In his pocket, something vibrated. It was not an unpleasant sensation but it startled the hell out of him until he remembered the scryer Nuala had given him. He pulled it out and saw Albhar’s face.

The two of them stared at each other. His former tutor looked older, more grizzled than Bael remembered. His eyebrows appeared to have been singed in one of his endless, futile magical experiments. The man barely had the power to light a candle, but still he tried.

“Bael?” asked the old man eventually. “What the devil-how did you get one of these things?”

“It was a present,” Bael said defensively. Albhar always made him feel defensive, like a little boy still getting into trouble.

“From who?”

My mate’s stepmother. “Just a friend,” he said. “Did you want something?”

“No, I was just…well, I suppose I must have been thinking of you.” Bael began to smile at this admission, then abruptly scowled when Albhar continued, “Wondering when you were going to stop gallivanting around and show some damn responsibility for once. One of your houses burned down last year, boy, and you didn’t even notice.”

“I was just-look, I’m busy,” Bael snapped. “Don’t you have a shapeshifter to catch?”

“Oh, we do,” Albhar said. His faded eyes sparkled a bit. “Boy, when we find it, you’ll need to come home. You’ll need to see it.”

“Why?” Bael asked. “Because it killed my mother? My father always said a kelf did that.”

“Yes, well. You never liked kelfs anyway,” Albhar said vaguely. “Your father never did either.”

“No, I don’t suppose he did.” Bael ducked under a low door to the tavern’s dark interior, frowning. Nasc and kelfs, eternal enemies.

“But it was the shapeshifter, boy. I’m sure of that. If you find it you’ll bring it to us, won’t you?”

“How am I even supposed to know what I’m looking for?” Bael began, but Albhar cut him off.

“It’ll be the perfect revenge. Sacrificing it for your father’s ritual.”

“Sacrificing it? The ritual will kill it?”

“Oh yes.” Bael didn’t like the gleam in Albhar’s eyes. “Very much so. Everything will be better once we’ve caught it, boy.”

Unease tugged at Bael. “Don’t call me boy,” he said, and shoved the scryer back in his pocket. Albhar’s voice faded as the connection was lost.

“You look sad.”

He glanced up into the face of a young serving maid. She was wearing a corset laced obscenely tight, pushing her breasts up and out and right into his face. With a jug of beer in one hand and a damp cloth in the other, she smiled sympathetically at him as he took a seat.

“Want to talk about it?”

Bael shook his head. “No.”

“Oh, come on. A problem shared is a problem halved.” She started to wipe the table.

“I don’t think you’d understand.”

She cocked her head. “Why not? I’m a good listener, try me.”

Bael shoved a hand through his hair. “I’d rather wait until my mate gets back.”

“Your mate? Where’d he go?”

“He?” Bael stared at her a moment, then realized her mistake. “No, I don’t mean mate as in friend, I mean as in girlfriend. Wife.”

“You’re married?” She glanced at his hand, and he remembered the human custom of wearing rings to denote marriage.

“Yeah-well, it’s complicated,” he said, and she slid into the seat next to him.

“My name’s Marisa,” she said. “Tell me.”

Bael tried to put her off, but she kept topping up his beer and eventually he gave in. A little lightheaded from the unknown quantity of alcohol she’d been plying him with, he told her about being Nasc, and what having a mate really meant. It was incredibly unlikely she’d know anyone even remotely connected to Albhar or tell him Bael was Nasc. Albhar wasn’t stupid, he’d put two and two together.

Not that Bael didn’t trust Albhar, but sometimes things slipped out, and if those shady bastards with the Federación knew there was a Nasc Mage about, his days would be numbered.

“So you really can’t have sex with anyone else?” Marisa asked, her eyes widening. Funny, she had silver eyes, like Kett’s. He’d thought they were unique to Kett and her father.

“Do you know Kett Almet?” he asked.

Marisa shrugged. “Don’t think so. Sounds foreign. Off-Realm?”

“Peneggan,” Bael agreed. “You have the same eyes as her.”

“Lots of people have gray eyes,” Marisa said.

“No, they’re silver.”

“No, they’re gray,” she said, her smile slipping a little. Then it returned. “Why, do you like silver eyes?”

“I do,” Bael said, thinking of the way Kett’s flashed and sparked.

Marisa placed her hand on his arm and a flash of heat zapped through Bael.

He nearly jumped off his chair.

“Hey, calm down,” she said, laughing. “I only touched your arm.” Leaning in close, she whispered, “Imagine what might happen if I touched you elsewhere.”

Bael reeled back. “No,” he said. “Nothing’s going to happen. I have a mate. I can’t have sex with anyone else.”

“Can’t?” Marisa pouted. “Or won’t?”

“Can’t,” he snapped.

Her fingers caressed his arm, sending sparks through him again. “I’ve never believed in ‘can’t’,” she purred, and before Bael could entirely realize what she was doing, she’d snaked one hand under the table and cupped his crotch, which responded enthusiastically.

“Mmm,” she said, fluttering her lashes at him. “Feels to me an awful lot like you can.”

Bael leapt to his feet so fast his chair fell over. People stared.

“Get off me,” he muttered, and fled the room. The walls rocked and swayed-how much had he had to drink?-and the stairs danced, uneven and badly laid. He stumbled along the wonky floor to his room and staggered inside.

Locking the bedroom door, he hurled himself at the bed, shaking. What the hell had that been? She touched his arm and arousal spiked through him. She cupped his cock and it jumped up to say hello.

Who the hell was she?

Bael’s brain was distinctly fuzzy now. He tried to remember how much he’d had, but that damn Marisa had never let his mug get empty. How big had that pitcher been? Endless…

The room spun around him and Bael closed his eyes, just for a minute.

Maybe hours later, maybe minutes, he awoke to the soft, wet touch of a woman’s mouth on his cock. Head still fuzzy, he lay there, trying to work out if he was dreaming or not. But even his hottest dreams hadn’t felt this good. A hot, wet tongue slid up and down his cock in long strokes, smooth and practiced. Soft hair caressed his hips, his thighs.

Bael opened his eyes but the curtains were drawn, the room dark, and all he saw was a head of dark, curly hair, bent over his groin.

He smiled. Kett had come back and decided to wake him up by giving him a blowjob. Well, that was damn nice of her. He made an appreciative noise and slid his hand into her hair. She rewarded him by sucking him into her mouth.

“Oh gods, yes,” he moaned, eyes fluttering closed again. “Shit, that feels good. You’re so good at that.”

She moved her head and he began to thrust in time. His cock was incredibly hard, so full it felt like it might burst, but then it always did when he was with Kett. He’d never felt like this with anyone else before. Never had such incredible, mind-blowing sex with anyone.

Her fingers caressed his balls, which tightened and drew up, ready to come.

“Kett, I’m gonna-I’m gonna-”

“Mmm,” she said, and the vibration had come shooting out his cock, right down her throat. She took it, swallowing hard, and continued to lick him. Bael lay back, his head still fuzzy but in a much more pleasant way, and stroked her head. He was getting hard again, the pressure of Kett’s mouth and the sway of her breasts against his thighs making him incredibly hot even after his orgasm had drained him.

“I want to lick you,” he said. “Come up here, I want to lick that delicious pussy of yours.”