical: touch or a potion or the like. If you don’t touch her, you should be safe from anything she could magically do to you. Understand?” Rynn nodded. He’d known about the touching thing, but not about the different fields. Then again, he’d only known one mage in his life, an elderly healer who traveled through the county. Rynn had never visited the man for himself, but he’d seen him and heard of his reputation. The elevator stopped, and Salas pulled the lever that opened the doors. Colt stood a short way down the hall, clearly waiting for their arrival. His customary blue jacket had been replaced with a similar black one, and his hat was absent, but otherwise he looked no different than when he’d left the coach the day Richard Lawson was killed. He started toward them as they exited the lift. Other than a nod for Rynn, he didn’t bother with a greeting, concentrating on Shas. “She’s in one-oh-five.” He turned when he came abreast of Shas so he could walk beside him. “I’ve also got room one-oh-four for you to prepare. I thought it best you be in trance.” Shas eyed him as they stopped in front of a door marked 104. “You think that’s necessary?” “I do. We need to make sure of her information, and you might be able to knock some more out of her. This could be big.” “Should I get Yolan?” Rynn asked. “No. This doesn’t need to be recorded, not yet.” Shas and Colt stared at each other for a long moment before Shas nodded. “Salas, send word to the tavern down the street and ask Harmon and the others to come back. Harmon should go upstairs and wait with Yolan.” The deputy nodded and headed back for the lift. “Rynn, come with me.” Colt stopped Rynn before he stepped into the room after Shas. “There’s a connecting door. Bring him through when he’s ready.” Rynn heard the door close behind him as he realized what was about to happen. Shas sat, his smoothed-back hair a darker gold in the light from the one lamp. “Rynn?”

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He jumped and hurried to stand in front of the sursei. “Yes, sir?” Shas smiled warmly. “Relax. You know what to do?” He’d seen Shas go into trance twice before, but not alone. Harmon had been there before. Harmon had been the one to watch out for Shas. This would be a first for Rynn. He swallowed. “I think so.” Shas reached up to brush a soothing hand down his arm. “Don’t disturb me until I open my eyes. Don’t take it personally if I don’t speak to you or if I’m short. Take me into the other room and let me know where to sit. Stand behind me during the questioning. If I need anything, I’ll say. Take your cues from Colt, if you must.” Rynn took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Shas kept smiling. “When we’re done, I’ll stand, and you bring me back to this chair. Understood?” Rynn nodded. “Yes.” “You’ll be fine. I trust you.” Closing his eyes, Shas rolled his head, stretched his shoulders, then fell still. “I trust you.” Rynn’s heart swelled. The avatar of a god trusted him with his safety. Shas would be blind to all but the matter at hand, singularly focused. It was Rynn’s job to make sure he got out of the trance all right. Focus, he told himself, trying to relax. He fingered his gun, knowing Shas wasn’t carrying his. It didn’t do him any good when he was blind, after all. When Shas’s eyes opened, Rynn was as ready as he could be. Standing at the sursei’s side, he offered his arm as the other man stood. Shas’s hand found him and hooked over his elbow. His touch was delicate, but still Rynn’s skin tingled. Shas said nothing, just waited. Steeling himself, Rynn carefully, steadily led Shas to the connecting door and turned the handle. It opened smoothly into a room that was the mirror image of the one in which they’d just been. Except it was better lit, all the lamps turned on. Both rooms were just a single room and a bathroom. No beds, just tables and chairs. A brunette woman sat on the far side of the long table, with Lorin seated at arm’s distance to her side. Colt stood at the head of the table and nodded to a chair on the near side, indicating Rynn should guide Shas there. He did and hovered as the sursei sat. Then he took his place directly behind Shas and to the right. Overwhelming pride threatened to distract him from the proceedings, and he had to struggle to mirror the focus of the other men. Shas sat forward and folded his hands on the smooth tabletop. “Who comes before us?” Rynn shivered slightly, amazed at the difference between Shas’s voice in trance and out. The woman’s eyes widened a little more. “Sursei,” Colt spoke up, “the woman across from you is named Rabalcava. She claims to have information regarding the manufacture of the drug hextasy.”

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Shas’s head turned toward her. From all Rynn had been able to gather, once the people who were brought before him were introduced, he could “see” them. Or, at least, see whatever it was that he saw in trance. In any case, it allowed him to focus on them. “Is this true?” “Yes, sursei.” The woman’s voice quavered just a little. A dark green homespun dress was belted under an open brown smock. Long chestnut hair was pulled back in a simple tail, and her sun-kissed, freckled face and deep brown eyes were clean of makeup. Her gaze darted over Shas, her fingers tensing around a mug that filled the small room with the scent of mint tea. “Why have you volunteered this information?” “I’ve had past dealings with one of the sorcerers who makes hextasy for Jasen Charlotte.” “That does not answer our question.” She nodded, her eyes locked on Shas’s face. Probably on his eyes. She had that look of someone entranced by Shas’s sursein powers. “That drug killed my sister. It almost killed me.” “Define ‘almost.’” “They gave it to me. To us. They let me go to the man whom I most desired, my husband, but they claimed not to be able to find anyone to satisfy my sister.” Her nostrils flared, moisture welling in her eyes. “They’ve threatened me. Told me that if I didn’t help them, they’d give me the drug again and lock me up or, worse, kill my husband.” “Giving us this information puts you in jeopardy.” “I know. I know. But… My husband left me afterward, scared. I planned to leave even before Marshal Garrah found me, to run far away. But I…I want to hurt them.” Shas paused. “Tell us what you know.” Colt and Salas exchanged excited glances. “You probably know that hextasy comes in three parts: two vials of oil and a word of power. The oils are made in batches, perhaps a gallon or two each at a time. They are laced with magic that takes an herb sorcerer approximately a week to perform, longer for a mage of lesser abilities. That’s just the spell itself. Extracting the oil beforehand takes longer.” “Do you know the ingredients?” “Yes.” “With your permission, we shall record the list when we take your official statement.” “All right. I’ll tell you what I know, but I don’t know it all. There’s more to the spell, and I don’t know all the details.” “You’re an herb mage?” Shas asked.

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“Yes. Adept level, although that’s not official.” Shas nodded. “Continue.” “Once each oil is made, a healer and a cleric of Ilin are brought in to cast the hextasy spell.” “A cleric of Ilin?” “Yes.” Colt watched Shas, beaming. Clearly, this was exciting news. Rynn frowned. He was pretty sure that being a cleric of Ilin was against the law. Those who followed the goddess of lust, greed, and excess were known to be dangerous. He wanted to ask, but thought that the present time was probably not right. Shas continued. “What level of mage does the healer have to be?” “I’m not sure. Adept, at least, would be my guess. The cleric would also need to be at least an adept, if not a sorcerer.” “How do you know about the manufacture of the drug?” She swallowed; her eyes widened. Rynn was positive from that look that she was caught by Shas and couldn’t avert her gaze. “I’ve…made two batches of one of the oils in the past.” She shook, fear plain in her face. “I didn’t know what it was for, at first. Then they threatened me. I wouldn’t have done it willingly. Please, sursei, I didn’t know.” Shas nodded. “Yes. What you’ve said is truth. We will need the names of those involved.” “I don’t know many. They kept me in the dark. I only know about the healer and the cleric from overhearing a private conversation.” “Tell him about the man,” Colt prompted. The woman nodded, her eyes still on Shas. “One of the men who threatened me was named William Brick.” Shas nodded. Colt pounded the table softly, still grinning from ear to ear. “We will need any other names that you know,” Shas continued. She swallowed. “All right.” “We will also need your sworn affidavit. Marshal, send for my clerk.” Colt nodded to Lorin, who stood and left the room. The woman shook her head, still unable to tear her gaze from Shas’s. “No, you can’t use my name.” “We will also see to your safety and help you relocate.” She gnawed at her lower lip. “They’ll kill me.” “Without your testimony, we may not have the necessary evidence to convict those who’ve hurt you.”

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“One of the names I can give you, it’s the healer. He’d be far more valuable than me.” “We still require your statement.” Colt took the seat Lorin had abandoned. Shas must have blinked, because the woman was able to turn to him. “We can help, Rabalcava.” She glanced sideways toward Shas, afraid to get lost in his gaze again. But Colt and Shas kept talking to her, and by the time Yolan arrived with her papers, they had her convinced.

***** The feel of his fingers drawing through his hair became more tangible as Surseine released Shas. He smiled, sighing softly as he sat back in the large, padded chair, releasing his hair to cloak his shoulders but keeping his eyes closed. It had been almost three weeks since he’d had sex right out of trance, and he was proud of himself for not expecting it. He didn’t need it, after all. It had just been a nice perk to have a warm body after the cool experience of a trance. He’d taken to imagining the body he wanted, and that was almost good enough. Sliding his hand down his chest, unbuttoning as he went, he imagined that it was work-roughened hands loosening his jacket. He thought of smiling lips within a soft, dark beard. Relatively soon, he was going to have to visit a brothel to have actual, physical sex, but until then he’d let his imagination run wild. As his hand found the buttons of his trousers, he opened his eyes. And froze. There stood Rynn, propped up against a side table directly in front of Shas. The one lit lamp was mounted to the wall just above and to his right, throwing the front of him into shadow. But Shas could see enough to make out the wide eyes, the slightly unhinged jaw, the tension in his shoulders, and the death grip on the edges of the table to either side of his hips. Caught unaware, Shas sat up and pulled his jacket closed. “Rynn!” It had completely slipped his mind that it was Rynn and not Harmon who was guarding his emergence from trance. How much of what he’d been thinking had shown in his face? In his actions? Rynn ducked his head. “I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure if I should stay or not.” Shas clutched the jacket, frowning at unfamiliar feelings of guilt. “Did Colt tell you to stay?” “No. No one… They’re all busy, and I-I didn’t think you should be left alone.” Shas sighed. His own fault, then. He took a breath. Let it out. Held in the nearly irresistible urge to jump up and rub against Rynn like a cat in heat. “It’s all right. But I need a few moments alone. Could you…?” Rynn nodded and sped out the door. Shas sat back, letting his jacket fall back open. Surprise had done nothing to deflate his erection. Rather, realization that Rynn might have known what he was about

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to do just made his cock throb harder. Giving in, he unbuttoned his trousers and reached inside to release it. Rynn closed the door softly, then stepped aside to prop his back against the wall beside it. Breathing in, he held it, trying to still his galloping heart. He’d watched, fascinated, as the trance left Shas. An amazing thing to see someone touched by divinity melt back to human. He’d imagined that he could see the mantle of the god leaving Shas, softening the line of his shoulders, melting the hard line of his mouth into the generous smile Rynn much preferred. He’d continued to watch as Shas unraveled his hair, admitting in the privacy of his own thoughts that he very much wanted to sink his own fingers into that abundance of silk. When Shas had started to unbutton his coat, Rynn had wondered if he should say something. But the judge’s eyes had stayed closed, so Rynn had remained silent. Shock had kept him from speaking out when Shas had drawn the jacket open and toyed with the gold buttons of his trousers. Shock and a strangely warm flush that rose up from his belly to heat his entire chest. Some of that warm feeling had trickled south as well, introducing a reaction in Rynn’s groin. How much would he have watched? Would he have let Shas undress? Would he have stayed silent if Shas had never opened his eyes? What did it say about him if the answer was yes? He stared blindly at the opposite wall, mind whirling so much that he didn’t hear the door to the other room open. He startled when he saw Salas and Lorin escort Rabalcava past him toward the elevator. He jumped again when he turned to face front and Colt was standing in front of him. “You all right?” “Yes.” “Shas hasn’t come out yet?” Rynn shook his head, flushing. He recalled all too well that before tonight, the last time Shas and Colt had seen each other, things had been tense between them personally. This certainly wasn’t something he wanted to discuss with Colt. His distress must have shown. “All right, Rynn, what’s wrong? Spill it.” “I, um, I…probably should have left him alone.” Colt paused, then startled, then laughed. “Okay, I get it.” Colt leaned against the doorjamb, leering. “No one told you yet that he gets horny right out of trance? You might want to keep clear of him then.” Rynn nodded, staring at the floor. He heard the door open, felt Colt’s pat on his arm, but didn’t look up as the marshal went inside. Shas and Colt. Alone. Would they patch things between them? Would it be physical? Hazy visions filled his imagination, and he had to pull his shirt out of his waistband so the length could cover the physical evidence of his arousal.

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Shas stepped out of the bathroom at the sound of the door. Seeing Colt, he turned back around to finish drying his hands. Colt sauntered up to the doorway to lean in it. “Damn, I missed the show.” Shas met the other man’s gaze in their reflections but chose not to answer. “Looks like Rynn almost got to watch, though. Why didn’t you let him stay?” Shas folded the thin hand towel and hung it back on its ring, refusing to rise to the taunt. “Is he all right?” “He’s fine. Just a little embarrassed.” Shas plucked a thick ribbon from the pocket of his jacket and reached up to smooth his hair back into a tail. “Have you seen to Rabalcava?” “Yep. Salas and Lorin are on it.” “Yolan has what she needs?” “Both audio and paper, ready for your signature.” “Good. I’ll be there in a moment.” Colt wouldn’t be dismissed. He stepped up behind Shas, a familiar, seductive look in his eyes. “I would have helped you out after your trance. How about a welcome-back fuck?” “No, thank you.” Colt sighed. “Are you still sticking to this?” Shas smoothed his hair. “This?” “What, don’t you want to have sex anymore?” “Not with you.” “Why the fuck not?” “We’ve already discussed this.” “Give me a good reason.” “I don’t want you anymore.” “You want Rynn.” Shaking his head, Shas pushed past Colt. “I didn’t say that.” “Don’t even try that evasion. It’s true. I know it; you know it. Does he know it?” “You were there when I told him.” “Does he know it’s gotten worse?” “It doesn’t matter. Rynn is not inclined to appreciate what I have to offer in that area, so the point is moot.” He stopped in the middle of the room and turned to face Colt again. “I’m surprised you’d offer yourself as a substitute.” Clearly, Colt didn’t appreciate that particular view of the situation. “Fuck you.” Shas resisted a taunting smile. He’d won. He didn’t need to rub it in. “Then this discussion is closed. I’d appreciate your not bringing it up again.”

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Chapter Nine  “To us.” Shas raised his wineglass, and the eight others seated on either side of the dining table before him echoed the gesture and his words. Happily, they drank expensive wine to celebrate the incarceration of Jasen Charlotte’s sorcerer healer. The mage had been difficult to catch and even more difficult to question, thanks to three lawyers who had appeared out of nowhere to travel with him, but the fact remained that he was in custody on the very train that brought them to Nova Odelina. The hextasy mage would be tried in one of Surseine’s own courthouses. When the others would have lowered their glasses, Colt kept his raised and grinned over the table at Rynn. “Especially to Rynn. We would have lost the fucker if you hadn’t wrestled him to the ground.” Rynn ducked his head as glasses were raised again with a general “hear, hear!” He managed not to blush, which was an improvement in this company. Almost three months among them, and he was still just starting to feel comfortable. “Even if he’d been told not to touch the mage,” Salas quipped, setting down his glass with an evil grin. Rynn set his own glass down carefully. “I was just trying to make sure you didn’t fall off the wall.” The other man gave him wide eyes, and he blinked in return. He made it for about two breaths before he had to smile. Laughter erupted around the table, led by Salas himself. “You little fucker.” “Ain’t nuthin’ ‘little’ about him.” Jimmie chuckled, reaching for a bowl of bean salad. “Yes, well.” Shas set his own glass down and watched for a moment while everyone served portions of dinner onto their plates. “I think this calls for more of a

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celebration.” He traced the edge of his glass with the pads of his fingers as he propped his chin on the other hand. “As we will arrive in Nova Odelina tomorrow, I propose a trip to Madam Anne’s.” Rynn paused, but only because all four of the deputies froze in shock. “Really?” Bay asked in a reverent whisper. Shas chuckled. “Surely. My treat, of course.” Jimmie’s whoop of joy caused Rynn to startle, nearly dropping the bowl of potatoes he held. “Really, Jimmie,” Yolan scolded mildly from her place at Shas’s right. But Rynn thought that might be a smile she had hidden behind the napkin she used to dab at her lips. “Who’s Madam Anne?” Rynn heard himself ask. All attention turned to him. Jimmie barely contained the excitement of a four-year-old in possession of a new puppy. “Oh, boy, small town, you never heard of Madam Anne’s?” Again he felt like the country bumpkin who knew nothing. “No.” “Madam Anne’s isn’t a who—it’s a what,” Colt informed him, sitting back in his chair. His attention and half smirk, however, were on Shas. Who ignored him. “Indeed,” Shas continued, speaking to Rynn. “It happens to be the finest, most respected brothel in the eastern half of the country.” Had he heard right? “Brothel?” Colt finally faced him. “Whorehouse. Ever been to a whorehouse before, Rynn?” He’d been wrong about getting over the blushing. Rynn could feel the heat on his neck and cheeks. “Well, uh, no. Lynny was the only girl I…well…” He glanced at Yolan. “Before then, I never…” “Shit, man,” Salas protested, spluttering over his wine. “What you been doing for the past few months?” “Bite me, Cortez,” he snapped, knowing to fight back was his only defense. “That’s none of your business.” The darker man shook his head, feigning concern. “Shit, no way I could last that long with just my hand…” “Shas, dear”—Yolan spoke to Shas as though no one else were speaking, but used that tone, which always managed to shut all the men up—“it may be too soon for Rynn. He may still be grieving for his fiancée.” Shas nodded, finally sitting forward to begin dishing food onto his own plate. “Point taken.” He glanced up at Rynn with a gentle smile. “Rynn, you should by no means feel obligated to join us. No one will think less of you.” He shot a glance at Salas, who shrugged and bent over his plate to start eating. “However, this particular den of

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iniquity does offer additional services other than the sexual. There is a tavern and at least two stages and a gaming room.” Lorin chuckled. “Oh, yeah, the shows.” The other deputies chuckled, giving Rynn the impression that these shows were far less innocent than Shas’s tone suggested. Shas gave him a cool glance before returning his attention to Rynn. “In any case, you are welcome to come. If you feel at all uncomfortable, we’ll make sure a cab is available to bring you back to the coach.” Harmon clapped Rynn on the shoulder. “C’mon, Rynn. Madam Anne’s puts on a good show, and there’s drink and cards to be had. You can stick with me if you decide not to partake of the ladies.” Jimmie scowled at Harmon. “Don’t you ever fuck?” “Yeah. Your horse.” Harmon said it with enough seriousness that everyone stopped for a moment before laughter burst out again. Colt leaned both forearms on the table to either side of his plate and leaned toward Rynn. “Come on, Rynn, it’ll be good for you.” His grin was full of mischief. “It’s about time you got properly laid. In fact, we should get you two or three women so you can have some real fun. After all, Shas is paying.” At the head of the table, Shas said nothing, eating quietly. Rynn found his eyes on Yolan, who smiled sweetly at him. “It’s understandable if you don’t want to, dear, but a good and proper fuck might be just the ticket. It usually works for me.” He almost fell off his chair at hearing such words from her lips. Jimmie nearly sprayed the table with the wine he’d just sipped. The others laughed. Smiling, Rynn looked at each of them. His short time with these people had been the best, most exciting of his life. “I don’t know that I’m…” At quieter moments, he missed Lynny, but he knew she’d be the last to hold him back. He grinned. “I…I think I’d like to go.”

***** “Thank you, Rynn.” “You’re welcome.” Rynn stepped aside, holding both the bag and the door for Yolan as she exited the tailor’s shop. “Thank you for helping me.” She linked her arm in his as they started down the paved sidewalk. “You’re very welcome.” When they had arrived at the Nova Odelina station that morning, Yolan had claimed that Rynn needed proper attire for the night at Madam Anne’s. That was how Rynn found himself alone with her in the middle of what she called the textile district of his country’s capital city. The district alone seemed almost as large as the whole of Taft

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and populated with almost as many people, if not more. He had to fight not to stare at some of the steam-powered, horseless carriages that trundled up and down the street among the more traditional wagons and foot traffic. He would surely have been instantly lost if not for Yolan’s guidance. “I’m so glad you’re with us, dear,” Yolan said, squeezing his arm. The light wool of her day coat brushed his legs as they walked. “You’re a much more pleasant shopping companion than any of the others. Even Shas.” She giggled, holding her skirt close as three children raced by. “He’s even more picky than I.” Having just experienced how picky she was in the tailor’s shop, Rynn found that hard to believe. Rynn returned her smile. “Thank you. But it’s fun for me too. I’ve never seen shops like these.” “I hadn’t thought of that. There isn’t much of a shopping district in Taft or even Halston, is there?” “No. Nothing like it.” She sighed as they stopped at a corner to let a group of carriages pass by. “I wonder what that would be like. I grew up here, so I’m accustomed to it.” Rynn shook his head, swerving to avoid bumping into an approaching man who wasn’t paying attention. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to grow up in a city.” “One adapts as one must, I suppose. Very few children experienced what Shas and I did growing up here.” He glanced around the tightly packed two- and three-story buildings, each with a shop on the ground floor and what looked like living quarters above. Dingy white, dull brown, and dusty gray were the pervading colors, with just a few others tossed in for flair. “Here?” “Oh, no, not here in the textile district.” She lifted her hand to point up and out to the far right. “See that dome?” In the distance, half of a purple sphere rose above the other buildings, vivid against a cloudless sky. “Yes.” “That’s Sursein Cathedral, home of His college. Shas and I grew up there.” Rynn frowned. “You grew up at the college?” He’d heard of it, of course. Sursein College was the preeminent legal college in the country, if not the world. Every federal sursei was ordained there, and only the best nonsursein judges and lawyers attended. It was the home of the Sursein Court, the supreme judicial authority in the country. “We did.” “Are you going to visit?” Why hadn’t the college been the first stop for both Yolan and her brother? She shrugged and steered him down a street to the left. “We’ll be there for the mage’s trial. There’s no rush.” “Don’t you want to see your parents?” He winced after saying it, not at all sure if their parents were even still alive.

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“Shas and I aren’t what you would call ‘close’ with our parents. We’ll see them, of course, but there’s no need to rush the inevitable. Oh, look.” She pointed at a tall open window. A man stood behind a grill, on which were a number of meat pies that filled the air with a savory scent. “Are you hungry?” Taken off guard by her question, he nodded before he really thought about it. “We were born as a means to an end,” she said as she pulled her change purse from inside the wide belt cinched about her waist. “Two, please,” she told the man, then gestured Rynn at the pies. As he chose one, she handed over the money. “Both of our parents were judges. Still are, although our father is retired. They raised us at the college in hopes that one or both of us would become sursei, as homage to the god they serve.” Rynn watched the man use tongs to set each pie into its own paper holder. “Are they proud of Shas?” Yolan thanked the man and accepted her pie. “They’re more than proud that Surseine chose Shas, yes.” She looped her arm back in Rynn’s after he took his own pie. “They’re less than thrilled with him personally. I’m sure you can understand that.” The last was said with a small laugh as she carefully bit into her steaming treat. Rynn frowned. Unfortunately, he could. In his eyes, Lynnette had been a perfect, wonderful person, but in the eyes of her parents, she had been fickle and reckless. It was probably similar for Shas, likely worse since so much more was expected of him. He couldn’t understand how parents could be so judgmental of their own children, but he knew it happened. “Why aren’t you a sursei?” he asked, veering from the parental subject. “Surseine didn’t find me worthy.” Belatedly, he realized that this subject might be worse than the other. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.” “Oh, no, it’s all right. It happens. Some people choose to take Surseine’s rejection hard, but really you can’t. He only chooses a few, and He has His own reasons for doing so.” She laughed. “He certainly confounded everyone when He chose Shas at the tender age of fourteen.” “He was a judge at fourteen?” “Oh, no, not a true judge, but he was chosen. Even so, Shas hadn’t learned nearly enough about the law to hold court. But he did have his rare ability to hear truth, and he certainly could mediate as long as all of the facts were brought before him.” She frowned at her meat pie. “This is messy. Let’s sit on the lawn.” She pointed to an open area carpeted with a rich green carpet of grass. Rynn had only seen such places in the occasional news vid. “Not all sursei can hear truth?” “Not outside of trance, no. That particular ability is unique to Shas, as far as I’ve heard. Others have had it in the past, but not for years.” Yolan navigated them across

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the lawn to a bench sitting underneath a spreading oak, not far from a sandy area where children played on a wooden structure. “To further answer your other question,” she continued after she sat, concentrating on peeling paper away from her pie, “I choose to believe that Surseine chose me to watch after Shas. He and I have always considered ourselves to be a team, and I’m quite content with my life at his side.” Rynn crumpled the paper that had held his pie. “Don’t you want a family?” She smiled. “Shas is my family. If you mean a husband and children…” She took a delicate bite and chewed, swallowing before she continued. “I don’t think I’d be right for that kind of life. I’m good at what I do and happy with those surrounding me.” She patted his knee with the hand not oily from her treat. “That includes you now, dear.” He flushed. “You’ve all been so good to me.” He looked down at the wrapped package at his feet that contained the clothing Yolan had helped him to purchase. A purchase he had made on his own with the salary Colt and Shas had provided him. He thought of the training that had started with Harmon and the real work he’d been able to do for them in the bust of the mage. He was finally doing something with his life. Lynnette would be proud. He believed his parents would have been proud too. “I don’t know how to repay you.” “Nothing to repay, dear. You’re working hard. You’re good and loyal.” She pinched his arm, grinning. “You’re fun to be around. All that is repayment enough.” He laughed, rubbing at the sting. Perhaps it was enough, but he hoped to be able to do something soon to really pay back their kindness.

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Chapter Ten  Two horse-drawn cabs let them out at the end of a circular drive right in front of Madam Anne’s. Rynn wasn’t sure exactly what he’d expected, but the open wroughtiron gates, fully manicured front lawn, and three-story mansion set on the outskirts of the largest city he’d ever seen were not it. Rynn stepped out of the cab and onto the crunchy stone before the walkway that led to the building, staring up at the people seated on a second-floor veranda. Most of them were male and well dressed, seated or standing, smoking cigarettes, cigars, and pipes. The women among them were dressed in brightly colored coats or robes. On the main floor, a set of double doors was wide open at the end of a bush-lined path, emitting sounds of music and laughter. “It’s something else, isn’t it?” Jimmie asked, taking Rynn’s arm to move him to the side so the second cab could approach. Rynn stopped beside a fragrant rosebush. “Yeah. It’s…” “There’s no other place like it. Pride of Nova Odelina.” Jimmie puffed out like he owned it himself, hooking his thumbs in his new suspenders. “Madam Anne was a state senator, like, a hundred and fifty years ago. She started it.” “A senator?” “Oh, yeah. She was one of the ones who helped to make prostitution legal in half the states across the country. One of the only women, gods bless her soul. Rumor had it she was a priest of Ilin too.” “A priest of Ilin was elected to the senate?” Ilin was not a goddess recognized by the government even though Her influence was widespread. “The state senate, and no one ever proved the connection to Ilin. She never did make it far in federal houses. Not officially, anyway.” Jimmie chuckled, poking Rynn with his elbow. “But it’s said she warmed plenty of beds of influential men.”

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Rynn shook his head. He still wasn’t remotely used to the wonders he was finding outside of Taft. “But that was one hundred and fifty years ago?” “Yeah, but the place still stands. The radical purists try to close her down every now and then, but she’s way too connected to the politicians to take that big of a hit. Besides, the taxes on this place must pay for a lot.” Their discussion was interrupted as Shas alighted from the cab. He took a moment to straighten his cuffs and smooth down his flowing indigo jacket. It was a wondrous garment, quite a bit like his judge’s robes except that it was buttoned in front and belted. It looked something like an open-front dress, but managed to be utterly masculine. Underneath, a white shirt, black slacks, and low, shiny black boots completed the outfit. His wealth of blond waves was tied with a wide black ribbon at the nape of his neck, but lots of errant locks framed his face, including one that nearly obscured his left eye. It almost hid the purple triangle etched between his brows, as well. “Well, gentlemen,” he said when he seemed to be satisfied with his appearance. He offered his arm to Yolan. “Lady. Shall we?” Yolan took his arm, and they led the way up the cobbled path toward the double doors. She, too, was dressed in flowing purple; her skirts glared just a little more than Shas’s jacket. The sleeves of her blouse puffed at the shoulders and were tied with black ribbon at her wrists, but were slashed completely open to expose her arms. The neckline dived deep into her cleavage, drawing far more attention to her modest breasts than normal. Unlike Shas’s loose hair, she had hers knotted on top of her head, with the ends trailing loose down her back. Together, brother and sister were a stunning couple. Harmon shadowed them, dressed in his customary black, his bald head shining in the light ahead. Colt followed with Lorin and Salas, and Jimmie, Bay, and Rynn brought up the rear. Colt had been ominously quiet since before they’d left the rail coach. He’d changed into a dark charcoal suit that was far fancier than anything Rynn had seen him wear to date, and his black beard was trimmed to perfection. He wore the eagle-head bolo tie to hold closed the collar of a crimson shirt. His black curls were oiled back. Hatless, he looked more like a dandy gambler than a man of the law. Rynn was rather glad to have the new clothes that Yolan had helped him purchase. His wasn’t on par with either Shas’s or Colt’s outfits, but the black jacket matched the slacks, his low boots weren’t work-worn, and his white shirt was crisp and clean. He’d even made an attempt to oil back his hair and trim his beard. A few people mingled just inside the entrance, but their party was alone on the walkway. As they approached, some interest stirred on the second-floor balcony. Rynn saw two different women jump in shock, then rush inside. Harmon circled around Shas and Yolan as they neared the entrance so that he could lead the way up three shallow steps. Just as Shas stepped into the rectangle of light from the open double doors, a woman in red emerged to greet them.

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To say she wore red was an understatement. The woman oozed red from the pile of crimson curls atop her head to the scarlet slippers on her feet. Her flowing garment was far more of a robe than a dress, cinched tightly at the waist but gaping open up top to reveal ample, creamy mounds of pale pink breasts. The skirt of her robe trailed behind her for at least four feet, and the sleeves hung in heavy folds almost to the ground. She held her arms out wide to match the painted smile on her face. “Sursei!” Her voice was low and sultry, but it carried quite clearly to Rynn, who was still yards behind Shas. Harmon stepped aside, and Shas opened his arms as he stepped into the woman’s embrace. It was jarring to Rynn to see Shas hug a woman, since the idea of his homosexuality was now firmly ingrained. Even more jarring to see them share a brief but very warm kiss. “It’s been too long, Shasertai,” the woman scolded with a smile. “I quite agree. You’ll have to make it up to me.” She laughed, hands sliding down his arms until she could clasp his fingers with hers. “And I shall. I have just the thing for you.” “Oh, that does sound promising.” “It is. It is.” Releasing Shas, she turned to Yolan and enveloped her in a hug. “Yolan, still the lucky one to travel with such gorgeous men.” Yolan laughed. “Yes. And some might even think that was an advantage.” They both laughed, and the woman in red drew back. “Too true. I’ll have to see if I have someone to provide you with a bit of a change, eh?” “That would be most welcome.” Releasing Yolan, she stepped aside to see who followed behind the pair in purple. “Marshal.” She held out her hand toward Colt. “Good to see you.” Colt stepped up to take her hand, bending over to kiss it. “Madam Garland, always a pleasure.” “Of course it is, sir.” She smiled as she patted his cheek, letting the pads of her fingers trail over his neatly trimmed sideburns. “So handsome. I might have to reserve you for myself tonight.” Colt sidled up to brush his lips over her powdered cheek. “I should be so lucky.” She giggled, coyly pushing him away. “We shall have to talk. If not me”—she glanced at Shas—“you’ll have to tell me what I can provide for you.” Colt kept his attention on her. “If she’s female and supplied on your recommendation, how can I go wrong?” Garland glanced again at Shas, who just watched with half-closed eyes and an amused smile as he wiped the smudge of her lipstick from his mouth. “Very well.” She looked up at Harmon. “Will Master Bodyguard be partaking tonight?” “That is up to Master Bodyguard,” Shas proclaimed. “Everyone here is my guest tonight.”

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Reminded, Rynn glanced around and spied half a dozen big men in red uniforms who Harmon had told him would be present. Madam Anne’s served too many prestigious people not to supply its own security. Even Harmon felt safe in letting his bodyguard duties lie once his charge was inside the brothel. Harmon smiled down at the woman. “I’m looking for a show and a game.” “Is that all?” “We’ll have to see.” “Mmm, yes.” She nodded, then looked at the remaining men. “And who have we here?” Yolan provided introduction. “These are Colton’s deputies—Jimmie Flannery, Salas Cortez, Lorin Thom, Bay Under…” Each deputy exchanged nods with the madam as they were introduced. Shas interrupted before Yolan could say Rynn’s name. “And this is the newest addition to our party.” Shas stepped close enough to reach up and brush something from Rynn’s shoulder. “Rynnis Lort.” He kept his hand on Rynn’s shoulder as he turned to face Madam Garland. “I’d like for you to take special care of him. This is his first time at a fine house of ill repute.” Rynn turned bright red, shocked at Shas’s mention of special treatment for him. He hadn’t expected that. Garland’s scarlet eyebrows shot up, as did the corners of her mouth. “Is it?” Yolan stepped up to her side and leaned slightly toward her, as though speaking a secret even if she didn’t lower her voice. “He has also recently lost his fiancée, who was his childhood friend.” “Oh, you poor boy.” The madam stepped forward, bringing with her a cloud of floral perfume that enveloped Rynn as she reached up to cup his jaw in soft hands. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” She studied his face, letting her hands slide down his neck to rest on his chest. “My, aren’t you handsome?” Smiling, she slipped her arm through his and stepped toward the entrance, gently forcing him to do the same. “Come, everyone, inside please.” Then to him alone: “It’s not at all easy to lose a loved one. I lost one of the men I loved when I was young. I can only tell you that it is possible to love again.” Rynn had no choice but to follow as she led him through the double doors and into a wide entrance hall. From there, he could see four different paths a visitor could take. To the left, a wide-open arch led into what looked like a good-sized tavern with wooden tables scattered over the floor. Within, Rynn could see both a bar and a stage on which a mostly nude woman was dancing. To the right was another set of double doors, which led into a darkened room that must hold a lot of people because he saw a party of at least a dozen enter and heard more voices within. Straight ahead, there was a small corridor leading toward the back of the building underneath a carpeted staircase leading to the second floor. Two women leaned on a railing over the stairs, barely dressed in corsets and stockings.

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Distracted by their surroundings, he didn’t catch Madam Garland’s murmured discussion with a short, balding man in a red suit who came up to her side. The man scurried off just as the others came to a halt around them. Still holding Rynn’s arm, Madam Garland held up bronze pendants attached to neck chains. “My friends, if you would take these, they’ll identify your account for the evening.” She looked to Shas. “I assume you wish the usual arrangements?” Shas plucked his pendant from her fingers and reached up to put it on. “I do.” She nodded and handed out the other pendants, keeping Rynn’s in her own grasp. “Marshal, if you and your men would care to step into the main parlor, I believe any of my people would be happy to keep you company. Master Bodyguard, there is a poker player here tonight who might catch your fancy for cards.” Colt exchanged a long, silent look with Shas as he put on his pendant. When the judge showed no response, Colt’s eyes hooded and he turned to the madam. Again he took her hand and kissed it. “I’m sure that all will be fine. Come on, men.” Rynn was still trying to process the look between the two men as Madam Garland waved at someone up the stairs. Shas and Colt were still at odds. He never had discovered what was wrong between them and hadn’t found the courage to ask. A tall man in fine slacks and a mostly unbuttoned dress shirt bowed over Yolan’s hand. He stood, proving himself to be almost Rynn’s height if not his breadth. Light brown hair streaked with lighter gold was cut short about his ears, and merry blue eyes fastened on Yolan as he kept hold of her hand. Madam Garland smiled. “Yolan, this is Stean. I highly recommend spending some quality time with him upstairs.” Rynn had never seen that smile on Yolan’s face, but Lynny had worn a similar one the night they’d been in Halston. She stepped closer to the man, humming. “Oh, yes, I think he’ll do nicely.” Stean offered his arm and Yolan took it, nestling close as she allowed him to lead her toward the sweeping staircase. Head spinning, Rynn didn’t notice the presence of two young men until they stood in front of Shas, gazing at him as though they’d devour him. They weren’t like any men Rynn had ever met before. Both were small and slim. He would have thought they were female except that the flowing shirts they wore—one sky blue and one lemon yellow—gaped open to the waist to expose tightly toned, hairless chests. One was Shas’s height, one a little taller. The taller one had straight, strawberry blond hair that fell just behind his shoulders and laughing green eyes. The shorter one also had shoulder-length hair, but his was pitch black, with eyes to match and darkly tanned skin. “Sursei Shasertai, this is Mal”—Garland indicated the blond first, then the darker one—“and Perrin. Would they suit your needs?” Shas sized them up, stroking his chin with one thumb. In Rynn’s humble opinion, neither of these boys should appeal to the judge. Both were undeniably pretty, but

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ignorant as he was, it was obvious to him that they were carefully made up to look as they did. The result was rather fake and unappealing. Rynn couldn’t figure out why a man would make himself up to look like a boy or, worse, a woman. But then, he knew little about men who chose to have sex with other men. Shas certainly seemed to approve. “They’re legal, yes?” Madam Garland gasped. “Sursei! I run a respectable establishment.” Shas smiled a little, then nodded. “I think they’ll do, yes.” He held out his arms, and both of the boys jumped at the chance to attach themselves to his sides. Purple eyes glanced up at Rynn before dropping to settle on the madam again. “You’ll take care of Rynn?” Garland squeezed Rynn’s arm. “I have just the thing in mind.” Shas glanced up at him again. A look that Rynn couldn’t decipher flashed over those achingly gorgeous features before his amused smile settled back in place. “Enjoy yourself, Rynn. If you can’t find any of us later and you wish to return to the coach, have one of Madam Garland’s stewards call a cab and put it on my tab.” Abruptly, he turned to brush his lips over the rouged set that belonged to the darker boy. “Come, pretty one. Lead me to your lair.” Rynn watched them go, unaccountably bothered by the sight of Shas’s hand cupping a pert rear end. He wanted to snatch both boys away from Shas but couldn’t quite figure out why. Was he upset for Colt? Or was it that those boys just weren’t right for Shas? “Hmmm.” The sound from Madam Garland distracted him. He looked down to see her watching him closely. “Tell me, Mr. Lort, would you prefer female or male company tonight?” Rynn swallowed his annoyance from before. “I’m sorry?” “Do you prefer men or women?” “What? Oh. Oh! Women. I-I’m not… I mean, there’s nothing wrong with… But I’m not…” He flushed, knowing he was proving his inexperience yet again. “Women.” Madam Garland nodded slowly. “Are you sure?” “What? Yes.” “All right.” Squeezing his arm in hers again, she walked him toward the open, crowded room. He noted that a number of people watched them and guessed it was because he was with her. “What kind of woman do you like?” “Kind?” She chuckled. “Yes, dear. Don’t be shy. We’re all adults, and we know what I sell. I have all types of girls at my disposal. Name your preference.” Rynn balked, staring at the crowd. Indeed, the room was full of a dazzling array of women, all wearing far less clothing than he was used to. Creamy flesh in various hues, silky hair of every natural—and some unnatural—color. “Uh…I don’t…”

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“That’s all right, dear.” He startled when his butt came down on a stool. Madam Garland had led him to one end of the bar. He looked up just in time to see her hail the bartender. “You order a drink.” He did so. When he turned around, it was just to startle again to see a sloe-eyed brunette with an abundance of cleavage that looked about to spill over the top of her corset. “This is Lizzy.” He jumped back as the brunette leaned in closer. She stopped when Madam Garland placed a hand on her shoulder. As she stepped aside, another woman sidled up to Rynn’s side. This one had short, sandy blonde hair and a bright, sunny smile. She practically climbed into his lap. “This is Annette.” This continued for a few minutes, during which Rynn valiantly tried to find his voice to protest. But he could never stammer more than a polite “hello” before the next woman was presented. Soon there were at least a dozen standing in the near vicinity, and his eyes felt close to popping from his head. Then one held up a mug of ale near his lips. She was perhaps a head shorter than he and very slim, as emphasized by the sleek fall of her royal blue robe, which plunged open to show that there was nothing beneath the shiny satin except for the pert swells of her breasts. A golden waterfall of hair fell in gentle curves about the sharp features of her face and her gently sloped shoulders. The eyes that stared at him from underneath one such wave were an amazing dark blue. She smiled with half of her generous mouth as those eyes locked on his. “This is Genevieve.” “Genevieve,” Rynn repeated. “Ah.” He heard Madam Garland and was aware that the other girls were trailing off, but he kept his attention on the beautiful face before him. “Genevieve, Rynnis is a special guest. See that he’s treated well.” The other half of Genevieve’s mouth curled up to complete the smile as she stepped closer to Rynn. “It will be my pleasure,” she purred, blindly accepting the pendant Madam Garland set on her palm.

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Chapter Eleven  Shas lay naked amid soft, golden-hued sheets on a scarf-enshrouded bed. Two covered braziers in the corners of the room provided both warmth and light, and soft music filtered through unseen vents from downstairs. One of his lovely companions lay between his splayed legs, mouth and throat working Shas’s cock while long, talented fingers thrust leisurely in and out of his well-oiled hole. Shas propped up on one elbow, applying half of the same treatment to his dark-haired companion while he lazily contemplated how to get the young man to make a particularly appealing groan once more. Perhaps pouring some more of that thick, mulled wine over his flat belly might do the trick. When the door slammed open, he was, understandably, caught unprepared. The cock popped from his mouth when he shoved up to sit. He was hindered by his position, not wanting to strangle the blond between his legs, so he was slower to react than he perhaps might have been. His gun lay in the pile of clothing he’d left on the floor. Thus it was that the stout, fully clothed man with wide, crazed eyes was at the bedside before he could properly sit up or protest. With manic laughter pouring from his open mouth, the man splayed his open palms over Shas’s chest, smearing a good amount of an oily substance over his skin. He might have reached Shas’s groin with clawing fingers, but Shas managed to roll away from him. The man swayed forward but followed no more, instead raising his hands up to his face to smear the substance across his own cheeks, neck, and the chest exposed in his unbuttoned collar. Laughing all the while at the top of his lungs. No, not laughter. Yes, he was laughing, but there were words within, strange words, words with the tang of magic laced within. Words with a ring of finality. Sensitive to the power in the air, Shas felt the virtual rip of a spell settling into place as the crazy man uttered one last, triumphant phrase. Shas found his feet, yanking a loose sheet up to hold in front of his groin. He’d rolled away to put the bed between them. Nothing except scarves was within his

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immediate reach, and he didn’t plan on getting close enough to the crazy man to be able to throttle him with one. Not that there would be much of a need. His two companions had sounded the alarm through highly effective screams. One of them grabbed a cane from where it stood in the corner and whacked the laughing man in the back of the head. The laughter stopped as the man crumpled to his knees. Another blow to the head sent him crashing to the floor. By this time, others had arrived. Two men in red uniforms rushed in. One plucked the cane from the prostitute to restrain him while the other planted himself between Shas and everyone else. “Sursei, are you all right?” Clearly Shas, as the paying customer, was the priority. Given a moment to think, Shas glanced down at himself. The additional light from the hall allowed him to see the oily sheen on his chest. A lock of his hair was caught in it, plastered to a nipple. Over the incense and sex that had previously perfumed the air, he caught a whiff of a peculiar smell somewhere between cinnamon and rank body odor. He didn’t think the latter came from the guard standing before him. Other than the oil and the red trails that digging fingers had left in his skin, the unconscious man had done no more damage. “I’m fine.” Madam Garland herself surged into the room. “What has happened here? Sursei!” He grabbed a corner of his sheet and used it to wipe at his skin. The oil was sticky and thick, the smell even more pervasive. “I’m sure I have no idea.” “Sursei, I’m so glad you’re all right.” She glared at the clothed body on the floor. “Who is this man?” “I’d like to know the same thing.” No one in the room gave an answer. None of the onlookers from the hallway could provide one either. Conscious of the latter, Shas brought more of his sheet up and around his back and one shoulder as he rounded his end of the bed so he could get a better look at his assailant. He wasn’t particularly modest, but he was feeling oddly vulnerable at the moment. The brothel guard stepped out of his way but hovered close. His unconscious assailant was clean and simply dressed, like any number of the patrons of Madam Anne’s. His mostly bald head listed to the side, so his neck was exposed, glistening with oil. Oil. A spell. No. “Gods. Shas!” He scowled toward the door as his sister shoved through the crowd of onlookers. She held a man’s black jacket closed about her torso, a flash of white within showing her bodice had been left behind. Her skirts rustled as they brushed the legs of those who stepped aside for her. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, anger rising to cover embarrassment. “Someone yelled ‘sursei’ in the hall. I had to come see if you were all right.”

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Madam Garland barked an order at one of the guards, who began to shove people back from the door so he could shut it. “I’m fine.” He looked down at the unconscious man. “Although I would like to know who this is?” Yolan, of course, did not believe him. “Are you sure?” After shoving her arms firmly through the sleeves of the jacket that covered her, she ran her hands down the sheet that covered his shoulders and back. He grabbed her hand when she would have touched his bare chest. “Don’t. He smeared something on me.” That got Garland’s attention. She bustled over, and both women peered closely at his chest. He was now alone with two guards, two prostitutes, two women, and an unconscious man. He should not feel so…exposed. Raw. The heat of Yolan’s gentle touch through the sheet was oddly potent. He fought the urge to pull the sheet up over his other shoulder. Yolan sniffed. “Gods, that smells awful.” Shas sniffed. Alarmed, he realized that the smell was not nearly as odd to him as it had been a few moments ago. Belatedly, he grabbed an edge of the sheet and tried again to wipe some of the sticky stuff off. “What is it?” Yolan asked the madam. Garland’s silence was ominous enough to get Shas’s attention. The fearful concern in her face was worse. “That’s ex. And a lot of it.” Shas froze. The drug part of hextasy was commonly called “ex,” with the h added if the spell was included. Alone, it was a powerful aphrodisiac. As long as Shas’d been pursuing the drug, he only now realized that he’d never come into contact with it. At the moment, it seemed terribly shortsighted of him. But he’d never had the need for an aphrodisiac in pursuit of his own pleasures. He ran a finger through the oil smeared over his left nipple and had to suppress a gasp at the exquisite rake of skin on skin. His own skin. Madam Garland studied Shas’s face. “Did he say anything?” Behind her, one of Shas’s recent bed companions gasped. “He was ranting something and laughing.” The women stared at Shas. Shas nodded. Garland turned to one of the prostitutes. “Was it the incantation?” The blond shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard it.” The other shook his head as well. Garland stared at them, glanced at the man on the floor, then looked back to Shas. The fear mixed with fury in her expression told Shas she was out of her depth. She sneered and snapped her fingers, pointing at the body. “Get him out of here. Everyone, get out. Give the sursei some privacy.”

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Slowly, Shas sat on the edge of the bed, barely watching as the guards hefted the unconscious man. Yolan fluttered around them, mentioning Colt and requesting that he or one of his deputies take charge of the man. “We’ll need him for questioning when he wakes up.” Questioning. There would be no questioning. Even as the man had set the spell on Shas, touching the drug set it on himself as well. Unconsciousness wouldn’t save him from the need for the one he desired most. Heat caressed Shas’s skin. He closed his eyes. No. The door opened, and boots clomped. “What’s going on here?” Colt had arrived. Furious whispers followed. Loud whispers. Loud enough to let Shas know that Harmon was also in the room. The press of bodies was less, allowing the scent of sex to permeate the air. No, that was the sheets from before and the drug on his skin. No. Footsteps crossed the carpet toward him. “Are you sure it’s hex?” Familiar, masculine energy approached, carried by firm muscle and sure confidence. Shas knew that body, knew what it was capable of. Craved something like it. He fell back, a hand whipping up to keep the man at bay. “Stay away!” he barked, the words exploding from his mouth without a conscious directive on his part. He shuddered at the sheet’s languid caress, at the press of the mattress underneath his ass. The air was too warm. He kept his eyes closed. “Shit.” Colt. “Yes.” Yolan. “Garland’s outside. She’s asking what he needs.” Shas heard the silence. Felt their gazes. Knew the silent questions he was supposed to answer. No. He would not allow this. There had to be another way. “Shas?” Just because there was no counter to the spell didn’t mean that he would succumb. No. Not him. Surseine wouldn’t dare allow this! “Shas.” Instead, he breathed. Surseine. He reached for his god and tried to distance himself from all sensation, to find the truth that took him to trance. The god’s touch must be able to push aside a mere spell. Surseine would save him from this so that he wouldn’t have to… No, don’t think on that. Think of facts. Think of space. Think of cool, calm truth. “Shas!” But cool and calm would not come. He could not remember what they felt like. Sensation kept him firmly rooted to the now, not allowing him to distance himself. Despite perhaps outwardly seeming calm, he felt his skin itch. His belly turned, and his heart beat a rapid staccato in time to the pulse in his groin. His groin. Dropping his own hand to his belly was unbearably sensual. He ached from the tip of his imprisoned cock through tingling, tender balls all the way back to and inside his empty hole. Sex. He needed attention and needed it now. He had next to no experience at denial of this particular indulgence, and his body refused to relent to his wishes now.

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“Bring back the whores.” “That’s not going to help.” Furious, Shas finally opened his eyes to see Colt standing over him, hands on hips. He looked delicious, his crimson shirt half unbuttoned and his black curls in disarray about his face. “You’ll do,” Shas snarled, pushing up from elbow to hand. The sheet on that side slipped down to his elbow, fully exposing his shoulders. Gods, even his hair was a distraction as it slipped over his neck and chest. Colt’s smile wasn’t a smile, nor did it match the dark heat in his eyes. “No. It’s not me.” “Stop it, you two.” Yolan pushed at Colt’s shoulder, glared down at Shas. “Colt, we don’t have time for games.” Did she really not know? Shas opened his mouth to protest, but Colt was already in motion. “No game this time. It’s not me he needs. It’s Rynn.” Colt’s voice was short and cool as he opened the door.

***** “Nothing to worry about,” Genevieve assured him, reaching up to cup his jaw so she could turn his attention back to her face and away from the staircase leading upstairs. “Probably just some beau who got out of hand. Happens all the time.” “But someone said ‘sursei’…” “Of course they did. Sursei Shasertai is always the talk when he’s here. He’s famous, you know.” “Really?” “Yes.” She pulled him back into the main room, avoiding the milling people. Rynn sat when she pushed him into an empty chair she’d found beside a table in the corner. “But what if it’s one of my friends?” Colt had darted upstairs, but Jimmie had wandered back to the craps table. He didn’t know where Lorin, Bay, or Salas were. “They know where to find you if they need you,” she purred, draping herself over his lap. Her perfume filled his nostrils, making him suppress a sneeze. She had a good point. She was also amazingly soft and firm, all at the same time. The mixture intrigued him enough to distract him. Wrapping one arm around his neck, she nuzzled in close as she persuaded him to try a sweet liquor. She had just settled his hands about her tiny waist when Colt appeared over her shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed.” Rynn didn’t hear her yelp until he’d already dumped her off his lap. Repentant, he reached down to help her up. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—” Colt grabbed his hand and yanked. “She’ll live. Shas needs you. Now.” He stumbled after the marshal without a backward glance. “Shas?”

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Colt didn’t say anything more, but he didn’t have to. Rynn followed the shorter man through the crowd up the staircase, anxious to find out what was the matter. The marshal led him up the stairs and through a nearly deserted hallway, then finally past Madam Garland and three hulking men standing guard outside a closed door into a dimly lit room garishly decorated in red and gold. Yolan and Harmon hovered over a moaning figure wrapped in a golden sheet that lay on a bed draped in soft, slippery linen of the same color. “Here he is,” Colt announced, shoving Rynn farther into the room. The figure shifted, and the curve of a bare shoulder rose up from the mound of gold fabric, the color of the smooth skin a rival to the sheet that draped it. When he realized that the chest was a man’s, Rynn finally recognized the shimmering waves of white-gold hair that hid Shasertai’s face. He froze, caught by the sheer decadence of the sight. Shas looked every bit like the avatar of a god, although cold and logical Surseine would not have been the god that leaped to mind. Yolan was at Colt’s other side. “Are you sure about this?” Colt snorted. “Not a doubt.” “No.” Shas pushed up on one elbow but kept his face averted, hidden behind a thick flow of loose hair. Harmon continued to hover at Shas’s side, his face drawn into an uncharacteristic frown of concern. “Don’t be an ass, Shas,” Colt snapped. “This will kill you.” “What…?” Rynn cleared his throat, tearing his gaze from the vision on the bed to question Colt and Yolan. “What happened? What’s wrong?” “Get him out of here,” Shas rumbled behind him. Yolan ignored him, concentrating on Rynn. “Someone cast hextasy on him.” Rynn gaped. “Hex? How?” Colt grabbed his arm and pushed him another step toward the bed. “Not remotely important at the moment. Not to you, anyway.” “Me?” Blue eyes bored into his. “Yes. You.” “Damn it, Colt.” Shas’s voice was far too low and more silky than usual, even laced with anger. “Leave him alone.” Rynn was slow about many things, but he caught on to this. The judge’s confession of attraction the afternoon he offered a job to Rynn came back to him like a slap. “Oh. Wow. Me? Are you sure?” “No! You can’t do this.” Ignoring Shas’s protest, Yolan placed both hands on Rynn’s chest, tilting a pleading look at him. Her own white-gold hair fell loose about her neck and the shoulders of the man’s coat she wore over her skirts. “Rynn, dear, you know this would

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be the last thing we’d ask of you, but…” She turned toward Shas, worry evident in her stare. Rynn braved another look at the bed. Shas sat up, leaning heavily on his left arm. The sheet wound about his hips and left side but had fallen free of his right shoulder to expose most of his chest and belly. Soft waves of golden hair tumbled about his head, neck, and shoulders, just brushing the sheets on which he sat. One bare leg had slipped free of the covering, wrapping around behind Shas as he swayed, trying to climb to his knees. He was having some difficulty, though. Like he was drunk or wasn’t completely in charge of his limbs. His movements were languid, more so than usual, and his breath was deep and rapid, forced through open pink lips Rynn could just spy through the fall of hair. The sheet fell free of his other shoulder, spilling down his back, and a tiny, distressed whimper escaped his throat as he paused to try unsuccessfully to gather it back. Rynn stopped moving when his shins hit the edge of the bed, unaware that he’d continued his approach. His fingers touched a thick fall of hair on the left side of Shas’s face. Shas erupted, sheet slapping Rynn’s arm and belly as the judge swiped at his hand while scurrying back from his touch. Rynn had never seen him this frenzied. “No! Get him out of here!” Rynn froze, unsure. What was he doing? He looked to Yolan. Yolan looked to Colt, chewing her bottom lip. It was Harmon who spun Rynn around to face him. “He needs you. Without you, he’ll die.” Shas was struggling with the sheet again, growling. “Harmon.” The bodyguard ignored him, frowning at Rynn. “Don’t let him fight you.” Rynn swallowed. “I don’t know what to do.” Harmon shook his head. “You’ll figure it out. He’s probably already lubed up from before.” He pointed to a small table beside the bed. “If not, there’s more oil right there.” “What?” “Damn it!” Shas drew himself up on his knees, holding the sheet about him for dear life. Most of the hair was out of his face, but he kept his eyes shuttered and averted from Rynn. “Rynn, don’t listen to them. I won’t break my oath to you. Get out of here. Now!” Colt slapped the back of Rynn’s shoulder, gaining his attention. “You can’t possibly hurt him. His ass has taken big men before. Or so he told me.” Ass! Is that what men did? “Colt!” Shas shouted, but the marshal had already spun on his heel and headed for the door.

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Yolan spared a quick, encouraging look for Rynn before she let Colt lead her out of the room. The mattress behind Rynn thumped under a more furious shushing of sheets. “No!” Harmon was last, giving Rynn a quick nod before he shut the door. They were alone. “No!” Shas bolted from the bed, ignoring Rynn’s presence entirely. Trailing his sheet, a few pillows, and part of the heavy red velvet blanket, he thudded into the door and fought with the handle. “Get back here and take him with you!” But something on the other side—likely Harmon—kept it closed. Ass? He’d heard of such a thing, but he’d thought it was a joke. That couldn’t possibly be pleasurable? Was that what Colt had done with Shas? Shocking images leaped into his imagination. Surprisingly, they weren’t all that gross, not with his vision filled with the man in the room with him. “Open this door!” The silken sheet fell from Shas’s shoulders, draping at his waist, caught by his elbows as he valiantly tried to hold on to it and pound at the unyielding wooden panel. The muscles of his back flowed smoothly underneath skin so perfect it should have belonged to a pampered woman. But there was no mistaking the shape for a female. Shas was all male, if formed from a different mold than Rynn. Beautiful. Rynn had thought the man was a work of divine art since he’d first seen him, and this view of him did nothing to change that. Did that gorgeous creature really want him? Want him inside of that exquisite body? The very thought made Rynn’s cock jump to attention, much to his surprise. With one last thump of his fist, Shas’s shouting halted. He sagged against the door, his forehead thudding against the wood as he crowded in. His rapid breathing was louder than the soft music that filtered into the near silence. Rynn stood watching him, uncertain what he should do. “Shas?” Shasertai froze. Almost. His fingernails dug into the door as he drew a deep breath. “Rynn. You don’t have to do this.” “I’m not the one you want?” Was that a laugh or a groan that spilled from Shas’s throat? Or both? “No. I mean you don’t have to…” He took another breath. “I promised I wouldn’t force you.” And Rynn was grateful for that. He stepped toward Shas. “This is a different story.” Shas rolled his head to the side so that Rynn could see most of his profile through a thin veil of hair. There was a flash of dark purple as Shas almost cast his gaze back at Rynn, but he stopped himself. “I don’t want to disgust you.” Rynn couldn’t think of a single thing Shas could ever do that would disgust him, even given the new knowledge of where he might want Rynn to plant his cock. Would it be so bad? If everything was clean? “I don’t mind. Not if I can help you.”

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Shas laughed, his skull thudding softly against the wood. “This isn’t what you want.” Rynn wasn’t so sure about that anymore. Could any healthy person see Shas like he was now and not want to at least touch him? Rynn’s palms itched to know if he was as satiny as he looked. “You’ll die.” “I’ll be fine. I won’t let it be like this.” Rynn swallowed and took another step. “You can beat the spell?” A pink tongue poked out between blushing lips to lick them wet. “I have to.” The tongue looked sweet. Rynn wanted to taste it. “Shas, please. I’ve seen this.” Memory of Lynny rolling in the bed, sweating, moaning in pain, with him unable to comfort her. “I’ve seen someone…” She’d just screamed at the end, even with her hands buried between her legs. “If I can help you, I want to.” Shas threw his head back, still facing the door. Most of his hair fell down his spine, brushing the sheet at his waist. “I’ll be fine.” “You’ve helped me.” Carefully, Rynn picked up a handful of hair draping Shas’s shoulder. So soft. So smooth. He pulled it so that the ends slipped from where they’d rested on Shas’s chest, then free of his shoulder. A fine tremor shook Shas, goose bumps breaking out on his skin, but otherwise he didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe. He was anything but fine. “Don’t let him fight you,” Harmon had said. But maybe they’d been wrong. The drug would make Shas want anyone. It was just that the one he most desired could stop it. What if Rynn wasn’t the one? If you’re not, then you need to hurry up and prove it so they can look for someone else. Oddly uncomfortable with the thought that he might not be the one, Rynn released Shas’s hair and let his palm close over the curve of Shas’s upper arm. Shas moaned, pressing closer to the door. Rynn took a chance and stepped up behind him, using his bulk to pin the smaller man to the door. “Please.” He squeezed the firm muscle under his fingers. He was even more satiny than he looked. “Let me help you.” “Gods, Rynn.” The gasp spilled from Shas’s sweet pink lips, catching in the wisps of hair that covered his face. “Don’t…” Do it, he told himself. Better to get it done in case Shas needed someone else. Sure with that thought, Rynn slid his arms between Shas and the door. One palm slipped over Shas’s bare chest while the other found the flat, taut plane of Shas’s belly. The sticky residue from the spell oil smeared Rynn’s palm, but its effectiveness would have only lasted a few moments. He pulled, intending to draw Shas back to the bed, but Shas broke into motion. Murmuring protests, he gripped Rynn’s hands and tried to pry open his grasp. The judge was stronger than Rynn expected, but not strong enough to break the hold, despite the way he squirmed. Shas looked delicate, but the feel of him backed Colt’s assertion that Rynn couldn’t hurt him unless he really tried. Their struggle brought them away from the door but not quite to the bed. The sheet fell completely

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from Shas’s right side. It ended up draped only over his left elbow and caught between their bodies. Then Rynn’s hand found something else that was hard. His hand slipped down over the hot skin of Shas’s belly, and his fingers closed around the shaft of Shas’s cock. Shas froze with a hiss, fingers digging into Rynn’s arms. His hips twitched, slipping his cock through Rynn’s grasp. The velvety skin was slick with what might have been oil, so it slid easily. Shas pressed back into him in a futile attempt to get away. “Let go.” But the command was a breathy gasp, the words wrong for the pleading tone. Golden hair spilled over Rynn’s shoulder. Instinct and practice with his own cock moved Rynn’s grip up toward the head, finding the shaft widened under the flared head. It was oddly familiar even if the shape was different from his own, and his touch produced gorgeous, trembling results throughout the body he held. Shas’s skull tucked into the curve of Rynn’s neck, his chest arching forward as his hips rocked back. Rynn supported his weight easily with one arm while he slowly played the grip of the other over what he knew was exquisitely sensitive skin. “Rynn.” The tone was far less threatening. Lynny had used the same when Rynn had fingered her wet place. She’d melted just as sweetly. The fingers digging into Rynn’s arm weakened. Rynn walked backward toward where he knew the bed to be, dragging Shas with him. His view down the front of Shas’s body was spectacular. Smooth skin with hair so light that it was virtually invisible. Small nipples that looked like almonds floating in cream. Then there was the jutting evidence of Shas’s masculinity, held captive in Rynn’s palm. The skin there was caramel, blushing red, shiny and wet at the tip that peeked in and out of the foreskin as Shas rocked his hips. Rynn’s hand looked so big and coarse wrapped around something so fine. What a heady feeling to feel all the power in Shas’s body responding to his touch. “Rynn.” Shas reached back up over his head to tangle his fingers in Rynn’s hair, pressing his body back against the taller man. He undulated, boneless as Rynn reached the bed. Slowly, Rynn sat, settling the judge in his lap, entirely unwilling to release the prize in his grasp. Exciting to have Shas’s strength moaning and yielding in his arms. Shas leaned back, falling a little to the left. Rynn’s view improved as long, graceful legs bent so pretty feet could curl around the edge of the mattress to either side of Rynn’s knees. Shas used the additional leverage, bracing his back against Rynn’s chest and lifting his hips, the better to rock them. “Ah, gods!” Shas shouted, the arm bent behind him slipping firmly around Rynn’s neck for balance. His ass brushed Rynn’s clothed cock, teasing. Rynn buried his face in the bend of Shas’s neck, letting silken hair obscure his view, trying to contain himself as a ball of sexual energy built in his lap.

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Another cry burst from Shas, and his entire body tensed. The cock in Rynn’s hand swelled and pulsed. Shas’s hips spasmed. Warm, thick liquid spilled over Rynn’s fingers, more of it spattering on his thighs. He peeked, his attention drawn to Shas’s profile to see the judge’s perfect features ravaged by pleasure. It was a sight to behold and melted too quickly as the naked man settled down, panting in his lap. If Rynn had come that hard, he would have easily been out for the night. But Shas was drugged, and Rynn remembered the rules of the drug perfectly. He’d been embarrassed when the man had told him and Lynny. Only actual penetration would do it. One lover had to be inside of the other—cock, fingers, hand—for the spell to dissipate, and the mouth didn’t count. Had to be somewhere around the groin. He swallowed, still gazing at the warm, boneless bundle in his arms, wondering how he was going to manage what he had to do. Amazed that he wanted it so much. Then Shas moaned. He plucked Rynn’s wet hand from where it lay on his belly and held it up. They both looked at the glisten of Shas’s spunk coating Rynn’s fingers. Rynn was only mildly surprised to realize he didn’t mind. He was more surprised when Shas drew those fingers up to his mouth. Rynn’s moan echoed Shas’s as the judge stuck out his tongue and drew it over Rynn’s thick fingers. Hot, wet warmth met hot, wet warmth, and Rynn happily guided his fingers between Shas’s pink lips so the other man could properly suck them clean. Underneath Shas’s ass, Rynn’s cock throbbed, impatient to get out of his trousers and inside any available hole. Undone by Shas sucking his fingers, he didn’t hold on when Shas twisted. Gracefully, the smaller man slid off Rynn’s lap, gliding between Rynn’s legs to his knees at the side of the mattress. Facing Rynn, he kept his eyes mostly closed while he held Rynn’s wrist, slowly pulling fingers from his mouth. He kissed Rynn’s palm before releasing his arm, then turned his attention to Rynn’s belt. The fabric covering Rynn’s groin jumped over a cock more than eager for attention. Shas made quick work of the belt and yanked the tie of Rynn’s drawers. “Up,” he demanded harshly, slapping the side of Rynn’s hip before hooking his fingers into the waistband of both garments. Obediently, Rynn lifted, and Shas snatched his clothing out from under him so that his bare ass landed in the soft sheets. Shas kept pulling, grumbling to himself, wrestling all of the fabric down around Rynn’s knees to leave it pooling at his low boots. Rynn thought to bend down to help with his boots, but Shas abandoned his clothing altogether. When Shas bent to press his lips to the inside of Rynn’s knee, Rynn forgot them too. Luscious pink lips brushed the coarse brown hair on Rynn’s thigh. Rynn heard his own tiny whimper as he hastened to reach down to gather the abundance of Shas’s golden hair to sweep it out of the way, anxious that his view of Shas’s attentions not be hindered. Shas paid him no mind, eyes closed in bliss, tongue peeking out to tease Rynn’s skin. Long-fingered hands pressed Rynn’s thighs open as Shas proceeded higher. Rynn watched, spellbound, half horrified that such an exquisite creature was sweetly pampering him. His skin looked so dark, so ordinary, so unworthy, but Shas’s face told a different story.

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Rynn gathered the tails of his shirt up to his chest, clearing the way for his heavy cock to jut up. It swayed on its own, the wet tip slapping Shas’s smooth cheek as soon as it came in range. Rynn moaned when Shas caught hold with one hand, fingers wrapping around Rynn’s girth. Shas disregarded the shaft for a moment in favor of burying his nose in the thick nest of curls at the base. He inhaled on a moan of his own. “Gods, Shas.” He wasn’t going to last. Not if the judge was going to do this. Lynny had never put her face down there. Eyes still hooded, Shas turned his head and drew his open mouth and wet tongue up Rynn’s shaft until he could lap at the oozing tip. Then he opened wide and took Rynn inside his mouth. Rynn bucked instinctively, and the tip hit the back of Shas’s throat. Scared he’d gone too far, Rynn froze, but Shas didn’t. He pushed a little farther and swallowed around the tip. “Ah! Wait!” Rynn could feel it coming. Exquisite as the feeling of Shas’s mouth was, he had to save it. The mouth didn’t count. “I can’t…” Shas hummed, sucking. Rynn shook. It was coming. “Wait, please.” More sucking and a firm swipe of a tongue underneath the head. Rynn snapped. From what he was feeling, if he came, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get it up again for another week. He had to get inside Shas soon. Reaching down, his fingers caught in silken hair and yanked. His cock popped out of wet lips, leaving a glistening trail of saliva between them. Shas gasped, amethyst eyes opening wide and finally catching hold of Rynn’s gaze. They both froze, confronted with each other and what they were doing. Shas’s face was flushed, eyes and nostrils wide as he panted for breath. Rynn wasn’t sure he was much better off. They moved at the same time. Mouths crashed together as arms wound about each other. Rynn’s tongue found Shas’s, and they dueled between their teeth. Rynn hauled Shas’s writhing, naked body up onto the mattress and rolled over on top of him, needing to pin him down. Shas clung to him, grappling with his shirt to claw at the skin of his back. Rynn growled when he had to fumble with the pants that hindered his legs, but he couldn’t let go of Shas long enough to get to them. He managed to toe off one boot, but the other completely confounded him. Besides, Shas’s cock had reawakened and was pressing into his belly. His own cock felt horribly neglected as it brushed the mattress beneath Shas, but occasionally the tip would brush Shas’s ass. Suddenly, sliding inside the other man seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Finally, he could no longer stand their position. Rynn pushed up on his elbow, prying out of the kiss. “I can’t…” He panted, fumbling down to grip his cock. “I need…” Thankfully, Shas seemed to get his meaning. “Here.” Unwinding his arms and legs, he pushed Rynn up farther to give him room to twist.

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Rynn used the time to kneel up and yank off the shirt that had callously kept him from feeling Shas’s chest pressed to his. By the time he had it off, Shas was kneeling in front of him. He had a brief second to admire the view before Shas reached back to grab his cock. All Rynn could do was groan and follow as Shas placed the head at the shining, tiny little puckered opening between two smooth cheeks. Fear gave him pause. Wouldn’t it hurt? “Shas?” “Do it!” Shas pushed back, his hole expanding to spread over the head of Rynn’s cock. Some sort of moisture eased the way. Fear evaporated, and base need took over. Rynn shoved forward, half of his cock sinking into a gripping, velvety vise. Shas hissed, back arching. Rynn managed to stop, only barely. “Shas?” “More! Damn it! Fuck me.” Rynn shoved forward the rest of the way, his groin slapping the smooth skin of Shas’s ass. He had to pause lest he lose his load from the combined effect of Shas’s demand and the grip on his cock. “Gods.” He fell forward, catching himself on palms braced on the mattress to either side of Shas’s torso. “Move.” Shas lent action to his demand by rocking forward, sliding Rynn’s cock out partway. Rynn couldn’t help but obey, his hips snapping to bury himself deep inside Shas once again. This was heaven. All the answers of the world were here in this moment, but he was too overcome with physical sensation to understand it all. He could only move with this gift from the gods who writhed beneath him, panting his name. His body took over for him, thrusting, pounding, sure from Shas’s movement that he was not remotely hurting the other man. Sweat dripped from Rynn’s neck and brow to merge with the shine that coated Shas’s back. White-gold hair formed dark ropes that plastered Shas’s shoulders and neck. It went on forever, but didn’t last long enough. The urgency rekindled in Rynn’s balls, drawing them up, filling his cock. He tried to hold it, tried to keep thrusting into Shas’s greedy channel forever, but he was only mortal. The dam burst, and fire seared through Rynn, shooting out of his cock into the deep confines of Shas’s body. A cry burst from his lips as his every muscle squeezed and contracted, all of them lending strength to the push of his seed into the other man. Beneath him, Shas arched, echoing his cry with “Rynn!” Depleted, Rynn braced over Shas, not quite able to let himself collapse on top of that silken back. He hung there, relearning how to breathe, and watched Shas do the same. When he could, Rynn pushed himself to the side. Shas moaned softly as Rynn’s spent cock slipped out of his body. Rynn watched his own semen ooze out as he rolled to his side. His semen. Inside Shas. Was it wrong to feel a surge of pride?

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Then he remembered why it was there. This was all to save Shas’s life, not for his own pleasure! Contrite, he reached out to spread his palm over the back of the other man’s shoulder. “Shas?” No answer. The judge’s face was turned away. All Rynn could see were the back of his head and the smooth, shining expanse of his back. “Shas, you okay?” “Get out.” Startled, Rynn snatched his hand back. The tone was inflectionless, but the words were clear. “But—” “Get. Out.” Rynn sat up, a chill chasing the lambent heat from his blood. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry. I—” “I’m fine. Shut up and get out. Now.” Rynn swallowed and fell back. He grabbed his shirt from the edge of the mattress and stood. What had he done wrong? Shas seemed to have enjoyed what they did. Was it just the drug? Sheets shushed as Shas moved. Slowly, he drew his legs up and rolled to his side, facing away from Rynn. Not knowing what to say, Rynn pulled up his pants and hurriedly cinched his belt. A cold hand clutched his heart, and a thousand words clamored in his throat, but none of them reached the dryness of his mouth. What had he done wrong? Snatching up his one boot, Rynn stood at the edge of the bed, staring down at the beautiful man, aching to touch him, wanting to return to the closeness they just shared. “Shas, I—” “Get out of here!” The barely contained bark propelled Rynn backward toward the door. Panicking, he turned and grabbed the doorknob. It twisted easily, and then he was in the relative cool of a mostly deserted hallway. Harmon and Yolan were there. They stood from the two chairs set outside the door. Yolan caught Rynn’s arm. “Is he all right?” “I…” Rynn shook his head. “I think so.” The words were barely out before Yolan had rushed into the room. Rynn stared after her, unable to see the bed from where he stood. Harmon’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “What’s wrong?” Rynn shook his head again, fighting a burn in his eyes. “I don’t know. I… Afterward, he just…” “Are you okay?” No. “Yeah, I’m fine. I think.” Harmon led him to one of the chairs and sat him down. Rynn continued to stare at the open doorway, trying to decipher the low murmurs he heard from within.

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Harmon sat beside him. “What about the spell?” “H-he seemed fine. I think it worked.” Which meant Rynn was the one Shas most desired. So why was he angry? Harmon said no more, just sat beside him. Listless, Rynn put his boot on and slipped back into his shirt as they waited. He tried not to be aware of the scent of sex, but it was all over him, and it was far too pleasant to ignore. The scent of sex he’d had with a man. Sex that he’d enjoyed thoroughly. Sex he was a little surprised to want more of. He would have thought Shas would have enjoyed it. He liked sex with men. He’d said he was attracted to Rynn. He should be happy this had happened, despite the spell. Well, if not happy, there at least wasn’t any reason for him to be mad. Finally, Yolan came back to the doorway. Alone. Both men stood and stepped closer. She focused on Harmon first, smiling slightly. “He’s all right.” She looked at Rynn. “Thank you, dear.” Her smile was there, but it was hollow. Something was wrong. Rynn nodded. She swallowed and averted her gaze. “Rynn, you should go downstairs and find Colt…” “What about Shas?” She paused, staring at the base of his throat. “He…he’s fine, but he…needs some…time.” Alarmed by her careful wording, Rynn stepped forward. Harmon’s grip on his arm stopped him. “Did I hurt him?” “No, dear. Nothing like that.” “Then what? He’s angry; I know it.” Rynn raised his voice, hoping Shas could hear him through the door. “I’m sorry, whatever I did. I didn’t mean—” “No, no, dear, stop.” Yolan came forward to grip both of his arms, finally meeting his gaze. “You did nothing wrong. You saved his life. Surseine Himself will be grateful to you for this. We all are.” Rynn scowled. He couldn’t care less about the god right now. He felt one tear burn down his cheek. “Then why?” He wasn’t really sure what he was asking, still not sure what had gone wrong. He only knew that a desperate clutch was close to throttling his breathing, and he had to do what he could to relieve it. Her face crumpled slightly, like she was fighting tears of her own. But it was brief. Then her calm, comforting mask was back. “There’s nothing to worry about,” she soothed, reaching up to thumb the tear from his cheek. “Everything’s fine.” He didn’t believe her. “You’ve done your part. Now you should go help Colt and the others so we can find out who did this.” She slid her hands down his arms. “Or perhaps you should

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wash up first.” She pointed to the end of the empty hall. “There’s a washroom right there.” “But…” “Go.” She brought forth a tone of finality he recognized. It said, This discussion is over. “Just do as I ask. We’ll talk again later.” She was asking him to let it lie for now. Shas had just survived what was, for all intents and purposes, an attempt on his life. Perhaps that was best. “Tell him I’m sorry.” “No, dear, you’ve nothing to be sorry for.” She patted his arm, her eyes glistening. “Now.” Without waiting for him to leave, she turned and walked back into the room with Shas and closed the door behind her. Rynn stared at the door, knowing deep in his gut that everything was most certainly not all right.

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Chapter Twelve  Since taking over his life at fourteen, Surseine had never once deserted him. Shasertai could always depend on the cool, detached calm of his god’s touch, could always find refuge in the colorless well of truth. He had known Surseine before he’d learned much about the law, before he’d donned Surseine’s purple robes. He’d heard the truth in the words spoken around him for as long as he could remember. Which was why it terrified him that he couldn’t find that solace now. He sat in a chair, his back to the bed where Rynn had been compromised and Shas had nearly lost his life. A plush red robe to match the chair’s upholstery covered his body but couldn’t smother the scent of sex, nor was it entirely effective in blotting out the itch of drying sweat on his skin. His scalp tingled, and his hair was a loose, tangled mess. He tried to put all of that out of his mind, closing his eyes, shutting everything out, trying to touch his god. His god was nowhere to be found. He clutched the arms of the chair to keep his hands from shaking. He had never had trouble sliding into trance before. He swallowed over the lump of panic in his throat, stubbornly determined to work past this. It wasn’t going to happen. Why? The question resounded in his head even though he knew he’d receive no direct answer. Surseine did not function that way. His god helped him to look at the facts of a matter and see a full picture, see the truth within it. Surseine did not provide answers; he provided judgment. To know why his god had suddenly left him bereft, he would need to lay out the facts. But the primary fact of this case was that he’d broken a promise not to molest Rynn, not to make him do anything against his will. Sursei did not break promises. It was a primary rule of wearing the mantle of the god of truth and justice.

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Unreasoning, unfamiliar panic pushed Shas from his chair. He whipped off the robe, hurling it into a corner. Seated quietly on the edge of the bed, Yolan jumped to her feet, concern twisting her familiar features. Not bothered by nudity in front of his sister, Shas retrieved his clothing from the other chair and began to shove into them. “Shas?” He ignored her at first, anxious to cover himself. He managed his stockings and trousers, but his usual grace failed him when he tried to button his shirt. “Here.” Yolan was there, always there. With quick, capable hands, she buttoned him up. “Are we going back to the coach?” Shas’s head flew up in abject terror, a violent tremor shaking his body. He couldn’t face anyone as less than what he was. “Oh, gods, Shas.” Yolan grabbed his arms. “What’s wrong?” He closed his eyes, breathing. He had to breathe. He found his arms around Yolan without conscious thought of embracing her. Burying his face in the soft scent of her hair was almost soothing. Yolan was familiar. Yolan was comforting. He couldn’t say that about anyone else. “Shas, please talk to me.” She rubbed her palms over his back. “Surseine. I can’t feel him.” Shock stiffened her body. “What?” “I can’t… The trance…” “Shhh. It’s just temporary. You’re more emotional right now than I’ve ever seen you.” His mind automatically tested her words, and panic built when he realized that he couldn’t tell if she spoke the truth. His accustomed surety had evaporated. “No, I…” She squeezed him close. “Shas, stop. You cannot possibly know anything for sure. No one has ever done anything like this to you. There’s no way you could calm yourself enough to go into trance right now.” True. He’d always been coddled, looked after, cared for. No one had ever tried to kill him. Maybe she was right. “Let’s go back to the coach. Everyone’s worried about you.” Thoughts of the coach, of the people there, made his blood run cold. “I can’t.” Rynn. Colt. Truth preserve him, Rynn! No, he couldn’t face them right now. “What?” He pulled from her embrace, gratified to feel steadier. “Send them all away. Keep them busy all night with the investigation.” “But they’ll want to know—”

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“Tell them I’m fine.” He retrieved his jacket and put it on. “But I can’t see any of them right now. Especially…” He stopped, facing away from her. The feel of Rynn’s hands on him, the taste of Rynn’s mouth, of his cock. Shas was overwhelmed with vivid memory and horrifying despair mixed in a confusing jumble. “Rynn’s frightened he hurt you.” Shas kept his back to her, hiding the tears that erupted from his eyes. “He didn’t.” “That’s what I told him. But he needs to hear it from you.” More tears. How ridiculous. He hadn’t cried since he was sixteen, and that had been mercifully brief. He had to fight to keep his voice steady. He shook his head. “No. You tell him.” “Shas…” “No. I let him down. He had to… No.” “He knew why. He was happy to do it.” Unbidden, harsh laughter doubled Shas over the back of one chair. He clutched it, spewing forth that ugly sound, wondering if he’d lost his mind. “I let him down.” “You did no such thing! Stop that.” “I promised him I wouldn’t—” “And you didn’t! Stop it, Shasertai. This was not your fault.” “Clearly, Surseine sees it differently.” “What?” “I broke an oath.” “You did not.” “I forced Rynn into sex.” “You did not! Surseine will see—” “Surseine has left me.” “Shas, this is not the time to—” He pushed back from the chair. “Call a cab.” “Where are we going?” “I’m going home.” That gave her pause. “Home?” He hadn’t been there in years, but if he closed his eyes, he could feel the direction of the college. “I need…” He snarled, impatient with his inability to form coherent sentences. “I need to go home.” “All right.” He caught her arm on the way out. “I don’t want to see anyone except you. And Harmon.” “All right.”

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“I mean it.” “I understand.”

***** After washing up, Rynn wandered downstairs. The brothel seemed to be mostly empty. Police officers stood in the entry hall, some of them hurrying back and forth between the open double doors and the arch leading into the main tavern. By the time he reached the ground floor, Rynn could see into the tavern, see Madam Garland’s scarlet presence in the midst of a crowd of uniformed men and women. Red uniforms of the brothel guards and navy uniforms of the police. Rynn had to cross the entry hall to the arched entrance to catch sight of the other scarlet presence. Colt sat at a table near the far end of the bar, talking earnestly to a man in a black overcoat who was taking notes. “Hey!” Jimmie grabbed Rynn’s arm, pulling him into the room. “Are you all right?” Rynn nodded, curiously unwilling to speak to a man who had become his good friend. “What’s up? Did you—” “Rynn!” Both he and Jimmie looked up to see Colt standing, waving him over. Rynn glanced at Jimmie, who nodded, then made his way to Colt’s side. Colt grabbed his arm. “Is he all right?” Dully, Rynn shrugged, found his voice. “He’s alive.” “What’s wrong? What happened?” Another shrug. “He won’t let me see him.” “What? What do you…?” With a frustrated growl, Colt released his arm and turned. “Captain Marks, would you excuse me?” The man in the overcoat nodded, his eyes looking Rynn over. “Thanks.” Colt grabbed Rynn’s arm again and hauled him up the stairs. The room where Shas had been was empty, the bedclothes still in disarray. Rynn was shocked by the hurt that clenched his heart. Shas was gone. “Where is he?” Colt demanded of the lone guard who stood outside the door. “You’re Marshal Garrah?” “Yes.” “I was told to tell you that the sursei, his sister, and his bodyguard have gone to Sursein College. You may send word there.” “The college?”

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The man nodded. “Also, he says you’re to see to the investigation here tonight. The room hasn’t been touched since he left.” “Fine.” Colt glared at the open door. “Bastard,” he muttered. Half turning, he glanced up at Rynn. “How are you?” Rynn’s mouth opened, but he had no idea what to say. Shas was gone? Colt watched him, then dragged him inside the room and shut the door. Rynn stared at the tousled bed, vivid recollections of smooth skin over taut muscle filling his mind. Shas was gone. Colt broke him from it by grabbing his arm and turning him away from the bed. “Tell me what happened.”

***** Yolan met them in a small parlor at the college the next day. Only Colt and Rynn had come. The rest were bogged down under paperwork and follow-up from the previous night’s events. The man who had cast the hex on Shas was dead from the drug, and he had not been fit for questioning before it happened. They had no leads and only guesses as to who might have sent him. That situation alone had Colt in a darker mood than Rynn had ever seen him. “Where is he?” Colt demanded, voice curt. “Resting.” She stood, cool and collected, wearing a simple lavender smock over a skirt of the same color. The smock was the same as Rynn had seen on the acolyte who had led them to the room, as well as a number of people whom they’d passed on the way. “Can we see him?” She averted her eyes. “No.” “Why not?” “Colt, please. He needs some time.” “We don’t have time. He’s got a mage to arraign. And there are a few witnesses from last night who I need him to question.” She shook her head. “That won’t be possible. I’ve sent inquiries to two other sursei to ask for their help in both matters. I expect to hear from them today.” “What?” Colt marched up to stand right in front of her. “What’s going on?” She raised her head, eyes wide and full of fear. “He’s nearly out of his mind with panic,” she blurted. “He can hardly function. I’ve never seen—” She broke off with a brief glance at Rynn. Swallowing, she stepped back from Colt, averting her eyes once more. “He needs time to settle down.” Colt moderated his voice some, but only some. “Why’s he in a panic?” “He hasn’t managed to go into trance.”

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Colt gaped. Rynn froze. After a few silent breaths, Yolan added, “He believes Surseine has abandoned him.” “That’s absurd. He hasn’t done anything to deserve that.” She nodded slightly. “I know.” “Then why…?” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. But I can’t deny that his not being able to commune with Surseine is relevant. Also, he’s not been able to hear truth.” Surprise set Colt back a step. “Is it something I did?” The question spilled from Rynn’s lips before he could think to halt it. Yolan faced him fully for the first time since they’d entered the room. “No, dear. I can’t believe this is your fault.” “But you don’t know.” She opened her mouth, uncomfortable uncertainty lacing her features. “Rynn, you did nothing wrong. If you hadn’t sacrificed your own preferences, he would be dead.” Rynn stepped toward her. “It wasn’t a sacrifice. I’d do it again. Gladly.” Horrified, he watched her face crumple. Tears tracked from her wide blue eyes down smooth cheeks. “Thank you, dear.” He took another step, hovering just out of reach. “I mean it. I would do anything for him.” Blue eyes met his, searching his face. He wasn’t sure entirely what he was saying, but he did know that he meant it. If it meant sleeping with Shas again, he’d do it. If it meant sleeping with Shas and only Shas for the rest of his life, he’d do it. The last realization stunned him. Yolan took the last step so she could lay her hand over his heart. “Give him some time. Coming here was his idea. Once the panic goes away, he’ll be himself again.” “How long will that take?” She shook her head. “I don’t know. He’s never been like this before.” Rynn grabbed her hand, keeping his gaze locked with hers. “You’ll tell him? What I said?” She nodded, twisting her hand so she could lace her fingers with his. “I’ll tell him.” She glanced at Colt. “Meantime, you two should go. I’ll be in contact about the other sursei. I’m sure one or the other will agree to help. They can’t allow this to happen to one of their own without consequences.” Turning back to Rynn, she released his hand in order to slip her arms about his neck, pulling him down for a hug and an emphatic kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for…being you.”

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Rynn followed Colt down vaulted corridors, through the college’s enormous marble front entrance, and down a steep flight of stairs. Colt hailed a cab and waited until they were in and on their way before speaking. “Did you mean it?” Rynn shook himself from depressing thoughts. “Sorry, what?” They sat on opposite benches so Colt could face him. “Did you mean it? What you said to Yolan.” “Oh. Yes.” “You’d do anything for him?” “Yes.” “You’d sleep with him again?” Rynn swallowed. “Gladly.” “You don’t like men.” Rynn shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad.” In fact, it was thrilling and wonderful and addictive, and what he wanted most in the world was to dive out of the cab and run back to scour the college until he found Shas. “Why?” Rynn blinked. “He…he helped me.” “So did I.” Rynn opened his mouth, realizing his error but unable to think of a graceful way to back up what he was saying. Colt watched him closely, eyes narrowed. Then nodded. “You think you’re in love with him?” Rynn’s mouth worked, but his thoughts were a jumble. What he was feeling now was stronger than anything he’d ever felt toward Lynnette, and the idea was too new for him to be entirely comfortable with it. Colt’s expression smoothed, and he sat back, folding his arms. “Well, damn. You are in love with him.” “I…don’t know. I’ve never felt like this about anyone.” “Yeah, he’s like that.” Colt combed his fingers through his loose hair, sighing. “So it’s either love or a really strong infatuation. Of all the…” He laughed, tugging at the curls atop his skull. “How the hell couldn’t he see that?” “What?” “Nothing.” He scratched at his brow, thinking. “All right. It’s clear that Shas is going to hole himself up for a while. He needs to deal with this Surseine thing. Meantime, you’ve got to get a grip on what you’re really feeling. It might be important.”

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Chapter Thirteen  “Lort!” Rynn straightened at the sound of his captain’s voice. He was tall enough to see over the edge of the ditch to where the man in the black and purple uniform was looking for him. “Here.” “Get out of there, and get cleaned up. There’s someone’s called for you. Check with the sergeant.” Captain Dulles turned on his heel to return to the cool shadows inside. Beside him, one of his fellow guardsmen whistled. “You got a girlfriend come callin’, Lort?” Rynn smiled as he put aside his shovel. “Or did some rich uncle find you?” another of his buddies joked. “Nah, it’s my rich uncle’s girlfriend,” he joked, pushing himself up onto the lip of the ditch. The five men he left behind laughed and called after him as he left. Still smiling, Rynn made his way to the showers. Four months he’d been working as a junior guardsman at Sursein College, and he had to say that he liked it. As a junior, he and his fellows had to perform a lot of grunt work—hence digging a ditch for new plumbing—but that was all right. He enjoyed the men in his unit, and his superiors had been fair. None of the men at his level knew that Yolan Kogin had been instrumental in getting him a position, and none of the officers ever made mention. They treated him like any of the others, which was just what he wanted. The job had been Yolan’s idea. Rynn had visited the college daily for the two weeks following the attack, and it had been Yolan who saw him. Yolan who turned him away. She tried to get him to see reason, to go with Colt and the federal deputies on their continued pursuit of Jasen Charlotte and the hextasy trade. Colt had tried to get

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him to go too, despite what they’d talked about. But Rynn hadn’t been able to bring himself to leave the city. Not if Shas was there. Not until he got to talk to the judge again. Yolan had finally seen his determination and suggested the job as guardsman. It gave him a salary and a place to live and allowed him to be close for when Shas finally emerged from his doldrums. Showered, shaved, and changed into his uniform, Rynn checked in with the sergeant as ordered and received directions to the person who wanted to see him. The sergeant didn’t know a name or identity, but Rynn had a pretty good idea. He left the guard barracks and followed a paved stone path through vaulted elms to the college proper. By habit, his gaze strayed to the right, to the north wing, to where Shas remained in seclusion. He knew the exact set of windows on the fifth floor that belonged to his sursei—as he’d taken to thinking of Shas—and had even seen the man on the common balcony at the far north end of the wing. Occasionally he’d given thought to climbing up the brick side of the building to wait for Shas to appear, but he always discarded the idea. Not only would he surely be fired, but he couldn’t be sure when Shas would choose to get some air, so the wait might be for days. He was hoping for an assignment for guard duty in the north residential wing, however. In another few months, his chances looked good. Entering through a side door, he saluted the pair of his fellow guards who flanked the opening, then made his way down a hallway toward the office that was his destination. He had to weave in and out of a flow of people, most with papers or books clutched to their chests. This part of the college housed mostly clerks and those responsible for keeping records of the court cases occurring in the adjacent wing. He knocked as he passed through an open office door. Yolan sat at a desk, reading, an ever-present pen in her hand. Like most other clerks, she wore a lavender smock over her dress. She’d tied up her hair with matching ribbon into a bundle atop her head. She looked up at his entrance and smiled. “Rynn. Close the door, would you?” He did and crossed the room to meet her by the desk. She stood and hugged him. “My, my, you do look good in that uniform.” Taking heart that she seemed to be in a good mood, he took the seat she indicated at the side of the desk. “Thank you.” “Coffee? Tea?” She crossed to a small cast-iron stove in the corner. “Not for me, thanks.” He watched her back as she poured a mug for herself. “Yolan, is something wrong?” “Wrong? Oh, no.” She turned back to face him, blowing on her drink. She smiled, but he could see she was agitated. “But something has happened.” “What?” She returned to the desk and sat sideways in her chair, facing him. “Shas can hear truth again.”

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Relief flooded Rynn. “Really?” Yolan nodded, the light in her eyes suggesting she felt the same happiness that began to fill his chest. “He still hasn’t managed to go into a trance, but he’s confident now that some of his abilities have returned.” She sipped. She’d told him so many things about Shas. They hadn’t met often in his time as a guardsman, but she had called him occasionally. He got the distinct feeling that she found his presence as comforting as he felt being near. She’d needed someone to talk to about Shas, and he’d been more than willing to be that person. Rynn knew if he had a sister, he’d want her to be exactly like Yolan. “He told me about it a little over a week ago. I’m sorry I didn’t call you, but I wanted to wait until he was more certain. He might have been able to hear it sooner, but since he’s isolated himself…” She sighed, shaking her head. “He’s been so fragile.” He reached over to take her hand. She gave him a tentative smile and squeezed his fingers. “But this morning he asked me to talk to Sursei Moundantan. He’s asked to be put on rotation for pretrial.” “Pretrial?” “Oh, I suppose your duties still haven’t brought you near a courtroom, have they?” She giggled softly, a sound that he’d sorely missed and welcomed hearing. “Here at the college, there are so many petitions that every case has to go through a pretrial. At least a third of cases can be settled there. Pretrials are presided over by nonsursei or sursei-in-training.” “Oh. But asking to be put on rotation is a good sign, isn’t it?” “It’s a very good sign. It means he wants to be out, that he wants to try. Shas’s ability to hear truth makes him more than qualified, even if his ability can’t be legally recognized. I thought you’d want to know.” “I do. That’s wonderful to hear. Is he…better?” She knew what he meant. “He’s much calmer. At times, he’s almost his old self. Almost.” Rynn watched his own fingers drum softly on the surface of her desk. “Do you think it’s time that I…?” He let his voice trail off. She scooted her chair closer so she could lay her hand over his to stop the nervous drumming. “Not yet, dear. Give him a chance to readjust to people.” Rynn took a deep breath. Yolan squeezed his hand. “I know it’s hard. I know how you feel. If I thought that seeing you could help him, I’d be the first to suggest it.” He nodded, believing her. “But I’m afraid that if he saw you, he’d retreat back into his shell.” He nodded again. Every time they’d talked, she’d remarked that Shas had never been like this. Even when he was a child, he’d never had occasion to hide behind

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anyone. He’d always faced issues head-on. The events of that night now so long ago had thoroughly rattled him. Rynn understood and mostly agreed with her reasoning. But it was so hard. He wanted so very badly to tell Shas how he felt. To see if there was any chance. Yolan’s gentle fingers stroked the side of his beard. “I know,” she murmured softly, as though she could read his thoughts. “I know.”

***** “How do you plead?” “Not guilty.” Shas stared at the man’s beady little eyes. He was lying. He knew it. Shas knew it. Unfortunately, without wearing the mantle of Surseine’s trance, his word was not enough for a verdict. “Very well, Mr. Gorman.” He consulted the calendar before him for an open date. “Trial date is set for the fourth of next month. Is that acceptable for both sides?” The prosecution and defense lawyers both agreed, so Shas confirmed the date and sent them on their way. In the appropriate space on the paperwork, he made note of his knowledge of the defendant’s guilt. No one would see it but the presiding sursei and his or her clerk. They could choose to heed his warning or not, but it was his duty to provide it. Shas gripped his pen, keeping his head bent for an extra moment to hide his frustration at the truncation of his abilities. He shouldn’t be making notes for another judge—he should be the presiding judge. Once the moment passed, he put on his court face, signed his name, put aside the papers, and raised his head. “Next?” “That’s all there is for today, sursei,” Yolan answered, keeping her voice low. Shas glanced around the pretrial room. It wasn’t a true courtroom, but it was laid out like one. The bench was a solid semicircle raised a foot off the tiled floor. Yolan sat on one side with her paraphernalia. One bailiff stood ready to aid them, and two guards stood at each of two side entrances, allowing in and escorting out the plaintiffs, defendants, and their counselors. At present, only the employees of the college remained in the room. “Good.” He stood and raised his voice to address the others. “That’s all for today. Thank you.” They bowed their respect as he led Yolan from the room. She didn’t ask him, for which he was very grateful. Every day for his first week of pretrial duty, she had ended the session by asking if he was all right. Yesterday, his patience had frayed, and he’d warned her not to ask again. She seemed to have taken him at his word. Today, she walked beside him quietly, her attention on the hallway ahead of them.

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One long hall and then a shorter one to the right brought them to his current offices. Not all pretrial judges warranted a suite, but he still qualified as a sursei in this respect, so one of the junior sursei sets of offices had been prepared for him. A waiting room and two offices, one for him and one for Yolan. His office was large enough to include a conference table that sat six, in addition to his desk and two guest chairs. His second-floor window looked out over one of the many gardens that graced the college. They were almost to the office door when he spoke. “Yolan, thank you.” She glanced at him briefly. “For?” Smiling, he raised an arm to drape over her shoulders. “For always being here.” She freed an arm from where it clutched papers and folders to her chest so that she could wrap it around his waist. “I will always be here for you.” He brushed a kiss over her cheek, then dropped his arm so he could open the door for her. Giggling softly, she entered before him. He knew by the abrupt halt of her giggle that someone was in the room. Seeing who it was brought him up short. “Sursei Brentai.” The elder sursei rose from her seat in one of the plush chairs in his waiting room. Nearly eighty years old and she barely showed half of them. She moved easily in a roomy violet pantsuit so dark that it was almost black. “Shasertai.” She reached a hand toward Yolan, squeezing when the younger woman took it. “Yolan.” “To what do I owe this honor?” Brentai’s sharp green eyes focused on him. “I need to speak with you. Have you a moment?” He ducked his head to avoid her gaze, disguising it by dropping into a shallow bow as he gestured toward his office door. “Certainly.” He had to unlock the door to let her in. He glanced at Yolan as the elder sursei passed by him, but his sister looked to be as bewildered as he. Brentai was one of the seven supreme sursein justices who ruled the college and, thus, the federal justice system. Brentai had also been Shasertai’s personal mentor during his schooling days. As the youngest person to ever be recognized by the god of justice, Shas had been given special treatment and an experienced sursei to oversee his education. She had only been a high court justice then, but still quite important and imposing. She was not a warm person, but she was eminently fair, with an uncanny understanding of a young, headstrong boy with too much power and importance. She was more of a mother to him than the judge who had given birth to him. He’d not seen her since his return. Hadn’t wanted to. Had been relieved to find she was overseas on a foreign relations trip. Evidently, she was back. “May I offer you a beverage?” “Yes. Some of that excellent brandy you always have.” He smiled as he went to the drink cabinet. “I hadn’t heard you’d returned.”

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“I just arrived yesterday. Officially, I’ll arrive tonight.” He smiled, amused by the public face on reality. “You must be exhausted.” “I am. The last two months have been a rush to return. They sent word to me about what happened to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” He finished pouring her drink, his back to her. He felt her watching him. Always could. Her regard was a physical thing. “That’s all right.” Shoring up his calm, he turned to take the drink to her. “Is it?” He sat in the guest chair beside her, unable to put himself in the place of power behind the desk. “Yes.” “Shas.” “Sursei.” “Look at me.” He did. She saw through his calm. Saw into his head. He was still convinced that she wielded a little of Surseine’s power at will. “My boy. What have they done to you?” He lowered his gaze to sip his drink. “What have you heard?” “Enough. Enough to know that it’s not your fault. Enough to know that you needn’t continue to punish yourself.” He took another sip. “Surseine seems to feel differently.” “Ah. Yes. And that’s why I’m here.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her take a sip of her own drink, casually crossing one leg over the other, leaning on the arm of her chair toward him. “I’m told you won’t talk to the others.” He scoffed. “I talked with them enough to tell them the facts. No one can tell me why Surseine shuns me.” “How is it someone else’s duty to tell you that?” He grimaced, feeling the schoolboy again. This woman alone could cause him to revert. “It’s not. Which is why I’ve chosen not to speak with the others.” “Do you have a theory?” “I’ve had many theories. None have proven to be correct.” “When did your sense of the truth return?” “Just over a week ago.” “Suddenly?” “That I noticed, yes. However, I was largely in seclusion for four months. It’s possible my sense returned during that time but no one else was around to test it.” “Why do you think you lost your sense?”

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He took a deep breath, staring at the pattern in the carpet beneath them. He had only discussed such things with Yolan. “I can only conclude I was emotional. I…have never felt that way before.” He heard her small, thoughtful hum but kept his eyes averted. “Sursei are allowed to be human, Shasertai.” “I realize that.” “We’re allowed to feel pain, to feel love.” “Yes.” “We’re even allowed to make an occasional mistake. Surseine is just and understands mere human frailties.” Shas scowled. “Sometimes.” “Always.” After he didn’t answer, she continued. “From what I have heard, you were likely depressed? Scared? That’s understandable. Your life was threatened in a particularly disturbing manner. Also, I would imagine that while under the influence of this drug, you felt out of control? For you, especially, this would be highly distressing.” He gulped the rest of his drink. She knew him too well. Yolan had drawn the same conclusion, but in a gentler manner. Most staunch followers of Surseine disapproved of what they thought was his “wild” lifestyle. How ironic that his loss of control had thrown him into the pit of depression. “You have now come to terms with this?” “I believe so. Yes.” “And you believe this is why your sense of the truth has returned?” “Yes.” “Good. That is a first step. Your pretrial duties are going well?” “Yes.” “You’re frustrated at what you see to be a demotion.” “Yes.” “So let us try to get to the bottom of why you are denied Surseine’s touch.” Taking a deep breath, he stood to return to the drink cabinet. He had not expected an inquisition or a therapy session today. “What are the reasons Surseine might deny you?” Mildly irritated at her academic approach to his problem, he nonetheless answered. “Committing a felony. Breaking an oath. Speaking an untruth.” “I believe we can cross the felony off the list?” “Yes.” She waited until he had refreshed his drink and returned to his seat. “Which of the others do you believe is the cause?”

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He stared into the amber depths of his tumbler. This much he’d not only discussed with Yolan, but with one other sursei. Either Sursei Tanant had chosen not to relay the confession to Brentai, or Brentai chose to hear it from his own mouth. He suspected the latter. “I broke an oath.” “Explain.” He glanced up to check the color of her eyes, but they remained sharp green, not overall purple. She only sounded like she was in trance. “Marshal Garrah and I hired a young man to travel with us. I was attracted to him right away, but he was not a lover of men. I promised not to molest him or force him into anything against his will.” “You’re sure of the wording?” “Positive.” The words were branded in his mind, as all his oaths were. “Is this the young man who…helped you overcome the hextasy?” “Yes.” “I see. As I understand it, he saved your life? The drug would have killed you if not for his help.” “Yes.” “And what has he to say on the matter?” Surprised, he looked up. “I…don’t know. I haven’t talked to him.” “Why not?” He averted his gaze. “Ah. I see. Strange, I wouldn’t have thought you’d succumb to embarrassment.” “It’s not that.” “Isn’t it?” “No. I…I thought he’d be better off not seeing me.” “That is the truth as you see it.” “How else could it be?” “Perhaps he didn’t mind.” “He didn’t want to have sex with me.” “Perhaps not, but that doesn’t mean it was against his will.” Shas glared at the rug, resisting the urge to get up and pace. Yolan had tried to make a similar point months ago, but he wouldn’t hear it. It was much more difficult to ignore the words coming from his mentor. “I broke an oath to him. I couldn’t face him.” “That’s not like you, Shasertai. You face everything.” “I…almost died.” “I understand that.” Her voice, while cool, was not unkind. In fact, he took solace in her logical, unemotional tone. “And it is plausible that you were shaken. However, it is also remiss of you not to see to a young man in your employ, is it not?” She stood and approached the cabinet to refresh her own drink.

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“Colt was there.” She knew Colt personally. Had introduced them, in fact. “It’s also not like you to pass on your responsibilities.” He winced. “Where is this young man now?” “I don’t know. With Colt, I’d imagine.” “And where is Marshal Garrah?” “Last I knew, he was continuing our investigation of Jasen Charlotte and the hextasy trade.” “You’ve not had contact with him.” “No. Sursei Tanant took over for me on those cases.” He looked at the door. “I’m sure Yolan has heard from them.” She passed through his line of sight on her path back to her chair. “We’ll ask her. Later.” She sat and sipped her drink, studying him over the rim of her glass. “First, tell me what makes you uncomfortable about this topic.” “I’m not uncomfortable.” “You’ve hardly met my gaze the entire time we’ve been in this room. Your answers have been curt and evasive. I expected I wouldn’t get a word in edgewise after your return from your great adventure.” He winced again. Indeed, his trip with Colt had been just that. It seemed so juvenile now. “This is different.” “Just because your life was threatened?” “Isn’t that enough?” She paused, thoughtful. “No. It’s not. You expected danger. It’s why you had that little toy gun made. There’s more.” He bristled at her calling his weapon a toy, but chose not to broach that argument. “You’re mistaken.” A small smile curled the edges of her mouth. “This young man. He has a name?” “Yes.” “It is?” “Rynnis Lort.” “And he is the one you desire most?” His tumbler fell from nerveless fingers. Horrified, he watched the glass thump on the thick carpet and tip over, spilling its contents. Better to stare at the wasted alcohol than to face his mentor’s knowing gaze. “Shasertai.” “He’s strangely innocent. His presence is soothing.” “Ah, yes. My late husband was such a one.”

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He’d heard of her husband, a man who had died before Shas had become her student. The love of her life. She’d not entertained a marriage since. “Could you be in love with this man?” “No!” A sharp pain lanced through Shas’s skull. He slapped a palm over his eyes, gasping for breath in suddenly restrictive lungs. It was a few moments before his senses returned, a few moments during which he wished his head would crack open to relieve the pressure. She waited until he opened his eyes. “I believe we have our answer.” He stared at the knee of her pantsuit. “Shasertai, as long as I have known you, you have been proud to never need anyone else. You’ve defined independence, and I personally believe that is one of the qualities Surseine requires of you. However, our god is aware that independence is only so effective and that a single individual often benefits from the love and support of another. It makes us sursei more human, more aware of human frailty.” He continued to stare. “Is it so wrong to love this man?” “He can’t love me back. Not like that.” “Like how?” “He doesn’t have sex with men.” “Did he not have sex with you?” “Only because of the drug.” “My boy, I’m sure you know more of these things than I, but something must have appealed for him to even perform, yes?” “Yes.” “Then perhaps he is not immune to your charms.” “That does not change the fact that I broke an oath.” “Until you speak to this young man, how do you know that you have?” Now he frowned at the edge of his desk. This feeling of confusion was intolerable. His life had always made sense, but since that fateful night, everything had shattered, and now he could barely reconcile that which occurred around him. “Or perhaps you are speaking untruths?” “I…” He shook his head. “What just happened?” “Surseine does not approve when we lie to ourselves any more than when we lie to others, Shasertai. You know this. You have always been true to yourself. Do not let this be any different.” “But…love?” “It is not a far-fetched idea.”

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“I don’t…” He stopped himself, hearing the rest of what he’d intended to say as childish. She likely heard what was unsaid as well. Finishing her drink, she sat forward to set the glass on his desk before she rose. He watched her feet as she stepped beside him. “Look at me, boy.” He tilted his head back. She set her hand on his shoulder. Such a frail appendage for such a powerful personality. Her smile was as warm as he’d ever seen it. “Do not be afraid of the truth. And only in the truth shall Surseine bless you with His touch.” He stared into her eyes. Given His three rules, Surseine had been known to forgive any of the three in dire circumstances. But only if the sursei in question faced what he or she had done honestly and openly. Until this meeting with Brentai, Shas believed he had been truthful, but now he had hard evidence that he had, in fact, been lying to himself. “Thank you, sursei.” She patted his shoulder. “You’re very welcome. Come to me if you need to talk further.” She walked away, stopping just before she opened the door. “You and your sister will come to dine with me this weekend. I will tell you of my travel overseas.” He had to smile. “We would love to.” She nodded. “I’ll have Magile contact Yolan to arrange a time.” He watched the closed door for a long time after she’d left, his mind a jumble. All this time he’d believed his oath-breaking was the source of his trouble and had not entertained another possibility. Was she right? Was he afraid of the truth? It must be at least partially right, since he was having trouble admitting it even to himself. After a time, Yolan came in. “Are you all right?” “No.” She came to kneel beside him. Momentarily distracted, she busied herself with picking up his fallen glass as she asked, “Is there anything I can do?” He could talk to her. He should talk to her. But he couldn’t. It was too fresh. Too new. He’d go to the inner sanctuary, the sacred altar banned to all but blessed sursei. He’d try communing with his god again first. But there was one question he could ask her. “Have you heard from Rynn? And Colt?”

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Chapter Fourteen  Rynn hadn’t expected another call from Yolan so soon, but barely over a week after their last meeting, he made his way through the college’s halls to meet her again. This time, she asked him to meet her in a different wing, one where he’d never been before. He was told this one included the private altars used by the sursei and judges that pledged to Surseine. It wasn’t like the great vaunted cathedrals of Van, the weather god, but more like the domestic altars of Famliene, the goddess of family and home. Worship of Surseine was through the court system, and He didn’t require much by way of communion. When Rynn entered the small antechamber, he found Yolan pacing the limited area. An older woman stood in front of an ornately carved doorway. If not for the tattoo between her brows, he might not have known she was a sursei. On a second look, he realized her slim, unadorned dress and jacket might be purple and not black. “Rynn!” Yolan kept her voice low as she rushed to grab his arm. “Thank you for coming.” Her agitation made him nervous. “What’s wrong?” Instead of answering, she drew him with her toward the other woman. “Rynn, this is Sursei Brentai.” He bowed in greeting. She nodded when he straightened, studying him with sharp green eyes. “The sursei has been a mentor for both Shasertai and me for most of our lives. She’s just returned from a trip overseas where she—” “Oh, he doesn’t need to know any of that.” The woman kept her hawk eyes on his face. “I won’t beat around the bush, boy. We have a situation, and you could either be part of the solution or make it worse.” “Sursei?”

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She indicated the door behind her. “What are your feelings about Shasertai?” “Brentai!” The woman ignored Yolan’s outburst. Rynn watched as her green eyes hazed over. He gaped. Shas hadn’t settled into trance that quickly, but within a few heartbeats this woman was in full trance, her solid purple gaze ensnaring him. “Answer my question.” The tone and inflection of her voice didn’t change. The truth was his only option, and he gave it freely. “I love him.” He heard Yolan’s small gasp but couldn’t glance her way. “You love him for all that it entails?” “I don’t understand.” “Do you love him enough to spend the rest of your life with him?” “Yes.” “Do you love him enough to have sexual relations with him, despite your own preference?” “Absolutely.” As fast as the trance had taken her, she released it. Purple bled from her eyes to return them to green. They were, however, no less compelling as she continued to hold his gaze. “Shasertai has been in that room for three days. He has not come out. He has not eaten. If he’s slept, it’s been in fits.” Concern enabled Rynn to tear his gaze from the woman’s to look at the door. He didn’t realize he’d taken a step toward it until her hand on his chest stopped him. “That room is off-limits to the nonordained, except in emergency.” She searched his face again. “As a high priest of Surseine, I deem it an emergency. However, know that whatever you do there is in the eyes of the god of justice Himself. Do not, in any way, disrespect Him.” A high priest of Surseine? There were only seven of those. This woman was one of the elite who ran the entire college as well as the federal justice system. The weight of responsibility settled on Rynn’s shoulders as he nodded. “One more thing. He loves you.” Rynn’s heart thudded. “I have heard the truth of this from his own mouth, but he wants to deny it.” Rynn frowned. “Why?” “Shas is unused to needing anyone, and he’s terrified by how much he needs you.” Her fingernails dug into his chest. “You have to make him believe, to stop telling lies to himself. Only then will Surseine accept him again. Do you understand?” Not fully, but he understood enough. Shas loved him, and he had to make Shas see that. “Yes.” “Good enough.” She stepped out of his way. “Do what you must. Bring him back to life.”

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Faced with the door, Rynn paused. Beyond that door waited the center of his world. He put his hand on the latch and went in.

***** I do not want to need someone! Shas ranted, over and over. You cannot make me! He’d reviewed the facts, laid them all bare. He saw the truth. But it was an absurd and ridiculous truth. Unnecessary. Why must I need anyone? He never had before. His parents, his teachers, even Brentai, they were all useful. They had all done what they could for him. But he didn’t need them. Harmon, Colt. He trusted them, relied on them. But he didn’t need them. Yolan. He loved her. He didn’t want to think of life without her. But he knew he could survive if she were not in his life. He was autonomous. He was independent. He didn’t need anyone. The mere thought caused pain to surge through his skull, shaking him. Rynn. It came back to Rynn. The innocent young man he’d helped. The attractive, burly man who had somehow gotten under Shas’s skin. Who had, in a short time, unknowingly become a must in Shas’s life. And neither of them had known it until a crazed assailant had forced the issue. Now Shas knew. Now he missed him. Now he thought of him. Now, in vulnerable moments that he couldn’t suppress, he wondered if he should have handled things differently. If he shouldn’t call Rynn back. No! And if You must force this upon me, why a man who can never love me fully? Rynn respected him, yes. Admired him. In time, they could have grown to have a close relationship like Shas had with Harmon. Maybe more. But Rynn preferred women, not men. Shas had heard the truth of that more than once. Their relationship could not move into the physical. Shas couldn’t believe that Rynn was as flexible as Colt with the man’s ability to adjust his preferences as the situation warranted. Shas had recognized that in Colt and used it to his advantage. But Rynn? No. Rynn was a straightforward boy with straightforward needs. He had already been engaged once. Shas should have left him where he was to do so again. NO! Unaware of the passage of time, ignoring the physical signs of distress from his body, Shas remained in his mind, determined to reason with his god.

***** At first he thought there was no light. The door closed behind him, and cool darkness enveloped him. He turned, panicking a little when he couldn’t make out the exit. He stopped himself from feeling for it, took a few breaths to calm himself. It passed enough time that his eyes began to adjust, and he realized that it wasn’t completely dark, just a different kind of light. The door’s outline faded into view, but it was an

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eerie blue-violet. He put up his hand to assure himself that it was, indeed, the smooth wood in front of him and that he could find the latch to leave. Calm again, he put his back to the door. The rest of the room was small and unfurnished save for a few lumps on the floor he decided were pillows. A figure with long hair that glowed gemstone amethyst in the light was seated on one of them. It could only be Shasertai. Two paces across what felt like carpeting brought Rynn to kneel in front of Shas. His sursei didn’t move, didn’t indicate that he knew of Rynn’s presence at all. The violet light showed his eyes closed, his brows drawn into a slight frown to match the downturn of the corners of his mouth. His fingers gripped his folded knees, and he swayed slightly. Beautifully shaped lips moved over silent words. “Shas?” Brows and eyes twitched but didn’t open. Rynn laid his hand on Shas’s shoulder, detecting the cool of his skin through what felt like a linen shirt. A fine tremor through his muscle. “Shas? It’s Rynn.” Slowly, Shas opened his eyes. The strange light let Rynn make out the details of his face while overriding all color in every shade of purple. “Rynn?” “Yes.” “How are you here?” He almost chickened out and told Shas that Brentai had sent him. It wasn’t a lie, and it was far less frightening to say than the full truth, but something—maybe Surseine Himself—compelled him to come out with it. “I came to be with you.” He made bold to move his hand from Shas’s shoulder to the side of Shas’s neck, noting the racing pulse under his thumb. Like that night that seemed so long ago but that he could remember vividly, Shas’s vulnerability gave him courage. “I came to tell you I love you.” Panic opened Shas’s eyes wide. “What? No. This can’t be.” When Shas would have pulled away, Rynn locked his grip on the man’s neck. His hand was large enough to gain an effective hold, enough to freeze the smaller man’s attempt to move. “He loves you,” she’d said. “I have heard the truth of this from his own mouth.” She was sursei. She was a high justice in Surseine’s court. She wouldn’t lie, and Yolan wouldn’t take part if she thought it would hurt Shas. “I love you, Shas.” He started to pull Shas toward him, but stopped when a hand splayed on his chest. The arm was weak, but the will behind it was not. “You can’t.” “I do.” “You prefer women.”

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“Women are nice. Now I prefer you.” “What about Lynnette?” “She’s dead.” He’d had ample time to think about Lynny and their relationship. He was convinced now that what they’d had was a deep, solid friendship rather than a true romance. It didn’t compare—and didn’t have to compare—to what he felt for Shas. “I loved her, but she’s gone.” Shas shook his head, the silk of his hair whispering over Rynn’s hand and wrist. “You don’t sleep with men.” Thanks to past conversations with both Yolan and Colt, he was ready for that argument. “I have now. A few times. I liked it.” That surprised Shas enough to stop moving again. “I went back to the brothel. I slept with one of the boys you had that night. I liked it.” Shas’s tremor turned into slight shaking. “No.” “It wasn’t as good as when I was with you, though.” “Stop it. This isn’t real.” Shas gasped, his head lolling as his back arched. Alarmed, Rynn shot forward, circling his other hand around Shas’s side to support him. He searched Shas’s face until the spasm of pain left. “Are you all right?” “You’re really here?” He adjusted his hold on the back of Shas’s neck, supporting his head. Both of Shas’s hands were now tangled in the linen of his uniform shirt. “Yes.” “How? This room is off-limits.” “Sursei Brentai sent me.” Shas groaned, closing his eyes. “No. How did she find you?” “She didn’t have to. I’ve been here all along.” Eyes opened again. “What?” “I never left. I didn’t go with Colt.” Rynn felt a little guilty at the pleasure that settled into his very bones. He finally had Shas back in his arms again. He wasn’t sure he could ever let go again. “I’ve been working with the guard here at the college all this time.” A moment passed where Shas simply stared at him, blinking slowly. “You’ve been here?” “Yes.” “Why?” “I couldn’t leave you.” “You idiot.” Shas tried to straighten his arms to push Rynn away. “What do you want with me?”

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Rynn could overpower him at full strength. Weakened by days of fasting and no sleep, it was no contest. He had to adjust his grip, sliding his one arm around Shas’s back to get a better hold, but Shasertai wasn’t going anywhere. Eventually, Shas realized this. He sagged, chin sinking to his chest. “You should have left. You should have gone on with your life. You shouldn’t want me.” “I do.” “No.” “I need you.” “I don’t need you.” Again Shas gasped, a ripple of pain shaking him in Rynn’s embrace. Rynn gathered Shas against his chest, pressing his cheek to the top of Shas’s head. He wasn’t sure what the pain meant, but he hated it. “I wish you did. I’d do anything for you. Anything.” Shas’s arms crept around Rynn’s waist. “I don’t want to want you,” he murmured into Rynn’s chest. “I’m sorry. I won’t tell anyone.” At first, Rynn thought Shas’s gasp indicated another surge of pain. That the shaking that followed was a seizure. But before he could convince himself to go get help, he heard the soft noise that burbled from the man in his arms and realized it was laughter. The realization eased the tight grip on his heart. Laughing had to be a good thing. “Gods, Rynn.” Rynn sat back on his butt, drawing Shas with him to straddle his lap. The change of position let him press his lips to the side of Shas’s jaw. “I love you.” Shas’s fingers dug into his back. “Rynn.” He kissed the hollow underneath Shas’s ear. “I love you. I’d do anything for you. Except leave you. I won’t leave you ever again. I can’t.” The truth of it sang between them. Another shudder, another shaking sound, something like laughter. But it wasn’t. Shas was crying. Weak arms wormed between them so Shas could cup his jaw with both hands. “Do you even know what you’re saying?” “Yes.” “But I haven’t…” A sob choked more words. Rynn pulled him back and turned his head so they were face-to-face, the tips of their noses pressing together. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me be with you.” He tilted enough to brush his lips on Shas’s. “Always.” Shas’s arms snaked around his neck. Weak fingers combed through his hair, and he followed the silent directive to seal their lips together. He couldn’t be sure if the

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anxious moan that filled the room was his or Shas’s. Or maybe it was both of them. He rather liked that idea.

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Chapter Fifteen  Shas couldn’t remember how he’d gotten to his bedroom from the altar room. He remembered being in Rynn’s arms, kissing him so that the fool would stop spouting promises of devotion. Maybe he did remember snatches of Rynn carrying him through the halls. They told him he was weak from hunger and sleep deprivation. He supposed it was true. Rynn made him eat. Threatened to feed him if he didn’t do it himself. Wouldn’t let him talk, not that he would have with Yolan and Brentai hovering over him as well. Shas supposed he’d been delirious, since he seemed to recall snatches of when Rynn did feed him because he could barely feed himself. He must have slept. Sunbeams did their best to penetrate the cracks between his curtains, telling him that it must be late afternoon. He was alone in his wide, canopied bed, dressed only in a warm, long-sleeved gown. His hair was braided loosely, its oily state testimony that it had been days since he’d washed it. Who had seen to him? Rynn? Yolan? One of the staff nurses? He hoped it was the last and suspected it was the first. If he called out, would someone come running? Before he could satisfy his curiosity on that one, the door opened. Yolan entered, carrying a small tray with a steaming bowl atop it. At the sight of him sitting up, she gasped and hurried to his bedside. Rynn entered behind her, carrying a ceramic decanter with a matching cup inverted atop it. His face lit up at the sight of Shas, but he quickly averted his gaze as he closed the door. Yolan wore her clerk’s smock over a dark gray skirt. Rynn wore most of a guardsman’s uniform, sans jacket. Secretly, Shas approved. The soft linen shirts worn underneath the jackets were perfect to set off broad shoulders, big arms, and a muscular torso. If Shas didn’t miss his guess, Rynn might just be a tad more toned than he’d been a few months prior. “Shas, how do you feel?” Sitting up, he let Yolan distract him from watching Rynn, who wandered quietly from the door to the table by the window, staying away from the bed. Instead he

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watched his sister set down her tray and sit beside him. He tugged at the braid that draped his left shoulder. “Dirty.” Her grin lit up her face. “That’s a good sign. Are you hungry?” “A little.” “Well, we brought some soup.” “Why aren’t I hungrier? How long have I been abed?” “Just a little over a day.” She glanced back at Rynn. “You did eat some while you were delirious, enough to satisfy the healers.” So Rynn had fed him. Rynn had probably undressed him. What else had Rynn done? “I’d do anything for you.” Why did Shas’s ridiculous heart have to leap at the recollection of those words? He watched the man studiously avoid looking at him. Rynn went to the window to part the curtains, allowing afternoon sunlight in. A ray lit the soft waves of his short dark hair, reminding Shas of how it felt to push his fingers through it. “I love you.” Shas moved toward the edge of the bed. “I need a shower.” “You should eat.” “I need to be clean.” Yolan stood to get out of his way. By the time Shas got his legs over the side of the bed, Rynn was there as well. Hovering. Hands poised to catch him if he fell. He looked up, and they both froze. Raw need clogged Shas’s throat, squeezed his heart. Too much. Shas dropped his gaze. “I can manage.” Yolan tried to protest, but stopped when Rynn silently drew her away. That annoyed Shas even more, but he could recognize it as irrational. Rynn was respecting his wishes. Rynn always did, except on one matter. He stood and made his way slowly to the bathroom door, aware of both of them watching. Coward. He stopped in the open doorway, staring at the black and gold tiles within. “Rynn, we should…talk. Will you stay?” “Yes.” He nodded and headed into the room without looking back. His mind whirled. He remembered every minute of the time in Surseine’s temple with Rynn. He wished he didn’t, but he had a feeling the god’s presence had something to do with it. No amount of ranting or railing on his part changed the one fact he had done his best to avoid for so long. No wish for ignorance would erase the comfort, the excitement of Rynn’s show of dedication. He’d stayed. There had been those obsessed with Shas before, who had followed him with slavish devotion. This was different. This felt different. Once he let

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himself admit it, Shas was thrilled that Rynn defied him to stay near. Perhaps it truly was love. Sursei Brentai seemed to believe so, and he’d rarely known her to be mistaken. Physically, he felt much better once he was clean. His scalp no longer itched. A few murmured words of a minor air spell expelled most of the moisture from his hair, leaving it slightly damp. He didn’t need to shave, thanks to some miracle of inheritance that didn’t allow him to grow facial hair. Staring at his reflection, he traced his jaw with fingertips. What must it be like? He knew what Rynn’s beard felt like. He was stalling. Donning the thick blue velvet robe hanging on his side of the door, he returned to the bedroom. Rynn was alone, standing at the window. Still a bit weak from the ordeal of the last few days, Shas went to sit on the bed before he began to talk. Rynn, it seemed, was content to wait. Once he was seated on the edge of the mattress, Shas wasn’t sure how to start. He’d never had such a conversation before. Never opened up to anyone. “You stayed.” “You asked me to stay.” Rynn’s soft words crossed the room like a distant roll of thunder, mildly ominous and exciting. “You’ve been here at the college for months.” “Oh. Yes.” “You could have gone on with your life. I told Yolan to make sure you were seen to.” “She did.” Rynn crossed the room to stand at the foot of the bed. “She helped me get the job here.” “That’s not what I meant.” “I know. It’s not her fault. She tried to get me to leave. I wouldn’t go.” Shas found himself rubbing at his heart and forced his hand to stop. “Shouldn’t you be on duty?” “Sursei Brentai put me on special assignment.” Shas shook his head, staring at his toes. So pale and pink atop the dark gold rug. “I’m a special assignment.” “Yes.” He reached back to pull his loose hair into his lap, combing his fingers through it. “I don’t understand why you would want…this.” Rynn stepped in front of him, dropping to his knees on the floor by Shas’s toes. Big hands cupped his knees as the most honest, earnest brown eyes Shas had ever seen looked up at his face. “I love you.” Shas closed his eyes, the truth of those simple words a warm balm to his racing heart. “I broke an oath to you.”

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“No. You did not.” “I promised not to force you to do anything against your will.” “You didn’t force me into anything. I was willing to do anything to help you.” “I promised not to molest you.” Rynn made a small sound that might have been a chuckle. “I think I molested you.” Shas took a breath and forced his eyes open. He could go on, could rehash the arguments he’d tried to convince himself were true over the past few months. But it was futile, and he was deceiving himself. It was clear to him now that his deception was the source of Surseine’s unhappiness with him. Unable to resist, he reached out to stroke his palm over the soft beard along Rynn’s jaw. The man’s eyes shuttered, and he leaned into Shas’s touch. “How can you be real?” Rynn placed a large, gentle hand over his. “I’m real.” “I’ve never done this before. I’ve never been…in love.” Grinning, Rynn moved closer, edging between Shas’s knees, forcing them open to accept his girth. “I’ve never been in love with a man. We’ll learn together.” He was too close. Shas could smell him, could feel his warmth through the robe. He put his hands on those broad shoulders to steady himself. “I don’t know if I can be good at this.” Strong hands found his waist. “Just don’t send me away.” Lost in a brown-eyed gaze, Shas shook his head. Out of words, he did what his body had craved to do freely for months. He wrapped his arms around Rynn’s neck and sealed their lips in a kiss. Rynn opened willingly, accepted his needy exploration. Strong hands spanned over his back, supporting him, pressing him close to a solid wall of muscle serving as a chest. He needed more, needed to feel Rynn against him. Naked, both of them laid bare. Obsessed with the thought, he tugged at the shirt on Rynn’s back, yanking it loose. Rynn had to tear his lips from Shas and remove his hands to allow the soft linen to be pulled up and over his head. When Rynn would have embraced him again, Shas stopped him, spreading both hands over Rynn’s chest, sinking his fingers into the crisp dark hair that covered satiny brown skin. He found and pinched the tight nipples that he found nearly hidden in that hair, shuddering himself at the deep moan that produced. With Rynn kneeling before him, Shas could only explore so much. That would never do. Stealing a quick kiss on wet, parted lips, Shas leaned back on the bed. “Lie here with me.” Rynn’s eyes gleamed as he stood. The sight of his pants made Shas stop him again. “Take those off.” He set an example by tugging his robe open and peeling it from his shoulders.

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The gleam turned dark as Rynn paused to admire. As much as Shas approved of the admiration, he wanted Rynn’s clothing gone. He was feeling strangely exposed, even with the robe. “Rynn, trousers.” The big man nodded, quickly unfastening his belt. “Are you sure we should do this? Do you feel all right?” “Rynn, don’t argue with me. I want you naked and here”—he pointed at the empty spot on the mattress beside him—“now.” “Yes, sursei,” Rynn said with a grin, belt jangling open. A shuffle of feet indicated he managed his shoes without having to sit. Then he shoved off his pants and any undergarments. Shas sat in a forgotten pool of his robe and soft, rumpled sheets, his gaze following the trail of fur that arrowed down that broad torso to end in a nest around a thick, mouthwatering cock. Distracted, he continued to watch as Rynn stepped toward the nightstand to open the top drawer. But when he spied the small vial of oil in Rynn’s thick fingers, his own cock swelled and his ass clenched in gleeful anticipation. Placing the vial on the nightstand, Rynn turned back to face Shas, lifting one knee onto the mattress. “Rynn.” Shas began to reach for him, only to find his hand trapped, still tangled in the robe he sat on. A frustrated whine spilled from his lips. Where was his usual smooth control? Why was he fumbling? Maybe he was too weak for this, but the heat in his veins demanded the touch of the man before him. Hot, warm hands slid over his shoulders and down his arms. He caught his breath, reveling as Rynn lifted first one hand, then the other, from their prison, freeing him. Then Rynn reached up to gather his hair. Confronted again with that hairy chest, Shas leaned toward it, gripping either side of Rynn’s waist as he nuzzled in to find and suck on one of those tasty nipples. Rynn gasped, and the wet tip of his cock brushed Shas’s chest, reminding him of other treats. But before he could switch his hold from waist to cock, Rynn grasped his arms and lowered him to his back. Shas licked his lips, watching the barely contained excitement in Rynn’s tender expression as the big man thoughtfully arranged Shas’s abundance of hair up above him on the mattress. Then Rynn’s lips were back on his, and most of the weight of that great body lowered on top of Shas. Happily pinned, Shas wound his arms and legs around Rynn’s torso, welcoming the press of that hot, hard cock alongside his. When Rynn’s lips left his to slide along his chin back to his ear, Shas protested mildly. “Please,” Rynn whispered, the word a rumble in Shas’s ear. “Let me love you.” Shas shuddered, the muddle in his brain unsure whether Rynn meant this very moment or all eternity. Or both. His hands slid along the man’s back as a trail of Rynn’s warm, wet kisses descended down his throat. Gentle teeth nipped at his collarbone, then traveled lower. Shas gasped when one of Rynn’s hands wrapped around the base of Shas’s cock. He arched up into the hold, welcoming the firm squeeze as Rynn’s kisses

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continued to drift down his torso. When sweet, tender lips touched the tip of his cock, he nearly came just from the conclusion of anticipation. He had not been this primed for orgasm since he was very young. “Rynn.” He dug his hands into Rynn’s dark curls, intending to tell him to stop, but then the hot, sucking cavern of Rynn’s mouth descended over him, and the ability to form words escaped. He groaned, arching into this man who covered him, filling the warmth that consumed him. It was, perhaps, not the most skilled of performances, but the fact that it was Rynn’s mouth surrounding him, Rynn’s beard tickling the inside of his thigh, made it the most exquisite attention Shas had ever received. Any semblance of control left him as he cried and writhed beneath Rynn, forcing the bigger man to pin him down as he continued to encourage an explosion. When it came, Shas screamed, his entire body pulsing, his mind shattering like never before. This is love. That vague thought gathered the pieces of his conscious back into a whole. But his shell had been broken, just enough to allow this sweet man into his heart. He opened his eyes to find Rynn braced over him on all fours, watching him. Weakly, Shas reached up to thumb a smear of his own semen from the side of Rynn’s beard. The big man smiled, triumphant, and Shas was too sated to do anything but smile back. Rynn kissed him, sharing what remained of the salty taste in his mouth. He kept his weight off Shas’s body, but the heat of him teased Shas’s sensitized skin. Shas reached down and wrapped his fingers around the jut of Rynn’s cock, swallowing the moan that poured out of the bigger man’s throat. He turned his head just enough to free his lips. “Fuck me,” he murmured, opening his eyes to lock with Rynn’s. He squeezed Rynn’s cock, swiping his thumb over the damp tip. “I want this inside me.” Rynn’s eyes glazed with lust. Shas pumped his cock, entranced by the flush that colored Rynn’s cheeks over the trimmed edge of his beard. But then he pushed back onto his knees, twisting to retrieve the oil. Shas plucked it from his fingers. “Let me.” “But…it’s been a while for you. Shouldn’t I…prepare you?” Touched, Shas smiled as he poured a dollop of oil on one palm. “‘Prepare me’? My, you have learned a few things in the past few months.” An embarrassed grin curled Rynn’s mouth. “I visited Madam Anne’s a few times so I could”—he blushed—“learn things.” “Mmm, lucky me.” He handed the vial back to Rynn and rubbed his palms together as Rynn put it back on the nightstand. “We’ll have to explore what you learned another time.” He easily wrapped both hands around Rynn’s cock, delighting in its length and girth. “But not this time.” He murmured the word of power that activated the lubrication of the oil, felt it heating and spreading between the skin of his palms and Rynn’s cock. “Now, I just want you inside me.”

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Eyes closed, braced over Shas on one beefy arm, Rynn nodded. He looked so beautiful. The raw good looks that had intrigued Shas from the first had been trimmed and honed along with the muscles of his body. His limbs rippled with coiled strength, and sharply defined abdominal muscles supported the chest of a warrior. My warrior, Shas thought to himself, allowing amusement. With one last squeeze, he released Rynn’s cock. “Now, Rynn,” he murmured, dropping his hand down between his own legs. Spreading his thighs, he found his hole and rubbed oil in and around it. Rynn adjusted, catching Shas’s knees to help him keep them up. “Like this?” he asked, clearly meaning Shas’s position on his back. Shas smiled. “Haven’t tried this position?” When Rynn shook his head, Shas thrilled. He took hold of Rynn’s cock again. “Like this.” He watched Rynn watch his hand as it guided the tip of Rynn’s cock to Shas’s entrance. Rynn’s hold on his knees kept his thighs apart, and when he leaned in, his weight brought Shas’s hips up off the mattress. Shas had to close his own eyes when the tip of Rynn’s cock breached him. He’d expected the bite of pain, Rynn’s girth and his abstinence ensuring it. But he welcomed it, breathed into it as Rynn hesitated for him. When he was ready, he braced his arms to either side of himself in the sheets and opened his eyes to meet Rynn’s gaze. “More.” Taking him at his word, Rynn pressed forward. He watched Shas through heavylidded eyes, going slowly. His cock stretched Shas, forcing a pained moan of pleasure out of him, reminding him of what it was to feel. For months he’d denied himself. He should have realized that he, of all people, could simply not function that way. Despite being an avatar of the truth, he was a creature of pleasure and always had been. “Shas?” “More.” He reached down to grip the meat of Rynn’s thigh, thrilled when his fingers couldn’t dig very far into the steely muscle. “Rynn, more.” Adjusting his hold on Shas’s legs, Rynn leaned down, his cock sinking farther and farther into Shas. An odd swell of possession filled Shas’s chest as his body swallowed Rynn. His. This man belonged to him, had given himself, and Shas was selfish enough to decide never to let him go again. “Gods.” Rynn was shaking. His hands were on the mattress, Shas’s legs draped over his elbows. His entire length nestled tight in Shas’s body. “Gods, Shas.” Shas slid his hands up Rynn’s sides, swiping a trail of oil through the sheen of sweat that had broken out over the satiny skin. He rolled his hips, forcing them both to gasp at the friction within. “Move, Rynn.” Nodding, Rynn obeyed, pulling his hips back and shoving forward with perhaps a bit more force than he intended. He was trying to be careful. Shas purred. “Fuck me, Rynn. You won’t break me.” Shock opened Rynn’s eyes wide as he twisted his neck to look at Shas.

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Who grinned. “I need you to fuck me. Hard.” His words were clearly Rynn’s undoing. With an animal grunt, Rynn thrust hard enough to scoot Shas farther up the mattress. Shas gasped, surprised by the sudden reaction but reveling in it. Rynn needed no more coaxing. He thrust a few more times, the force and friction enough to wake Shas’s cock. Groaning, Shas gripped it, encouraging growth as Rynn adjusted yet again, searching for a better angle. When he found it, Shas cried out, writhing as Rynn found just the right angle to set off every nerve within him. “Shasertai.” His name bled through Rynn’s lips like a mantra as his hips pounded his cock into Shas. For the most part, Shas could only receive, moaning as sensation built on sensation, the physical underlined by a love that he could feel, seeping into him from the force of nature that thrust into him. “Rynnis.” Unable to stand it anymore, Shas reached up to draw Rynn’s lips down to his own. The intimate press of body to body drove them both to more frenzied writhing, rolling in heated synchronization, wrapped in arms and legs as Rynn’s cock sought the deepest depths of Shas’s body. Orgasm shoved a scream through Shas’s teeth, into Rynn’s mouth. His body clamped down, jerking out of rhythm as wet warmth spurted between their pressed chests. Rynn’s cry followed, his hands crushing Shas’s hips as he held on for the last few ragged thrusts. Rynn rolled them on their sides as he collapsed. One of Shas’s legs was pinned beneath his hip, the other draped over his waist. Rynn’s top hand smoothed over Shas’s flank as momentous feeling seeped from them, leaving behind an undeniable, very welcome bonding of hearts. Shas stared into open brown eyes. He reached up to pet Rynn’s jaw, gently digging his fingers into the beard, wondering how it was that he hadn’t much liked beards before this man. “I love you.” Rynn’s words were simple, as honest as his gaze. Shas smiled, feeling more himself, more alive, than he had in months. “Are you going to keep saying that until I believe you?” “Yes.” “I can hear truth, you know.” “I know. But I like saying it anyway.” Encouraged, Shas shifted closer so he could brush a soft kiss on Rynn’s swollen lips. “I love you too,” he whispered, braving a look into those eyes. He’d dreaded triumph, a victorious “I told you so.” But he got only welcoming tenderness in a smile so loving that it melted his heart. “You can’t ever leave me,” he heard himself say. It was the look. The look that he couldn’t possibly find anywhere else. The look that told him that he was the center of this man’s world and would remain so.

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Rynn shook his head, smiling as he gathered Shas closer to him. “Never.”

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Epilogue  “Well, well, well.” Following behind Shas, Rynn broke into a smile when he saw Colt standing outside Shasertai’s apartment. The marshal stood from his slouch against the door and reached up to brush his hair back from his face. The hair was longer than when Rynn had last seen him, brushing the shoulders of a new buckskin jacket. The face was cleanshaven, which emphasized his hawklike features. A new broad-brimmed hat with leather trim remained in his hand. “What happened to you?” Shas asked blandly, stopping just a few paces in front of Colt. Colt reached up to scratch his chin. “Felt the need for a change.” Shas cocked his head to the side. “It makes you look too young.” He led the way into the apartment. Colt grimaced as he passed. “Thanks, sursei,” he drawled. Then he punched Rynn playfully in the arm. “You’ve come a long way, I hear.” Rynn ducked his head, surreptitiously noticing that Colt didn’t wear his gun belt. Security on the ground floor would not have let him come up in the residential with it. He looked past Colt to the guard who stood watching at the end of the hall. At a nod from Rynn, the man turned back to his post. Colt saw this and rolled his eyes. “So much caution.” He followed Shas into the apartment. “Like I’m dangerous or something.” Rynn snorted as he trailed behind Colt. Shas had shed his robe and stood at the drink cabinet, pouring. By the time Colt had seated himself on the long couch by the window, Shas brought him a tumbler of whiskey. “You’re not joining me?” Shas shook his head. “I don’t drink much anymore.”

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Colt blinked, his jaw dropping. “Well, damn! What have you done to the sursei we once loved, Rynn?” “I didn’t do anything,” he murmured, picking up Shas’s robe from the chair that it draped and taking it to the closet. While he was there, he removed his own uniform jacket and hung it up beside the robe. When he turned back into the room, Shas was seated in a chair and Colt was watching him, eyes wide in exaggerated shock. “All right, you two are scaring me.” “Your problem, not ours.” Shas folded his hands over his knee. “What happened?” Colt’s gaze flitted between Shas and Rynn for another wary moment as he sipped his drink. Then he shook his head and sat forward to set the glass on the table at his feet. “Charlotte’s on the run. Once we broke up his Ilin temple, everything pretty much unraveled.” Rynn stopped behind Shas’s chair, both excited and disappointed. Excited that Jasen Charlotte’s drug trade might finally come to an end. Disappointed that he’d not been a part of it. “Sursei Tanant saw to what you needed?” “Actually no, it was Sursei Drahinon. She’s been great.” “Has she been ordained?” “Keep up with the times, Shas. Drahn’s been a full sursei for at least two months.” He laughed. “Don’t worry. Tanant’s been right there to back her up, but she’s been doing just fine.” “Then why are you here?” “The sursein council are going to ask you officially, but I asked if I could talk to you first.” He grinned. “We’ve got a tip on catching Charlotte himself. There’s a meeting that’s happening next month in Destiny, and we’re set up for a bust. You should be there.” Rynn glanced down at his lover’s face and saw the excitement that Shas tried to quell. “Why me?” “Oh, come off it, Shas. You deserve to see the end of this. Drahn agrees. Tanant will let you take over as her mentor, and the two of you can work together to bring down Charlotte.” “It sounds as though you’re rather close to Sursei Drahinon.” “Not as close as we were,” Colt said with a sly gin. He tipped the grin up to Rynn. “Once. But she’s a good sursei, and she’s come to care about this as much as we do.” Good to hear. Rynn had heard of the young sursei, although he’d missed that she was off campus helping Colt. He and Shas had been rather self-absorbed in the past two months.

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Shas sat back. Without looking, he held up his hand, fingers spread. Rynn obediently wove his fingers with his sursei’s and let his hand be drawn to Shas’s chest. Shas had come to expect the comfort of his presence, and Rynn lived to provide for the man he loved. Colt watched this, then shook his head and picked up his drink. “What do you say, Shas? You haven’t been away from this place in nearly a year.” True. Shas was on full court rotation at the college now that Surseine had again graced him with His touch. “I’ll have to think about it.” Rynn squeezed his fingers, prompting purple eyes to tilt up at him. They shared a look, and then Rynn squeezed his hand again. He knew better than anyone that the day-in, day-out, predictable court sessions had started to wear on Shas. His lover wouldn’t say it, but he missed traveling. “Oh, gods, I don’t believe I’m seeing this,” Colt groused. “I’ll have to think about it,” Shas said again, not bothered by Colt’s complaint. He sat forward, petting Rynn’s arm with his free hand. “Don’t think long. The meeting’s going to happen with or without you, and you’ll need to catch up on the facts.” “Let me think on it overnight.” Colt snorted, downing the last of his drink. “You mean let Rynn convince you in bed tonight.” He stood. “You two are like an old married couple. I never would have thought it.” Rynn grinned as Shas brought his palm up to kiss it. Shas chuckled. “All right. Fine. We’ll go. But we’ll need a different rail coach.” He stood and faced Rynn with a wicked grin. “You’d never fit into one of those tiny beds.”

Jet Mykles  Jet’s been writing sex stories back as far as junior high. Back then, the stories involved her favorite pop icons of the time but she soon extended beyond that realm into making up characters of her own. To this day, she hasn’t stopped writing sex, although her knowledge on the subject has vastly improved. An ardent fan of fantasy and science fiction sagas, Jet prefers to live in a world of imagination where dragons are real, elves are commonplace, vampires are just people with special diets and lycanthropes live next door In her own mind, she’s the spunky heroine who gets the best of everyone and always attracts the lean, muscular lads. She aids this fantasy with visuals created through her other obsession: 3D graphic art. In this area, as in writing, Jet’s self-taught and thoroughly entranced, and now occasionally uses this art to illustrate her stories, or her stories to expand upon her art. In real life, Jet is a self-proclaimed hermit, living in southern California with her life partner. She has a bachelor’s degree in acting, but her loathing of auditions has kept her out of the limelight. So she turned to computers and currently works in product management for a software company, because even in real life, she can’t help but want to create something out of nothing.