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And he had the upper hand, which he wasn’t about to waste. Seth had found Jamil then had come straight to Raider. That meant he wanted something.
But Raider wanted something too. He wanted Seth to get in the pool. At this point, it was a matter of principle as much as one of attraction. Raider’s arousal, which had only intensified as he continued staring at that half-naked, heavily muscled body and listening to that gruff voice, was starting to be less fun—and so was his mood.
Seth, however, showed no signs of acquiescence. He stood in rigid refusal, his severity at odds with the lush surroundings of steaming water and relaxed voices.
But.
But.
His towel no longer lay entirely flat. He wasn’t fully hard, but he was clearly turned on. By Raider’s defiance? The man liked a little fight with his fucking, did he?
Unfortunately, the Curator proved himself capable of ignoring his arousal in the same way he’d ignored his audibly growling stomach at Ahmet’s tavern.
“Look,” Seth said, “I need information on the Kesh. I hear that you’re the ‘only one crazy enough’ to travel it. What you know, I need to know. Distances. Directions. Probable dangers. For that, I’ll get in the pool, but not for anything else.”
All the teasing went right out of Raider. Before he could even think to lure Seth into the water with false promises, he said, “I will not give you that information.”
“I’ll pay.”
“I will not sell you that information either. Any advice from me would only get you killed more slowly.”
“With or without your information, I will be crossing the Kesh. I would … appreciate”—the man really could grind out a word, couldn’t he?—“any details you are willing to sell.”
Raider felt his lips peel back from his teeth. “I am made for the Kesh. You are not. Whatever it is you’re after, it’s not worth dying for. Go back to your college, and leave the Kesh to the likes of me.”
Seth’s nostrils flared with obvious frustration. “I thought you liked money.”
“I like money only insofar as it brings me pleasure. I would get no pleasure from selling you your own death.”
Seth appeared on the verge of walking away, but Raider wanted to do it first. His afternoon was spoiled anyway, the joy of the bathhouse gone. Besides, he had one last play to make.
Raider levered himself out of the pool. As he climbed to his feet on the ledge, he kept his eyes locked on Seth, wondering if the Curator would refuse to look.
But, oh, he looked.
Those green eyes dropped to Raider’s groin. At the sight of Raider’s arousal, Seth’s nostrils flared.
Mollified at having caught his prey, Raider snatched up a towel from the stack on a nearby stone bench.
Seth’s eyes jerked up to Raider’s face as Raider wrapped the cloth around his waist. He secured his dick against his abdomen with the towel, then he walked past the silent Curator and through the steam of the bathhouse.
It was time to get delightfully, disgustingly drunk.
CHAPTER 5
RAIDER SLID FROM the mattress to the floor with a groan and began the process of levering himself up. Cocooned in the wool-stuffed luxury of Ahmet’s (second best) bed, he’d slept like a rock.
He had, unfortunately, also slept alone.
He had only himself to blame. Sour and frustrated after his exit from the bathhouse yesterday, he’d been half drunk on raaki by the time the Curator had stalked into Ahmet’s tavern. While ordering food for his room, Seth had pointedly not looked at Raider, which had been very annoying.
So Raider had decided that his best approach was to shamelessly stare at the man.
Ahmet, consequently, had found himself the focus of an increasingly intense green-eyed gaze. By the time the Curator had stalked off to Ahmet’s (first best) room, the tavern keeper’s heavy eyebrows had climbed nearly at his hairline.
Raider did not achieve his desired state of full, delightful drunkenness until much later in the night, probably around the time the raucous music in Shalaa’s fountain square had driven the residents of the surrounding houses to shout for the town guard.
Of course, it might have been the increasingly raunchy jokes or the nude dancing that had been the last straw. Whatever the case, the four men who constituted the town guard had finally been persuaded to peel themselves away from their dance partners, remove the strings of colorful beads from around their necks, and disperse the crowd.
