For the last post of the day, I'm putting up an excerpt from the last of the Across the Stars trilogy. There's an old saying that revenge is a dish best served cold. I thik the characters in this story would definately disagree. Goodnight!
Lócarë Sereth paced her sleeping accommodation above the common room at the Full Stein Inn. The place was noisy and crowded, and the men had leered when she’d entered and paid for the room for two nights. Ribald offers of service flowed over her as she crossed to the stairs. She chose the room carefully to meet her needs, with access to a fire escape leading off the balcony.
She’d deliberately chosen an out-of-the-way meeting place, somewhere people wouldn’t pay close attention to a man of Fyn Du-ket’s caliber. The taste of his name on her lips soured the wine as it crossed her tongue. The man was despicable. The fact that he still lived after the lives he’d ruined was an outrage that made her blood boil. He should have been castrated the moment he’d turned himself in to the authorities. But no. The bastard had offered monetary reparations, and the magistrate had accepted on behalf of the council, the greedy bastards. She’d protested the pirate’s pardon, but the council had turned deaf ears to her pleas. Too bad, so sad. After all, where was the harm in what he’d done? It hardly mattered that the man had ruined her sister’s life—had made her a virtual sex slave to the dissolute prick to whom she was now married.
“Soon, Nera,” she said as she paced the room. “Soon you shall have your revenge.”
Lócarë and her sister, Nera, had lived sheltered lives. Their knowledge of men was limited to the loving care of a doting father and protective brother. With the untimely death of their mother, any chance they might have had to learn the true nature of men had been taken from them. For the sisters, hidden behind the walls of a rich merchant’s estate, any mention of sex had been a taboo subject, even on Nera’s wedding day. At twenty-three, Lócarë had been as ignorant of the ways of men as her younger sister and, therefore, had no womanly advice to give her sister except to let her husband guide her. Nera left her father’s home an innocent young bride and returned to Agovea an accomplished siren, trained by none other than Fyn Du-ket.
The stories Nera told were the stuff of nightmares—a wedding night filled with pain and tears, her husband sending her to Du-ket to learn how to satisfy his appetites, the fear, then the revelation that pain could be an erotic tool to enhance pleasure. Lócarë had been sickened by Nera’s tales of depraved sex acts and her husband’s gifting of her to honored guests. Yes, Kamil was to blame, and he too would answer, but first Du-ket would get a taste of his own medicine.
The twisted bastard. Nera actually wore a golden collar and sat at her husband’s feet. At his feet, as though she were some kind of pet! Lócarë jumped at the sound of a heavy knock at the door. She met the determined gaze of her manservant and nodded. The heavily muscled servant slipped out onto the balcony as Lócarë went to the door.
“Who’s there?” She patted the tightly coiled bun at her nape and slid a pair of spectacles into place. A small disguise but enough for a man as superficial as the one waiting outside her door.
“Fyn Du-ket, lady. I believe you’re expecting me.”
“Indeed.” She pasted on a welcoming smile and swung the door open. His big frame filled the doorway while brilliant green eyes assessed her with a distinct lack of interest. He didn’t find her attractive, which was fine with her. She stepped aside.
“Captain Du-ket, do come in.” Said the spider to the fly. “I’m very pleased to see you.”
She gestured him into the room, suppressing a shiver. Gods he smelled good, like fresh lemons and the scent of the sea breeze. I will not find him attractive. The prettier the package, the more dangerous the gift. The Agovea pit viper was a brightly colored, exotically patterned snake, but it was also the most deadly. Its bite meant instant death. She’d do well to remember that when dealing with the infamous pirate. “May I offer you some refreshment? Some wine, perhaps?”
“Wine would be nice, thank you—Miss Sereth, is it?”
“It is, but you must call me Lócarë.” She poured the wine and handed him a specially treated glass.
“Aren’t you going to join me?” the pirate asked pointedly.
So, he was suspicious, was he? With good reason, to be sure. A man like him would have made many enemies over the years. She poured herself a glass to dispel his unease.
“This is a very nice wine.” She held the glass up to the light. Her voice was steady, conversational, even. “Comes from my father’s vineyard.” She swirled the contents of her glass and sniffed. “There’s just a hint of sweetness to subdue the dryness of the grape, but not so much as to overwhelm the palate.”
Du-ket took a sip, nodding politely. “It’s quite good.” He drank again, blinked once and shook his head in attempt to dislodge the effects of the highly potent sedative coating the interior of his glass. She laughed when his eyes narrowed. “What the hell have you done?”
Lócarë crossed the room and stood before him. He didn’t look so fierce now. She could handle him. “Feeling woozy, Captain Du-ket? I expect you are. I had to give you a fairly large dose, but don’t worry, it shouldn’t kill you.”
“Who the hell—”
He staggered toward her, and she sidestepped, not bothering to try to catch him as he crashed to the floor. She looked up as her manservant entered the room.
“That’ll leave a mark,” Yega said.
Lócarë shrugged. “He deserves that and more.” She nudged him with the tip of her boot to make sure he was out cold. “Get him to Agritrul.”
“We’re going to Old Spring Manor, then?”
“Yes. It’s quite private, and no one will bother us. Besides, Father wants me to oversee the villagers’ appeals. We’ll kill two birds with one stone.”
Yega hoisted Du-ket over his shoulder. “He’s a heavy bird, this one. I hope you haven’t bitten off more than you can chew, Miss Lócarë.”
“You just get him there, Yega, and be sure to attach the midite collar as soon as you get him to the transport. Dump him in the brig. I’ll be along shortly.”
Lócarë gathered up her belongings and securely locked the chest holding the items she’d purchased specifically for Du-ket’s education. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to the task she’d decided to take on in her sister’s name, but Du-ket needed to be taught a lesson. Women were not toys to be used for a man’s enjoyment.
She’d teach him some respect if it was the last thing she did.
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