Page 25 of A Taste for the Peculiar

“If you’re lucky,” she shouts back.

Lord Riften turns back to Avirin and extends his hand. “Shall we?”

TWELVE

Avirin

Even from outside, Avirin can tell the manor is buzzing with activity. On the steps, people mingle, chatting around the smoke rising from their pipes. They greet Lord Riften happily, and when he guides Avirin inside, she sees the full expanse of the party.

On one side of the hall, two men speak intimately, fingers grazing each other’s arms. A pair of women link their pinkies and incline their heads to whisper, giggling when their mouths nearly touch. Behind them, the parlor door cracks open, and someone slips out in only stays and pantalettes. A moan rises through the open door, and the person grins and leans their head back inside before they pull the room shut again. Avirin even recognizes Samuel reclined on a plush couch in one of the sitting rooms. His face is covered in lip prints, and he gives Avirin and Lord Riften a dopey smile before he’s pulled back into kissing the brunette man and woman on either side of him.

It’s like being transported to another world. This house seems to belong to a member of the ton, but she doesn’t recognize anyone else here. No one is dressed in the stuffy, homogenous attire Avirin is used to. The entryway itself is hardly crowded, but the house feels full, teeming with energy Avirin can’t put her finger on. “What is this place?”

Lord Riften looks contentedly over the room. “Technically, it is mine.”

“Yours?” Avirin balks.

“In a just world, it would belong to Cascade. She’s done more with it than I ever could, a place for courtesans to gather and get whatever they need. The legislature, however, does not like to acknowledge Cascade’s claim to the house. They barely acknowledge mine.” Lord Riften meanders with Avirin through the foyer. “I have given this house to her, and she graciously allows me a room, but I fear it may not belong to either of us for much longer. The previous owner accrued quite a bit of debt that looks like it will come back to bite me when all is said and done.”

“The previous owner?” Avirin’s brow knits. “Your cousin, you mean?”

A wry smile flits across Lord Riften’s lips. “That is certainly what they call him. But that isn’t why we’re here tonight.” Lord Riften places their hands on Avirin’s waist, turning her gently to face the rest of the room while they lower their mouth beside her ear. “I cannot be the one to finalize your lessons, but if you so choose, tonight you will explore your body with someone else. Do you understand, my lady?”

His breath against her skin is temptation personified. A needy sound rises in her throat, but she uses all her strength to nod.

For a moment, she swears Lord Riften’s teeth scrape her earlobe. “Good girl.” Then he straightens and leads her up the staircase. “If nothing else, you will not have to lie when you say you have never laid with me.”

The roughness in his voice makes her knees weak. Avirin’s barely gotten her bearings when a woman appears at the top of the stairs and gasps with delight.

“Darling.” Her sinewy body is draped in a wet chemise that clings to her blue skin and outlines every subtle curve. When she slinks down the stairs, the light glints off her silver scales, like a fish moving through water. She pulls Lord Riften close, planting a lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth before her barracuda eyes slide to Avirin. “What have we here?”

Avirin’s skin prickles. Somehow, the woman’s voice sounds threatening and enticing all at once. Avirin can’t be sure if she’s frightened or something else entirely.

The woman sidles up in front of her, tucking a strand of wet hair behind her ear. “A little guppy all on her own?

Lord Riften eases between them, wings pulling taut. “You speak as if you don’t see me standing here, Sinoe.”

Sinoe doesn’t spare a glance for him. Her sharpened teeth sink into a smile when her gaze drags down Avirin’s body. “Can you blame me?”

A shiver streaks through Avirin. Is this how foxes feel staring into the mouths of hounds? No, it can’t be; surely a fox wouldn’t have the senseless desire to feel the dog’s teeth sink into their flesh, just once. Just to feel it.

Mercifully, Lord Riften isn’t so distracted. He pulls Avirin close. “We won’t be visiting your fountain this evening. You’ll have to make each other’s acquaintance another time.”

Sinoe’s laugh is husky. “You don’t want to share?” She trails one fingernail along the bustline of Avirin’s dress. “I bet if she asked nicely —”

“Sinoe.”

Sinoe winks and continues her descent. “Perhaps next time, Avirin.”

Sinoe knows her name? Avirin’s eyes follow the woman, hypnotized by the sway of her hips. Lord Riften’s gentle hands settle beneath Avirin’s elbows and prompt her to continue up the stairs. “Don’t let your eyes get bigger than your stomach,” Lord Riften teases.

Avirin blanches, like she’s been caught watching someone undress. “I’m certain I don’t know what you mean! I’m not even —” Her throat makes a grumbling sound to bring attention to its emptiness.

Lord Riften’s lips twitch. “Once you are ready to feed, we should find you a well-balanced meal, someone satisfying and restorative. Sinoe, on the other hand…” Lord Riften sighs with fond exasperation. “I would liken her to a feast in the desert for you. A delightful treat, but you’ll overindulge to sickness if you aren’t careful.”

All this talk of feasting has Avirin absolutely parched. When they reach the second floor, Lord Riften scoops up two glasses of cider from a nearby tray and deposits one into her hand.

She drinks it gratefully and eyes the drawing room at the top of the stairs. This seems to be the main hub of activity, the center of the party itself. Groups are seated at different tables, laughing and drinking and shuffling cards. Above the clusters of candles, a fog of tobacco smoke fills the room, tinging the space with a pleasantly woody scent.