Page 95 of Kissed By the Gods
“You don’t know that,” I argue, deciding to abandon all effort at pretense. “You can’t possibly know that.”
“It’s actually a very good assumption on my part,” he says. “Ryot’s gifted, remember?”
I roll my eyes a little. “We’re all gifted.”
“Arrogant little thing, aren’t you?” He smirks at me as Thalric takes a seat next to him. I pretend not to notice the slight brush of their hands when Thalric takes his seat, and the way Nyrica’s posture shifts toward Thalric, like a flower seeking the sun.
I notice the twitch of a smile that plays at the corner of Thalric’s mouth when Nyrica says something under his breath. I notice the way they don’t quite look at each other, not directly, but how their awareness of each other is… constant.
And I start thinking back, to the way Thalric always ends up seated next to Nyrica, to the way they spar harder than anyone else, but never leave bruises. The way they disappear sometimes, and none of the other cast members ask where they’ve gone.
My eyes flick to Nyrica as he leans in slightly, bumping Thalric’s shoulder with his own. Thalric doesn’t react, but I swear his oh-so-serious facealmostgrins.
No distractions… But this doesn’t look like a distraction. It looks like a lifeline.
I jerk in confusion and anger andwant,and slam my fork down on my plate. The ceramic cracks down the middle.
Nyrica barely looks up from his food. “You either need a good rest or a good fuck, love. You’re getting moody.”
“I vote a good fuck,” says Faelon as he slides his tray of food onto the table to my right. “We could all use a good fuck. It’s been too long.”
“For Serephelle’s sake, man, you can’t say that in front of Leina!” Caius says, plopping down to my left. Kiernan and Leif follow.
Nyrica snorts out a laugh. “What, you think because she’s a woman she doesn’t enjoy sex?”
Caius, the poor man, starts to blush, and I take pity on him as the blush starts to creep up into his hairline. I pat his hand and smile at him. It’s not entirely his fault he was raised to treat women like they’re made of glass. Of boring, tedious, lifeless, sexless glass.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not like any of us will ever have sex again, so it’s a moot point,” I placate the group, and dig into my own food. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how much food is readily available here. I shove back the guilt that always comes at mealtime and tell myself, for the one thousandth time, if I don’t eat, I won’t be strong enough to protect Seb and Leo.
I’m so focused on my food, it takes me a few breaths to realize the table has gone unusually quiet—none of the usual teasing or raucous laughter I’ve come to expect from my cast—and I look up from my venison to find six sets of intense eyes trained on me, their expressions all showing some level of discomfort and bafflement.
“Uhhh … what do you mean by that?” Nyrica is the one to ask, breaking the awkward silence that fell over the table.
“You know…” I slash my fork in the air in an X gesture, probably looking as confused as they do right now.
Nyrica’s brow wrinkles as he squints at me. “No,” he says, mimicking the way I motioned with my fork, but making the mark for a question, instead. “I absolutely do not know what you’re talking about.”
I lean forward over the table—I donotwant the rest of the men in the provisionary to overhear this—and the six men seated around me lean in toward the center of the table. “You know,” I make a tiny little X in the air with my fork again. “The no sex rule,” I whisper.
Faelon looks absolutely horrified. Caius and Kiernan both look awkward. Nyrica looks like he’s about to burst into either tears or laughter—and knowing him, I can guess which. Thalric and Leif both look confused. It doesn’t take long at all for Nyrica to lose his battle with his self-control, and he snorts out the first hint of laughter. The sound causes even Thalric to tip his lips into a hint of a smile. He only ever smiles when Nyrica laughs.
“Why is this funny?” I hiss at Nyrica.
“Who told you we’re not allowed to have sex?” Nyrica counters.
“Well.” I think back to what Ryot said when he kissed me in the tent, and I wonder how much of that to share. Probably none. “It’s something I picked up on,” I decide to say. “That Altor aren’t allowed to have sex.”
Nyrica snorts again. “Uh huh.”
Faelon has abandoned any effort at eating, and he looks utterly, completely serious when he turns to me, as if the fate of the world—or the fate of my vagina—is riding on what he says next.
“Of course we’re allowed to have sex. The Crimson Feather is a pleasure house at the outskirts of Edessa that caters to us,” he explains. “We rotate when we’re allowed to go.”
“But—” I start, but then I stop, desperately trying to remember exactly what Ryot said. The specifics are hazy, probably because my brain glitched about the same time Ryot pressed his mouth to mine. “The Crimson Feather is abrothel?I thought it was a gaming hell.”
“No, it’s not a brothel,” Faelon says the last word with some disdain. “It’s a pleasure house. Don’t worry. There are men there, too, if you lean that way.”
My mouth drops open, and even Caius laughs. I cannot imagine the look on my face. This is so … dirty. Thalric is the only one eyeing me with a hint of understanding.
