Page 118 of The Deer and the Dragon
“Is it a little uncomfortable to be put on the spot?” he asked. From the lilting accent of his voice, I was surprised to hear that he was, in fact, Scandinavian. Given the short notice, I’d expected all the men to be local. His shirt was well tailored, which I imagined was quite the feat to keep his pectorals from ripping a button-up in half.
I realized I’d been smelling a stranger and shook my head clear, embarrassed. I didn’t know what had come over me, but I hoped he hadn’t noticed. I did my best to gather my wits as I nodded. “I had no idea it would work like this. Do you live nearby?”
I recognized the man beside him from the binder as the architect called Ji-Hoon. He was dressed as if he’d stepped out of a magazine. He laughed lightly as he said, “He does. Johan plays in the NHL, so he’s only two states away. For most of us, no, the doctor sends a plane.” His English was as excellent as the Swede’s, but once again it told me that he was far from local. “We have to be ready at a moment’s notice. It’s a ten-hour flight between here and Seoul.”
“You came from Seoul?” I repeated incredulously. “I had no idea…”
The Swedish man shrugged easily. “Things will get easier once the meds kick in.”
“Meds?” I asked as Jessabelle returned with another glass of water.
“I’m glad you’re getting to know the men.” She flashed aglistening smile. “If you’re comfortable, Merit, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be right here if you need me. Please just…listen to your body. Let it make the choice.”
Jessabelle disappeared into a shadowed corner of the room, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think she didn’t see and hear everything that went on. I knew enough of the world—mortal or fae—to know every wall had ears. I gulped down the water, draining it halfway before she’d even escaped to the far side of the room.
The Swede nodded toward my water. “It helps with inhibitions.”
“I…” I looked at him with confusion. “My water?”
The three men at the table exchanged laughs, but not at me. Almost in answer to my question, I felt a warming sensation course through my blood. I became aware of my heartbeat, but not in my chest. My pulse throbbed somewhere far more…intimate. I lifted my eyes in confusion as I felt the slick rush between my thighs. My sharp, sudden intake of air must have given me away.
“What did I tell you?” he said.
Ji-Hoon tilted his glass. “It’s just as fun for us as it is for you. Everyone has a good time.”
“And”—I swallowed, looking between the men at the table—“I get a baby and you get…”
“You’re beautiful. More than beautiful,” the third said, a man I hadn’t yet spoken to. He spoke with flat, North American English and looked like he was on an Ivy League rowing team. “So, we get laid, which is a perk of its own. Especially with someone like you… But none of us will worry about money for the rest of our lives. Plus, you get a baby, which is what brought you here in the first place, right? The doctor gets to maintain the reputation as the most successful fertility clinic in the world. Everyone wins.”
I took a step away from the table and nearly bumped into the man behind me. He put out a hand to catch my back before it collided against the rim of his table and a pleasurablechill shot through me. I leaned into his touch before even seeing his face. If I’d been wearing panties, they would have been destroyed by a single, charged touch. I turned to look up at a gorgeous man with unnaturally blue eyes contrasting against his brown skin. Without meaning to, I bit my lip. He smiled in return as a current passed through us.
I turned toward him, my hands moving before my conscious mind as I rested both hands on his chest. A distant part of my brain heard him introduce himself as Yasin, from Pakistan. He rattled off the same statistics that I knew were meant to be common knowledge in the binder. His good job, his high IQ, his height, his weight, his family health were all said with performative necessity, but I knew he felt the same electricity I felt.
I swallowed but found my mouth was no longer dry. The throbbing within me grew into a craving. I took a step closer to him, and he slipped another hand around me as he peered down at me.
Jessabelle appeared at my side, but I was hardly conscious of her arrival. “You two get acquainted,” she said, voice a sultry purr. “I’ll dismiss the others.”
Was music still playing? I wasn’t sure. I could only hear the low rumble of his voice and the demanding throb of a heartbeat somewhere I couldn’t control. My bare feet scrunched, toes curling against the heated marble.
Shapes moved as Jessabelle worked with the others. I was loosely aware that she was escorting the men from the room. The music in the room had changed, though I hadn’t been conscious of its transition from the calming music known to bathhouses and spas to something with bass, something more primal, something that matched the pulse aching through me. My back arched as the warmth continued to fill me. Yasin spoke, and I knew I was supposed to be listening, but I couldn’t stop picturing his mouth on me. I tilted my hair back slightly as I breathed in his masculine scent, exposing my neck to him. I pressed myself into him and parted my lips,hoping he’d kiss me. Maybe this was why I was in a robe. If he would just give the white, fluffy belt around my waist a tug…my breasts peaked at the thought as my body rolled again.
He’d left his hand on my arm. I wanted him to move it. To touch me. To stop talking. He was so goddamn pretty. He smelled indescribably good. Maybe if I moved closer…
The bell chimed again from the wall on the far side of the room. Jessabelle had one foot out the door as she ushered the suitors into the hall when she dismissed them to swiftly answer the persistent bell.
Rather than put the image on the glossy tablet as Astarte had done with Anath, Jessabelle picked up a slick black receiver. My eyes glazed over as I watched her, allowing her to disappear into the shadow like ink blotting over paper. I’d hardly been aware of the way my body continued to arch until my upper back rested on the table. My robe slipped off a single shoulder, exposing it to the world. Operating with a mind of its own, one of my legs wrapped around Yasin’s and slid it gradually upward.
For no reason other than hazy amusement, half of my attention remained on Jessabelle while my body coursed with desire. She was in the room, and I didn’t care. It would have been no more important to me than the episode of a sitcom that had played in the background the first time I’d met a client. Except I wanted this client. I thirsted for him. I needed him.
I caught Jessabelle’s hiss as she repeated the word. “A cambion? That’s not possible—”
Gibberish words. Nonsense. Not quite English. Not quite anything else, either.
Jessabelle paused while the person on the other end continued to speak. The word she’d said into the receiver was one I knew from somewhere. The distant, unimportant memory of a university glass, of mythology, of a historical figure, magic, a something or other…it dissolved into me, wanting to sense lips around my nipple, to feel gentle suctionon my breast. I grazed my fingers along my collar and moved my hips again as I felt how soft the fabric was, how the dim lighting was as perfect as an orange-red glow.
“I understand the implications,” she said. “Yes, I fully comprehend the opportunity. I don’t understand how he—”
More silence from Jessabelle as I admired her curves, watching her berry-dark mouth, the curve of her hips, her ass, her breasts. I wondered if she’d join us and extended a hand idly toward her, hoping she’d accept my bid. I wanted to touch her soft skin, to taste her, to feel her. I wanted mouths and hands; I wanted every nerve ending to dance with desire and satisfaction. The need heightened with each new throb of the bass as the music continued to fill the room. It was louder with every passing second until I could barely hear anything else.
