Page 10 of A Taste for the Peculiar

Lord Riften lifts a brow. “It sounded very interesting to me. And it seemed to interest you very much.” When Avirin doesn’t speak further, Lord Riften gives her a lingering look before he turns back to the shelves. “I used to dream of publishing a book. A hopeless folly, really. The topic would be so scandalous it would never get printed, but I’ve collected notes over the years…” He shakes the thought away and turns to face Avirin again. “No matter. I’ve done some further research on your circumstance. Reached out to the succubi I’ve worked with in the past.” When Avirin tenses, Lord Riften settles back against the desk. “No one knows your secret. The people I spoke with are under the impression that I have a private client — which, I suppose, I do.”

Avirin exhales her relief.

Lord Riften gives her a cheeky grin. “You need not worry, Lady Avirin. If I’m known for anything, it’s being discreet.”

Heartily, she scoffs, then tries to cover the unladylike sound.

“They discussed a few different things with me,” Lord Riften continues, “like the fact that you —”

“Thank you, but I — I do not wish to know.”

In truth, Avirin hadn’t expected those words to come out of her, but they leapt from her grasp like a skittish foal pursued by gnashing teeth. Her fingers tighten around her reticule. She can’t begin to imagine what Lord Riften will tell her. The awful things she will have to endure. The brutal way they will describe her. She has heard the rumors. Will her jaw unhinge to swallow her husband whole? Will her hunger never be satisfied? Will she lose all sense of herself?

Denying this curse has worked thus far; she must continue fighting it back.

Lord Riften watches her carefully. “Are you certain? I believe it would help you.”

“I do not wish to discuss it.” Her voice is tight, but she finds a pleasant smile. “Perhaps another time. I will address this…change when it becomes necessary. For now, I need to focus on procuring a husband.”

Lord Riften’s brow knits. He looks disappointed with her choice, but they do not push it further, tilting their head to take her in. “Answer me honestly, Lady Avirin. Did you approach me only because you thought I would be the easiest to get on my back?”

Avirin nearly chokes.

“You needn’t turn me up sweet,” they continue. “It will not offend me if that is why you chose me.” Placidly, Lord Riften blinks their hatched eyes. “I would not question your decision. My reputation precedes me, and it is far more fact than rumor.”

“No!” she gasps. “I —”

Her mind whirls. They asked for honesty, but it isn’t the first time she has heard that request and been met with dissatisfaction when it is what she gives. She bites the end of her tongue. Please don’t let me make this worse, she prays. Please.

“It played a part,” she admits, “but not because…” What can she say? Her mouth wars with her mind, a battle between her desire for accuracy against the social word games she doesn’t understand.

Lord Riften is still watching her, their expression easy and open. It makes her want to speak the truth. To drop the pretense. To answer them as candidly as they do her.

“I did choose you because of your reputation, but not because I thought it would be easy. It was because I thought you would not judge me. That you would not get hung up on why I was asking. That you might still see me, even if you learned my secret.”

Her throat tightens. Avirin isn’t sure she sees herself anymore. She still remembers the shock of looking in the mirror and watching her eyes be swallowed by her pupils, turning them into cold, black holes. She remembers her mother screaming, as if Avirin had died right then and been replaced by something monstrous.

Lord Riften’s face softens. “I doubt there will come a time when I cannot see you.”

Emotion wells in her throat. Why do the words pain her so sweetly? She fears she may burst into tears without knowing why, and she can’t do that here. She tries to steady her voice. “Our lesson, Lord Riften?”

There: that’s easier to focus on. Lord Riften loosens their cravat. “Do you remember our codeword from the park?”

She tries to remember the moments before they were pressed close on the bench, heat swimming between their open mouths. “Honey,” she manages.

“Perfect.” Their freckled nose wrinkles when they smile. “Until it is time to feed, I need you to promise to be a good student and pay very close attention to what I tell you. Can you do that?”

A sharp ache twinges between her legs. She nods.

Lord Riften’s antennae twitch, fingers trailing along the spines of the books. “Good. Because what I need tonight is to observe how you find your own pleasure, all by yourself.”

FIVE

Avirin

“Will I not be touching you?” It’s pitiful how needy Avirin sounds, unable to hide her craving for the carnal knowledge Lord Riften holds. Since he accepted her request, she has fantasized about the moment he finally puts his body to hers. When she gets a glimpse of what Lord Riften does in the brothels. When she receives an up-close demonstration of how their body moves, how she should use her hands, how his face will change when she —

“Apologies,” Lord Riften smiles, “I must have misunderstood.” He lifts Avirin’s chin on a slender finger, tone dark with amusement. “Are you the teacher?”