Read Online Moon Borne (Halcyon Romance Series Book 1) by Rachael Slate - Free Book Online
Authors: Rachael Slate
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This brothel didn’t keep slaves, but he wasn’t about to reveal that to her.
He hoped she’d assume the worst. Besides, she would soon learn all manner of unpleasant things about him. He let out a slow breath and steeled himself against the coming storm. Tonight would seal her hatred for him, which was the key to him finding the strength to sell her.
Madame awaited them in the foyer. A successful mistress always knew when to expect her clients. As he approached, he allowed Marguerite to offer him a warm welcome, kissing both his cheeks and running her eager hands down his chest, though he normally didn’t.
Her touch was more abrasive than the brushes the lads used to scrub the deck, but he forced his grimace into a grin.
Thereus beckoned a lithe redhead and scampered upstairs with her. Sucking in a deep breath, Arsenius debated whether to join him. Especially as Marguerite displayed her tall, voluptuous body in a most inviting manner. She leaned one hip against the countertop, her full breasts almost toppling out of the bodice of her blood red dress. Her cheeks were dusted with far too much rouge, her blonde curls tousled as though she’d just gotten out of bed. Which was probably correct.
Marguerite was a nymph. She should have been irresistible.
She wasn’t.
His focus drifted to the Amazon. A purity existed in her that had naught to do with her innocence. Her world was as light as his was dark. Those brief glimpses of vulnerability, coupled with her fiery spirit, made her so much more sensuous. Kyme was… Well, perfect. He swore at the absurdity of his reflections, and the pain they undeniably caused him.
Marguerite tilted her pouty mouth to him, her French accent thick and lusty. “I have missed you, Arsenius. You will come to my bed, non ?”
Chapter 7
Kyme held her breath as she awaited his answer. This Madame Marguerite had perused the slaver’s body with far too much leisure and possession than Kyme was comfortable with. Clearly, they had been together on numerous occasions. Such was to be expected of a man like him. Still, their intimacy should not affect her, because she did not desire him.
She forced her fists to unclench.
He cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Marguerite. I have business I must attend to first. Perhaps later.”
Kyme released her breath through clenched teeth. Resentment over her relief boiled inside her.
The slaver leaned closer and whispered into the Madame’s ear. After she nodded, he spun on his heel and headed out the door.
The brothel’s mistress did nothing to hide her disappointment as she stared after him, fanning her pouting lips and downcast eyes. After a minute, her verdant gaze passed over Kyme’s much less voluptuous figure. The dismissive glint in those green depths and the smirk of superiority upon her lips stripped Kyme bare.
She turned up her nose and gave the mistress a haughty perusal of her own. If this was the type of female the slaver preferred, Kyme’s virginity had never been in safer hands.
At least until he sold her.
Marguerite fingered a lock of Kyme’s hair. “Well, I suppose something can be done. Come.”
Despite her show of confidence, her stomach sank deeper and her pulse raced. Why was she in a brothel? The slaver had refused to speak on the walk here. Thereus had been pleasant, but equally tight-lipped.
Madame led her into a dressing room where a steaming tub awaited Kyme. She was genuinely grateful. Many days had passed since she’d last bathed in hot water.
A contented sigh passed her lips as she sank deep into the perfumed water. Two servants stepped into the room, interrupting her privacy. One seized her right arm and scrubbed an abrasive cloth across her skin, the other claimed her left arm and twisted her limb about, examining her like a piece of merchandise. An object to be bought and sold. Their dismissive actions were a sharp reminder that to these people she was a slave, no different from any of the women here. Like
He hoped she’d assume the worst. Besides, she would soon learn all manner of unpleasant things about him. He let out a slow breath and steeled himself against the coming storm. Tonight would seal her hatred for him, which was the key to him finding the strength to sell her.
Madame awaited them in the foyer. A successful mistress always knew when to expect her clients. As he approached, he allowed Marguerite to offer him a warm welcome, kissing both his cheeks and running her eager hands down his chest, though he normally didn’t.
Her touch was more abrasive than the brushes the lads used to scrub the deck, but he forced his grimace into a grin.
Thereus beckoned a lithe redhead and scampered upstairs with her. Sucking in a deep breath, Arsenius debated whether to join him. Especially as Marguerite displayed her tall, voluptuous body in a most inviting manner. She leaned one hip against the countertop, her full breasts almost toppling out of the bodice of her blood red dress. Her cheeks were dusted with far too much rouge, her blonde curls tousled as though she’d just gotten out of bed. Which was probably correct.
Marguerite was a nymph. She should have been irresistible.
She wasn’t.
His focus drifted to the Amazon. A purity existed in her that had naught to do with her innocence. Her world was as light as his was dark. Those brief glimpses of vulnerability, coupled with her fiery spirit, made her so much more sensuous. Kyme was… Well, perfect. He swore at the absurdity of his reflections, and the pain they undeniably caused him.
Marguerite tilted her pouty mouth to him, her French accent thick and lusty. “I have missed you, Arsenius. You will come to my bed, non ?”
Chapter 7
Kyme held her breath as she awaited his answer. This Madame Marguerite had perused the slaver’s body with far too much leisure and possession than Kyme was comfortable with. Clearly, they had been together on numerous occasions. Such was to be expected of a man like him. Still, their intimacy should not affect her, because she did not desire him.
She forced her fists to unclench.
He cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Marguerite. I have business I must attend to first. Perhaps later.”
Kyme released her breath through clenched teeth. Resentment over her relief boiled inside her.
The slaver leaned closer and whispered into the Madame’s ear. After she nodded, he spun on his heel and headed out the door.
The brothel’s mistress did nothing to hide her disappointment as she stared after him, fanning her pouting lips and downcast eyes. After a minute, her verdant gaze passed over Kyme’s much less voluptuous figure. The dismissive glint in those green depths and the smirk of superiority upon her lips stripped Kyme bare.
She turned up her nose and gave the mistress a haughty perusal of her own. If this was the type of female the slaver preferred, Kyme’s virginity had never been in safer hands.
At least until he sold her.
Marguerite fingered a lock of Kyme’s hair. “Well, I suppose something can be done. Come.”
Despite her show of confidence, her stomach sank deeper and her pulse raced. Why was she in a brothel? The slaver had refused to speak on the walk here. Thereus had been pleasant, but equally tight-lipped.
Madame led her into a dressing room where a steaming tub awaited Kyme. She was genuinely grateful. Many days had passed since she’d last bathed in hot water.
A contented sigh passed her lips as she sank deep into the perfumed water. Two servants stepped into the room, interrupting her privacy. One seized her right arm and scrubbed an abrasive cloth across her skin, the other claimed her left arm and twisted her limb about, examining her like a piece of merchandise. An object to be bought and sold. Their dismissive actions were a sharp reminder that to these people she was a slave, no different from any of the women here. Like
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