The large golden arch which led into the banquet hall of Club Carnivorous was located down a long set of stairs and around a corner from the readiness room. There was no way to see what other Mistresses might be waiting to be announced—which was how Neh’sa had the bad luck to turn the corner just as Lady Wraith’neck and her strange pale, bony beast were next in line.
She might have peaked around the corner—might have thought to check first before coming out into the open by the golden arch. But her mind had been full of the little scene she’d just played out with Thorn—the strong, salty taste of him filled her mouth and his presence at her back filled her mind. She hadn’t been lying—she loved his flavor. Not to mention the way he groaned in the back of his throat when she took him in her mouth…
But I didn’t only do it for my own gratification, Neh’sa told herself. I wanted to try and take his mind off the Mistress with the fire whip.
Indeed, the internal pain she’d felt coming from him and the look of mute horror on his face had been enough to freeze her in her tracks. And that feeling—so strong and relentless—that he’d deserved the pain. That he was somehow atoning for something…but what?
The feeling had shaken Neh’sa to her core. She usually just got more general sensations of pain or emotional upset from those around her and mostly only when she “tuned in” to them. With Thorn, she seemed to be tuned in all the time. And this time it had been hard to bear.
What happened to him in the past that made him feel he deserves to be hurt? she wondered. He’d been tortured before by his own admission yet he never seemed to want to talk about it. Also, he’d been prepared to allow her to do things he didn’t want done to his body…until she’d shown him sometimes that which is fearful can also be pleasurable.
Was he trying to make up for something—allowing himself to be hurt over and over? Was he—
Her thoughts were abruptly cut off as they rounded the corner and found themselves face to face with Lady Wraith’neck and the hideous pale beast she was passing off as a body-slave.
“Well, well—hello, Neh’sanna.” Lady Wraith’neck sounded extremely pleased to see her. “I’m so glad you could make it tonight.”
“Of course,” Neh’sa heard herself saying through numb lips. “The announcement of a new member in our ranks—the ranks of the Sacred Seven. I couldn’t miss it.”
“Of course not—being one of the Seven yourself.” Lady Wraith’neck’s thin upper lip curled. This was an honor she professed to care nothing about yet Neh’sa could feel the painful jealousy welling out of the other woman’s pores like poison sweat.
Or maybe it was the new perfume Lady Wraith’neck was wearing that she was sensing. It was an odd, very unpleasant musky scent which made her wrinkle her nose.
“I wonder who the Yonnite Council has chosen to take the open chair,” Neh’sa said, deciding to make small talk since the other Mistress was acting civil for once. “Madam Thrust’much has had a difficult decision to make after Lady Gret’long stepped down as our seventh.”
Madam Ulala Thrust’much was the Grand Dame of the Council as well as the judge and arbiter for all of the inner fights and squabbles between Mistresses. She oversaw Yonnite high society with an iron will and no one dared to disobey her.
“Yes indeed, Uly has a difficult choice.” Lady Wraith’neck smirked, as if she knew something Neh’sa didn’t. “I was telling her so just the other day when I had her over to my domicile to try a proprietary new dream gas blend. She was quite taken with it—it’s rather addictive but so lovely.”
“Well, I—” Suddenly Neh’sa gave a little shriek—something ice cold had stroked over the back of her calf.
Looking down, she saw the hideous pale beast had dropped to its knees and was snuffling around her feet and legs. Its long arms were still strapped to its sides but somehow it had gotten a thin, forked tongue through the metal and crystal of its muzzle and had managed to lick Neh’sa’s leg.
“Get the hell away from her, you fucker.” Thorn planted one booted foot in the center of the creature’s chest and kicked, hard. It flew backwards, the momentum dragging against the leash in Lady Wraith’neck’s grip and nearly yanking it out of her hands. The beast landed sprawling on its spiny back, hissing and spitting.
“Watch what you’re doing, idiot!” Lady Wraith’neck said sharply. “You’ve already cost me one expensive slave—I won’t have you ruining another before I’ve even prosecuted your Mistress for the loss of the first one!”
“Thorn was just trying to protect me,” Neh’sa protested.
“Oh, yes—I know all about that brute’s methods of protection,” the other Mistress snapped. “And never fear, Neh’sa—I’ve been telling everyone of my acquaintance what a savage he is and how he can’t be trusted.” She arched an eyebrow at Neh’sa. “I think it might have affected your fine reputation as a slave trainer. Losing control of your body-slave the way you did and letting him run amok.”
That, of course, was precisely what Lady Wraith’neck had done but Neh’sa knew the other Mistress well enough to be certain she would have twisted the story of what happened at the Devotion Ceremony into a narrative where she herself was the ill-used heroine and Neh’sa was the neglectful hostess with the brutish, half-wild male who had injured Lady Wraith’neck’s own body-slave.
She also knew there was no point in fighting about it. In fact, another conflict—especially in full view of all the most powerful Mistresses in Opulex—was probably exactly what Lady’ Wraith’neck was after.
So, though she heard the low, warning growl rising from Thorn’s throat, she ignored the implied insult and changed the subject.
What is that thing on your leash, anyway?” she asked. “Surely it can’t be sentient.”
“It’s a night-slinker from Nightmare Seven in the Hell System.” The other Mistress lifted her chin proudly. “They don’t need eyes there, you know.” She nodded at the creature’s round, bulbous head which had no organs of sight of any kind that Neh’sa could see. “The entire planet is almost always in blackness. That’s why their sense of smell is so acute—it helps them track prey. But as for your question, they are semi-sentient—enough to be trained as body-slaves.”
The night-slinker had already gotten back to its feet and was sliding towards Neh’sa again. The slits of its nostrils opened wide as it scented her and its long black tongue snaked out between nonexistent lips to curl around the edges of its muzzle.
Almost like its tracking me! she thought and shivered.
“Oh dear—he’s got your scent now and he appears to be quite taken with it.” Lady Wraith’neck tittered most unpleasantly. “What a shame.”
“What…what do you mean?” Neh’sa asked, hating the catch she heard in her voice. She really didn’t like this thing—it gave her the cold chills.
“It means he likes you, my dear Neh’sanna.” Lady Wraith’neck smirked at her. “I’m afraid once one of these magnificent beasts decides it finds your personal scent alluring it won’t stop tracking you until it finds a way to get you alone.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Thorn demanded, putting himself between Neh’sa and the night-slinker. “Are you threatening my Mistress?”
Lady Wraith’neck’s yellowish eyes flashed malevolently.
“Of course not. I would never dream of threatening the eminent Lady Neh’sanna—she of the saintly non-cruelty causes and the private Mercy clinic which helps all the poor, downtrodden males that no one else in our society cares for.” She made exaggerated kissing noises at Neh’sa. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe it’s my turn to be announced. Come, Slinker.” She tugged on the leash, forcing the night-slinker—which still seemed much too interested in Neh’sa—to come to heel at her side as the herald at the door announced her.
“Lady Wraith’neck is now in attendance!” he boomed. This was the point at which her body-slave was supposed to kiss her panties but Neh’sa didn’t see how the other Mistress would compel the strange, pale beast on the end of her leash to do such a thing. Or indeed, why she would want to. The needle-sharp teeth that lined its gaping maw looked much better suited to ripping out throats than making a tender obeisance.
She saw the other Mistress yank on the leash again, forcing the slinker to kneel forward on its long, awkwardly jointed legs until its face was nearly at her crotch. Its slitted nostrils flared and it yanked backwards, clearly repelled by her in some way.
Maybe it was reacting to the new perfume Lady Wraith’neck was wearing. That odd, musky odor wasn’t very attractive but then, nothing about Lady Wraith’ neck was attractive, Neh’sa thought.
“What was that all about? You think she was trying to give you a message?” Thorn demanded in a low voice. His mismatched eyes blazed as he watched Lady Wraith’neck make a bow to the assembled Mistresses and go to find her seat at the low tables scattered around the banquet floor.
Neh’sa sighed and shook her head.
“I have no idea—anything is possible with Lady Wraith’neck. I think the most likely thing is that she’s going to try and sue me somehow. Actually, I’m surprised I haven’t heard from her barrister yet.” She looked up at him. “I think it’s also safe to say she’s been spreading some pretty nasty rumors about what happened at the Devotion Ceremony—about you in particular, Thorn.”
He snorted. “Yeah, that’s what it sounds like. Don’t worry, Mistress—we’ll prove her wrong.”
“We have to,” Neh’sa told him earnestly. “And you mustn’t lose your temper, no matter what awful things Lady Wraith’neck says. She wants to make a public scene. We can’t let that happen.”
“I’ll be the perfect body-slave,” Thorn promised her gravely. One corner of his mouth twitched up in a charming, lopsided grin. “Aren’t I always?”
“My Lady,” whispered the herald, before Neh’sa could reply. He was an older male who had been announcing for the club for as long as Neh’sa had been a Mistress. “Are you and your body-slave ready for your announcement to the banquet?”
Neh’sa straightened her dress with both hands and ran her fingers through her hair. Rather than making her long, dark tresses into an elaborate updo for the banquet, she had decided to let her hair fall naturally around her shoulders and down her back.
“Are you ready?” she asked Thorn, feeling just a flutter of nerves, as she always did during her first announcement with a new body-slave she was training. “You remember the protocol?”
“Perfectly, Mistress,” he growled softly. “Don’t worry, I can manage.”
“Good. Then let’s do it, just the way we practiced.” She looked at the herald and nodded her head. “We’re ready.”
“Very good, my Lady.” The herald bowed his head respectfully and then lifted a silver, twisted mula-horn to his lips and blew a thin, echoing blast. “Please come to attention for one of the Sacred Seven—Mistress Neh’sanna,” he called importantly.
As Neh’sa stepped beneath the golden archway which led into the grand banquet hall, she was keenly aware that all eyes were not on her, but rather on Thorn who was standing behind her.
She was certain there were all kinds of rumors about her new Kindred body-slave—not many of them complimentary. Lady Wraith’neck would doubtless be trying to paint him as a brutal, untrained savage who disrespected other Mistresses and refused to be submissive. Much of Neh’sa’s reputation as a trainer would be riding on how Thorn behaved tonight.
Thorn seemed to be aware of this fact because he ignored the scrutiny of the crowd of Mistresses and dropped gracefully to his knees before her.
“Mistress,” he rumbled with just the right note of submissiveness in his deep voice. “May I make obeisance to you?”
Neh’sa was relieved at how well he was playing his part and she couldn’t help the fluttering she felt around her heart when she looked down into those lovely, mismatched eyes.
“Yes, Thorn. You may,” she murmured.
She spread her legs slightly, allowing him enough room to get between her thighs and kiss the golden materials of her panties.
But when he pressed his lips to her flesh, it wasn’t her panties he kissed. Neh’sa was surprised to feel his hot mouth first on her left thigh, and then on her right. Goddess, what was he doing?
Looking down, she realized that the big Kindred was pressing kisses to her body in a kind of pattern—hips, thighs, belly…he was slowly and reverently moving inward, showing his utter dedication to her as he did, by taking his time to get to her panties.
Neh’sa wanted to make him stop but somehow she seemed to lack the willpower. Besides, she told herself, if she tried to stop him, it would seem as though this display was not her idea and Thorn was being disobedient. Whereas if she allowed him to continue, his actions would appear to be a display of devotion.
Right?
Oh, Goddess—right. That has to be right, her mind moaned as the soft, gentle kisses continued to work their way inward.
This was nothing like the hungry, almost animal way he’d gone down on her the night before. The burning desire was still there—Neh’sa could sense it in the tight set of his shoulders and the possessive way his big hands cradled her ass. But the burning was now tempered with respect and gentleness.
She couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to let Thorn taste her while he was in this mood—this sweet, tender mood where he seemed determined to show her how very much he cared for her through these slow, heated kisses.
And then, abruptly, she didn’t have to wonder. Because finally, after kissing his way all around her thighs and placing his lips on the mound of her pussy, Thorn at last pressed his mouth to the center of her panties—which was bare, clearly showing her naked slit.
“Thorn—” she started to protest involuntarily but her breath was stolen by the sweetness of his kiss.
Softly, gently, he kissed her—almost as though he was kissing her mouth. Then he teased along the edges of her slit delicately with just the tip of his tongue, as though asking for entrance.
With a low moan she couldn’t quite contain, Neh’sa gave him permission by spreading her thighs, just a little wider.
The first, slow slide of his tongue into her pussy made her bite her lip and grasp his broad shoulders for support. Oh Goddess, she shouldn’t be allowing this! And yet how could she stop him without making him look disobedient and casting shame on her own reputation as a trainer?
Can’t help it, Neh’sa told herself, gripping his shoulders even tighter for support as the big Kindred continued his slow, lingering and increasingly deepening kiss. Just have to let him finish.
But Goddess, it seemed like he never would! His long eyelashes had fluttered down and his grip on her ass and hips was firm and unbreakable as he continued to kiss deeper and deeper, his tongue swirling expertly around the tender bump of her clit, sending electrical tingles of pleasure through her entire body. He had the look of a male completely immersed in an intensely pleasurable activity—one he might never want to stop.
Never should have worn these panties, Neh’sa told herself deliriously. Not after finding out how Kindred need to taste their females.
Though she would have thought that the marathon session the night before would have at least blunted his desire, Thorn showed no inclination to stop tasting her. Neh’sa could feel the tip of his tongue sliding deeper, seeking to find her entrance and then sliding up again to bathe her clit with his warmth and desire.
“Oh!” she moaned aloud—she couldn’t help herself. “Oh, Thorn…” If he didn’t stop soon, she was going to come—come right here in public! She was certain of it…
Her voice seemed to waken him from a trance he’d somehow fallen into. He blinked and looked up at her, pulling away at last.
“Forgive me, Mistress if I carried my obeisance to you too far.” His deep voice was hoarse with passion and his lips were shiny with her juices. “You taste so good—I couldn’t help myself.”
“That…that’s all right, Thorn,” Neh’sa murmured faintly. In fact, she sort of wished he hadn’t stopped. Though it would have been embarrassing to come in public, at least it would have eased the tension she now felt between her thighs. Her pussy ached like it was bruised—desperate for more of his hot mouth on her, of his tongue sliding into her inner folds to caress the innermost parts of her…
No, stop! Get hold of yourself, Neh’sa and get to your place in the banquet, she lectured herself sharply.
With a deep bow to the assembled Mistresses, who had all gone completely silent as they watched Thorn make his obeisance, she left the golden arch and went to find her place in the room.
* * * * *
The Yonnite Mistresses were buzzing as Neh’sa found her spot at a low table near the center of the banquet hall. Thorn could feel their eyes on him and he caught snatches of conversation as he followed her, two steps behind, as a proper body-slave should.
“…not nearly as savage as Lady Wraith’neck made him out to be.”
“…thought he was supposed to be wild and untamed? But look at how perfectly he behaved while making his obeisance.”
“…as I always say—Lady Neh’sanna is a miracle worker! She can turn even the wildest slave into a perfect submissive.”
Thorn was glad to hear that his Mistress’s reputation was intact but he was angry with himself for going too far. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to kiss Neh’sa’s pussy again—especially not so deeply. Every time he tasted her the primal feelings of possessiveness grew and the fire inside him rose a little higher.
Need to keep my hands and mouth off her, he told himself firmly. But even as he lectured himself, he couldn’t help licking his lips to catch the last faint traces of her honey. Gods, she tasted so damn good. And the way she moaned and gripped his shoulders when he put his tongue inside her—as though she would collapse from the pleasure if she didn’t have someone to support her—it was enough to drive a male crazy with desire!
Neh’sa settled herself at a small round table, on a large, puffy blue cushion embroidered with golden thread. The floor beneath the table had a sunken area which Thorn assumed was a place for Mistresses to put their feet. That was, until he saw several of the body-slaves crouching in the small area with their heads buried between their Mistresses legs.
Hmm, and I thought Neh’sa said it was considered improper to orally service your Mistress—but maybe all of them are just “kissing panties.” Much like he had just been doing. Thorn wondered if Neh’sa would require him to kiss her there again as she ate her supper.
Part of him longed for it—wanted to get between her thighs and lap her pussy until she moaned and writhed at the table. But a larger part knew that would be foolish—the fire was already too near the surface. Even now he could feel the heat growing and the flames dancing in his eyes. He didn’t need to do anything else that would strain his already rapidly deteriorating control.
“Mistress,” he murmured as Neh’sa settled herself. “What would you have me do? Where should I be?”
“Just kneel beside me, Thorn and feed me tidbits as we practiced,” she whispered. “There’s no need for any, ah…further service.”
Though he was disappointed at not being able to taste her again, Thorn knew this was probably for the best.
“Yes, Mistress.” He knelt beside her, on her right side, his knees spread wide and his aching shaft jutting out in front of him.
Gods, he hoped Neh’sa would give him some relief when this damn banquet was finished and they went back to her domicile. He still wore the non-contact bands around his wrists, making self pleasure completely impossible. But after tasting her and having her taste him earlier, he felt like he might explode if he wasn’t allowed to come soon.
He looked around the room, trying to distract himself and get the lay of the land at the same time. There were perhaps fifty Mistresses gathered in the banquet hall, all of them sitting at their own private tables. The tables were close enough, however, that each Mistress could carry on a discrete conversation with her neighbors.
Unfortunately, Neh’sa’s immediate neighbors were Lady Wraith’neck, who was still holding tight to the leash of the night-slinker, which she had forced down into the shallow well beneath her table, and Lady Lee’Lah, the blonde Mistress whom had taken offense when he had declined to taste her. She was doing her best to ignore Neh’sa, and Lady Wraith’neck was busy fighting with the night-slinker, which was prowling restlessly at her feet. Not that Neh’sa would want to talk to either one of them, Thorn thought grimly.
The banquet was a long, boring affair during which several Mistresses rose from their places and spoke to the room at large about Yonnite values and society and other high-flown, lofty concepts which didn’t mean much of anything as far as Thorn was concerned.
Circulating among the tables, which were like tiny islands dotting the landscape of the banquet hall, were serving slaves bearing trays of various sweet and savory foods. Thorn took it upon himself to offer each dish in turn to Neh’sa and scoop some onto her plate if she nodded.
Quite a few of the Yonnite dishes appeared to include living things. There was a bowl full of red and green grains that moved and shifted—apparently these were honey grubs from a distant land. Quite a delicacy, or so the serving slave assured him. There were also bright blue worms as long as his arm and beetles as large across as his palm with shiny, iridescent shells which had to be pried off so that the guts of the sluggishly struggling creatures could be sucked out with a glass straw.
Neh’sa refused all of these dishes with a shiver of distaste and only nodded when the platter or bowl being offered contained purely vegetable or fruit matter.
Thorn had observed this about her before during their meals together—she was what people from Earth would have called a “vegetarian.” He wondered if her refusal to eat meat had anything to do with the way she could feel the pain of others. Then again, did her ability to feel emotions include animals? He was making a mental note to ask her when an elderly Mistress who looked to be nearing her hundredth year rose from her place in the very center of the room and began to speak.
“Now then, Mistresses—welcome to the two hundred and twentieth annual Sacred Seven Banquet.”
Despite her ancient appearance, she was dressed as grandly as any of the younger females in a silver and black gown. Her white hair had been shellacked into a glossy wave that parted down the middle, making it look like each half of it was trying to fly off her head in different directions.
“That’s Lady Ulala Thrust’much,” Neh’sa whispered to him. “She’s the Grand Dame of the Yonnite Council of Mistresses and the arbiter of all disagreements among Yonnite society members.”
“She’s the one who’s supposed to pick a new member of the Sacred Seven, right?” Thorn murmured, offering her a pale lavender blossom which was coated in a thin, brittle layer of blue sugar.
“Exactly.” Neh’sa nodded and allowed him to place the delicate flower between her lips where it melted away almost immediately. “She wields a great deal of power because she’s generally believed to be incorruptible.”
“Why is that? Because she’s richer than the Goddess herself and can’t be bought?” Thorn kept his voice low, meant for Neh’sa’s ears alone.
She gave him a small smile. “That and the fact that she’s too old to care what anyone else thinks of her.”
“Who do you think she’s chosen to be the new member of the Sacred Seven?” Thorn was genuinely curious. He had come to the banquet tonight not just to protect Neh’sa but also hoping to identify the other six members of the group which held the keys to the Library of All Knowledge.
“Rumor has it that Lady Nick’wrist over there in the far corner is a shoo-in.” Neh’sa nodded at a plump, pretty Mistress who was dressed in a bright green and pink dress. “She’s very active in our community and she’s also been extremely helpful to me with my anti-pain collar cause.” Neh’sa nodded approvingly. “Lady Thrust’much doesn’t approve of wanton cruelty or Mistresses who misuse their power—she tends to reward restraint and thoughtfulness.”
Which was doubtless how Neh’sa herself had gained such a high honor, Thorn thought. He listened with more interest to what the ancient Mistress was saying, though it mostly made him uncomfortable. She spoke at length about what a grand undertaking it had been for the Mistresses of Yonnie Six to assemble such a vast array of information and how protecting it was a sacred trust so that no foreign power could ever break in and steal the knowledge contained within.
Uneasily, Thorn considered how it would look when he had to force Neh’sa to help him open the doors of the sacred Library. Her reputation would be ruined afterwards—her status among her peers lost.
No, he thought, shifting uncomfortably on his knees as he fed Neh’sa more sugared blossoms. No, surely it won’t be that way. They’ll understand that I tricked her—that it wasn’t her fault.
But what would it say about her judgment that she’d been so completely fooled by a male—a member of what these people considered the inferior sex? Would anyone ever trust Neh’sa to train a body-slave for them again? And if they didn’t, how would she live? The red-haired male he’d met at her Mercy clinic had told him Neh’sa had poured almost all of her fortune into it. How could she keep on funding the clinic—which was obviously vitally important to her—if she had no more clients?
These and other questions continued to plague him until Lady Thrust’much said, “And now, I wish to announce the newest member of the Sacred Seven who will be invested with the powers accorded to her rank and station here tonight.”
A wave of whispers swept over the banquet hall. This was the highest honor a Yonnite Mistress could aspire to and Thorn could see hope on all the assembled faces. Everyone wanted to be the one chosen and all of them thought they had a chance, no matter how slim.
“And the new member of the Sacred Seven is…” Mistress Thrust’much paused dramatically, a frown playing around her wrinkled mouth. To Thorn, it looked like she had a mouthful of something sour she wanted to spit out but couldn’t. “The newest member is…” The old Mistress coughed and took a drink of some pale blue liquid that might have been alcoholic in nature. “Is Lady Malisha Wraith’neck,” she said at last in a flat voice.
For a moment there was dead silence in the banquet hall. Then all the Mistresses began talking at once. Many glances were thrown in Lady Wraith’neck’s direction as well as the hapless Lady Nick’wrist who sat at her tiny table looking shocked and upset.
But Thorn only had eyes for Neh’sa. She didn’t say a word but her face had gone very pale and her full lips had compressed to a thin, white line of disapproval.
“Mistress?” he murmured, feeling worried about her. “Neh’sa?”
“Excuse me.” She rose suddenly, shaking out the creases in her gown.
Thorn started to rise too but she motioned him to kneel back down.
“No, Thorn. I’m just somewhat startled, that’s all…I need a little time alone.”
“You shouldn’t be alone,” he protested. “Not in a place like this.”
“I’m not going to the dance floor or anywhere outside the club,” she told him. “I’ll just take a little trip to the fresher. It might help me clear my head. You couldn’t follow me in there anyway.”
“I suppose not.” Thorn sank unwillingly back to his knees.
As Neh’sa was preparing to exit the banquet hall, Lady Wraith’neck was also standing. She shot Neh’sa a look of pure, malevolent triumph. Clearly she was about to make some kind of a speech of acceptance. Thorn wished he didn’t have to hear it but as Neh’sa had practically ordered him to stay put, it seemed he had no choice.
“Don’t leave yet, Neh’sanna,” she said, sneering as the other Mistress passed her. “I have a gift for you—for all my fellow Mistresses who are part of the Sacred Seven. Here.”
She thrust something like a long metal poker with a flattened end into Neh’sa’s hands.
“What…what is this?” Neh’sa murmured, still looking shocked and deeply troubled.
“A self heating branding iron of course. All you have to do is press the button on the handle and you’re in business.”
Lady Wraith’neck smirked at her and demonstrated with a similar iron she was holding in her hand. One press of the button and the flat bottom which must be the brand grew suddenly cherry-red with heat.
“For branding those troublesome slaves who don’t respond to the pain collar. I had this one made especially for you—your family crest is the brand,” Lady Wraith’neck purred with malicious satisfaction.
“You…I…” Neh’sa shook her head, clearly at a loss for words and Thorn couldn’t blame her. Lady Wraith’neck’s “gift” flew directly in the face of everything Neh’sa believed in. Finally she just shook her head and took her leave, the hateful branding iron hanging limp in her hand, as though she didn’t know what to do with it.
Lady Wraith’neck lost no time in handing out more of the personalized self-heating branding irons to the other members of the Sacred Seven and even bestowed one on Lady Thrust’much herself.
“Thank you, Lady Thrust’much for this exquisite honor,” she began as Neh’sa stepped quietly beneath the golden arch and disappeared from view. “I’m so touched by this appointment though I must say, I think it’s been a long time in coming…”
Thorn tuned her out as she continued to boast, his thoughts turning to Neh’sa instead. Was she upset? Well, obviously but how upset was she? He knew she disliked Lady Wraith’neck who was a truly toxic bitch. And now she would have to work with her as one of the Sacred Seven—with the ceremony for the Library of All Knowledge coming up in only a few days.
Thorn wondered if the sadistic Mistress would bring her night-slinker body-slave with her to the Library or leave it behind. He couldn’t imagine how they could conduct a ceremony with a beast like that roaming around…wait.
Thorn frowned. Speaking of the night-slinker, where was it?
He looked under Lady Wraith’neck’s table but it wasn’t there anymore. It wasn’t at her side, either. In fact, as he scanned the banquet hall, he realized it wasn’t anywhere in the huge room.
He scooted closer to Lady Wraith’neck’s area, wanting to get a better look into the shadowy well under her table and make sure the night-slinker wasn’t just balled up down there and hiding.
The beast was gone but what he saw gave Thorn a cold chill down his spine—there were several pieces of metal and leather lying loose in the floor.
The first one he recognized as the strap the night-slinker had worn around its arms to keep them fastened securely to its side. The second thing was its muzzle.
Thorn began to get a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach and within him, the fire blazed up. Neh’sa was all alone in this fucking club and Lady Wraith’neck’s predatory night-slinker was unbound, unmuzzled, and missing.
What in the Seven Hells was he going to do?