Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [132]
"It's not that," I said shortly.
The adept lowered her eyes. "Do you find me displeasing, my lord?"
"No." I drained my glass and set it down. "No, of course not." I touched her cheek, raising her chin. "What's your name?"
"Sephira, my lord." Her eyes were hazel, her tawny brows a shade darker than her golden hair. Sidonie's coloring, except for the eyes.
"Mine's Imriel," I told her.
She blushed, the blood rising visibly beneath her fair skin. There was somewhat appallingly erotic about her kneeling there, naked and vulnerable, while I sat fully clothed. "Yes, my lord, of course."
"You may use it, you know," I said. "My name."
Sephira shook her head. Averting her gaze, she leaned away and picked up a decanter of perry brandy, neatly refilling my glass. Her hair trailed over my clad legs, making my skin prickle all over. "Oh no, my lord. I couldn't."
"Why not?" I asked.
She replaced the decanter and folded her hands in her lap. "It's not done, my lord."
"So?" A wave of recklessness overcame me. I drank off the brandy, slamming down the glass. "Elua's Balls! Does it always matter what's done? Must we always be bound with restrictions? Look at this, this"—I waved my hand at the participants—"utter carnal madness. How can it matter what's done in the midst of this?"
"It matters to me, my lord." A note of stubborn pride crept into Sephira's voice.
"Why?" I asked, then sighed. "Never mind. I don't care." I tangled my fingers in her hair, gripping it hard, forcing her head up. It felt horribly good. "Why are you here?" I asked. "What do you want of me?"
"To please you, my lord," she breathed.
I tightened my grip. "That's not good enough."
"All right." A flare of defiancé crossed her face. "I want to see what Melisande Shahrazai's son is capable of."
I swore aloud and nearly slapped her. Sephira never flinched. Her breathing quickened, her breasts rising and falling visibly, pink nipples erect. I felt a thread of tension binding us together. It grew tighter as I gazed at her.
"This is a game of wills, isn't it?" I said slowly. "One I am losing."
"My lord." Sephira turned her head, kissing my palm that had nearly struck her. She took my hand in hers, stroking and kissing it. "It is within your power to give me what I crave," she whispered. "And it is within your power to withhold it. That is the only game that matters here." Her voice dropped lower. "Do you want me to beg you? I shall. Please, my lord. Allow me to please you."
"I can't." I looked at the scene beyond her. "Not like this."
"There are private chambers, my lord," she murmured.
Across the dungeon, Mavros met my gaze. He stood, legs braced, one hand twined in the hair of a kneeling adept who performed the languisement on him. Male or female; I couldn't tell from the bare slender back and glossy brown hair. Mavros' eyes were at once fever-bright and strangely grave. Roshana whispered in his ear, a crop held loosely in her hand.
I looked into the dark mirror of my desire and beheld my reflection.
"All right," I said. I got to my feet, swaying, dazed and a little drunk, dizzy from the opium fumes. "All right, then. Why not?" At my feet, Sephira knelt, looking hopefully up at me. I held out my hand to her. "Show me."
She led me first to the flagellary, opening its doors wide. "Will you choose, my lord?"
"I don't…" I swallowed hard. Almost of their own accord, my hands rose, touching the objects within. I selected a few items. My skin was hot and they felt cool to the touch. "Go on," I said, my voice thick.
Sephira led and I followed. Firelight danced over her naked skin. She had already begun to make her marque, a scrolling base of Valerian leaves etched on the small of her back, beginning to climb her spine. I watched the way her buttocks moved beneath it, round and enticing. With each step, it felt as though I were falling into an abyss, as though the floor was opening beneath me. And yet I kept going, following her to a private chamber, lit