cheeks.
Michael’s grandfather had wanted Michael to take Al en, Eldering’s heir, for his cethe. The old earl’s brutish, self-centered son
had certainly deserved his fate, but after three weeks in Al en Eldering’s company, Michael could not stomach the prospect. Sin-
catcher or no, Stefn was at least pleasant to look upon.
And Stefn was stil an Eldering. For al his delicate prettiness, he was just one more in a long line of butchers and rapists.
Given the chance, he’d carry on his family’s bloody work without turning a hair. Loth knew he’d been quick enough to drive a dagger
into poor Auron!
Grabbing the chair, Michael tipped the youth out of it.
Welcome to hell, Hunter-spawn!
Stefn woke at once, scrambling clumsily to his feet and nearly fel again backing hastily away from Michael. There was not far
to go in the cramped, book-cluttered chamber. His back to the wal , he croaked, “Arranz!”
“Good evening.” Michael looked him over. Eldering’s white lawn shirt was dirty and unbuttoned, revealing a slim, but nicely-
muscled torso beneath.
Seeing the direction of Michael’s gaze, the new earl pul ed the edges together. “What do you want?”
Appropriating the chair, Michael sat. He opened the valise and took out the jewel-box. Stefn’s green eyes darted to the
contents and back.
“You’re a good little lackey of the Church,” Michael said. “I’m certain you’ve heard of the cethera.”
Stefn frowned, blank, then his eyes widened. Michael almost laughed at his expression.
“S-Sathra?”
“Close enough.” Michael took out the col ar. It lay over his hand, sparking in the firelight.
“I would rather die!”
“How noble.” Michael’s lip curled.
Crimson, Stefn retorted, “As if I would touch a taint like that, much less a male taint!”
“You know,” said Michael, letting the lethet slide back and forth between his hands, “I hate that insult. One of the first things
you must do as my cethe is to banish it from your vocabulary.”
“You can go to hel , taint! ”
Michael surged from the chair, slamming Stefn hard into the wal and knocking the breath from him. The youth col apsed,
gasping, unable to fight back as Michael pushed him, face-down, to the floor. Keeping one knee planted firmly on Stefn’s back,
Michael dragged the valise over and took out the rope. While Stefn struggled and swore, Michael bound his wrists behind him, then
flipped him over. Straddling him, Michael smiled coldly down into those wide, terrified eyes.
“Go ahead,” he invited softly. “Say it again.”
Eldering tried to turn his head, but Michael refused to al ow it, seizing a handful of black silky hair and yanking it back. “You
are mine now. And when you’re on your knees before me, think of al the h’naran women your father and grandfathers forced into the
same position. When I’m using you like a whore, think of al the children raped and slaughtered by your murderous, bestial
forebears, sin-catcher!”
“Don’t you dare!” Stefn’s lips trembled. He began to struggle with renewed desperation. “I’l kil you! I swear to Loth, I’l kil you!
”
“No,” replied Michael. Fist tightening in Stefn’s hair, he leaned forward, mouth brushing the youth’s ear. “You’l serve me. Your
body wil renew my power and make me as strong as a lothrian mage, perhaps even stronger. A delicious irony, don’t you think?”
Stefn’s breath was ragged, the pulse at his throat beating wildly. “Y-you’re lying!”
Beautiful. Like a captured angel.
Michael swore, releasing him, appal ed at himself and his whol y inappropriate flight of fancy. Devil, more like. He got up,
dragging Stefn after him. Suddenly, al he wanted was to get it over with. He threw Eldering onto the bed. Frantical y, the youth
rol ed over, struggling to sit up.
There was cettek powder in the jewel-box, several smal , folded paper envelopes tucked under the lining. Michael poured the
contents of one
Michael’s grandfather had wanted Michael to take Al en, Eldering’s heir, for his cethe. The old earl’s brutish, self-centered son
had certainly deserved his fate, but after three weeks in Al en Eldering’s company, Michael could not stomach the prospect. Sin-
catcher or no, Stefn was at least pleasant to look upon.
And Stefn was stil an Eldering. For al his delicate prettiness, he was just one more in a long line of butchers and rapists.
Given the chance, he’d carry on his family’s bloody work without turning a hair. Loth knew he’d been quick enough to drive a dagger
into poor Auron!
Grabbing the chair, Michael tipped the youth out of it.
Welcome to hell, Hunter-spawn!
Stefn woke at once, scrambling clumsily to his feet and nearly fel again backing hastily away from Michael. There was not far
to go in the cramped, book-cluttered chamber. His back to the wal , he croaked, “Arranz!”
“Good evening.” Michael looked him over. Eldering’s white lawn shirt was dirty and unbuttoned, revealing a slim, but nicely-
muscled torso beneath.
Seeing the direction of Michael’s gaze, the new earl pul ed the edges together. “What do you want?”
Appropriating the chair, Michael sat. He opened the valise and took out the jewel-box. Stefn’s green eyes darted to the
contents and back.
“You’re a good little lackey of the Church,” Michael said. “I’m certain you’ve heard of the cethera.”
Stefn frowned, blank, then his eyes widened. Michael almost laughed at his expression.
“S-Sathra?”
“Close enough.” Michael took out the col ar. It lay over his hand, sparking in the firelight.
“I would rather die!”
“How noble.” Michael’s lip curled.
Crimson, Stefn retorted, “As if I would touch a taint like that, much less a male taint!”
“You know,” said Michael, letting the lethet slide back and forth between his hands, “I hate that insult. One of the first things
you must do as my cethe is to banish it from your vocabulary.”
“You can go to hel , taint! ”
Michael surged from the chair, slamming Stefn hard into the wal and knocking the breath from him. The youth col apsed,
gasping, unable to fight back as Michael pushed him, face-down, to the floor. Keeping one knee planted firmly on Stefn’s back,
Michael dragged the valise over and took out the rope. While Stefn struggled and swore, Michael bound his wrists behind him, then
flipped him over. Straddling him, Michael smiled coldly down into those wide, terrified eyes.
“Go ahead,” he invited softly. “Say it again.”
Eldering tried to turn his head, but Michael refused to al ow it, seizing a handful of black silky hair and yanking it back. “You
are mine now. And when you’re on your knees before me, think of al the h’naran women your father and grandfathers forced into the
same position. When I’m using you like a whore, think of al the children raped and slaughtered by your murderous, bestial
forebears, sin-catcher!”
“Don’t you dare!” Stefn’s lips trembled. He began to struggle with renewed desperation. “I’l kil you! I swear to Loth, I’l kil you!
”
“No,” replied Michael. Fist tightening in Stefn’s hair, he leaned forward, mouth brushing the youth’s ear. “You’l serve me. Your
body wil renew my power and make me as strong as a lothrian mage, perhaps even stronger. A delicious irony, don’t you think?”
Stefn’s breath was ragged, the pulse at his throat beating wildly. “Y-you’re lying!”
Beautiful. Like a captured angel.
Michael swore, releasing him, appal ed at himself and his whol y inappropriate flight of fancy. Devil, more like. He got up,
dragging Stefn after him. Suddenly, al he wanted was to get it over with. He threw Eldering onto the bed. Frantical y, the youth
rol ed over, struggling to sit up.
There was cettek powder in the jewel-box, several smal , folded paper envelopes tucked under the lining. Michael poured the
contents of one
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