Page 36 of Kiss of Wrath

“You will have to live in, of course,” she said, twisting her hands in her lap.

“Of course.”

He could tell she was nervous being alone with him. Truth to tell, he was a mite nervous himself, and nervousness was a new experience for him.

“We can discuss all your specific duties later. Don’t you want to know what your salary will be?”

“Not particularly.”

She smiled. “Bradley’s influence again, I suppose.”

He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, linking his hands behind his nape, just looking at her. He liked looking at her.

She stared at him, too. Rather dazed, he thought. But then she shook her head, as if confused. “Let me show you to your room. It’s off the kitchen, not very big. Nothing fancy.”

“I do not need big or fancy.” Many, many times over the centuries, he’d slept on the hard ground or in hovels. He’d also slept in palaces and luxurious hotel suites. None of that mattered to him.

They both stood, and Mordr was staggered by the smell of lilies and cloves as she walked around the desk toward him. It seemed to enter his nostrils and sweep through his body, causing his blood to heat and the fine hairs to stand out on the back of his neck. Without thinking, he said, “Your scent enthralls me.”

At the same time, she said, “You smell delicious. Like sandalwood and lime. Is it cologne?”

Mordr had never used cologne. Never ever. The most scent he’d ever put on his body would have been in his soap, and he did not recall the scent of sandalwood, or fruit, for that matter. Delicious? Me?

Just then, Mordr realized what it was, and he almost reeled with disbelief. His brothers Vikar and Trond and Ivak, all of whom were married to life mates, claimed that at one point before the mating, a special scent emanated from couples. A sure sign of soul mates.

No, no, no! This cannot . . . will not . . . happen to me.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she said, no longer dazed. “Let’s make one thing clear. There will no sex involved in your duties. I am not interested.”

“As if you were asked!” he scoffed. “For your information, I have been celibate for a long, long time.” Damn, damn, damn, when did I develop a loose tongue?

“How long?”

“Longer than you can imagine, and then more than that.” Think two hundred and fifty years, give or take.

Her face softened. “I deal with problems like this all the time. Are you able to masturbate to orgasm?”

Surely, surely, she did not say what he thought she did.

He must have looked confused because she started to say, “Masturbation is the practice of—”

“I know what masturbation is. Are you demented? Asking a man such a question!”

“There are remedies for impotency today. I’m a professional. Like a medical doctor. Everything you tell me is confidential. No need to be embarrassed.”

Mordr went rigid with consternation. “I am not impotent.” Leastways, he did not think he was. “It is a choice.”

“Oh,” she said, though she clearly did not understand.

“How would you feel if I asked you whether you pleasure yourself to a climax?”

“I would answer yes.” She put her hand on the doorknob and motioned for him to follow.

At first, he was too stunned to move. She masturbates? Why am I surprised? After seeing what is on modern television, Sodom and Gomorrah look like Mayberry. And, yes, he was familiar with that old television show. In fact, that Barney Fife character reminded him of a Viking he once knew, Lars Lackwit.

She opened the door, and he followed, entertaining the most delicious mind fantasies.

Five little bodies almost fell back on their little rumps. Apparently, they had been pressed against the door, eavesdropping. He hoped they hadn’t heard everything. At least they were clean, having taken showers as ordered, he assumed. Except for Ruff, who was still dirty as his fur dried in matted clumps.