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As it was, he was beholden to a group of people he barely knew, though he’d been introduced—if his foggy recollections were to be trusted—and even if he couldn’t remember what was said, some of their personalities stood out simply from their tone of voice. Still, it made him feel vulnerable in a way he never had before, but there was little he could do about it right then.
Thankfully, this time upon awakening, he felt he had more energy, but he must’ve moved too fast attempting to lift his head because he became dizzy at once. However, his mouth no longer stung, and when he swiped his tongue over his lips, he no longer recoiled in discomfort.
He breathed in and out in the vacant room, now recalling how it’d been empty at this time the previous night too, going by the full moon glimmering outside the window.
And just like the evening they brought him there, he could hear the hum of chatter and titters of laughter somewhere outside the room, and again wondered what this place was and who could inform him. Hopefully his newfound alertness might help him decipher it better this evening.
He rolled onto his side, deliberating whether he might inquire himself, but thought better of it when his stomach protested. He swallowed back the warm bile and shut his eyes, knowing that soon enough someone was bound to come through the door. If anything, they had been quite considerate of the stranger under their roof.
He drifted in and out of sleep until he heard someone near his bedside. When he opened his eyes, he saw Madam Langley.
“Your color is better.”
“I’m feeling more human.” The words came out raw and scratchy, as if he hadn’t spoken in years rather than hours. “What day is it?”
“Saturday. You’ve been sleeping like the dead, but your body obviously needed it,” she remarked, looking him over. “Miss Celestine will bring you something more substantial to eat from the kitchens.”
Well, that was news. There were others besides the young lads who slept in this room? He supposed it made sense, given the number of residents here. Which reminded him. “Where is everyone?”
She looked away. “They are…entertaining our guests.”
“What sort of guests?” he asked, noting her clothing for the first time. She was wearing a floor-length lace dress with a satin sash tied at the waist for evening wear, which was different from the long skirt and frilly blouse she’d greeted him in when he arrived. “Have I interrupted some kind of celebration?” He’d definitely feel guilty if they’d lagged in their preparations to attend to him.
“Not at all. We have similar festivities every week.” She reached over to adjust his linens, avoiding his eyes.
“I don’t understand.” He made a frustrated sound. “Is it my imagination, or are you purposely being vague?”
Madam Langley sighed, studied him, then glanced over her shoulder toward the door, possibly considering whether she could trust him with the information.
“Each Friday and Saturday evening, the Moon Flower transforms into a different kind of establishment.”
He strained his ears, attempting to hear more of the atmosphere outside the door, distinctly picking up sounds of merriment. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Gentlemen are safe in our upstairs rooms…to partake in their distinct appetites.” She cocked an eyebrow. “They do not have to search for stolen moments in dark alleyways.”
Heat flashed hot on Galen’s cheeks when she gave him a knowing look.
“So the others who live here are…whores?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Is that what you consider yourself?”
He shrugged, which made his sore muscles tighten. “I was paid to provide favors for men—wherever a stolen moment, as you say, could be found.”
She watched him closely, then cleared her throat. “Gentlemen come here to…rent a room. Either with someone they have a prior arrangement with, or to spend time with one of our residents. The fee and activities are determined up front, to avoid complications.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, undoubtedly, that happened on rare occasions over the years, but we don’t allow harm to come to anyone—unless they agree to that kind of play.”
Galen’s blush deepened as his head swam with thoughts and possibilities.
Did that mean Azriel was with a gentleman in one of the many rooms they’d passed down the long hallway when he first arrived? The twins?
His entire body tingled as if he were some shrinking violet.
Still, he couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that this was a place where men were free to be with other men like themselves.
Oh, he’d definitely heard rumors about the existence of such establishments, molly houses and brothels alike, and Moon Flower sounded like a combination of both. They usually required secret permissions, for fear of being raided and dismantled by the authorities. He paid little attention because he had no chance of entering any of them, let alone being paid for services rendered. Yet here he was—his first glance inside.
