Dark Secrets (3 page)

I turned as a rolling wave of keyed-up energy spilled through the door, followed by a rotund fellow who’d had a good swim in the Brewer’s barrel. The Red Lust House has a well-earned reputation for safety, cleanliness and above all, a lack of trouble. There were never any interruptions to a good night. A bellowing drunk at that crucial moment put everyone off.

The fellow walked through the door. “I want a loose-skirt. An extra loose-skirt,” he roared with a wink.

I didn’t need the wink to know he wanted a woman and a jar of grease. I saw in his mind what was termed as Bounty-Hunter-lovin’ for the simple fact that they’d sneak up behind you and do you over. And while that was a service my staff provided, he was far too drunk for my lust house.

“We are booked for the night, sir.” I smiled and as I walked toward him I began using magic to quiet him and soothe him, subtle nudges he’d barely notice.

The man gazed at me, lips twisted. “You’re not. All look the same bent over.” Another wink. More unwelcome images in my mind of what he wanted.

Lords, some days I wondered how anyone did this without magic. I knew sex was meant to be enjoyable, but most days it was something I’d rather not think about. My memory of my time with Anisa reminded me there was more to it than an exchange of coin. My throat closed at the thought of her and the man she was with. I glanced at the clock—only minutes until his appointment. I prayed he wouldn’t keep it, then prayed he would just to keep him away from Anisa.

I smothered the drunk’s desire rapidly. His staff drooped. He’d blame the liquor.

Then I took his arm and guided him out the door. “There is a small tavern up the road. They have what you’re looking for.”

With that, I sent him on his way. He wandered on the road, glanced back, flicked me a very rude sign by jamming his thumb between his fingers and sauntered unsteadily off. He probably wouldn’t have been a threat to my staff, but a drunk can easily get out of hand and he wasn’t a small man. Men who rough up my women are never welcome. If I’m on the door I usually catch them before they get too far. If I fail, Korene can see right through their lies and turn them away.

Unlike other lust house owners I actually cared about my staff. Most had fallen into this life because there was no other choice. A woman without a husband, father or brother has no way to survive. Unlike me, my women never had a chance to get a trade. To them I pretended that I liked the business, the glamor, the scandal and coin.

I was proud of what I’d achieved and didn’t pretend otherwise, but I’d give it all up to have my mind my own again.

I felt him before I saw him. Smug and angry and seeking to prove he was a man to be feared. I sighed. Curse Brixen for coming so soon after his wedding. I should’ve known he wouldn’t miss his appointment. He never did. Once a ten-night without fail. My blood became jagged with anger. He had Anisa in his bed yet was coming to a lust house. What kind of man was he? If I’d been in his shoes, I would have never left her. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. But I was sure Brixen didn’t want to know how much I still felt for his wife, so I pasted on a smile.

He wore brown trousers and a pale yellow shirt with an orange waistcoat. He never wore white to see me, but he always dressed well. No one came through my door otherwise. I had standards to maintain. My lust house didn’t become synonymous with excellent service by having run-down rooms and letting anyone in. People paid for silence and not to get the Brewer’s itch that came from the loose-skirts hanging around taverns. I charged like a raxen in heat for the privilege of walking through my door.

Brixen’s gaze met mine, and I slipped upstairs, wishing I could turn him away like I had the drunk. But no one said no to the Lawman. Part of our agreement was that I would go upstairs and a woman would escort him up so no one would even see him with a man. His demands for secrecy weren’t as onerous as others. But his demands of me were some of the worst. I was always very thankful I kept his lusts locked in his head so they weren’t taken out on my flesh.

Brixen was the only man I saw. He’d wanted me from the moment we’d met five and a half years ago on a dark corner. Since then he’d become the bane of my existence. Back then he’d been in the militia, a no one, and I’d been a cheap tavern whore. As we’d gotten older, the stakes we played for had gotten bigger. We were both too well known for very different reasons.

Why he’d picked me and never moved on I don’t know. Maybe because I was taller or too handsome or he just liked what I gave him. Either way, I was tempted to kill him the moment he walked into the bedroom.

Brixen shut the door, a sour smile on his thin lips. Then he waited for me to undress him.

Lazy son-of-a-brewer’s-whore, but it was part of the show to reinforce he was in control of me. He didn’t even suspect the truth. I could’ve taken control of his mind there and then, but there was no point—I couldn’t fake nudity and a bath. Some of the experience had to be real to make my lies convincing.

I knew better than to question his appearance so soon after his marriage or even act surprised, so I busied myself removing his waistcoat and hanging it up. While the fabric was fine and threaded with gold, it was poorly stitched. I couldn’t hide the smirk that formed. He was trying to impress, but I turned over more coin in a ten-night than he did in a month, maybe longer.

Best he didn’t know how I came by some of that coin. As Lawman he was supposed to be stamping out the FAA; however, no matter what he did they were always one step ahead. I knew they had a far-seer in their numbers. They also paid a few lust houses to act as exchange points, as no one thought anything of the comings and goings of a whore house, mine included. My life would’ve been easier if I didn’t accept the coin, but I couldn’t resist the security it bought. So I turned a blind eye and kept my mouth closed. I had even managed to convince myself that refusing was more dangerous. They’d start poking around and if Korene or I were discovered, life would take a turn for the worse.

I hung Brixen’s shirt up and gave his back a loathing glare. Built like a raxen and just as hairy, he had as much delicacy as a bull in rut. I’d always pitied his wife as he satisfied his own needs first, and now my heart ached for Anisa. She deserved more, a loving husband and all the things I’d wanted to give her. If she saw me now, what would she say?

My fingers trailed over his shoulder, my skin now separated from my mind—I would not let my body feel revolted, would not let him taint anything more than my mind. There wasn’t enough liquor in all of Prasine to make me forget the things I knew about Brixen.

Just that light touch that lasted only a couple of heartbeats was enough for me to take his thoughts by the hand and lead them where I wanted them to go. A suggestion, nothing more, so he wouldn’t feel the separation from reality to being caught in a dream of my making. In his mind there would’ve barely been a ripple, but mine was in turmoil. His thoughts crashed into mine like waves intent on destruction. No matter how I tried I couldn’t shield myself. If I did, I couldn’t keep control of the magic.

I faced Brixen. His eyes had lost their edge, but he gripped my jaw, his fingers rubbing against my stubble. He liked that, so I never shaved before his visit.

“You’re such a pretty man.”

Prettier than him, but not so pretty to be mistaken for a woman. Other lust houses catered to that taste. But Brixen wasn’t interested in that. He knew what he liked and hated himself for it. He saw it as a weakness. Maybe if he’d been honest with himself and let himself enjoy the way Noromon did, he might have been a nicer man. Instead he took his hate out on everyone else, as if they should suffer for the thing he couldn’t freely enjoy.

Brixen grinned. “Are you jealous of my new wife?”

Dangerous, dangerous ground. I felt it shift and slide beneath my feet. I hoped the murder I heard in my heart didn’t show in my eyes. “Are you going to stop visiting?” The usual purr I affected came out rough.

“You have something she doesn’t.” His hand reached for me, needing to feel me hard and hungry for him. So that’s what I filled his mind with.

The truth wouldn’t have pleased him. I hadn’t had sex in years. Not because I couldn’t, but because I didn’t want it. After seeing in my clients’ minds I wanted no part of their body, or them in mine. I had to keep some part of me for me.

His hand rubbed against my thigh. It would be much easier to drag him under now and have him finish. But I’d raced to get him out once before and the result wasn’t pleasant. He’d been furious afterward, because I’d made him come too fast. I’d had to talk fast, and retake control of his mind to avoid a second fist.

I took a tighter grip of his mind and opened his trousers. For a man who was as heavyset as a prize bull he was lacking in stature. I’d seen better endowed dogs scavenging at the markets. His turgid member jutted toward me.

My stomach roiled. I hated this. Usually I toyed with him a little longer but tonight I took his thoughts and wrapped them around him nice and tight, praying to any Lord the illusion held. “I will bathe you.”

He stepped out of his trousers and walked toward the basin and cloth. I watched him carefully. He couldn’t be so deeply in my control he couldn’t function, but he had to believe his hand was my hand. Usually I stood close enough to touch him if need be. Today I needed the distance in case my hands slipped and closed around his throat. This was the Lawman. I couldn’t kill him just because he was Anisa’s husband. She might love him. That was the thought I hated most of all.

He washed with the cloth, each stroke lovingly made. He groaned, enjoying himself as in his mind he saw me washing him. I couldn’t fake the bath, but I could fake who performed it. When his skin had been scrubbed clean, he stroked himself with the little pot of scented grease then walked toward the bed. It was the same thing every time. He wanted me on the bed face down. In his mind that’s what he got.

He fell to the bed and started attacking the sheets. Gripping and slapping and grunting and thrusting. In his mind I was gasping like a fish out of water as he drove in hard.

There’s a line when fooling people that I won’t cross. Some desires I can create without giving up that it is an illusion, a dream that tricks the body into believing it’s reality for just a short while. In his darkest thoughts he wanted to leave marks, but we’d reached an understanding about what was good for business so I never let him slide down those paths—aside from him giving my sheets the odd pinch. If anyone knew what I was really doing I’d have had the Union and the FAA on my door for more than drinks and an evening of entertainment.

His hand moved, and he thought he grasped my cock, but instead he gripped his own. Lost in the illusion, he stroked hard. He was paying a lot of coin to pleasure himself. But tonight I couldn’t even find comfort in that knowledge. His mind was open to me; I saw how he’d used Anisa and while he’d enjoyed every moment, she’d cried. Anisa didn’t love Brixen; she feared him and through him I felt the rush of power that brought.

As his heart pumped faster I wanted to urge it on. Make his blood boil until the muscle split and spilled out all the poison once and for all. His face turned purple. My jaw locked. It would be so easy.

Kill Brixen, free Anisa and…

And nothing.

I was nothing. So low she wouldn’t notice, if she even remembered me.

And I couldn’t kill him. Not just because it would be bad for business to have the Lawman die in my bed. I lacked the strength of will or the ruthlessness to finish. I was pathetic.

The Lawman convulsed as he stained the sheets. I removed my clothes and lay on the bed. It was time to bring him back to reality. As he rolled over and lay on his back, I eased my hold. Cautiously, slowly and gently. Too fast, and I’d break what I’d created.

It was too dangerous for me to try and block Brixen out of my mind—I didn’t trust the man as far as I could shove him, so his thoughts still buffeted mine, but he was pleased with himself. I feigned satisfaction, if not exhaustion. It was tiring, trying to change someone’s perception and make the person see what I wanted them to see. I’d never done that with Anisa, not even to make her smile. She’d done that whenever I took her hand or stole a kiss. I knew with Brixen she’d never smile again.

I poured Brixen a shot of the expensive and sometimes fatal Asperilli, brewed from the toxic bark of a tree that grows down south—men died making this drink. There were worse jobs than mine.

I’d have a shot after he left, but with Brixen I needed my magic sharp. He was as unpredictable as a desert skitter and I could never tell if he was going to walk past or attack. He downed the shot without pausing to enjoy the sharpness and the woody taste. It was wasted on him.

He wiped his lips on the back of his hand. “You know, this is the only lust house with Asperilli.” He held out the glass for another shot.

“This is the most exclusive.” I could afford to put on good liquor. I had to, as people expected a certain level of hospitality.

Brixen snorted. “One whore is much like another. They all squeal.”

I almost stopped midpour but kept going, filling his glass to the top with sparkling green liquor. He wasn’t talking about me. He was talking about Anisa.

His memory of their first night broke like a blister in my mind. His glee at her pain trickled like pus; it was all I could do not to flinch away. But I couldn’t escape because it was all in my head. Some things couldn’t be unseen. The bastard had pinned her down and taken her without any kindness. He thought he’d taken her virginity. There was no reason to change that idea. I swallowed, wishing I could pick up the bottle and take a few long gulps.

This brute’s idea of bedding was the reason women came to see me. At least I gave them the gentle touch they desired, if only in their mind, and their bodies readily believed my lies. I felt no guilt. I was making people happy.

Brixen deserved to suffer. Could I make him think his penis was always limp? Maybe, but it would be a difficult illusion to maintain, as he would touch the flesh between his legs and know it was a lie.