Page 147 of The Satyr's Guilt
Lizette chuckled. Then she broke intooutright laughter, stifling the sounds with the palm of herhand.
“What’s so funny?” Jarek tacked onto anelbow, frowning up at Lizette.
“I would have paid to see the three of youon It’s a Small World.”
Kara smirked. “We missed it because theyrefused to go on it.”
Lizette stopped laughing when a curvaceouswoman in a gauzy, see-through dress strutted toward Jarek. Bangleson her ankles and wrists tinkled as her hips shifted from side toside. Reaching her goal, she trailed her fingers along hisshoulders, bending to whisper in his ear.
He waved her away. “No.”
Darius leaned toward Lizette. “A campfollower.”
“What’s… Oh.”
“I loved the frozen bananas.” Kara broke theuncomfortable silence. “No place here has them. Maybe we’re dueanother Sea World-Disneyland jaunt.”
Both Jarek and Darius shouted, “No.”
“You’re no fun.” Kara drew her lips into apout.
Chuckling again, Lizette glanced at thewoman Jarek had sent away. She leaned against a nearby tree,glaring in her direction.
Kara rose, stretching her arms overhead.“Time for bed.”
“Likewise.” When Darius left, the othermales near the fire nodded and took off.
Lizette wiggled into her thick,red-patterned cushion, making it more comfortable. She chewed onher thumbnail.
Jarek pushed higher on his elbow, tiltingtoward her, touching her neck where the slave mark had once marredher perfect skin. “The ouroboros fits you. You chose well. It is anancient symbol, the snake in a figure eight who eats its own tail.It means whole. That is what you will be.”
Lizette had something else on her mind,though, and wasn’t one to hold onto pressing thoughts. “You didn’thave to turn the woman down on my account.”
His thumb still caressed her neck. “Whatmakes you think I did?”
Her spine stiffened. “Did you?”
“Yes.”
When he settled back onto both arms, Lizettemissed the warmth of the djinn’s touch. She had grown to need him.No. She had at first. Now, she wanted him. Not as a crutchbut as a man.
“Darius said she’s a camp follower. Is thatlike a prostitute?”
Jarek relaxed against his cushion by thefire. “We don’t think of them in such a way. They provide anecessary service. They give blood to my vampires, arousal to mysatyrs and nymphs, orgasms to my demons.”
“Sex.”
“Of course. Where is this conversationgoing, Lizette? It’s not like you to be indirect. If you want toask something, do so.”
“Do you use them?” As she rotated her head,the strands of her hair moved like a swath of silk. She liked hernew bobbed cut.
The day before, she had awakened, gone intothe bathroom, and studied her reflection. Something was off. Thewoman in the mirror with the long hair was not her. She snagged apair of scissors and went to work, trimming it to just below herchin where she had worn it in New York. Surprisingly, her old selfdid not re-emerge. Instead, a new Lizette, a stronger Lizette,stared back.
“Yes. I use followers.” Jarek brushed awarrior braid over his shoulder.
“Are you in a serious relationship with oneof them?”
“No.”
