“H-how much further do you think we have to go?” Wensel asked.
“How the hell should I know?” Comron snapped and moved away, irritated that Vaush would force him to endure this. Seven hells! This was the last thing he needed.
He turned his back to Vaush and forced his thoughts down a different path. Crausin must be going out of his mind by now searching for him. Comron did his best to help the Duke keep his mental afflictions under control. But when they were parted for too long, Crausin would often lose the battle for his sanity. The stress of not knowing whether Comron was dead or alive would certainly send him over the edge. All of this on the eve of the sector banking conference!
The sounds of splashing water and Vaush’s elation caught his attention.
The Prince of Nethic allowed his gaze to drift toward the forbidden Ti-Larosian woman. The water rose to her collar bone, the straps of her brassiere indicated that she wasn’t completely naked. Her dark silky curls were slicked down her back. Her hazel eyes were dazzling, her smile playful, her lips inviting…
Kraiten in the sea! Why must she torment me this way?
Wanting the Ti-Larosian this way was every bit as treasonous as the assassin’s murderous intentions. He would not betray Nethic, not for a fleeting moment of bliss. But there was something that he feared more…that a few moments with Vaush Bastionli would not nearly be enough to satisfy him. He’d spent the previous night more worked up and bothered than a hormonally-charged teenager. And from this morning, he remembered the swell of desire that rushed through him when she pressed in close to him. Her sweet scent, the way her hand felt upon his flesh, the way her enigmatic eyes drew him in and held him captive.
He even found himself wanting to confide in her, to share things with her he’d kept locked away from the rest of the world. Though she was Ti-Larosian, he instinctively knew that his secrets would be safe with her. That his very heart would be safe with this wondrous creature…
The thought brought him up short. How had these feelings developed so quickly? The longing he felt for her ran far deeper than lust. The word love kept darting around in his mind, as alien as the concept was to him. As a result of Crausin’s draconian tutelage in matters of the heart, Comron could honestly say he’d never been in love. Lust, yes and often, but love, never.
From his early adolescence, Comron could hear his father repeating the lesson, “Romantic love is just an illusion we create to rationalize the effort we go through to have sex.” He taught Comron to avoid the trappings of romantic love at all cost. At the age of fifteen, Crausin presented Comron with a young courtesan for the sole purpose of deflowering him. Wanting him to be no stranger to the wiles and mysteries of women, Crausin saw to it that Comron had regular visits from a host of skilled courtesans, lest he develop an attachment to any particular one.
In fact, Crausin encouraged Comron to bed as many women as he desired. His only prohibition was against forming feelings and attachments. For that would be a strict violation of their oath. To this end, Crausin had Comron scrupulously followed and monitored. Not a moment of Comron’s personal life went unobserved by Crausin. If ever he noticed Comron developing a fondness for any particular woman, he would order Comron to share the woman with him or end the relationship immediately. Complications were to be avoided.
With a growing sense of disquiet, Comron recalled the one crucial incident that occurred some eleven years ago. It was during his first year abroad at university. He’d developed a fairly casual relationship with a young woman named Rachel. The speed at which Crausin learned of it was astonishing. Immediately, Crausin insisted that he bring the girl to him or end it. Desiring to exert his independence, Comron refused and continued to see the young woman. It wasn’t
“How the hell should I know?” Comron snapped and moved away, irritated that Vaush would force him to endure this. Seven hells! This was the last thing he needed.
He turned his back to Vaush and forced his thoughts down a different path. Crausin must be going out of his mind by now searching for him. Comron did his best to help the Duke keep his mental afflictions under control. But when they were parted for too long, Crausin would often lose the battle for his sanity. The stress of not knowing whether Comron was dead or alive would certainly send him over the edge. All of this on the eve of the sector banking conference!
The sounds of splashing water and Vaush’s elation caught his attention.
The Prince of Nethic allowed his gaze to drift toward the forbidden Ti-Larosian woman. The water rose to her collar bone, the straps of her brassiere indicated that she wasn’t completely naked. Her dark silky curls were slicked down her back. Her hazel eyes were dazzling, her smile playful, her lips inviting…
Kraiten in the sea! Why must she torment me this way?
Wanting the Ti-Larosian this way was every bit as treasonous as the assassin’s murderous intentions. He would not betray Nethic, not for a fleeting moment of bliss. But there was something that he feared more…that a few moments with Vaush Bastionli would not nearly be enough to satisfy him. He’d spent the previous night more worked up and bothered than a hormonally-charged teenager. And from this morning, he remembered the swell of desire that rushed through him when she pressed in close to him. Her sweet scent, the way her hand felt upon his flesh, the way her enigmatic eyes drew him in and held him captive.
He even found himself wanting to confide in her, to share things with her he’d kept locked away from the rest of the world. Though she was Ti-Larosian, he instinctively knew that his secrets would be safe with her. That his very heart would be safe with this wondrous creature…
The thought brought him up short. How had these feelings developed so quickly? The longing he felt for her ran far deeper than lust. The word love kept darting around in his mind, as alien as the concept was to him. As a result of Crausin’s draconian tutelage in matters of the heart, Comron could honestly say he’d never been in love. Lust, yes and often, but love, never.
From his early adolescence, Comron could hear his father repeating the lesson, “Romantic love is just an illusion we create to rationalize the effort we go through to have sex.” He taught Comron to avoid the trappings of romantic love at all cost. At the age of fifteen, Crausin presented Comron with a young courtesan for the sole purpose of deflowering him. Wanting him to be no stranger to the wiles and mysteries of women, Crausin saw to it that Comron had regular visits from a host of skilled courtesans, lest he develop an attachment to any particular one.
In fact, Crausin encouraged Comron to bed as many women as he desired. His only prohibition was against forming feelings and attachments. For that would be a strict violation of their oath. To this end, Crausin had Comron scrupulously followed and monitored. Not a moment of Comron’s personal life went unobserved by Crausin. If ever he noticed Comron developing a fondness for any particular woman, he would order Comron to share the woman with him or end the relationship immediately. Complications were to be avoided.
With a growing sense of disquiet, Comron recalled the one crucial incident that occurred some eleven years ago. It was during his first year abroad at university. He’d developed a fairly casual relationship with a young woman named Rachel. The speed at which Crausin learned of it was astonishing. Immediately, Crausin insisted that he bring the girl to him or end it. Desiring to exert his independence, Comron refused and continued to see the young woman. It wasn’t
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