Fuck I missed this. Drums echo through the streets, and the sweet scent of ecstasy fills the air. In the ever-changing maze of flesh and silk, whores, and gigolos offer their skills to anyone that catches their eye. A few recognize me, but I pull my mask over my nose. If word reaches Giselle that I'm here, I'll never hear the end of it. 

"Don't wander off, Becka?"  When she doesn't answer, I find her with a group of thirsty women gawking at a man auctioning his services. Sneaking behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist, and her muscles tense. She glares at me, hiding her frustration under her mask. Resting my head on her shoulder, I say, "I think you're a little small for that ride."

Leaning her head back, she pinches my leg to get back at me. "I'm curious, not crazy."

"So, let's start bidding, ladies. How much are you willing to pay for this?" He gestures to his third leg, and like bitches in heat, they start betting large purses of gold like pocket change.

Not wanting to wait for the blood bath, I take Becka's hand, and we head deeper into the district. Perfume hangs heavy, masking the rot hidden in every nook and cranny. We keep bumping into other people, so I break for one of the side streets. Though it's less crowded, purse cutters wait among the broken crates. They size us up, one even going for his rusty knife, though it's little more than a broken blade with a cloth handle.

The fool rushes us, so I push Becka away, drawing his attention. They are not hardened killers, but they're no less dangerous. Our assailant points his weapon at me, but one blow to the back of the head knocks him flat. With the leader on the ground, the rest scurry back into the darkness. Broken bottle in hand, Becka drops her makeshift weapon, allowing us to continue.

We turn into another alley. I spot a familiar face. Pinning Becka to the wall, I ignore her protests, covering her mouth so we're not heard. Gesturing her to be quiet, I peer around the corner. I swear it's like the gods hate me.

"Great." I take my hand from Becka's mouth.

"What the big deal?" Becka follows my gaze. "They're just two drunks. I don't see the problem."

Of course, she didn't. She wasn't there. Those distant memories flicker at the back of my mind, yet I remember them clear as day. I did my usual patrol through the brothel hallways, ensuring everyone played nice. A scream drew my attention, and I rushed to the source. Throwing a door open, I found one of the girls cowering in the corner of the room, blood oozing from an open wound in her forehead, her eye swollen shut.

Her abuser looks at me, trying to get me out of the room so he can continue his fun, but I block his attack, slamming his face into the door frame. He bitched and moaned as I dragged him through the halls. I threw him outside, but he still wouldn't shut up, threatening me; I beat him till he was a whimpering child in the streets.

The next day, the Madame kicked me out, telling me never to return. I was only doing what she paid me to do. But, it's true, nobles will defend their little shits no matter what they do.

That man, Atius, the one I threw out of the Silent Sin a year ago, is blocking our path, nursing on a bottle of wine, "That fucking old cow, does she not know who I am?" he finishes his drink, shattering the bottle on a wall. "I swear I burn that brothel down for this!" His slave helps him to his feet.

"Screw this." Becka shoves her way past me, walking straight to Atius. 

"Becka!" I rush after her, only for my voice to give us away.                  

Grinning like a fool, Atius pushes past his slave, cleaning himself, trying to impress Becka. "Well, if it isn't the bastard that knocked out three of my teeth." He leers at Becka's going for her slave tag, only to have his hand slapped away.

"I don't have time to deal with you." I take Becka by the hand, but Atius stops us, reaching for something. At first, I thought he had a knife, but it was a purse full of coins, more than I could make in a year.  

"You know I still owe you for what you did to me." He shoves a pouch of coins into my chest. "I'll forgive you if you let me have a tumble with that slave of yours." I throw the purse back at him.

"She's not for sale."

He shoves the purse back into my chest. "You don't seem to understand the situation you're in. You take the money, and you walk away. It's that simple." He goes for Becka, but I grab his arm, ready to snap it like a twig. His slave goes for his weapon but hesitates when I stare him down. Shoving him against the wall, I gestured for Becka to follow me. 

But that cackle echoes through the alley. Forcing himself to stand, Atius draws a knife on me. "You still don't understand, do you? My house is second only to the five Great families. And I won't be disrespected by some fucking mongrel."

I ignore his self-righteous condescension and shove his friend out of the way. It takes every ounce of my will not to beat him to an inch of his life again. This day was supposed to be simple, make the delivery and go home.

"I guess you're beyond redemption, mongrel. But what about your sister." I stop dead in my tracks; what was he planning? "I should teach her how to be a proper Imperial woman." Grinning as he twists the knife. "Or I could just take her as a concubine. She could pay back the debt you owe me. You know, after I give her a thorough education."

I throw him to the ground, his laughter ringing in my ear. My heart starts racing, and I start wailing on him, but he won't stop laughing, no matter how many times I hit him. I can feel the fires in my angry haze while the stench of burning flesh floods my nose. The screams echoing all around me. Standing, I fight for air. He finally stops laughing like a madman; only wet gargling remains. Turning to Becka, she and Atius's friend are pale, and shock decorates their faces.

Through heavy breaths, I look to Atius. His face is gone, now only a pulpy mess of blood and bone, his body twitching as a crimson pool forms. I look at my hand, now socked red, and it's clear what happened. 

"Oh, you've done it now, mongrel." He pulls Becka into a headlock, pointing a knife at her. "You murdered a noble; they'll make you bleed for this." Becca bites his arm and manages to wiggle free. "Ah, you bitch!" Grazing her across the back with his knife, she falls to the ground, grabbing her shoulder.

I rush him. Like two bears, we slam each other into the walls, desperate to get the knife. In this dance of death, broken crates and shattered vases fall, making it harder to get a footing. The blade glides between us, and we nick each other. I get a cut on the cheek, but it pushes me harder to stop him. We stare each other down as I slowly gain the upper hand. His bravado is replaced with utter fear as I slowly push the tip of the knife into his throat. His one hand flails, desperate to free himself from my grip, but I slide the blade further and further into his throat. He begs with gargled words, but they are ignored. In one quick motion, I pull the knife across his throat, and he slumps to the ground, his blade clenched in his hand. He twits momentarily, desperate to stop the bleeding, but he goes limp, his eyes glazing over. 

Everything becomes a hazy mess, and my body acts on its own. A pile of debris is next to Atius's body, and I throw it to the ground. It lands directly on his head, giving the illusion it killed him, but I'm spattered with his blood. I look back at his friend slumped against the wall. If we're lucky, people will think it's a suicide after the two of them got into a fight. Satisfied with my work, I fall onto a wall, trying to catch my breath. Becka joins me, and for a time, we sit in silence for a while. "Are you okay?" I asked. 

She rubs her shoulder, trying to ease the pain. "I'm fine, Colton." 

"Let me see."

The knife had cut right through her dress, leaving a nasty red line on her shoulder blade. It isn't deep, but we still should get it looked at. I push myself from the wall and offer Becka my hand. "What about them?" She gestures to the bodies. "Shouldn't we hide the bodies?"

"No," We start to walk away. "As far as anyone is concerned, this was a drunken fight that led to a suicide." 

We zigzag through the side alleys, ignoring the beggars in their shanties, desperate for anything we can give them. We come to the street that'll lead us to our destination. But something is off. There wasn't a fortified wall and door a year ago. I'm sure we went the right way. Did I make a mistake? I bang on the door, and a little peephole opens.

"What?" a feminine voice says, a single blue eye staring at me through the peephole. The woman gasps and quickly tries to close the hole, but I stop it with my finger, recognizing the voice. "No, you're not welcome here anymore, Colton." She tries to force the peephole shut, threatening to chop my fingers off if I don't move them.  

"Whisper, please. I need Madame's help," I say softly like I did back then. Give me five minutes, and you'll never see me again." I pull my fingers out of the peephole and hear a click as the large metal door opens, revealing an old acquaintance of mine.

In the last year, Whisper has matured quite a bit. The skinny girl was now a woman, wearing a blue silk loincloth with a top that left little to the imagination. But the cloth over her one eye pulls at my heartstrings. If I had been quicker, I could have saved her vision. She takes us by the hands and leads us down the familiar alleyway.

When we arrive in the little nook, I'm taken aback. There used to be five brothels working in this spot, but now everything is different; a sweet smell fills the air, and I swear I'm hallucinating. The old tree in the center area is bursting with life. At its base, a mercenary is teased by a girl half submerged in a makeshift pond. I can see scales from the waist down, as if she has a tail.

Behind them, two girls with goat's legs and horns pull a man into their grotto decorated with vines heavy with flowers. That man reaches for his lover, as she is shouldered by a bear wearing a man's skin. Something's wrong; I can't focus on anything and feel light-headed. I look at my hand, and it's nebulous. I look at Becka, and she is grasping her heart, silently panicking as her gaze darts around the room, her eyes black as onyx.

"Come on," Whisper pulls us from the main area into a familiar location. Her otherworldly voice dancing in my ears. Guarding the door is a giantess wearing nothing but a golden torque and blue body paint. Her hair, a lion mane, giving her a fierce warrior look, tantalizing men brave enough to hire her. We walk past her, and she gives us a wink, smacking my ass as we pass. 

The Silent Sin, or what it used to be, has changed into a bathhouse. Steam hangs heavy in the air, silhouettes tempting us like a siren's call. Where the bar used to be now lies a large communal bath, its edges littered with mermaids, each wearing shells like jewelry, their tails glistening as they tend to the guests. 

Desperate for clarity,  I close my eyes and shake my head. When that fails, I focus on the pillars, heavy with flowered vines wrapping around them like snakes. On the second floor, I spot several massage tables. Unlike everything else I had seen, the girls are ordinary. Good, I'm not going insane.

Becka clings to my arm, trembling like a fearful child. Whatever this stuff is, it's hitting Becka hard. Whisper pulls us into a side room with a door. Once inside, the room's finery glints in the midday light as a silk curtain dances in the breeze. I remember this room being one of Madame's private rooms. How did Whisper get access? The large bath at the center can seat at least four people. A massage table and clean linens lie ready for use in one corner. Opposite of that, soaps, herbs, and oils litter a shelf held in various-sized containers. 

"Colton," I turn to Whisper, who wraps her arms around me, sticking her tongue down my throat. A bitter syrup fills my mouth, taking the haze from my mind but leaving my head feeling like a war drum on the march. "I'll get the Madame, and then we're even," our attention darts to Becka, crouched in the corner like a beat dog. "Give her this," she plops a vial into my hand, "Make sure you're clean by the time I get back." 

"Thank you, Whisper." I slide my fingers between her blindfold and cheek, revealing the eye I couldn't save. Though the bruises are gone, her eye is now a milky gray. "I'm sorry, I should have acted sooner." Flushed, she knocks my hand away, slamming the door behind her as she leaves the room.    

The thud of the door causes Becka to yelp. I kneel, reaching for Becka, only for her to slap me away in a panic. Her eyes are still as black as onyx. She grabs my face, trying to make sense of the situation. The touch of my face calms her down, and she focuses solely on me.

"You're real, right?" she begs. 

Taking her hand, I look deep into her eyes. "Do you trust me, Becka?" With the simple nod, I get confirmation. Vial to lip, I finish the bottle and then press my lips to hers. I pinch her nose and hold her jaw open to slide my tongue down her throat, letting the medicine do its job. She struggles at first, digging her nails into my shoulders and threatening to bite my tongue off. But, she calms down, kissing me back using her tongue, battling for control of the situation.

When she swallows the drug, I let her go, and she instantly goes for her head. "Oh, what did you give me? It's like I just drank an entire keg." She rubs her eyes, desperate for the headache to stop. After a moment, she looks at me, her eyes no longer black voids. "What the fuck happened?"

I help her to her feet as we both nurse our raging headaches. "Sorry, I should have warned you. Places like this always use aphrodisiacs or some other fucked up concoction. Gets people in the mood." I turn to the center of the room. Then, an idea pops into my head. "On the plus side, I can promise you that bath now." I gestured to the bath. 

Peering behind me, Becka then looks at me with a skunk eye. "Couldn't wait till we got back to the estate? Crossing her arms with a smug look, her gaze darts between me and the bath. Taking a whiff of herself, she caves. "Fine." She points at me. "We do this back to back. I don't look at you. You don't look at me, deal." 

"Works for me." Peeling my clothes off, I searched the shelf, finding what I was looking for. "Looks like." A projectile of green, bloody fabric blinds me. Ripping the dress from my face, I'm rewarded with a flushed and naked Becca who covers herself. 

"I said don't look you perv." Her bare feet echo across the marble floor as she slowly creeps into the bath. She takes a deep breath, disappearing under the water. 

Not wasting time, I join her, dropping the dried berry powder into the water. I submerge myself, and the world disappears. It's peaceful but doesn't last when a sharp burning brings me back—popping my head above the water. The dirt and grime peel off like a second skin, but the cuts still burn. I glide my finger across my cheek; it's not bleeding anymore. 

Becka pops back out, splattering me with a torrent of water. Pulling her hair from her eyes, she looks at me and quickly covers herself. I marvel at her as the waters glisten off her pale skin. Crouching, she covers my eyes with her hand. "I told you not to look." Moving her hand, we eye each other, trying our best not to break eye contact. 

Taking the opportunity to mess with her, I stand up. Like I expected, she looks at my crotch but quickly looks away. "There, now we're even." I sit back down, getting a punch in the chest as a reward.

"Ass." She crawls to the other side of the pool, refusing to look at me, exposing her back. The wound she got in the alley is still fresh. If we don't get that treated, it's likely to cause a mark. However, I doubt Becca cares if it would leave a scar.

Creeping towards her, I reach for her back, tracing the wound with my fingers. Her muscles twitch, but she doesn't turn around. It's my fault she got hurt, "We should get this treated. Don't want you to get a scar right." A trickle of blood breaks through the seam, and I apply pressure, doing my best not to poke her below the belt. "When the Madame arrives, I'll ask for a needle and thread, but you'll have to take it easy for a while." I lean in so that my lips are right next to her ear. "So try not to use me as a punching bag, okay?"     

I turn around, but Becka stops me by wrapping her arms around my chest and resting her head on my back. "Thank you." Her nails dig into my chest as if afraid to let go.

"Don't worry about it." I take her hand, "Once we get those piercings out, we're even."

She tightens her grip, Her nails on the verge of ripping into my flesh. "That's not what I meant, you ass." I turn around, and she rests her head on my chest. "I would have killed myself if it wasn't for you." She looks into my eyes, trembling, sorrow hanging heavy on her features. The only thing I can do is embrace her. What's gotten into her? "You've done so much for me, more than I can ever repay." Taking my hands, she rests them on her breasts. "So, let me pay you back." She kisses my neck. 

My heart wants to jump out of my chest when she says that. Are the drugs still messing with her mind? I'd lie to myself if I said the thought never came to mind. Becka has a natural beauty few women have. A feminine frame but not soft, And that red hair mixed with those freckles is a rarity even amongst Northern women. But the last time I let myself go, I burnt bridges with Melissa's family. I don't want to do that with Becka and her mother.  

"What's wrong?" Becka stops herself. "Don't tell me you're not interested?"

"It's not that." I look down into those emeralds. "Every time I let myself go, it always bites me in the ass." I sit on the edge of the bath with only my legs in the water, but Becka continues her antics by crawling on top of me. I cup her face, "You grew up on the road, free from this bullshit." My mind wonders about a life that could have been. "I'd trade lives with you in a heartbeat."

I'm pinned to the ground in the blink of an eye, Becka glaring down at me with a stare that could kill, water dripping from her hair. "No, you don't." She lays on top of me, those damn piercings rubbing against my chest. "Colton, I never spent more than a month in any place before coming here. I had no friends and no family other than my mother. We could never trust anyone." She looks at me on the verge of tears, "We were never safe." Her fists clench, and she stares, trembling. "At least you had a home." 

I'm taken aback. To be hunted down like an animal, I can't even imagine what that must be like. But that hatred, I know that all too well. I wipe her tears away with my thumb, and the world disappears. Not even thinking, I let myself go. 

It starts with a kiss, and we savor the taste of our lust before letting go. A smile creeps on Becka's face, and she sheaths me. Not wanting to give her the satisfaction, I roll us over and pin her arms over her head. Smiles turn into grins, and we lock lips again. 

It was like a dance with Melissa. We'd read each other's movements, flowing like the current of a river. But with Becca, it's like a battle. We fight for dominance as if we were sparring. But I'm enjoying myself, even when she manages to get on top. She grinds her hips, one hand behind her head while the other caressing her chest. She looks at me hungrily, biting her lower lip in satisfaction.

Closing the distance, I grab her by the scruff and nibble on her neck. My tongue runs across her neck until I reach her earlobe. Gasping, Becka wraps her arms around my neck, grinding faster, trying to climax. Bear-hugging her, I rob her of an early victory.

"What's wrong?" Rubbing her nose against mine. "Don't want to lose to a woman?" Her smirk driving me wild.

Standing, I pin her against the wall, taking control of how much she's allowed to have. Not backing down, she wraps her legs around my waist, biting my lower lip. I force a kiss, only for her to shove her tongue past my defenses. Our duel grows most passionate, and we both ache for release. With one final thrust, my muscles tense, forcing me to lean on the wall for support while holding Becka, now collapsed in my arms. 

Through heavy breaths, we look into each other's eyes. I lower Becka to the ground, her legs giving out under her. Falling backward, she takes my hands, pulling herself into my embrace. Taking the hit, I kiss those sweet lips. Taking the chance to mess with her, I pick her up like a bride. Though all she does is smile, her cheeks flushed. 

Walking into the bath, I slide Becka onto my lap, washing the leg she offers. "Well, are we even?" she rests her head on my shoulder. 

"Yeah," I squeeze her breasts. "But I'm still taking these." I play her piercings, getting a giggle from Becka.

She leans forward. "Fine with me," she cups one of her breasts. "Don't like these anyway." With her hunched forward, I spot something under her mane. Curiosity getting the better of me, I pull the red curtain back, revealing a tattoo of a fox hiding behind its tail. "Hey!" She leaps off me, shielding the back of her neck." Don't do that!" The grin turns to a scowl.

I'd crossed a line, raising my hands, "Sorry, I was just curious." 

She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. "Yeah, whatever. Just don't do it again."

The door flies open, revealing the Madame. Her silk dress is ready to burst from her hefty figure. She's gotten bigger since I saw her last. Rings line her fingers, each bearing a precious stone, while elaborate earrings hang from her ears. Though she wears fine makeup, it can't hide that glare of hers.

"Usually, I'd charge you for using my bath." She pulls a lever next to the door, opening a hole in the bath. While the water drains, the Madame pulls another lever, causing what I thought was a wall decoration into an aqueduct. Boiling water rushes towards Becka and me, so we jump out of the tub to avoid getting burned. "But Whisper has convinced me to be lenient." Pinching her nose at the smell of berries, she stares at us like unwanted guests, "So, why are you here, my little soldier?

"I need a favor." 

I turn to Whisper, ready to thank her, but she refuses to look at me. She's flushed, a layer of sweat coating her body. Without a word, she gathers our dirty clothes, pausing when she sees the dagger handles. She and Becka lock eyes like a pair of alley cats. Not willing to risk Becka's ire, Whisper leaves us clean clothes. Turning to me, she takes my underwear and sniffs it, tucking it into her loincloth. Great, thanks, Whisper. At least we're even now.