“Maybe I should marry her off, eh?” Geza called. “No unmarried female is manageable. Then her husband could beather.”
“Why beat a woman when you can fuck her intosubmission?”
She met Petru’s eyes–he must be pissed off she’d walked away from him to use that kind of language–and lifted her glass in an ironicsalute.
“Sure, Petru asked me to marry you two,” Geza said. “I don’t think he understands the lifetime sentence that is, but I’m inclined to say yes because it would be funny, at least. His children would likely be shiftless, but he’d be brother to thePrince.”
“An honor,” Petru said. “And she isn’t stupid, or ugly, so there is hope for mychildren.”
“But would there be hope for mine?” Surah asked, staring into her wineglass,annoyed.
“I think that insult went over his head,” Geza said. “You should take the offer. It’s easier to manage a stupid male, and all he wants is status. He’d never get you if you were actually my father’s daughter. But he’s good enough for a concubine’s offspring.” He nudged one of the naked females lounging near him. “Get a bottle of wine,girl.”
“All of you are pigs,” Surah said, watching as the girl rose to her feet obediently; her long dark hair brushing slender shoulders as she pulled on a silk robe to cover hernudity.
“I didn’t say you could cover yourself,” Geza snapped, pinching a rosy nipple. “Go like this.” Her bottom lip trembled and she lowered her eyes, but she bowed, sayingnothing.
As the young woman passed, Surah grabbed her wrist. “Sit down,” she said. “He doesn’t mean it–he’s drunk. I’llgo.”
Geza snorted. “She chose to be here. She knows what thatmeans.”
“She’s a person,” Surah said. “Considering the original status of our mother, I would think you’d have a bit more respect for the one who servesyou.”
Geza surged to his feet, shoving people off him. Drunk or not, he was all a Prince should be. Tall and strong, even in human form, years of training with traditional steel weapons and in hand-to-hand combat honing his edge and physique. Though it was night, he wore his human form; the characteristic dark eyes and olive-gold skin of the race. Others in the suite were shifted to gargoyle, silky pearlescent-gray skin over muscles dense enough to feel like stone. Claw-tipped fingers held wineglasses and beer bottles with the grace of practice. The occasional fang flashing in laughter–or a snarl, satin rustle of membranous wings in every shade from pale gray, to night sky blue, to deep black underscoring theirotherness.
Geza’s wings unfurled, one of the few who could hold human form and manifest wings at the same time. Gargoyle historians insisted this rare ability was the seed of human belief in angels. Surah's brother didn’t look very angelic, though, knocking over at least one person near him, skin deepening to gray in hisanger.
Surah turned her back and walked away knowing it was beneath her brother’s dignity to attack when her back was turned. Most days, anyway. She corralled apaidservant–that’s what they were for, after all—and then returned to the party, mentally gathering herself to take her leave. She’d come for the wine and to make sure her face was shown around the palace often enough that brother dearest didn’t start to get paranoid about plots and stupidity. Councilor Sajal, a colleague of Lavinia Mogren, was always trying to stir updrama.
“Where’s the wine?” Gezademanded.
Surah sat back down, picking up her abandoned glass, and chugged down the contents. “Unless your servants have some magic I don’t know about, they have to actually walk down to the cellar, pick up the bottle, and walk it back up here. It’s gonna take a fewminutes.”
“You need to getlaid.”
Surah sniffed. “That’s your solution to war, famine, and the Black Death.Fucking.”
Geza nudged a young man, who detangled himself from the small group and stalked towards Surah, a sultry light in his dark eyes. He was shirtless, as barefoot as Shoeless Joe Jackson, with the button of his pants undone. Surah eyed him emotionlessly, appreciating the tone of his lean frame and golden-brown hue of his skin. But felt nothing, even when the man dropped to his knees, gaze trained on Surah with a sexy smile curving hismouth.
“I’ve had my eye on you,” the male said, a purr in his throat. “Sister to the Prince–and a doctor.Delicious.I’ve always wanted to play with a doctor’sstethoscope.”
Surah had to keep from laughing at the poor child–but the amusement served a purpose as graceful fingers slid up her inner thigh teasingly. Surah's head fell back onto the couch, eyes closing. For a moment, she allowed herself to just feel, enjoy the feather light touch of fingers playing with her. And as soon as her mental barriers began to crumble, an image formed behind her eyelids–an image spurred by an unfulfilled longing for someone she couldn’t have. A harsh, chiseled face replaced the young man in front of her, cool almond eyes warming with desire and the half-smile that sometimes peeked out on good days. And the recollection of her other ‘brother’ threw Surah out of the fantasy. She came crashing back to the presenttime.
“That’s enough,” she said, though gently. No reason to hurt the male’s pride. “I’ve had too much wine tonight. What’s yourname?”
“Austin,” the male replied. The exotic youth pulled away, hesitating for a moment. His hand brushed Surah's knee. “You drink too much, you know. I’ve watchedyou.”
Surah wasn’t the kind to get angry over truth. “Yeah, I know. Now, scat.” She softened the rejection, reaching out to touch a lock of mussedhair.
Austin grinned at her but rose to his feet obediently and left her alone. Surah put herself back together–and just in time. The last three people who she wanted to see her relaxed and vulnerable walked in bare moments later–three of Geza’s advisors, family heads with more decades of life under their belt than Surah and Geza combined. Their looks of disapproval werefamiliar.
“Prince,” Lavinia said. “Your meeting to finalize your nuptial contract is in the morning. It would offend your bride if you arrived late–or inebriated. Her father has already won concessions from us we didn’t want to give. You can’t belate.”
The only reason Lavinia got away with saying ‘can’t’ to Geza’s inflated ego was because she’d practically raised him–and she was heir of one of the more powerful families. She waded through the groups of revelers, once again pulling aside the cloth of her long skirt to avoid touching anyone, or anything. Surah wondered what poor staffer had spent the day ironing the dozens of perfectly crisped narrowpleats.
One of the males, nostrils flared in distaste, glanced at Surah. “I should have known you would be here,human.”
Surah rose, leaving the empty wineglass on the floor. “Half,” she corrected him as she walked towards thedoor.
