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“Mr. Blackburn is requesting the both of you.”
“Both?” Galen asked, not understanding the arrangement.
“Yes, you and Azriel,” Madam Langley replied curtly, likely trying to move them along.
He trembled. Did Azriel put the idea in Mr. Blackburn’s head—or perhaps Madam Langley’s—because he did not think Galen capable of anything more…vigorous? When his eyes flashed to Azriel, he would not meet his gaze.
“Is this something you would like to agree to?” Madam Langley asked in a more urgent tone. “If not, there are several other—”
“Yes, I agree,” Galen said, his heart pounding, hoping he had not squandered the opportunity. “As long as Azriel is comfortable with the arrangement.”
Galen could feel Azriel shift beside him, which made him doubt his initial suspicion about a plan. It occurred to him that he would be chagrined if Azriel refused, but he didn’t know why it was so important to him, other than wishing to be closer to him.
“The decision is yours,” Mr. Blackburn said gently, and Madam Langley gave the gentleman a look that made Galen’s stomach feel weird. What was he missing?
It must’ve been the exact sentiment Azriel needed, because his stance immediately relaxed. “I absolutely agree to the terms.”
“It is settled, then.” Mr. Blackburn smiled as his fingers plucked the moon flower from behind Galen’s ear. Galen held in a gasp, unsure how being chosen like this—in this ceremonial way—might affect him. It was somehow both flattering and comforting.
Chapter 12
As Galen and Azriel followed Mr. Blackburn, he noticed the disappointment on the face of the gentleman who’d been eyeing him all evening. But Galen did not share the sentiment. Instead, he felt a growing anticipation as they moved down the hallway to a vacant room. When Azriel finally met his gaze, his cheeks were dotted pink and his smile tentative. He was apparently a bit tense too.
Galen’s pulse beat wildly as they stepped into the room and Mr. Blackburn shut the door behind them.
“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Mr. Blackburn said in a genial tone as he sat down in the corner of the room.
Galen didn’t know whether he was supposed to sit or stand, and so he fidgeted awkwardly beside Azriel, awaiting the gentleman’s instruction.
“Just look at the pair of you. So lovely—separate and together.”
Galen mimicked Azriel’s action of dipping his head in appreciation. “Thank you, sir.”
The purple hue of passion vibrated around the very edges of Mr. Blackburn’s aura, but in the center it pulsed that same deep, melancholy blue. Loss, pain, sadness? Whatever it was, Galen felt the heaviness of it, and he again wondered what it meant, if it was the reason the gentleman did not partake physically with the whores. But it would be rude to inquire, and besides, who was he to question a person’s particular tastes? He had his own, after all.
“First, I would like you to undress each other,” Mr. Blackburn said gruffly, as if the tension was affecting him as well.
He felt Azriel shiver, but he couldn’t read his reaction over the roaring in his ears, so he focused on his aura. It still held the green of worry and the blue of sadness, but the sadness did not reach the depth of the other man’s.
And now it pulsed with the purple of desire and that strange lavender hue in the center. Galen breathed deeply, telling himself to relax. This was Azriel, who was caring and kind and easy on the eyes. And now Galen could look unabashedly, a closer view than he had last night. No doubt this evening would be something he would remember even in his worst times. They were in this together, and that brought a comfort to him he hadn’t felt before.
They turned to each other, eyes meeting, and Galen’s fingertips ached to reach out, to make a connection, but he didn’t know if he should. He’d never had the opportunity to set his own pace, and he suddenly felt out of his depth, especially with someone like Azriel, whom he admired and who was pleasing in so many ways. When Mr. Blackburn cleared his throat, it was a swift reminder that he was in the room and had paid for their services.
Azriel responded first, stepping closer to Galen and helping him out of his underclothes in a perfunctory manner. Azriel’s flushed skin and soft breaths meeting Galen’s own in the narrow space between them were the only signs Azriel was at all affected.
Galen’s fingers trembled as he assisted Azriel, lifting his shirt over his head, sliding his drawers down his legs, and he inhaled sharply, giving himself away at the first exposure of a shoulder. Now that Azriel was standing bare before him, Galen couldn’t help admiring the angular dip of Azriel’s collarbones, as well as his alabaster skin, dotted with small freckles that he wished to trace with his fingers and tongue. He did not allow his eyes to stray downward. Not yet. His own prick was half hard from the ghost of Azriel’s touch, and by the time the last of the material had slinked to the floor, he couldn’t help noting that Azriel was in the same state. Galen was desperate for a closer look, but he also didn’t want to embarrass himself.
