Bed and Breakfast
Bloodkin #1

Excerpt

Moss studied the innocuous piece of green paper in his hands.

Wanted: Bed and Breakfast. Generous pay. Previous experience constitutes an advantage. Position open to men and women between the ages of 25-30. For more details, visit The Inn of the Dancing Sword.

He looked up to the sign hanging from the door in front of him. A moving wooden plate, depicting a sharp blade, shone in the moonlight. He sighed. He didn't know if the position he read about even existed, or if it wasn't some sort of dubious offer for prostitutes. The generous pay part seemed to hint at it. Even so, Moss couldn't help but wonder what kind of brothel would hire people up to the age of thirty. Usually, brothels hired youths, teenagers and even children whom they educated into the "art of lovemaking".

Ever since the fateful encounter with the thief, Moss had received numerous offers from such establishments, but he refused to sell his ass, his mouth, or his dick to survive.

Alas, people weren't inclined to offer decent work to a young man like himself. Well, he wasn't quite so young. He'd reached twenty summers a few weeks back. He probably looked five years younger, and it didn't help his constitution seemed frail and not built to withstand harsh conditions.

He'd managed to get by through daily jobs in the harbor. However, the money he earned barely covered his expenses, and he needed a real workplace if he wanted to find a way out of this city and onto the next departing ship. Hopefully, he still had a future waiting for him with his uncle.

This job offer had fallen into his hands completely by chance. He'd spotted the paper while on one of his errands, and taken it, hoping it would help him find better employment. Now that he'd gotten here, he couldn't go back.

With that in mind, he stepped through the door of the inn. If this job was genuine, maybe the promised pay would give him something to start on.

The Inn of the Dancing Sword seemed nothing like the establishments Moss lived in during his unplanned stay in Clavar. In fact, the word "inn" couldn't even begin to describe it. It looked quite luxurious, more like one of the lounges he used to frequent before the strangers took over. Moss wished he'd have come better dressed, but he'd sold his most expensive possessions to gather enough money for his little excuse of a room. Taking a deep breath, Moss walked inside and headed directly toward the bar.

Every eye seemed to be on him, but Moss kept his gaze forward and ignored everything else. Once he reached his destination, he sat on a stool. A woman appeared to take his order. "What will it be?" she asked.

Moss retrieved the piece of paper and set it on the counter. "Actually, I came to ask about this."

The woman gave him a critical look. "I'll get the innkeeper," she said, although she seemed doubtful. Moss looked dirty and grimy after a hard day's work, so he didn't blame her.

When the innkeeper appeared, he analyzed Moss from head to toe. "You sure you up to that sort of thing, boy?"

Moss nodded. He needed to try, at least. "Very well," the innkeeper said. "Go and ask at the mansion on the hill. They'll tell you more there."

* * * *

Moss gaped at the huge house that loomed ahead. The innkeeper had given him directions toward where he needed to go to, but Moss hadn't expected something like this. It almost looked like a prince's castle, like the beautiful citadels he read about in books as a child. Moss felt drawn to the building as if he were guided by an invisible beacon. Something about it seemed magical.

At the same time, Moss felt a little apprehensive. He told himself it was just the late hour making him jumpy. Then again, why would someone take job applications late in the evening? The innkeeper at The Dancing Sword instructed Moss to come at night. It was an unusual demand, but hey, he couldn't afford to ask questions or be picky. Now, he wished he had asked.

Swallowing nervously, he walked through the huge wrought-iron gates. He guessed they had been left open for possible applicants. The path toward the black doors ahead seemed endless, and more than once, Moss turned to go back, only to change his mind and continue walking toward the mansion. He needed to go there, to see this through. Even if he didn't get the job, he would still get to see the house, maybe steal a peek into the palace of his dreams.

Strangely enough, Moss didn't see any guards or servants as he approached. In fact, he didn't see anyone at all. Light flowed from the windows and he could vaguely distinguish shadows of people moving around the rooms. He bit his lip, half relieved he wouldn't be alone in the majestic yet eerie mansion, half frustrated at the knowledge he would be facing a lot of competitors for the position.

In the end, the frustration gave him the strength to cover the distance to the foreboding, black doors faster. He could do this, damn it. He didn't have anything to lose. At most, they could reject his application. But now that he'd seen the house and felt its magical allure, Moss intended to fight tooth and nail to convince the employer to accept him. Not only could it provide the only way out of this city, but Moss wanted to investigate its mystery. It was frightening, yet exciting.

The large doors were even more intimidating up close than when he'd seen them from the distance. Berating himself for his cowardice, Moss took hold of the gold knocker and used it to hit the door with more force than necessary. He winced as the rough sound echoed through the silent courtyard. Calm down, Moss! First impressions are important. Calm down!

Moss heard footsteps approach in the house. Moss focused in order to appear calm, collected, and as professional as possible. He'd cleaned up and donned his best, and only remaining, suit for this purpose. He needed to follow up with the same attitude. After what seemed like an eternity, the person on the other side cracked the door open.

An elderly gentleman appeared in the entrance, giving him an inquisitive and slightly annoyed look. Moss suppressed the urge to wipe his sweaty palms against his trousers and offered the man a tremulous smile. "Good day. My name is Marlais Hayden. I'm here for the job opening?"

He hated the fact that he sounded hesitant and almost childish, but he couldn't help it. Luckily, the man didn't question him further. Instead, he chose to analyze Moss with piercing blue eyes that seemed clearer and more astute than an old man should have had. Moss struggled not to squirm under the sharp gaze and felt amazingly thankful when the man completed his analysis. Moss must've passed the examination, as the elderly gentleman gestured him inside. "Right this way, if you please."

Moss followed behind the strange old man, almost jumping when the door snapped shut with a loud noise behind them. He shook his head, fighting to calm his racing heart. What was it about this place that made him so nervous? It was only a house, a huge one, a majestic one, but just a house nevertheless.

Finding comfort in reason, Moss took a closer look around as he walked behind the elderly gentleman. His eyes widened at the sight of antique tables, lavish armchairs decorated with covers that seemed to be woven from golden and silver threads, jeweled candelabras and expensive rugs. He almost gasped at the sight of the paintings on the walls, erotic images in various shades of red depicting handsome young men and women kissing or...doing other things. He then realized the black marble floors he tread upon bore engravings in certain spots with similar images. This really was a brothel. He had to find a way to get out, and fast.

Alas, before Moss could find a solution, the elderly gentleman stopped and nodded toward a tall, wooden door. Beyond, Moss could hear the chatter of various voices. "Here you are." The old gentleman, whom Moss now identified as a butler, opened the door, revealing what looked like an elegant receiving room.

Dozens of men and women sat on comfortable-looking settees, laughing or chatting with each other. To Moss, it almost looked as if he'd stepped into one of those amazing parties he'd always heard about, but would never be received in. The women wore beautiful dresses that swept against the floor with swishes of decadent silk. Embroidered with threads of gold, the material hugged each curve to perfection. Fine jewelry, from pearl necklaces to diamond earrings, complemented every woman's attire. The men were just as handsomely clothed. Impeccable white shirts peeked from under velvet tunics and tight breeches slipped into long leather boots.

In his common garments, Moss felt shabby and inadequate. But when he paid more attention to the details, he realized the women's cleavages were a bit too deep and the men's breeches showed off every asset. The realization confirmed his previous guess, and he looked away from the scene. In the process, he met the butler's cool gaze, and wondered how he must seem to this man. Definitely foolish and out of place.

"This is where applicants wait for a response," the butler explained. "Applicants have time until midnight and then a final decision will be communicated."

Moss nodded, even though at this point, he couldn't care less about the scheduled time of the decision-making. He wanted to get out of there, as soon as possible. He opened his mouth to ask the butler to direct him to the exit, but he didn't get the chance. "Please wait here," the man said, giving Moss that impenetrable, unreadable look. Moss gulped and found himself nodding. The old man left before Moss could say anything. Moss looked back the way they'd come, wondering if he could find his way out of the house. He didn't think so. He'd been too busy being awed, fascinated, and horrified by his environment to register the path to the exit.

He hesitated between heading back and waiting for the butler to appear once again. Oddly, as he looked back the way they'd come, a weird, ominous feeling washed over him. It was as if he'd seen all of this before. He couldn't exactly place it, but the luxurious decadence reminded him of something.

Before Moss could figure out his thoughts, a voice drew him out of his musings. "Well, hello there," a handsome young man said. "It looks like we have another competitor."

Moss had never intended to join the elegant people inside the receiving room, but because of his vacillation he'd still been spotted. He cursed to himself as the man approached, followed by a few others.

"And who might you be?" he asked. His blue eyes appraised Moss's common clothing and he arched a brow in apparent amusement.

"I haven't seen you around," a blonde woman added. Her lips twisted into a sneer. "I probably shouldn't be surprised about that."

Moss bit back a scathing reply. He didn't want to make enemies here, and he'd more than once heard about the power of luxury prostitutes. "I'm new in town," he replied simply.

"Indeed," the man answered. "It shows."

In three words, he managed to convey so much disdain Moss almost recoiled. He managed to keep himself from doing so, but Moss's face heated at the contempt he sensed. It didn't help that more people had arrived at some point, obviously drawn to the confrontation.

"Don't scare the boy," a beautiful brunette woman said. She offered Moss a smile and took his arm, pulling him away from the rest of the crowd. "Well, if you want to join us, you're always free to do so, but this is a more complicated job. You're probably better off trying at the guild."

Moss pulled free from the woman's hold. He was no fool, and he knew better than to trust polite platitudes. If the first two had been wolves; this woman was a fox. They were waiting for the right moment to prey on him. "It's not like that," Moss answered. "I thought it would be a different kind of job. I'm going to leave as soon as I explain and apologize."

The brunette looked surprised, but then she let out a small laugh. "How amusing. And what kind of job could it possibly be?"

Moss admitted to himself that coming here had indeed been a very stupid idea. Even so, having it thrown in his face bothered him. Thankfully, the butler chose this exact moment to arrive. "Mister Hayden," he said, "the master will see you know."

Moss nodded at the brunette and at the other two who'd addressed him and rushed out after the butler. Relief mixed with apprehension as he left the receiving room behind. Moss tried to come up with something to say, something that would allow him to make his escape, but didn't succeed. The feeling of familiarity returned with a vengeance, choking him.

All too soon, the butler stopped in front of a door. He knocked, and a man's voice replied from the inside. "Yes?"

The butler cracked the door open. "My lord, Marlais Hayden to see you."

"Let him in," the man answered, sending shivers through Moss. It surprised him so much, he almost missed the butler gesturing him forward. He remembered how to walk just as the old man gave him a slightly reproachful look.

As he entered the room, he caught sight of the shadowed silhouette of a male sitting at the desk. The only lighting came from two candle-holders situated next to the bookshelves. The room had a lived-in, but archaic, look, at the same time managing to be stylish. After the carvings in the hallway, this study represented a pleasant and relaxing surprise.

All that lost its importance and the relaxation evaporated when the man spoke again. "Marlais Hayden, is it?"

Moss nodded, the voice sweeping over him like a sensual wave. His knees wobbled and he didn't know how he managed to remain standing. Get a grip, Moss, he told himself. What in the world is wrong with you? Remember what you wanted to say.

"Yes, m-my lord," he stammered. "I..." He wanted to apologize and explain the situation, but the words got stuck in his throat. Simply the sound of his host's voice had shaken him. It was so very strange and it scared him.

"You...?" the man prodded.

"This is a mistake. I didn't realize the position was for a... for a..." He couldn't say it. What if he'd misjudged the entire thing? He'd insult the master of the house and maybe get in trouble in the process.

Stuck in this room, with this mysterious man, Moss wondered what the hell he'd gotten himself into.