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The images that had had Seth’s cock leaking had been pretty fucking raw and pretty fucking dirty—and inspired very much by what he’d seen yesterday at the bathhouse. Mostly, Seth’s sleep-addled, uncontrolled mind had imagined Raider’s bare, muscled ass taking a pounding from Seth’s cock. But then there had been the full frontal view that Seth had gotten when Raider had emerged from the pool, his cock jutting out stiff and thick and so fucking perfect that Seth’s brain had conjured images of that cock spurting cum while Seth fucked him.
Seth hated that he’d dreamed that shit. Not that he’d never had sex dreams, but he didn’t like them being about a man like Raider. A thief and a rogue, Raider was nothing that Seth should be attracted to.
So Seth had told his dick no, and he’d dealt with his swollen balls all damn morning. Until he’d walked by the bathhouse. Until those images had come back. Cock aching, pissed off, Seth had found a quiet place and had dealt with his problem.
He didn’t like how he felt about it, especially with Raider standing four feet away. For fuck’s sake, he didn’t even like the man.
But at least the physical release made Seth capable of leveling a steady gaze and saying calmly, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Get your ass out here.”
“What makes you think you can order me around?”
Raider’s right eye brightened to gold as it had done before. Another trick of the light? The sunlight cutting through the stalls’ square windows was certainly lighting up those silks, especially the gold trim on that kaftan. The silks were noticeably cleaner than yesterday, and the man’s skin gleamed like polished bronze.
So damn flashy.
But maybe not as fake as Seth had first thought. Raider’s anger, at least, was very real. Though why the hell anything about Seth should upset him was a mystery.
Raider snapped, “I am going to speak with you regardless of where you are, but I prefer not to scare your horse.”
Damn it. It torqued Seth to comply, but the bay gelding was already reacting to the tension. When the horse let out a nervous snort, Seth stepped out from the stall, hooking the rope behind him to keep the animal in.
The boys who had been tending the horses had all mysteriously vanished, and even the public square beyond the open stable doors looked empty.
Raider made a slashing gesture. “You cannot go into the Kesh.”
“You cannot prevent me, nor do you have any reason to attempt doing so.”
“You fool, you have no idea what’s out there!”
“I made clear that I would pay for information on ‘what’s out there.’ You are the one who has refused to tell me, so you are the one—”
Pain crashed through Seth’s jaw. He staggered from the force of Raider’s punch. It wasn’t often that he got taken by surprise, but that had come out of nowhere.
Seth stepped back to make space for his weapons. “Listen, you fucking lunatic—”
“You think you’re tough enough for the Kesh?” Raider made a come-at-me gesture. “Prove it.”
“I don’t have to prove anything to you.”
“Then I’ll make you a deal. If you can beat me, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
Seth briefly considered. On the one hand, he could practically feel the disappointment of his mentor across all the miles between here and the Arcanum. How many times had Marcus dragged him away from some boyhood tussle to lecture him on needless violence? How many times had Marcus led him through breathing exercises or told him to unclench his fists and hold a book instead?
On the other hand, this was a path to vital information. And maybe a chance to replace those images of Raider with ones less … stimulating.
Apparently, the acquiescence showed on Seth’s face because Raider unfastened the golden cloth toggles of his kaftan. In a single, fluid motion, he shrugged out of the red silk and slung it aside. Above the loose blue pants, Raider’s build was what Seth vividly recalled: one of lean power, like that of the finest athletes in Masir’s annual games.
That was all well and good, but Seth was heavier, stronger, and better armed. He had his sword at his back, a knife strapped to his thigh, and his chakram at his belt, the circular weapon razor sharp and delightful to throw.
Seth also had his arcane bracers and clothes to protect him from at least light damage. Raider had nothing but silk and that absurd dagger peeking out from his violet sash.
“Just remember,” said Seth, “you asked for it.”
He snatched his knife from its sheath and lunged.
Raider spun aside with shocking quickness, somehow grabbing Seth’s wrist with one hand and slamming his other into the crook of Seth’s elbow. Only a clever twist of Seth’s wrist prevented Raider from relieving him of the knife.
