Raine: The Lords of Satyr by Elizabeth Amber

of the Adriatic Sea.
    She picked up her bauta from the seat behind her where she’d placed it, preparing to put it on.
    Raine gathered himself and refastened his trousers.
    “You’ll come to my hotel?” he asked. If she refused, he’d have to take her there by force, then bespell her to wipe her memory of it later. He couldn’t let her out of his sight until he’d regained his olfactory abilities and could test whether she truly was Faerie.
    Her fingers stilled on the mask, then she put it on and raised her face to his. “For how long?”
    “The night, possibly longer.” Depending on how long this cold fouled his nose.
    “You want to lie with me.”
    Bacchus! He’d never wanted anything more in his life. He nodded curtly.
    “And you plan to pay me?”
    “Name your price. It doesn’t matter.”
    “You’re wealthy then?” she asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Very wealthy?”
    “Yes.”
    “But not Venetian. I’ve not seen you before.”
    “No. From Tuscany.”

10
    G ood, thought Jordan. He wasn’t local. Still, did she dare accept him?
    He reopened the drapes in anticipation of their arrival. She surveyed him in the increased light, feeling braver within her mask than she might have without it. His dark clothes and hair were severe in style, yet within the bounds of current fashion and fastidiously kept. His throat rose as a sculpted masculine column from his starched collar. His jaw was strong, rigid, and dusted with the blue-black shadow of his evening stubble. His lips looked soft and were well shaped. His cheekbones were high and flushed from the effects of her recent tipping. Like a sundial, the strong blade of his nose cast a shadow across his face.
    But his eyes were what drew her. Heavily lashed, they were an unusual color—that of the surface of the lagoon on a stormy morning. Though whatever turbulent storms raged within him were now tightly leashed.
    This handsome man believed her to be a woman. A woman who appealed to him enough that he wanted to employ her for an entire night of debauchery in his hotel chambers.
    This man—this beautiful man—was offering to put that huge cock of his, which had so recently been in her mouth, between her legs as well. If she went with him now, he would lay her down on his bed and push her woman’s slit wide with it. It would tunnel deep inside her, and deeper still, until it was fully seated.
    What would it feel like? Deep within her secret core, she yearned, wanting to find out.
    Would he stroke her to orgasm with it? Was it even possible for her strange body to achieve one? Her cock had spilled many times, always in her sleep. But she’d never yet had a woman’s orgasm.
    Due to the years of poking and prodding by medical men, she wondered if she had been disfigured internally in some way that made such an occurrence impossible. If Salerno caught her again, he might ruin her beyond redemption.
    This man might be offering her the only chance she’d ever have to experience a pleasurable joining as a woman. And she wanted it. How she wanted it. This one night. Together with this man.
    But what if, in the course of such an encounter, he discovered that her body was a blend of both man and woman. What then? Things could turn ugly.
    Still, she couldn’t seem to make herself refuse him. Rationalizations sprang to her mind like weeds in a garden of good sense. She could hide what she was from him, she told herself. Take what she desired. All she had to do was set some rules to ensure he did not discover the truth.
    “Very well. For the night then,” she agreed at last.
    The gondola had slowed to a standstill. It lurched once, then twice, as both of the gondoliers leaped off, preparing to tether the boat to land. Nervousness fizzed in her.
    “However I wish to set some rules for our engagement,” she added belatedly.
    The man nodded, not questioning what she meant. Stepping outside, he reached to assist her from the felze.
    A thrill coursed through her as she put her