Pleasure and Purpose Read online

  "They could, indeed, but we won't need anyone for it. Thank you." The girl looked around the room again and opened her mouth as though she meant to speak, but a look from Mina stopped her. "All right, then, miss." When the girl had gone, Mina took one last look around the room before slipping through the doorway into the bedchamber. Dark curtains blocked the light. A lump huddled in the center of the bed, not even covered by the blankets that had been tossed into a heap on the floor. The room stank, not the worst reek she'd ever encountered, but one strong enough to assault not only her nose but her sense of propriety.

  The first thing she did was go to the window and let in the light. It showed the disorder in greater detail as well as illuminating the lumpy figure on the bed, and Mina's lip curled. Disgusting, that a man should allow himself to sink so low, and because of what? Love? He didn't move. She hadn't expected him to. The low, irregular in-out of his breath told her he wasn't even conscious. It would take more than light to rouse him. She went back through the study and to the attached bathing chamber where she filled a pitcher with water. She studied him for a moment or so with it in her hands. Would he scream? Thrash about? Or would she have to rouse him more thoroughly? A small smile stole across her lips at the thought.

  "Wake up," Mina said, and tossed the contents of the pitcher on Alaric's head. He muttered, arms and legs swimming against the bed's dirty bottom sheet, but he didn't get up. His eyes fluttered and closed again, his mouth lax. The water spread in a darkening stain on the sheet.

  Mina put the pitcher carefully on a side table. She walked just as carefully to the side of the bed, leaned over, and studied him. Alaric Dewan, beneath the dirt and despair, was a handsome man, but if he'd had a troll's features it wouldn't have mattered. What caught her breath would not be the shape of his mouth or breadth of his shoulders but something rather less tangible. Something . . . subtle. And as always the first time she met a patron, Mina wondered if he would have that silent, subtle something she craved. Obedience.

  She took his earlobe between her thumb and finger, the nails pressing into the tender flesh, and squeezed. Hard. Alaric squirmed under the sudden pain. His eyes opened wide. They were blue, she noted without releasing his ear. A lovely, pale blue. He struggled, but was no more able to get away from her grasp than if she'd had him bound with ropes. She pulled.

  He moved.

  "Wake up," she repeated calmly.

  "By the Void!" he cursed in a thick voice and swung his arms as though he hoped to push her away.

  Mina stepped to the side, releasing him at the same time so he tumbled from the bed onto the floor. He found it first with his face and not even the thick rug could mask the sound of his nose crunching. He let out a stream of mumbled curses that made no sense and cradled his head in his hands, legs askew. Mina watched him calmly for but a moment, just long enough for him to take a few deep breaths.

  "Get up."

  He looked up at her, blood leaking from his nose, and spat to the side. "By the Mother's invisible tits, who are you?"

  "I am your comfort and your grace," she said without a hint of irony. "Now. Get. Up." When she'd drawn three breaths and he'd made no move to obey, Mina reached and grabbed his earlobe again. She pulled. He got up, not easily and not without stumbling and cursing and flailing, but she got him on his feet.

  Standing, he was taller than she, but that didn't matter. She had a tender part of him in a painful grip, and he was still too groggy headed to get away. Mina marched him one stumbling step at a time into the bath chamber, where she let him go and he fell to the damp floor over the drain with a strangled cry.

  "You vile bitch," he managed to sneer through the runner of blood still dripping from his nose.

  "Bold words from a man on his hands and knees," Mina replied, unmoved. She nudged him with the toe of her leather boot, and Alaric cringed back. "Your body is as filthy as your mouth. You will be cleaned immediately."

  He gaped at the tub but didn't move until she reached again for his ear. Then he scrambled back faster than she thought he'd have been able to just a few moments ago. Mina kept her smile locked tight. Alaric put up a hand against her, and she drew back. She turned to the spigot with the bucket beneath and twisted the handle to let the water pour forth. She didn't bother waiting for it to warm. She opened the small cabinet to find soap, a brush or cloth, bath oils. She found scant supplies of everything, though all were of high quality and must have been costly. When she turned again to face him with a stoppered bottle in one hand and a cloth in the other, Alaric became gape-mouthed again.

  "Who, by the Void, are you?"

  "I told you. I'm your comfort and your grace. Take off your clothes." He shook his head, fist clutching the front of his shirt. "I will not—

  She tossed the overbrimming bucket over him. Spluttering, Alaric made as though to grab away the bucket, but Mina was faster.

  He fell short, his palms hitting the wet floor with a smack that sounded as though it must sting. He let out a low groan.

  "Why can't you leave me alone?"

  "You've been left alone. It hasn't served you very well, has it?" She put the bucket beneath the tap again to fill once more with cold water. "Take off your clothes or I'll do it for you."

  The dual dousings had revived him, or perhaps whatever he'd dosed himself with had begun to wear away, for now Alaric stared up at her with a clearing gaze that swept her up and down. Recognition dawned in him. "I didn't send for one." Mina allowed herself to smile, just a little. "I am not a one."

  "I didn't send for you!"

  "No. And yet here I am. Now, will you get undressed, Alaric Dewan, or shall I be forced to strip you like a schoolboy and put you over my knee to get you to comply?" He had to know there was no way she could do it, really. Not by sheer force. He was bigger; she was not small but she was still smaller than him. A look crept across his face and anchored at the corners of his mouth, turning down. In his eyes, too, a half-sullen glare that sparkled nonetheless with a vigor missing moments before. Mina lifted the bucket.

  Alaric, with trembling fingers, undid the buttons on his white shirt. Soaked, the material clung to his skin and made it more difficult for him to remove it, but he managed. His trousers next, the sodden fabric squelching as he tossed it. He wore nothing beneath, not even hose, and since he'd had to get to his feet to remove the trousers, Mina had a full-length view of his body.

  A fine, broad chest and shoulders, slim hips, flat belly. Muscled thighs. He'd once been a gentlemen's gentleman with a body honed from horses and hunts and leisure. It didn't look as though he'd sat a horse for some time.

  His cock, surrounded by a thatch of thick golden hair, stirred under her perusal. At least it still worked. A man might be led by many things, but a cock could always serve as the finest of leashes. Mina admired it openly and then lifted her gaze to his. Alaric had clenched his fists and his jaw, but he was looking at her, too.

  "Sit." She indicated the small, three-legged stool with a jerk of her chin. He sat.

  Mina, mindful of his eyes upon her, unbuttoned her gown and hung it carefully out of the way. She pulled her shift to her thighs and buttoned it into place at her hips. She didn't want to get her clothes wet.

  She filled the bucket again and dipped the cloth in it before rubbing it briskly with the bar of soap she'd also found in the cabinet. When it had risen to a rich, creamy lather, she faced him.

  And then she began to wash him.

  His skin hunched at once into dead man's pimples at her first touch. By the time she ran the cloth over his chest and belly, Alaric's shudders were clacking his teeth together. But he said nothing, just allowed her to rub him with the soapy cloth. Even when she reached his thighs and the rising head of his cock, he said nothing.

  Mina murmured instruction to him, to raise an arm, shift to the left, open his thighs wider that she might find the places on the backs of his legs. He was no longer combative. In fact, she couldn't recall ever having so pliable a patron, for he d