Free Raine: The Lords of Satyr by Elizabeth Amber

lock himself inside, away from discovery. It was of paramount importance that he keep himself from Humans then. He’d be vulnerable.
    One of the more comely courtesans on the balconies caught his eye. Noting his interest, she trailed a hand along her voluptuous cleavage to draw his attention there. At the crest of one breast, the barest hint of an areola was visible. Her finger slipped inside the fabric, swirling lazily over the nipple it concealed. The tip of a pink tongue stroked her lower lip, wetting it. Her eyelids drooped and her cunning emerald gaze watched him. Tempting him.
    And he was mightily tempted.
    The terms of such an assignation would be tacitly understood by both parties. No words would be needed. Their coupling would be fleeting, furtive. Coins rather than endearments would be exchanged as easily as bodily fluids. He only had to knock upon this woman’s door to be invited into her home. Into her body.
    No. He rallied his self-control and forced himself to walk on. Courtesans moved in the same social circles as he once had here in Venice. She might recognize him and gossip. He couldn’t take the chance he might tarnish the Satyr family name yet again.
    Raine slipped into the shadows of the buildings that lined the canal. Willing partners lurked there below the bridge.
    Were he were so inclined, he could take the lowest guttersnipe to his bed and not fear that he might contract a venereal disease. The Satyr were immune to the syphilis and gonorrhea that were rampant in the city. Which made it all the more absurd that he’d been brought down with a simple cold.
    The calls of the indigent echoed over the water. “Signore! Signore! Look my way.” Enticements were offered, each more lewd than the former as the inhabitants of the nooks and crannies under the bridge vied for his custom.
    His eyes roved them. They were a ragtag bunch. But he could find a woman here with whom to take his ease and be done with this terrible need. There were men. Boys. Girls. All of them desperate.
    He, too, was desperate tonight. Desperate for Human warmth. But his fastidious nature recoiled from seeking his pleasure with a woman from among them.
    The hermaphrodite had inspired this spurt of lust in him and she would have satisfied it best. He pulled himself up short. What was he thinking?
    Once before he’d set his affections on a specific Human. The one he’d married. She’d been a colossal mistake. He’d bedded her nightly for weeks after their wedding, each time in a gentlemanly fashion. Her body had brought his to satisfaction, but he hadn’t been satisfied. Lying with her had only piqued his desire, and he’d gone to Shimmerskins afterward.
    Such ElseWorld beings were easily conjured from the mist by males of Satyr lineage at any time or place. They were beautiful, willing vessels whose sole reason to exist was to bring him and his brothers to orgasm as often and in whatever manner they desired.
    He had but to imagine an act and impart it to such a creature with his mind. Without speaking a word he could make her understand precisely what he required, and she would endeavor to please him. She would express desire with her eyes, her lips, and her body. But it would all be false, as false as she herself was. Therein lay the problem. Tonight his body craved another sort of satisfaction. Warm. Passionate. Human. Real.
    But he would make do.
    He turned on his heel to head toward the dock. He would take the gondola, hie back to his hotel, and summon a Shimmerskin. Maybe two.
    He took a determined step away from the alley.
    Suddenly, a body came crashing against his back.
    The scent of Faerie blanketed him like a quick heady puff of fresh spicy air spritzed from an expensive crystal bottle. It was there, and then gone again in an instant. It was the only scent he’d been able to detect all day. And because of that he felt its impact all the more keenly.
    Instinctively, he lashed out an arm and wrapped it around the waist of