He sat on the small, white bed two days later, his back against the slate blue wall and a cigarette in his mouth. He was staring at the tiny bits of dust drifting slowly in the air, and the smoke that swirled in the shaft of light coming through the window, where the lacy white curtains fluttered in the gentle summer breeze.

He didn’t move his transfixed gaze when Sera knocked lightly and entered the room. She said nothing as she sat beside him, smoothed out the skirt of her long white sundress, and mimicked his posture. She just sat with him in silence for a couple of minutes, until he finished his cigarette and put it out in the glass ashtray that sat on his leg.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked softly.

“Differences,” he answered quietly. “Everything’s changed, and yet… it's the same.” He rolled his eyes. “That sounds stupid.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she assured him. “The mark of a god affects you. I have one. Mine’s from the goddess of healing—it gives me abilities like empathy, so I can feel what those around me are feeling to better help them. It’d be very strange for me, after having it my whole life, to suddenly be without it. I’d have to learn how to deal with people without knowing what they were feeling all the time. I imagine that’d be very frustrating for a while. Your mark affected you in its own way. Now that it’s gone, there’s bound to be changes.”

He considered it for a while. It made sense, but how had it affected him? What was different now? What was missing? He felt like the same person—maybe a little calmer, but that could just be her; he had heard of a healing cleric’s ability to soothe people near them with their comfort aura. And she seemed intent on sitting as close to him as possible, regardless of how much he scowled at her or tried to move away. He had given up after the first day. As long as she wasn’t touching him, he was fine.

After a couple of minutes, he realized that the difference was focus. It was as if a veil had been lifted; he was missing a kind of haze that he had never known was there. Everything seemed sharper now, like he could see and think more clearly. Even colors seemed brighter and more vivid.

He was amazed by the little things around him, like the dust in the air or the baby’s breath in the vase across the room, all those tiny white flowers. It had taken him a while to figure out what kind it was, as if he had never seen that type of flower before, though he knew he had. It was just that he had never seen it in such detail before. Everything was the same, but now he was seeing it all through new eyes.

Sera moved her hand to cover his, and he jerked it away from her. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I should have warned you. I was just going to see how your health is doing,” she explained.

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly and moved off the bed. He set the ashtray on a side table and lit another cigarette before going to stand in front of the open window. He gazed out at the docks. The morning sun was bright, and it made the cream-colored sails on the boats glow slightly. Memories of another time, another port, suddenly flooded his mind.

__________

June 23, 1298

Seaport

When Mathias finally got home from his trip, the first thing he did was walk into Seaside Tavern, where he usually had dinner. The food was decent, even if the place had horrible decor; everything was made from golden wood—cypress from the nearby jungle—with turquoise fabric on the seats and shell art on the walls. But he came here out of convenience more than anything: his apartment was upstairs.

He was quick to notice what had changed in his absence; there was a new waitress. He paused to look her over appreciatively. She was standing at the bar, waiting for Owen, the owner, to fill some mugs with ale. She was gorgeous, with long layers of tousled brown hair, dark eyes, and a body with all the right curves. Her tan, knee-length skirt and white blouse did nothing to show off her shapely hips and full breasts, but Mathias had an eye for beauty.

This girl didn’t just peak his interest, she fiercely sparked his desire. There was something about her that made him want to push her over that bar and have her now. But he would wait—this wasn’t one of those taverns, and he wouldn’t make a scene. For now, he just went to his regular table, and the two men with him followed.

“Hey you,” Bo called to someone behind Mathias once they were seated. “Get over here,” he ordered with a lusty grin.

“Yeah, we know what we want,” Jake added from beside Bo. He could have passed for Bo’s brother; they had the same short, curly black hair and wide nose. Even the clefts in their chins were alike. They were dark clerics in the service of Malluk who liked to follow Mathias around. Being friends with Kieran’s son, the heir, had plenty of benefits—like having everything paid for, since he had all the money he wanted from the church.

The waitress walked over. She had been about to say something, but she just stared at Mathias instead. Her breathing became shallower as her eyes traveled down the length of his body and back up. He was wearing his usual: fitting, black leather pants and a black, sleeveless jacket showing off his well-muscled body.

He was used to the reaction and just smiled. Catching herself, she glared and closed her mouth. There was a sweetness about her, he thought, but there was also a fire that was just begging to be unleashed. He could see it in her eyes, and it made him want her more.

He suddenly grabbed her waist, pulled her into his lap, and kissed her. She parted her lips, mostly out of shock, and his tongue moved in to taste her. She didn’t fight him right away, and he knew this was going to be easy, which was good because he was impatient tonight.

It took her a moment to come to her senses and shove herself away from him. She got back to her feet and scowled, her face flushed. “I’m not on the menu!” she huffed indignantly.

Bo chuckled. “Oh, everyone’s available for Mathias.”

“Not me!” she assured him and stormed off.

Jake snickered. “Ooohhhh!”

“She’s mine,” Mathias said flatly.

“Aren’t they always?” Bo replied a bit sourly, but he wasn’t stupid enough to argue.

Jake laughed. “She doesn’t want you, man.”

“Yes she does,” Mathias told him.

“I don’t think you’re as smooth as you think you are.”

“Oh really? You want to put money on that?”

“Yeah, okay. Ten gold says you can’t have her by the end of the night,” Jake offered, then wisely thought to add, “Willingly, that is.”

“Yeah, I’ll take that bet,” Bo joined in.

Mathias grinned. “Twenty says I’ll have her within an hour.”

“Hah!” Bo snorted.

“No force,” Jake reminded him. “Using only your alleged charms.”

“Done,” Mathias said easily. “But you’ll leave me alone for the night. You can ask her yourself in the morning.”

Bo and Jake smiled at each other, as if to say easy money.

All of this was unheard by the flustered waitress as she made her way to the kitchen. By the time she returned to the main room, Mathias was waiting for her. He leaned against the wall next to the kitchen door, his head bowed, looking at the silver case in his hands. “Sorry about that,” he said smoothly. “It was a dare. Couldn’t lose. You understand, right?” He smiled, showing his dimples as he gave her a sideways glance. She swallowed, but said nothing. He opened the case, took out a cigarette, and lit it. “So, you’re new here,” he said conversationally as he slipped the case back into the breast pocket of his jacket.

She nodded. “I started last week.”

“Not from Seaport, either.”

“No, Brunya City.”

“Nice place.” Lighting his cigarette, he took a drag and studied her as he exhaled slowly. “I’m Mathias.”

“Vivyka.”

“Vivyka,” he repeated silkily. “I like it.”

“Thanks,” she said with a small blush. “Well… I should get back to work.”

“Forget about it.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Let me show you something I know you haven’t seen yet.” He took the tray she was holding and set it on the bar. “Owen, Vivyka’s leaving a bit early tonight.” The man looked like he was going to argue, but then Mathias adjusted the black wristband on his right arm, the one that covered his birthmark. The man just sighed and nodded. Mathias put his hand on the small of Vivyka’s back and led her toward the entrance. “Let’s go.”

She shivered at his touch. “What are you showing me?”

“Just a place close by with a wonderful view,” he told her.

“Um… okay,” she agreed hesitantly. “Why didn’t Owen argue with you? He argues about everything.”

“Oh, we’re old friends,” he said easily. The truth was, Mathias had two things: money and power. He had the whole of Malluk’s church behind him, and people really didn’t want to get on the on the wrong side of that church. That was why he wore the wristbands whenever he was outside the temple—he liked people to start fights with him, and most wouldn't if they knew who he was, though, most of the business owners around town knew who he was, and knew to keep quiet and give him whatever he wanted.

Once they were outside, Mathias led Vivyka around the side of the wood-shingled building, into the alley, and up a staircase. She was so naive, so trusting, that she went with him and said nothing. She didn’t even try to leave when she found out that the whole second floor was his apartment. If she had been smart, she would have run. She had no idea what she was getting herself into. But she desired him, he was sure of that.

He led her though his bedroom to the balcony and the view he promised. From there they could see all the way down to the docks. It was crowded with boats, the sunset making their wood darker and their cream-colored sails glow a soft pink. Beyond them, the ocean looked like liquid silver, rippling gently in the breeze and seeming to go on forever.

He left her there to appreciate the view while he took off his boots and tossed his sleeveless jacket onto the leather couch. He turned on the lights in the bedroom before joining her. She shivered as he walked closer. “Are you cold?” he asked, though he knew she wasn’t. Seaport was one of the southernmost cities on Kelstone and one of the hottest, the only one that was more so was Halimi. But unlike the desert city, it didn’t get cold here at night.

“No.”

He stepped up behind her and ran his fingertips down her arm. “Then why are you trembling?”

“Am I?” she whispered.

“Nervous?” he asked. She didn’t answer, but her breathing was too even; it was forced. He smiled at that.

“It’s a beautiful view,” she said finally.

He moved to lean against the railing and looked her over appreciatively. “Yes, a very beautiful view.” His eyes widened slightly with mild surprise when she blushed. He got a little closer. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how gorgeous you are.”

“I’m not… I’m just—”

“You are,” he insisted. “Trust me, I very rarely lie, and never about beauty.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

“You’re still shaking,” he noted.

“I’m… a little nervous,” she admitted now.

He took a final drag and flicked the remainder of his cigarette onto the street below. “Why?” he asked, exhaling smoke.

“Being here… with you.”

Now she was starting to get a clue. She was the prey feeling the predator closing in, but she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t even understand the danger yet; it was just her gut instinct telling her to run. But she still stayed—more proof of her desire.

“Nervous about what I might do?” he asked, his tone even more seductive now. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to." He touched the back of her hand and caressed his way up her arm. “So… what do you want me to do?”

She swallowed. “I… I don’t know.”

“Well then, let me make a suggestion.” He moved his hand to her cheek, then around to the back of her neck, and pulled her to him. He lowered his head, capturing her mouth. Just as she had before, she opened instantly to him, only this time she timidly reciprocated, lightly placing her hands on his bare stomach and kissing him back.

“Is that okay?” he murmered against her lips.

She nodded, and he smiled as he pushed her hair over her shoulder, then trailed kisses along her jaw and throat. She shivered. He kissed his way back up to her mouth, where his tongue slowly traced her lips before he kissed her deeply.

He put his arms around her and held her close. After a moment, she melted into him and slid her arms around his waist. His hand moved down her hip and thigh until it found the bottom of her skirt and slid underneath.

She broke the kiss. “Don’t,” she told him in a shocked whisper.

His hand paused for a moment as he thought of the bet. But he decided that he really didn’t care. He wanted her too much, and he didn’t have the patience to play tonight. His hand continued under the material, up the soft skin of her thigh.

She put her hands on his chest, pushing, but he pulled her even harder against him while his other hand traveled up the opposite leg, hiking her skirt up with it. She sucked in a quick breath as his knee parted her legs and he pressed against her.

“Stop,” she said as she struggled in vain. “Don’t.”

Lifting her up, he carried her into the apartment, kicking the door closed and then dropping her on his large bed. He began unbuttoning her shirt, smoothly, with practiced hands.

“I don’t wanna do this,” she said breathlessly, pushing at him again.

His fingers didn’t falter, and her shirt was quickly opened. “Yes, you do,” he murmured. A moment later her bra was off too. The sight of her shapely body made his desire swell—he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt such fierce passion. He smiled as his hands moved down to undo her skirt. She struggled and tried to kick, but it didn’t matter—he managed the task with ease, pulling the last of her clothing off and leaving her wearing only her strappy sandals.

Her eyes filled with tears. She sat up and moved away from him the second he let her go to remove his pants. But she didn’t get far. He caught her ankle before she could get off the bed and yanked her to him, the force making her fall back.

“Please stop,” she begged, pushing at his chest when he leaned closer.

When she went for his face, he grabbed her wrists and held them down, over her head, with one hand. “You know you want me,” he breathed. “That’s why you’re here, so stop fighting.”