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  What did it mean, anyway—deflowering? Amalthia had said it was some kind of royal tradition and from the smirk on her face, it was probably humiliating in some way. She imagined wearing a ridiculous flouncy green gown, like the kind favored at Court, covered in some kind of flowers that her groom-to-be would have to pick off while everyone watched. That would be embarrassing…

  Brynn pushed it from her mind. She had enough to worry about without agonizing about the future. And anyway, though the rumor certainly was that her father was taking offers for her hand in marriage, she hadn’t heard that he’d accepted anyone yet. So maybe her joining and all the traditions and bother that went with it were far in the future. Brynn hoped so, but she really didn’t care. As long as she had Varin at her side, she felt she would be safe no matter who she joined with or where she went. She would simply have to wait and worry about the future when it happened.

  That night she tossed and turned, unable to get to sleep—restless again and not just because of the usual reasons. She’d had a short, unsatisfying talk with Varin that evening—it seemed as though he was tense and on edge, though she couldn’t tell why. Which was one reason Brynn hadn’t asked him about what Amalthia had said, though that ominous word—deflowering—still rang in her mind.

  At last she fell asleep but instead of dreaming of Varin practicing in the Arena, she found herself somewhere else entirely…

  She was in a dark cave of some kind—a humid, close tunnel that felt too warm and stank of something awful. Garbage? No—rotting flesh, Brynn realized. It smelled the same way it had in the music room at the convent after a rat had died behind the wall.

  Brynn shivered with disgust and covered her nose. All around her was a low buzzing hum that seemed somehow organic although she couldn’t exactly say why.

  “Hello? Is anyone here?” She stepped carefully, finding that her slippers sank into the soggy ground in a most unpleasant way. When she reached down to feel what she was standing in, her fingers came away sticky and the smell on them was sweet and meaty. Disgusted, she wiped her hand on her skirts and called out again. But her voice didn’t carry very far—it seemed to fall flat in the moist, warm closeness.

  Brynn began to feel afraid.

  “Hello?” she whispered, taking another step. Still no one answered. Suddenly the narrow tunnel opened out into a large, dim room. The humming sound grew louder but she still couldn’t see what was making the noise. There was a gust of foul-smelling wind against her face and something flew past her—something huge.

  Brynn gave a cry and dodged to the side. Her hand found the wall and she followed it blindly, letting her fingertips trail along it as she walked, looking for something—anything—that might lead her out of here, wherever “here” was.

  After following the wall, which was filled with cool, bumpy rocks for some time, Brynn saw something pale that glimmered in the dim light and caught her attention. She dared to take a step towards it and saw it was embedded in the wall she’d been following but she still couldn’t quite make it out.

  Stepping closer, she saw that it was a white rock but it had strange hollows in it. And the curve of it was somehow familiar.

  The light got a little brighter and suddenly she saw the object for what it was—a skull. Looking at it in horror, Brynn realized the wall was filled with skulls—made of skulls. They were the cool, bumpy things she’d been running her fingers over as she felt for a way out.

  “Oh,” she whispered, snatching her hand away. “Oh, Goddess above…”

  And then the eyes of the first skull opened—although how it could have eyes in the black pits of its sockets, Brynn didn’t know. They flashed poison green at her and the white bone jaw unhinged and talked.

  “Kill me,” it said, and it spoke with the Lady Amalthia’s voice. “Kill me, Brynn—I want to die. I’m dead already—we all are. Kill me!”

  Brynn woke with a scream on her lips and suddenly Varin was there, a naked sword in his hand, scanning the darkness for threats.

  “What is it? What happened?” he asked in a low, tense voice. “I felt your distress and then I heard you scream. Is someone here?”

  “N-no…” Brynn gulped, trying to push back tears. “It was a dream” she said, trying to reassure herself as much as him. “It was only a dream…only a dream, oh Goddess.”

  “Brynn?” The big Kindred sheathed his sword and sat on the edge of her bed. The bluish-silver light from Galen’s moon showed a worried expression on his face. “You all right?” he asked her softly. “Want to talk about it?”

  Brynn didn’t. What she wanted to do was crawl across her bed and into his massive arms for comfort. She was already reaching for him when she remembered his obedience band. Not wanting to hurt him, she drew back and wrapped her arms around her knees instead, squeezing herself tight to try and stop the shivers that coursed through her.

  “Brynn?” he said again. “Come on, little one—talk to me. Tell me what you saw.”

  Hesitantly, she did, stumbling over the words as she tried to describe the terror she’d felt. Varin’s face grew dark as he listened and he frowned when she came to the part about the skull speaking in Amalthia’s voice.

  “It was awful,” she whispered. “And…and I feel so terrible for having it. Amalthia was being so nasty to me today but I don’t…don’t wish her dead. I mean, I don’t really want to kill her.”

  “Of course you don’t—you’re too innocent to take a life,” he growled. “But I don’t like your dream. It feels…wrong.”

  “It felt wrong to me too!” Brynn exclaimed. “And it was so real. I could smell that rotten smell that comes when something has died. And the ground under my feet was squishy and sticky and smelled like raw meat. And the skulls felt…” She trailed off, shivering—unable to talk about the bumpy, smooth texture under her fingertips.

  “I don’t like it,” Varin growled. “But there’s nothing we can do about it now. I’ll see if I dream it too—see what you saw—next time I rest. For now it’s best you try to get back to sleep, Princess.”

  “But what if it comes back?” Brynn protested. “I…I just can’t go back to sleep right now. Please…” She leaned forward, still wishing she could touch him. Varin leaned towards her as well and she had the idea he was wishing the same thing. “Please, stay with me a little while, Varin,” she whispered. “Talk to me. We…we didn’t talk much tonight.”

  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve just been kind of…on edge lately.”

  “Why?” Brynn asked, honestly curious. She tried to laugh. “Are you having the same kinds of problems in the Arena when you practice that I’m having with my ladies in waiting?”

  He smiled briefly, his teeth glinting white in the moonlight.

  “Hardly, although there are some pretty tough sons-of-bitches down in the training rings. But I’d rather fight any one of them any day than have a bunch of mean girls following me around all the time.”

  “I agree,” Brynn said wholeheartedly. “Even if I don’t know how to fight.”

  Varin frowned. “You should learn. It’s not always a safe world for females.”

  “But I have you to protect me,” Brynn said softly.

  “I know, little one.” He sighed unhappily. “But there are some things I can’t protect you from.”

  “Like what?” Brynn asked.

  “The male you’re going to join with—whenever your father picks one,” Varin rumbled, scowling. “I’ll be with you every step of the way but I won’t be allowed into your marriage chamber with you, little one.”

  “Oh,” Brynn whispered in a small voice. She thought of how the big Kindred had explained making love—of letting a male thrust his shaft between her legs and shoot his seed inside her. But when she imagined those things, it was always Varin’s face she saw above her, his deep, growling voice in her ear. She didn’t even want to try to imagine anyone else doing that to her, she realized. The very i
dea made her feel shaky and sick.

  “I’m sorry, Princess—I didn’t mean to distress you.” Varin reached for her again, as though he couldn’t help it. His hand landed benignly on her foot, which was covered by the blanket and he squeezed comfortingly.

  “Don’t—I don’t want to hurt you,” Brynn protested, but she couldn’t quite make herself move away from his touch. How she wished she could feel his warm arms wrapped around her!

  “Doesn’t hurt as long as it’s not bare skin,” Varin told her. “But I’ll leave you alone if you want.”

  “Really?” Brynn straightened up. “Your…your obedience band doesn’t shock you if you’re not touching my bare skin?”

  “That’s the way it works,” he said simply, lifting his left arm to show the black band. “It senses skin-to-skin contact between you and me and lets me know I need to keep my hands off.”

  “But you’re not hurting now?” Brynn looked down at his hand, still resting lightly on her foot.

  “No.” He shook his head.

  “Good—I’m so glad.” Brynn gathered the sheet, which had become tangled and twisted during her nightmare, and wrapped it firmly around her shoulders. Then she looked at the big Kindred appealingly. “Varin,” she said in a small voice. “Would you…could you…come over here? Come closer to me—beside me?” She patted the thick gelafoam mattress appealingly. “Please?”

  He sighed. “Gods, little one—I really shouldn’t. Shouldn’t be sitting here on your bed at all, let alone getting closer.”

  “Please?” Brynn whispered again and shivered. “That was such an awful dream and I just…just need some company right now.”

  He seemed to weigh the consequences for a moment, then sighed.

  “All right. I shouldn’t but I will.”

  “Thank you,” Brynn murmured gratefully.

  Before she knew it, his big, muscular body was right beside her own smaller, sheet-wrapped one, and she was leaning against his side feeling incredibly warm and comforted.

  “Better, little one?” he asked, draping an arm around her shoulders.

  “Mmm…so much better,” Brynn said, cuddling against him. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

  “Nope—no bare skin.” He pulled her closer and she sighed and relaxed against him. Goddess above but he smelled so good. Like spice and leather and clean, masculine musk. She felt incredibly tiny and secure curled in the circle of his arm—as though nothing could ever hurt her because her Kindred would always be there to protect her.

  It amazed her that she could be so comfortable with him when all other males seemed like strange and frightening creatures to her convent-trained eyes. But Varin felt like safety—felt like home.

  She leaned her head against the left side of his chest—the side marked with her name—and listened to the steady deep drumming of his heart. It was almost enough to lull her to sleep but then Brynn thought of something she wanted to ask him.

  “Varin?” she murmured, tilting her chin to look up at him.

  “Mmm?” He sounded relaxed but alert, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, just his enormous black boots hanging off the side so as not to mark the sheets.

  “You never told me why you were so tense,” Brynn said.

  “Hmm?” He frowned slightly, looking down at her.

  “When you apologized for being short with me earlier,” Brynn reminded him. “You said you were tense—on edge—but you didn’t say why.”

  “Oh, well…” He shifted, his muscular bulk making the bed creak. “I…don’t know if I should say.”

  “Why not? We talk about everything else,” Brynn pointed out. “You’re my best friend here—my only friend.”

  “Friend. Right.” He sighed. “Don’t you mean slave?”

  “You know I don’t think of you the way the others do,” Brynn said. “We know each other now. And in a way—I guess because of the dreams—it seems like we’ve always known each other.”

  “And I’ve always felt…the way I feel for you,” he said in a soft, low voice.

  Brynn’s heart began to pound for some reason.

  “Oh? And…and how do you feel about me?”

  Varin rubbed the back of his neck and shifted again. For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer.

  “Like any good slave feels for his mistress,” he said at last. “Protective. Possessive. Like I want to wrap you up and keep you safe from the whole Goddess damned world.”

  “Oh,” Brynn whispered. She had a feeling there was something else he wanted to say and she wished he would say it. But she didn’t know how to ask him so instead she said, “So tell me why you’ve been tense? You promised you would.”

  “No I didn’t. Now you’re putting words in my mouth.” He rumbled soft laughter that vibrated her entire body since she was leaning against him.

  “Only a little,” Brynn protested. “But come on—please tell me. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Now there’s a first—the Mistress offering to help her slave,” he murmured. “At least in the Galen royal palace. But no—there’s nothing.”

  “It might help to talk about it, though,” Brynn prodded.

  He laughed again. “Persistent little thing, aren’t you? All right—I’ll give you a hint. Have you noticed there’s been something missing from your dreams of me lately?”

  “No, I—wait!” Brynn suddenly felt herself blush all over. “You’re…you haven’t…haven’t been stroking your shaft,” she whispered at last. “I mean, not that I’ve seen, anyway.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” he rumbled, nodding. “You got it, little one.”

  “But…why?” Brynn looked up at him. “I…I thought you liked it. You said it was wrong to deny the pleasure the Goddess gives us the capacity to feel.”

  “Yes but you said it bothered you,” he murmured. “And it occurred to me that it wasn’t right for me to, uh, make you watch me doing that. You’re so innocent you didn’t even know about the facts of life—you shouldn’t be watching me stroke my shaft.”

  “I’m past the age of consent!” Brynn said indignantly. “And besides…” She was feeling short of breath for some reason but she made herself go on. “I…I guess I don’t really mind so much,” she whispered at last. “Watching you in my dreams, I mean.”

  “I thought you did,” Varin said. “After all, you didn’t follow up on the challenge I gave you to try it yourself—at least not that I could see.”

  “I…tried a little bit,” Brynn admitted, feeling her cheeks get hot. “Under the covers, like you said.”

  “And?” he rumbled, looking down at her.

  “And I…couldn’t get there. Couldn’t reach that peak you were talking about.” Brynn blew out a breath. “It was very frustrating.”

  “That’s because sex is a tension reliever,” Varin said. “If you can’t get what you need, tension builds up. Frustration too.”

  “So you feel tense and irritable when you don’t…don’t stroke yourself?”

  He nodded and shrugged. “Sure. Especially if you’re used to doing it on a regular basis.”

  Brynn sighed. “I don’t understand why I didn’t ever see you doing it before. But back at the convent, all my dreams of you just seemed to melt away the minute I woke up. Now that I know you…” She gave a little shiver. “They’re so vivid.”

  “My dreams of you have always been vivid, Princess,” Varin murmured. “But it’s nice you’re returning the favor.”

  “You can do it.” Brynn looked up at him, her face feeling hot. “I mean you can…can start stroking your shaft again. I don’t mind. In fact I think I kind of…” She ducked her head, blushing. “Maybe kind of like it. Like watching you.”

  “Mmm…then I’ll be sure to put on a show for you next time.” Varin’s voice was deep and interested. “But what about you? You too nervous to try again, even with me guarding your door?”

  “I want to try,” Brynn admitted. “I just don’t seem to know how
to…to get there.”

  “Well, sometimes it takes a little practice,” Varin rumbled. “But I have something for you I think might help.”

  “You do? What?” Brynn sat up, looking at him with interest.

  “This.” He dug in the pocket of his tight leather trousers and pulled out a small velvet case, no longer than Brynn’s index finger. He gave it to her and she opened it and looked inside.

  There was a tiny cylinder, again about as long as one of her fingers. Brynn picked it out of the case and studied it. The cylinder shone silver in the moonlight and was heavier than it looked.

  “What’s this?” she asked, frowning.

  “That, Princess, is a tickle-teaser. Small, quiet, and oh-so-discrete,” Varin told her, smiling a little. “I’d be willing to bet every lady in the Court has one—or something like it.”

  “A tickle-teaser?” Brynn weighed it in her hand. “It looks a little like a tube of that sticky lip-smear my ladies in waiting are always wearing.” Experimentally, she twisted the cylinder to see if the top would come off and reveal a stick of the cosmetic she’d been talking about.

  The top didn’t come off but her twisting did have an effect. The little silver cylinder came to life, buzzing between her fingers like a quiet, busy insect.

  “Oh!” Brynn gasped and dropped it.

  Varin caught it before it could hit the sheet and handed it back to her, still buzzing.

  “Here. Don’t lose it before you can use it.”

  “Use it? Use it how?” Brynn looked at the sleek little silver cylinder buzzing in the palm of her hand.

  “Where do you think?” The big Kindred’s eyes were sleepy with amusement…and maybe something else.

  “On my—oh!” She looked up at him. “Really? That’s what it’s for?”

  “Thought you might need it,” he murmured. “I, uh, felt a little of your frustration through my bond to you,” he admitted. “Hope you don’t mind.”