Free Jeweled by Anya Bast Page A

whisper.“Anatol!”
    Lilya leaned back in her chair with a small smile playing around her mouth. “How intriguing.”
    “Now why are you interested in us, Lilya?” Anatol asked. “And stop with the altruistic intentions, they’re not ringing true.”
    Lilya pouted. “I think I’m offended.”
    “Just tell us.”
    The waiter brought the wine and Evangeline drank deeply, closing her eyes and enjoying the sip of the half-rate vintage as it slid down her throat. She was so thirsty that she didn’t even care about the common quality. The alcohol warmed her blood, too. Maybe a glass or two more and she could dull the emotion that battered her so much. Or at least trade her fear and anxiety for silly giddiness. She’d never felt silly or giddy in her life. She’d only ever had weakened sips of such feelings secondhand.
    Lilya took a far more measured drink of her wine. “You’re both very pretty and at a bit of a loose end—”
    “And you’re recruiting for the Temple of Dreams?” Anatol asked.
    Shock rippled through Evangeline. The possibility that Lilya was attempting to lure them for the temple had not occurred to her.
    Lilya nodded. “I’m not saying the temple would even accept you, but you’re both good candidates—educated, cultured, and nice to look at. It would be an option for you. It’s nice life, a good life.”
    Evangeline set her empty glass down, feeling the first effects of the wine on an empty stomach. She shouldn’t have drained it so fast. “You want us to be prostitutes?”
    Lilya made a moue with her lush red lips. “That’s an ugly word. I like courtesan much better.”
    “Semantics,” Anatol growled.
    The food arrived, breaking the sudden tension. The scent of the warm baked chicken nearly made Evangeline swoon. Both Anatol and Evangeline tore into the food, eating and not speaking for about five minutes while they wallowed in the sensation of full mouths and stomachs.
    “The life of a courtesan is not for everyone.” Lilya sipped her wine and watched them eat. “You must enjoy sex while not attaching emotional tethers to it, loving it for the pure acts of ecstasy and the giving and receiving of pleasure. You must enjoy having sex with many partners and be open to all the various kinks and fetishes of those you sleep with. You cannot be predisposed to falling in love—”
    “We’re not interested,” said Anatol. He set his fork down. “We appreciate the meal and your interest, but we’re not looking to become . . . courtesans.”
    “You speak for Evangeline? Why?” Lilya pursed her lips and then smiled. “Ah, you’re together. You’re in love, is that it?” A sneer accompanied the words in love .
    “No,” said Evangeline. “We’re not in love and Anatol cannot speak for me.”
    Anatol gave her a sharp look. “I guess it’s true you already were a prostitute at Belai, weren’t you, Evangeline?”
    Evangeline leveled the coldest look she could manage.
    He took a slow drink of his wine. After he swallowed, he continued, “You have the tattoo on the small of your back to show for it. You allowed yourself to be marked as the property of a single man, no less. A man who didn’t care about you at all. Who left you, in fact, when the palace was overrun. Ring any bells?”
    “I did what I had to do to survive. I will continue to do so.”
    Anatol leaned toward her. “But did you enjoy it? According to Lilya, that’s a requirement. She wants men and women who enjoy sex to join the Temple of Dreams. I would say that rules you out. You’ve used sex as a tool to gain things since the moment you realized it was possible. But it’s only a tool for you, wielded cold and dispassionately.”
    Evangeline sputtered for a moment. “You don’t know anything about me! How dare you make such judgments?”
    Anatol narrowed his eyes and smiled. “I know everything about you. Everything. Now that you can feel, Evangeline, sex will be different. Right now you’re basically a