I Guess I Do Need the Money 13

Hey there sorry for the delay on this chapter but it's been hard to find time to sit down and write lately.

So here's a long one and I have already started on the next chapter.

Enjoy.

FNR

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Cassya rolled over and snuggled against Alaric's chest that morning, feeling his warm skin against her cheek. Alaric had an arm wrapped around her, holding her close. While the sun was rising and sneaking through the curtains, there was no impetus from either of them to rush to get up. Alaric had no morning meetings today, and as it was Sunday, her mother wouldn't be going to work, so Cassya wasn't required at home to watch the twins. Meaning she was free to spend a lazy morning in bed with her lover.

Then their reverie was interrupted by Tessa bringing in coffee. She wordlessly left the tray on the bedside table before leaving. Alaric light-heartedly grumbled when they were alone again.

"I feel we should do something, but I have no inspiration to leave this bed." Then he brushed a hand through Cassya's hair.

She let out a titter. "Me neither, I haven't had a lie-in in weeks. There's plenty we could do without leaving this bed."

"Such as?" He raised an eyebrow with a slight grin.

Cassya stroked a hand up Alaric's thigh. "Don't pretend you haven't already had ideas." She smirked at him.

With a small chuckle, Alaric replied, "Of course I have, but I always love it when you make the first move."

"... and you claim I have the dirty mind?" Cassya replied dryly.

"Never said mine wasn't dirty, but yours is almost as filthy," he sniggered, "and when it comes to you, my mind does often drift to the prurient. I can't help myself." A cheeky smirk formed on his face."

With sarcasm, Cassya responded, "How surprising. Based on how eager you are to get under my clothes I never would have guessed."

Alaric rolled on top of her with that same smirk. "That's me, I love you to keep you guessing. Though in matters of getting myself between your thighs, I will be ever so predictable in that regard."

He then leaned down and gave Cassya a peck on the lips before turning it into a far deeper kiss. One that sent a spark down her spine and to her toes. As their kiss continued, Alaric held himself up on an elbow and sent a hand down her body. Once his hand reached her stomach and was promising to descend ever lower, there was a knock at the bedroom door.

"Ahem, Sir," Tessa announced herself through the door without entering. "That item you ordered has arrived; the deliverymen are setting it up in the drawing room as we speak. Just thought you would like to be informed."

Then she walked away. Alaric broke off their kiss with a beaming grin and rolled off Cassya to pour cups of coffee, which left Cassya slightly surprised.

"I assume this is something you have been keenly awaiting if you are this eager to attend to it?" she asked him curiously.

"Oh, absolutely. It's what you're going to be doing to fulfill the wager we made. A bet is a bet and you lost," he declared with victory as he handed her a cup of coffee.

"Interesting... I assume as this isn't something dirty, being delivered so freely and publicly?" she asked as she took the cup from him.

"Whilst someone displaying an incredible degree of talent with it may be arousing to some, the item in question is not in itself dirty at all," he answered aloofly.

"Oh, very interesting. Are you going to tell me what it is or are you going to leave me in suspense?" Cassya playfully queried.

"Obviously, I'm leaving you in suspense," Alaric replied just as playfully.

She lightly chortled. "Well then, I feel compelled to drink my coffee and dress myself quickly to see what it is."

"Good! I wish to see your reaction to my little boon," he said with that wolfish smile.

Cassya quaffed her coffee and hopped out of bed to dress, with Alaric following her shortly after. She was earnestly eager to see what it was. Of all the boons he could possibly have decided on to have her fulfil from losing the wager, she'd gotten no firm idea these last few weeks. What could it be? The clue he offered provided no firm idea. Once dressed, Alaric led her down to the first floor, to the drawing room.

What was inside caused Cassya's jaw to drop. He had bought a grand piano, and it was stunning, made with polished chestnut with gold and silver trim. Even the piano she had before had not even compared to this. For a time, she was speechless, walking over to it, lifting the lid, stroking her fingertips across the keys. They felt a little odd compared to what she was used to. Yet each key she tapped was tuned to perfection.

She gave him her own beaming grin. "It's wonderful... though, what's the covering used for the keys? Because it doesn't feel like ivory?" She asked with appreciation, but honest inquisition.

Alaric was clearly delighted by her reaction. "That's because they're not ivory. I find the idea of great beasts being hunted for their horns distasteful. There's been an innovation recently, a chemist has created this synthetic substance that mimics it. Once the price for it comes down it's going to be revolutionary. I am pleased you like it. Your forfeit is to get some practice in when you feel like it. Then when you are ready to, I would like my own private recital."

Cassya giggled. "This was not at all the kind of forfeit I was expecting from you. Though I am quite happy to fulfil my side." She walked over to him, cupped his face and reached up to kiss him. "Thank you so much."

Alaric's lips formed into that wolfish smile and he clasped her waist. "I'm sure you'll find ways to show me your appreciation."

"I'm sure I will," she said with mischief. "Maybe I'll let you indulge in that other game you wanted to play soon... we'll have to see, won't we? Though I feel as I am up, and daylight is burning away, I should return home... a negotiation for another time," Cassya teased him.

"Ooph, how you torment me... though I will hold you to that... another time." He jokingly huffed before giving her another peck on the lips and releasing her waist.

"I'll see you later." She bid him goodbye with one final kiss before leaving.

As usual Dickenson escorted her home. Upon arrival her mother was in the midst of preparing breakfast, which Cassya immediately assisted with while the twins seemed to be having their own lie-in.

"Morning Sweetpea," her mother greeted her.

"Morning Mum," Cassya greeted her in kind. "What's on the agenda for today?"

"Nothing much, I was considering taking the twins out to the park again for the day after breakfast. I'd ask if you'd be up for joining us, but I assume you must go to the other job again today?"

"Afraid so," Cassya said with a conciliatory smile. "But whatever keeps the coin rolling in, right?"

"Sadly yes." Her mother sighed. "Though there was enough left over this week to both save in the account I set up for the twins and afford a joint of pork for a roast later." She smiled warmly.

"Oh! I can't remember the last time we had a roast! Did you get a cut with a lot of skin for crackling?" Cassya asked with glee.

Her mother playfully scoffed. "Of course! What's the point otherwise? It's the best part of roasted pork... along with the gravy... pork makes the best gravy!"

Cassya made a happy, anticipatory sigh. "That it does... oooh I am so looking forward to that. Any particular occasion or just because?"

"Well, it is grandmother's birthday. I thought we could raise a glass in her honour. I do miss that fabulous bitch." Her mother chuckled.

"That is an excellent reason for such!" Cassya agreed with a grin. "Maybe two glasses?"

"Definitely!" Her mother grinned back. "With that in mind could you get some more brandy on the way back?"

"Certainly, be happy to top up your supplies." She winked at her mother.

"Oh, you're such a good daughter... and on that topic... ahem... would the wonderful daughter that you are, be able to swing a night off so your long-suffering mother can have an evening out?" Her mother asked with a hint of awkwardness.

Cassya raised an eyebrow. "Is that just a night for yourself, or to spend it with someone else?" she enquired nosily.

"I... may be having dinner with a... certain someone... who has asked me when I am available for such... please don't pry any further... I am already feeling so nervous and in my head about it," her mother replied abashed.

Whilst Cassya smiled and tittered. "Good for you, mum. Say no more. Of course, I'll sort that out and let you know when."

"Thank you, I hope it goes well and it's fun," she replied with a tinge of pink to her cheeks.

This was a first for Cassya. She had never seen her mother react this way about anything or anyone.

"For your sake, I hope so too. Perhaps I'll spend the evening teaching the twins how to play poker?" Cassya replied jokingly.

Her mother snapped back to normal and narrowed her eyes at Cassya. "Don't you dare!"

Cassya cackled and they shared a smile and continued preparing breakfast. Once it was over and done with, bellies filled and pleasant chatter finished, Cassya set out for her second job of the day. She arrived, brewed herself a cup of tea, sat down and got on with it. Yet more going through the crusty, dusty piles of paperwork in the Daily Veritas office. Thankfully she was yet to come across anything as dangerous as Prince Felix's indiscretions.

It continued to be the usual, the upper classes being caught with their trousers down or skirts up. The mental image of some of them engaging in this behaviour was positively disgusting. Some of the men were old enough to be grandfathers and chasing after women the same age as her. It dispersed the illusion in her head that people lost interest in that sort of thing as they aged. It appears many are just lifelong degenerates. There were even mentions of some enjoying the things Alaric had spoken of in the back of the carriage on the way back from Claudette's. Including fists being inserted into places it didn't seem possible they should be able to fit.

People were baffling.

After assembling another folder of material for Madam Faustus to make some new 'friends', Cassya went into the gambling hall to find her. It continued to be quite depressing the number of people who were in here gambling by themselves on a Sunday afternoon. Nowhere else to be, or no one to spend time with, merely the thrill of potentially winning or losing money. Madame Faustus was up in her usual location, her office. Cassya knocked on the door, to hear "enter" from the woman in question. Once Cassya went inside, Faustus looked up from the paperwork and greeted her with a pained smile. "Afternoon, got another folder for me?" she asked stiffly.

"Afternoon, uh, yes. Some 'upstanding' people involved in this one." Cassya placed the folder on the desk in front of her.

"Ah, good, I'll take a look at it later... just... need to make sense of this first," Faustus replied with a clenched jaw.

"What's the issue?" Cassya enquired staidly.

Faustus groaned. "There's something off with the numbers, but I can't find where. I've been looking at it so long that they're all starting to blur together... but I need to find the error, mistake or whatever is causing it!"

"Uh, well, I could take a look if you wish... my grandmother did give me some instruction in the matter... at the very least it will give you a break to come back at it a bit fresher," Cassya helpfully offered.

Faustus shrugged, handed Cassya the business ledger, then poured herself a drink while Cassya took a seat and began to peruse the figures. They sat there for about twenty minutes while Cassya painstakingly went through it all. Then a pattern emerged, making it clear exactly why the numbers weren't adding up.

"A croupier, table five on the ground floor is deliberately losing on certain nights!" Cassya announced.

"Wait, what?!" Faustus exclaimed. She sat up, put her drink down and leaned forward. "Explain how you are coming to that conclusion?"

"Well, his numbers are always fine except for Tuesdays and Thursdays, like clockwork. Implying that there is someone who visits on those nights that he is intentionally losing to... the amount he's declaring, versus the night's total sum don't match and he's always rounding to figures of five, it looks too neat. The shortfall each time isn't huge, it's small, but he and his partner are doing this little and often enough that it's been adding up. Take a look yourself."

Cassya passed the ledger back to her. Faustus took it and studied it closely with this new perspective given. As she finished, her eyes widened and she gnashed her teeth, absolutely fuming.

"That son of a back-alley whore," she said with quiet malice. Then topped up her glass to the brim. "He's getting a nasty surprise when he shows up to his next shift!"

"Are his kneecaps in danger?" Cassya asked wryly.

"No... but those pilfering fingers are. A message needs to be sent about what happens to those who try this," Fausus enunciated coldly.

"Oh, dear. It would appear that he either thought his scheme was too clever to be discovered, or he's just a brazen idiot who underestimated you. Are his fingers going to be... incapacitated or permanently taken from him?" Cassya enquired with macabre interest.

Faustus smirked before getting out another glass and pouring some out for Cassya and handing it to her. "Depends on what he says, and the amount of contrition he shows. He's not walking out unharmed, but how harmed depends on him. If he starts pathetically crying, begging for forgiveness, and offers up the name of his accomplice... I'll settle for getting my guys to only break his fingers."

"That's surprisingly lenient... considering he's stolen a small fortune from you?" Cassya responded pragmatically.

"I need him to be able to repay what he's stolen, that's easier for him to do if he's not wholly maimed," Faustus said coldly.

"I've never met Nonna but..." Cassya left the rest unspoken.

Faustus smirked. "Believe me, if he had pulled this on Nonna he would need to start running now and never stop. I am positively a sweetheart by comparison. People who fuck over Nonna are never given the chance to live to regret it. How much that person suffers beforehand depends on how much they pissed her off..." she elaborated darkly.

"Noted. Not that I ever thought getting on Nonna's bad side was an intelligent move before knowing such," Cassya replied dryly.

"It is not intelligent at all." Faustus tittered. "Have you ever thought of becoming an accountant as you can bookkeep?"

Cassya sighed. "I have considered it, but the number of places who'd hire a twenty-year-old to do their bookkeeping is low. A twenty-year-old woman, virtually nonexistent." She briefly turned facetious, "As we're the fairer sex who have no mind for important things like money." Then switched back to normal. "Even if I were to boast that I was educated by the great Marian Wainwright herself... doors would be slammed in my face."

Faustus winced in sympathy. "Yeah... you don't become that successful without earning a reputation for being a massive bitch. She was hated as much as she was respected... she even had Nonna's respect for how much of a shark she was..."

With that comment, Cassya raised an eyebrow. "Did she and Nonna have a 'business relationship'?"

Releasing a snigger, Faustus answered, "Of course, Nonna runs the docks, you want your stock to go without issue, then tribute needs to be paid for 'protection'. At least in Nonna's case that protection actually means protection from everything else as well, light-fingered dockworkers, police officers fishing for 'donations' or low-rent thieves. Marian and Nonna got on quite well, at least from Nonna's perspective, game recognises game."

Cassya let out a chortle. That answered one question she had about her grandmother. "I don't suppose you happen to know what state the business relationship between the Wainwright company and Nonna turned into after grandmother's death, do you?" she asked cautiously.

Faustus shook her head. "No idea. I only know about Marian and Nonna because that was a thing long before I left the Fishhooks. Though Nonna did have a few legitimate businesses smuggling in chasìsì and black pearls for her. Maybe Marian obliged her on that front, I don't know for certain. The activities in more recent years are something I stay out of. Though if your father did something to offend Nonna, it wouldn't surprise me. He wouldn't be the first son to inherit a business and stupidly think he could just ignore her."

The possibility of her grandmother having a hand in smuggling black pearls was unsettling for Cassya. Black pearls was the street name; they were a kind of dried berry that when ingested caused a delightful delirium and hallucinations. They were also incredibly addictive and easy for some who used it to misjudge the dose then unintentionally poison themselves. Most parts of the city had sad tales about people who had done such. Cassya had never moved in the circles that used them, but they were highly illegal. She had learned possession of chasìsì was a slap on the wrist, black pearls were lengthy prison sentences and the price reflected it. For those that dealt in such it was a profitable but dangerous market.

"You'd think that after all these years and all the examples she had provided, that is something that they wouldn't attempt... that they wouldn't be stupid enough to test her?" Cassya pondered.

"You'd think, wouldn't you? Yet there are still those brazen enough to think they can. As disgusting as some of the things Nonna involves herself in are... I love how she can humble even the hoity-toity posh bastards at the top when she wishes to." Faustus grinned.

"Any examples?" Cassya cheekily enquired.

Faustus thought about it. "I think my personal favourite was one from when I was a teenager. A noble son from the Montague family, made a start-up assuming it would just pour gold into his pockets. To maximise profits, he cut corners and swerved regulations at every stage. Bribed inspectors and violated safety rules that suited him. Especially when it was only Cheapside employees who were getting injured from the faulty machinery and workplace malfunctions at his factory. He hadn't even started using the docks, was moving everything by rail."

"Why did Nonna get involved if he wasn't using the docks?" Cassya wondered aloud.

"Because despite everything, Nonna considers Cheapside to be her domain. So, when someone is letting her 'constituents' lose limbs or die while doing an honest day's work, and not even giving compensation when it's their fault, she takes issue. Montague got himself to the top of her shit list with that, so she got to work. She fucked with his business at every level. To the point he was haemorrhaging money. Even had a particularly vicious flock of geese released at his family gathering, which coated the dining room in bird shit. Once she had him over a barrel, she got him to agree to pay 'protection' which included following safety regulations within his factory. Deaths and dismemberments went down, and the rest of the upper class were sent a message," Faustus recalled with fond nostalgia.

Cassya commented pensively, "Nonna seems complicated..."

Faustus nodded. "That she is. She grew up in Rusiki before the revolution. During and after that were brutal, it really shaped her into what she is. Some people here are shocked by her violence. Yet in Rusiki, that was an almost daily occurrence, happening in the streets around her. Once while drunk, she revealed to me that her signature, the way the Fishhooks display bodies... that was what was done to her father. He was the royal portrait painter, and he refused to paint the new illustrious leader and his cabinet. It boggles the mind that those Southie Separatist pricks want to emulate that... it's not something to emulate. It was a crime against humanity..." she said sadly.

It was Cassya's turn to nod. Whenever the Rusiki Revolution was mentioned, it always seemed so distant, abstract and far away. Yet put in this way, made it seem closer and all too real, allowing the horror of it to sink in.

"I have heard whispers that there are those in our government who are determined not to let the Separatists gain power... nor for any such movement to grow here," Cassya replied weakly.

"Never put stock in whispers, especially not any from politicians most of all. They're full of shit or hot air," Faustus replied bluntly.

Cassya remained quiet for a moment. Not even slightly willing to admit that this information was from overhearing a plotting session involving the crown prince himself. It was certainly from the folder in her mind labelled 'things to pretend you don't know'.

"Fair enough. I should probably get back to making you another folder of dirty laundry," Cassya announced before finishing off her drink and standing up.

As she was turning to leave Faustus queried, "If there was an opportunity for you to do some accountancy work, would you take it?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Probably, then again, I'm always on the lookout for decently paid work." Cassya shrugged with a smile. Whilst Faustus nodded in kind before Cassya left the office.

Cassya returned to digging up dirt for the remainder of her day. Then it drew time to call it, so she packed everything away, locked up and set off home. The entire way the thought of the roast waiting for her put a smile on her face. She was imagining it even when she was purchasing brandy for her mother. The potatoes roasted in the pork fat would be glorious, along with the crunch of the salted crackling between her teeth. Some of life's greatest joys are so simple. As soon as Cassya walked through the front door the scent of roast dinner hit her like a siren song. It called her to the dinner table, the beautiful sight, laid out as alluringly as Alaric wearing nothing at all.

Her mother had even made cauliflower cheese. A dish that was mostly cheese sauce with cauliflower chunks inside, and she had baked the top, so it was golden and crispy. This was a little slice of heaven. Ash and Willow were sitting at the table with a disposition akin to dogs waiting for permission to devour their food as their mother plated up portions for them.

"What do you say to Mum for slaving over this feast for you?" Cassya put to the twins with a wry smile.

"Thank you, mum. It looks delicious. I already want seconds." Ash beamed.

"Thanks so much. I have been looking forward to this all day," Willow announced.

"Me too, can't believe you did cauliflower cheese too!" Cassya grinned at her mother.

Their mother looked so pleased that her effort was appreciated. "I got a good deal on a wedge earlier, so I thought I might as well. Before we tuck in, everyone raise a cup to your Grandmother." Everyone at the table raised their glasses with a smile. "Here's to you Marian, we had many good years when you were here. It was a tragedy we lost you sooner than we should have. Wherever you ended up, I hope you're giving them what for!"

Cups around the table were clinked with smiles, then taking sips. In Cassya's and her mother's cup were brandy, the twins had apple juice instead. They were far too young, even for a sneaky nip. After setting their cups down, they finally tucked in. That first bite was glorious, and Cassya similarly savoured every bite after until her plate was clear. She enjoyed another glass of brandy and a few extra potatoes drenched in gravy before that inevitable knock from Dickenson brought things to a close.

It was with almost reluctance that she parted herself from her family and the feast they were enjoying together. It was time to go and see Alaric now. If it was just an evening sat reading whilst he worked again, she was going to be miffed. Though perhaps she would get some time with the piano instead. Dickenson gave everyone a smile and a wave before they headed off together.

Once they were walking, he commented, "Sunday roast, what a treat. It's been an eternity since I last had one," Dickenson said with longing.

"Does Flick not do them?" Cassya asked gently with a smile.

"Rarely, and only on Sundays I'm there to watch the kids. It's hard to cook something as elaborate as a roast when our numerous bundles of joy can't be trusted to sit still and not be stupid. Sure as shit not having multiple pans of boiling water on the go whilst they aren't all shut up in one room with my eyes on them. Little escape artists." He huffed.

Cassya retorted wryly, "Ah, the immeasurable pleasure of parenthood."

"That it is. You look in their eyes and feel love down to the depths of your soul... then they break another bit of furniture, and you have to suppress the urge to toss them out the window." Dickenson sighed. "I never would, but..."

Cassya tittered. "I get it. I once had a few pennies left over so I bought myself some chocolate nibs. I hid them under my bed and would have a single one at the end of an incredibly long day. Then one day, I found them all gone. I discovered chocolate smears on Ash's pillow; he had scarfed the lot. When I confronted him, he lied to my face. As much as I love him, part of me wanted to see if I could kick him up the arse hard enough that he was launched towards the park."

"Should have done it. Little thief needs to learn you never come between a woman and her chocolate, let alone lie when caught red handed. That's asking for trouble," he responded with a smirk.

Cassya grinned. "I taught him a lesson he will never forget. I eventually got myself another box of chocolates. That time I decanted them into a tin and hid them elsewhere... then filled the box with rabbit droppings..."

Dickenson burst out laughing. "I assume he wasn't such a fan of that particular vintage of chocolate."

She giggled. "No, no he wasn't. After that he never stole my chocolate again. The lesson was very much learned."

"I'll have to keep that tactic in mind if me and Flick ever face a similar problem. Though given our respective family trees, it'll be the whiskey not chocolate." Dickenson chortled.

"... and yet, a very similar solution presents itself." Cassya smirked in return.

"You are diabolical, lass!" Dickenson cackled.

"Well, me and Mum have already discussed what we'd do if it appears Ash or Willow are tucking into the brandy behind our backs. It pays to be prepared." Cassya wore a Cheshire cat grin.

"That it does." Dickenson grinned back.

They were soon at Alaric's front door in good spirits. Upon entering they split off, with Dickenson heading to attend to other matters whilst Cassya went upstairs, to find Alaric. He was where he always was, in his study, sat behind his desk and he greeted her with a smile as she entered.

"How would you feel about getting some shooting practice in?" He asked jovially.

"Oh, is this the rowdy place you mentioned? I assume I won't need to change into trousers this time?" She queried playfully in return.

"No trousers whatsoever. I wouldn't want those fellows seeing the outline of your posterior. Not that it will necessarily stop anyone from copping a feel, but if it happens yell about it and the perpetrator will probably be punched," he commented acerbically.

"Planning to get into a fight before we even arrive?" Cassya chuckled.

"It won't be me who throws the punch, necessarily. But there are plenty of blokes in there who love being chivalrous... and having a reason to start a fight. Defending a lady's honour is as good as any." He shrugged with a smile.

She enquired curiously, "Is that a soldier thing?"

"Yup. There's a big culture of not being a lech within the army. It's a punishable offense to be caught visiting a brothel in uniform... or sleeping with a comrade's wife... along with it being considered deplorable behaviour generally," Alaric explained.

Cassya clarified, "So a fellow soldier having a grope of another soldier's woman is looked upon with scorn?"

"Yup, if it's clear you're there with me, most will take offense on my behalf if you're groped," Alaric explained with a knowing look.

"... and if I were there by myself, what would the etiquette be then?" She jokingly teased him.

He chortled. "Oh, a gorgeous woman interested in spending an evening getting some shooting practice? They'd fight over you like a congress of monkeys."

Cassya jibed, "I imagine there would be less tossing of fecal matter?"

"You'd hope, but there's never any guarantees." Alaric smirked.

Which got a laugh from Cassya. "In that case, I might hold off on going there by myself. Unless I were to disguise myself as a man perhaps? Then enter to perform an anthropological study on how men truly behave in the absence of women."

Alaric raised a spurious eyebrow at her with a slight smile. "First off, you're too pretty. Even as a 'man' you'd attract attention from those too drunk to care about that sort of thing. Men when women aren't around behave in one of two ways. Either, they are just talking about whatever, sometimes flatulent in certain circles, being quite dull. Or they are engaging in baffling behaviour that they would never do if women were in attendance."

"Ooh? Such as what?!" Cassya enquired with interest.

"Well," Alaric chuckled. "During a quiet point of the war I watched a group of soldiers outside a field hospital choreograph a wheelchair ballet. It was elaborate, with spins, jumps and very few crashes. Honestly, it was a fair effort."

"Really? That's the sort of thing they do without women?" she asked ponderously.

"Yup. It's mostly constructing games out of nothing. Usually linked to that impulse which throws caution to the wind, sometimes causing major bodily harm. For no other reason than the thrill of achieving whatever bizarre feat they were trying to accomplish," Alaric explained wryly.

Cassya said quizzically, "And men so often paint women as being odd..."

"Men are plenty odd, and so are women. I am utterly convinced that virtually every woman in existence had a hidden chocolate or snack stash. Akin to squirrels!" Alaric countered.

At that exclamation Cassya howled with laughter. She had one, her mother and sister too, even if she pretended she didn't know where they were. It was a strangely true observation.

He playfully narrowed his silver eyes on her. "Oooh, you've got one too, don't you?"

She contained her laughter and feigned aloofness. "I might, I might not. It's hardly your business to know. A girl's snack stash is a private matter."

Alaric stood up from his desk and drew closer to her. "Even to me?! After all I have done for you?" he asked with joking affront.

As he loomed over her with a grin, Cassya answered impishly, "There are some things which are better to keep mysterious... don't pretend you don't have your own little secrets. You whip them out... and then I'll show you my snack stash."

Alaric sniggered as he placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her face towards his. "That sounded vaguely dirty, and now I'm intrigued."

"Clearly you have a dirty mind," Cassya retorted with a smirk. "Not just dirty, but filthy."

After a small chuckle he leaned down closer to her and replied, "Guilty as charged. Now exactly what would I need to 'whip out' right now to get you to show me your 'snack stash'?"

His face was teasingly close to hers.

"Here was me thinking that you wanted to go out tonight?" Cassya responded dryly.

"Ahh, now I am regretting that plan when it could be so much fun to stay in," he proposed libidinously.

Cassya pretended to move to kiss him before at the last second moving her lips toward his ear. "Yet I was offered a night out." She gently shoved him away and took a step back. A slight grin formed for her upon seeing the minor twinge of frustration in his face. "Most evenings we stay in and have fun. So now you've put the idea in my head, I want to go out and shoot something. Would you deny me when you're going to get what you want later anyway?"

As he pondered this, Alaric grinned back at her. "I'm going to get what I want, am I? What exactly do you interpret that to be?"

There was a chuckle and a raised eyebrow from Cassya. "Are you really trying to get me to bargain for the date night you suggested we have? Ever the businessman, aren't you?"

He jokingly pouted. "Well... if you want to go out that badly I'll happily take you. I'm just curious what you think I want?"

After a sigh and a moderate eye roll, Cassya asked with mock chagrin, "Alright, what are you angling for?"

That wolfish grin emerged from him. "I was wondering if after a pleasant evening of shooting, perhaps you might want to play 'hide and seek'?"

"Ah, there we are." Cassya giggled. "Why do I get the feeling that was what you were after all along?"

With a chuckle his wolfish grin widened. "I might, I might not. Perhaps you got me in the mood for it... so, what's your answer?"

She thought about it for a moment, contemplating how it could be a fun end to the night. On the assumption that this date didn't go as poorly as the last time they went shooting. This time he couldn't pull the same trick as he did last occasion they played. Cassya might actually have a chance of winning her embarrassing tidbit about him.

Cassya looked straight into his silver eyes and sniggered. "Then I look forward to whatever underhanded means you will use this time."

He was positively delighted, beaming from ear to ear. Then Alaric strode forwards, grasped Cassya by the waist and planted a kiss on her lips. He sneakily slipped his tongue into her mouth and caressed hers with his own, showing just how excited her acquiescence had made him. Which in turn made Cassya grow excited as well.

Once he pulled away from her, he was near growling as he replied, "I'm looking forward to it too." Then he moved to grab his jacket and put it on. "I assume you're ready to go? Got your revolver holstered I assume?"

He was dressed more casually than usual. As though to stand out less and not advertise his wealth with his appearance.

She demonstrably opened up her own jacket to reveal the holster and the weapon contained within it with a smile. "Of course. Unless I'm with you, I never leave home without it."

"Very sensible." He chucked, then opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a box of ammo, slipping it into his pocket. "While they have ammo there. They don't always have the right calibre in stock. Best to come prepared."

Alaric walked back over to Cassya and offered his arm. Cassya took it and happily let him lead her downstairs towards the carriage. Helping her step into it before climbing in himself. Those same customary two taps on the roof and they set off. It wasn't a long journey, barely twenty minutes. They passed the gambling hall on the way. Then a few hundred yards down the road, they pulled up in front of a pub called 'The Sword and Wings'. Cassya couldn't recall ever seeing it before, despite it residing in a part of the city she had spent a lot of time in. Though it was in the opposite direction to home. She didn't have reason to come this way.

There were a few men hanging around outside having a smoke. From a glance you could tell they were soldiers, or formerly, even out of uniform. Their clothes were pressed and clean, hair combed and smoothed down. The way they carried themselves too, straight, rigid postures while relaxed. Alaric's carriage was given studying looks as they arrived. Her especially, as Alaric offered a hand as she stepped down. Again, she took his hand as they walked inside. Contrary to what Alaric had claimed it didn't seem that raucous at first. It seemed like a standard tavern, mostly filled with men having drinks talking with each other. She got a few more looks from those within as well. Though once they deemed she was being escorted, they paid her little mind.

Aside from the obvious gunshots coming from the back, it seemed like any other tavern she had been in.

"This isn't quite how you described it," Cassya said to Alaric in a subdued tone. "I was expecting something more... characterful."

Alaric gave her a slight smirk as he led her towards the bar. "Well, it's Sunday night and the evening is young... most won't be many drinks in."

"Fair enough." Cassya chuckled. She might need to be more on guard later.

Once they reached the bar, the bartender's eyebrows shot up upon seeing Alaric. The middle-aged man greeted him with a smile.

"Ah, slumming it down here with the rest of us, eh, fancy pants?" he said with a snigger and a northern accent.

Alaric smiled back at him. "I wanted to spend an evening shooting with my lady friend here. I tried the Marksman's Club, but the members there were less than welcoming."

The barkeep playfully scowled. "Those posh twats didn't appreciate having a lady this pretty in attendance? Clearly money doesn't buy taste."

"I think they found the presence of any woman offensive," Cassya commented dryly.

After snorting in derision and chuckling, the barkeep replied in a friendly tone, "Not the case here, quite the opposite. Frankly we'd love it if more women came in, always brightens it up. We've never had a policy of denying them entry or forcing them to dress a certain way. So long as you don't start any trouble, you're quite welcome."

"What exactly counts as trouble?" she asked with a hint of mischief.

A snigger came from Alaric. "Actively starting a fight or plying any wares. Specifically of the erotic or narcotic variety," he explained casually.

The barkeep nodded in agreement. "Too right. We might not be fancy, but this is a reputable establishment. Though I'm going to assume that if you're 'friends' with Caeranote, you don't dabble in either of those forms of commerce."

"Correct. I don't dabble in those kinds of commerce. Just here to have a drink and get some target practice in," Cassya answered sincerely.

"Good. Now since you're here, Caeranote, I assume Bradford's lingering around outside somewhere?" the barkeep enquired.

"Of course. I'm sure he'd appreciate it if you nipped out to say hello," Alaric said merrily.

"I'll do that. I assume he's not coming in out of choice, not because you told him so?" the barkeep asked cautiously.

"It's his choice. I'd prefer he does what he's comfortable with. He felt sitting at the bar waiting might be too much of a temptation for him. Even if he's just chatting with old friends," Alaric elaborated neutrally.

The barkeep nodded. "It's best to be safe. Not that I would serve him for his own good." He sighed for a moment as though remembering something. "Though it was the only thing he thought would help him slow down and sleep after. Guess he just needed a job, thanks for that."

"I was happy too. Quite content with a coachman who can do what he can. Best of all no one suspects it of him." Alaric pulled a veiled half-smile.

The barkeep cackled. "He really doesn't look the type, does he? What can I get you two?"

"Whiskey please," Cassya chimed in.

Yet she was now far more curious about Bradford and what kind of skillset he had. He spoke even less than Dickenson. To the point she had become certain his vocabulary mostly consisted of grunts. The barkeep nodded and produced a pair of tumblers from beneath the bar. Then he turned and grabbed a bottle from the back wall and measured out an exact pour for each glass with his eye alone. With a flourish he put a glass in front of each of them.

"I can respect a lady who likes a stiff drink. Especially if it's whiskey." He gave her a wink.

Cassya threw a playful glance at Alaric. "It's all I have ever seen my gentleman friend drink. Seems only polite to match him."

"You don't have to always have what I'm having. I'm sure there's plenty here that you might enjoy," Alaric replied aloofly as he leaned on the bar and took a sip of his glass.

"I don't mind whiskey for my first drink. I have grown used to the taste. It's deep and complex," Cassya answered him just as aloofly.

"Well not this one," Alaric winced. "God, Mark, is this made from the barrel scrapings?"

The barkeep, Mark presumably, cackled and raised an eyebrow at him. "Is it that bad? Should have known you wouldn't want the cheap stuff. I'll get you a better pour. Since we're doing a fresh round, what would you like, young lady?"

"Oh, uh, do you have any grappa?" she asked tentatively.

Mark gave her a curious smile. "I might have a bottle somewhere. Interesting choice. The only people who I have met who drink that, have associations with certain people."

"Is that the case? I just tried it and liked the taste. What kind of people are you thinking of?" Cassya enquired innocently.

The smile on Mark's face remained but his eyes studied her further. "Grappa is a tipple from Rusiki, originally. Most of those from Rusikian families drink it. And those families... tend to have ties to the Fish Hooks."

"Well, I'm not Rusikian in the slightest... and I have no ties to the Fish Hooks. A friend let me try some, and I liked the flavour. Fruity, but it has a kick to it," Cassya explained with a smirk.

"Fair enough. Just be cautious with that drink request in the future, young lady. It sends out a certain message," Mark clarified in a wry tone.

"On that note, I'll have the same. It's been a while since I've had any," Alaric requested with a grin.

After another cackle, Mark answered, "Alright, I need to check in the back. Just a minute."

Then he ambled towards a door at the rear of the bar and disappeared into it. Leaving her and Alaric waiting together.

"So, enough of a regular here to be on first name terms with the barkeep," she said jovially. "Based on how you were talking, I assume that's an old connection. How do you all know each other? Bradford as well, I mean."

Alaric smiled and gestured to the room. "Isn't it obvious?"

Cassya smiled back then whispered, "Exactly how many spooks do you still keep in your social circles?"

He sniggered, then whispered in return, "Not spooks those two. Still from the army though. Albeit a different division."

"So, forgive me if I have gotten the wrong end of the stick, but does Bradford have a drinking problem?" she queried in a subdued tone.

"It's a demon he is successfully fighting off," Alaric explained sombrely, "though many who came back from the war found comfort at the bottom of the bottle. Very few climbed their way back out of it. Bradford is one of those few. I have nothing but respect for a man who acknowledges a weakness and works to overcome it. I hired him when he was sorting himself out, and gave him a chance, and a place to live. He has yet to give me reason to regret it."

Cassya could understand that. There were a great number of men who resorted to that coping mechanism after the war. Many of that generation were lost to gin. Otto included, amongst his numerous other flaws.

She said sincerely, "That's good of you. You've given him accommodation? Where exactly?"

"He lives on the upper floor above the stables. I did offer him a room in the house, but he prefers to stay out there. He says it's easier to care for the horses. I think he just prefers his own space. He won't even come in to have Tessa's coffee," Alaric elaborated casually.

"He won't even come in for Tessa's coffee?" Cassya asked with amazement. "Why not?"

"Because he's happy with his own horrendous brew. Mainly, because he's got no sense of taste," he explained with a pensive expression.

"Was he born like that, or did something cause it?" she enquired further.

Alaric tapped the side of his head. "He took a bullet during the war."

Cassya was beyond amazed. "He got shot in the head... and he's up and walking around?"

With some ponderousness to his tone, Alaric replied, "Thankfully it was a small calibre weapon. The way his comrades tell the story is... quite something. Want to hear it?" Cassya vociferously nodded. "He and his team were sent on a particular mission behind enemy lines, to extract someone important. During the mission, their target decided to make a bid for freedom. He grabbed Bradford, as the second in command. Then put a gun to his head, planning to use Bradford as a human shield. In his attempt to escape, he panicked and accidentally shot Bradford. Though the amazing thing was, instead of Bradford keeling to the floor, he just stumbled, spun around and wrenched the gun out the bastard's hands, then subdued him. His team say that it was like Bradford didn't even realise he had been shot for a little while, until he felt the blood gushing from his head. Despite having that bullet in his noggin, he walked back towards the allied line with just a bandage."

"Surely he was hospitalised after?" Astonishment filled her tone.

"Only because his superior officer insisted on it. Bradford claimed he was fine. Turned out the bullet dulled his sense of pain as well as taste. He hadn't even been bothered about his fractured skull. After four months of enforced rest, he was back in service, and eager to be." Alaric sighed.

Before Cassya could offer any further comment, Mark returned from the back with a bottle of grappa.

"Managed to find a 'well aged' bottle after some rummaging. Why does your lady friend look so perplexed, Alaric? What things have you been telling her?" He asked dryly.

Alaric smirked. "I was merely regaling her about Bradford. She was unaware of his injury. Your fault for bringing him up. At a guess, she's horrified at the idea that someone would get shot, then not seek out a doctor."

Cassya slowly nodded. While Mark laughed as he poured out some measures of grappa into fresh glasses.

"Yeah. It was utterly baffling that the bloke in the hospital bed next to me, had a bullet in his skull and was complaining that he was 'absolutely fine'. Meanwhile every time he got his bandages changed I could literally see what was in his head." Mark shook his own head. "My cousin found it baffling as well when he popped in to visit me. Even a guy like him was astounded that Bradford just wanted to return to duty, all things considered."

With a chuckle, Alaric interjected, "Nobody likes being in hospital."

"Aye, nobody does," Mark agreed.

Then there was a loud cheer consisting of numerous voices from what was presumably the firing range beyond a set of heavy doors.

"What's happening in there to make them so animated?" Cassya queried after casting an eye at the door.

"Cousin is in there, showing off. No doubt he just did some trick shot that's got everyone in a tizzy," Mark grumbled.

Alaric's eyebrows shot up. "Morton's here?! Why didn't you lead with that?!"

Mark shrugged. "It's not my job to keep you abreast of his movements. You were going to run into him anyway when you actually went in there to shoot."

Upon trying to construct a response, Alaric shrugged and sighed. "Alright. Cassya, why don't we take our drinks and try to find a spot to shoot."

Cassya nodded, picking up Alaric's glass as well as her own then tipping them towards Mark in gratitude then heading to the door to the firing range with Alaric following behind. He caught up, then politely opened the door for her so she could step through. The firing range was decidedly less refined than at the Marksman's Club. Instead of the target dummies, it was densely packed pillars of straw with soft wooden targets hung in front. While there was a place free for her and Alaric to use, most of the people in the room were watching Morton.

Even in plain clothes it was easy to spot the general, same brown hair, broad shoulders and the strong face of a man in his forties. He currently had a hand over his eyes to cover them, with the other extended out in front of him with a pistol in it. Morton was waiting for something, then he yelled, "Haul!"

One of the crowd tossed an old plate into the air across the shooting gallery. It was flying for a second when as if by witchcraft, Morton's aim snapped to it and he blasted it to pieces. At the sound of the shattering plate the men in attendance cheered raucously. There were a few slaps on his back from those around him as he removed the hand from his eyes and took a glug from his pint. Then those eyes glanced over in hers and Alaric's direction. He clearly noticed them, holstered his weapon, then started making his way over. Slowly pushing his way through the throng of bodies wanting to chat with them.

Meanwhile Cassya had drawn her weapon and was checking it over. She was also wondering if it was rude to start shooting as Morton was on his way over to speak to them. Then figured based on the number of people stopping him, that was going to take a while. Instead of waiting, Cassya assumed a firing position.

Alaric leaned over her shoulder and whispered, "Your form is sloppy. You should have your shoulders braced, and feet firmly in place."

"Am I doing anything else wrong?" Cassya answered dryly.

"No, that's it for now." He grinned. "Come on, best get shooting."

"Don't fancy making a wager over it?" she retorted facetiously.

"Nah. Considering you're obliging me with another wager, I think one in an evening is enough. Though I am intrigued by what else you could possibly be offering?" he asked puckishly.

Cassya looked back at him and placed a peck on his cheek. "Nothing immediately comes to mind. I'm sure you're rife with ideas."

"Ideas I am saving for later, now, best get on with what we came for. Take aim and fire," Alaric purred in her ear.

Cassya took a breath, lined her revolver up with the target, and fired. Her shot was still wide of her aim, so she fired another five times hoping for progress. At least each bullet landed on the target even if it wasn't quite what she was aiming for. She let out a huff of disappointment and went to reload, popping open the chamber and pulling out the spent casings.

"Every shot hit the dummy straight off the bat this time. That's better than when we last did this," Alaric said reassuringly.

"Yeah, not bad grouping for a beginner," Morton chimed in with agreement.

Cassya's attention turned to the man and gave him a welcoming smile. "Is it that obvious that I'm a beginner?"

He replied consolingly, "Oh, plain as day, missy. Though it's always possible to get better."

"I doubt I'll get to the point where I can shoot things blindfolded," Cassya replied sardonically.

"That's what this ponce said..." Morton gestured to Alaric. "... but he eventually got to the point where he could... about half the time." He sniggered.

Alaric formed a mix of a smile and a scowl. "Well, you're allowed to be better than me at one thing."

Morton retorted rakishly, "I suspect there's a few things that I am better at than you. Though I doubt Miss Wainwright would be willing to volunteer as judge for that contest. Nor would you want her to... she'd probably dream of me afterwards."

After a titter from Alaric, Cassya interjected with a raised eyebrow, "Also, I recall that you said you were spoken for?"

"Yeah, Morton. Won't your wife have something to say about a contest like that?" Alaric rejoindered with mischief.

"Honestly, the wife would want to watch. Would even volunteer as a judge, but she knows she's not your type. Not that I would ever want her to lay with you, punchable prick," Morton grinned.

"Now, now, don't be sore that your wife longs for me and is curious. I am better looking, younger, and there's so many who can attest to it being an outstanding experience. The tales have no doubt reached her ears, and she's eager to indulge. She'd be pining for me to give it to her again long after," Alaric gloated.

Cassya cast some side-eye at Alaric at that comment, not liking how callously he was talking. Upon seeing a smug smirk from him, she threw out with sarcasm, "I'm suddenly game to judge. Fancy finding somewhere private for a quickie, Morton? We can settle this contest comprehensively."

When Alaric's face turned to thunder, Morton burst out laughing. "Cracking idea, missy. Did you want to watch, Al? Perhaps learn a few tricks you didn't already know? As a mentor, I'm always up to teach."

Alaric pouted and huffed. "Very funny... and the only private place around here is the cellar. No chairs or anywhere to lie down there, you'd have to do it standing. Is your back up for that old man? It would be a touch embarrassing if you strained yourself halfway through."

Morton laughed even harder. "Thank you for your concern, pup, but my back is fine. Did just that with the wife last week. Though I like that missy here can needle you so easily, maybe that's a good sign."

After narrowing his eyes on Morton, Alaric replied, "A sign of what exactly?"

"Oh, who can say?" Morton answered evasively with a smile.

Alaric swallowed whatever retort he was about to voice along with his glass of grappa. "I'm going to the bar again," he announced, then he skulked off leaving Cassya and Morton.

"I get the impression he's somewhat upset with me," Morton said to Cassya distantly. "Any ideas about why that might be?"

"Perhaps because I mentioned that you advised me not to see him as a serious prospect. It was part of a larger conversation we were having," Cassya explained as she returned to reloading her revolver.

Morton considered this. "And I see you haven't taken that advice on board. You're still with him."

"Well... things have changed since I last saw you. Our dynamic is now different," she elucidated further as she finished placing the last bullet in the cylinder.

"I doubt things have changed that much. I can say with certainty without hearing anymore, that there is no promise of a ring and there are things he's not being fully honest about," Morton replied firmly.

For a moment Cassya stiffened, looking up at him, before resuming her firing stance. "So, what? We have only been involved for just over a couple of months. It's still early days."

There was an almost pitying gaze from Morton as she made her next six shots, with a similar level of success to the ones prior. She let out another huff as she went to reload.

Morton offered guidance. "You're letting yourself get too tense. If there comes a time you need to fire out in the field, you won't have time to get relaxed. So, you need to find that sweet spot of focus in-between. Try counting, it's a good habit generally as you keep track of your shots as well. As for the original topic, I have been married almost twelve years. Most of those years have been reasonably happy, the ones that weren't, were made worse by a lack of honesty, both hers and mine. Don't pretend there aren't gaps where you aren't fully sure about what he's getting up to. A relationship that's rooted in a lack of transparency is never going to last... even if there's genuine affection," he said dourly.

"And are you fully forthcoming about everything, even your professional life to your wife?" Cassya replied snippily.

"Of course. She's got clearance as the deputy chief of the Intelligence Division," he said wryly.

"Exactly what am I, as someone who's not part of that inner circle supposed to do about that? There are certain things I am not supposed to be privy to, as you well know," Cassya retorted with there merest hint of sharpness.

A knowing cackle crept out of Morton. "There are many couples out there in the same boat. The difference is that personal and professional are separate there, and never do they meet. For Caeranote though, I doubt he gets out of bed in the morning without a twelve-step plan for how he's spending the day. Which plates for various schemes he needs to give a spin, and not all of them are done on behalf of the royals, some are purely done for his own self-interest.

Cassya went to reload again with her tone toward Morton growing more distant. "There's plenty I haven't told him either," she said sullenly.

"Really now?" he asked quizzically in return. "Exactly how upset do you think he will get from you withholding those little morsels? Probably not nearly as much as you will from his own." Then he added mirthfully, 'Unless you've got a closet full of skeletons that's absolutely bursting at the seams... I doubt it though."

After inserting the last bullet and locking the cylinder shut again, Cassya took a swig of grappa. Morton was successfully poking a tender spot for her. She had no firm grasp of exactly how much Alaric was holding back from her. There were certainly his business schemes and his tasks from the royals. Along with the possibility of him and Morton arranging in foreign assassinations, as far as Prince Max was concerned. Why was Morton so invested in warning her off him? Was it purely for her wellbeing, or did he have another motive in mind?

Cassya tried to fix her tone back to something light-hearted and nonchalant. "Why are you telling me this? Do you prefer Alaric when he is unattached and womanising? I doubt the thought of me becoming broken-hearted causes you to lose much sleep."

"Do I come across as someone who would see an impending shipwreck and do nothing to stop it?" Morton asked pointedly. "Not everything I do is part of a grander plan. I am out tonight doing my own thing, only because my evening is unoccupied... and I was not joining my wife to watch that pretentious bit of wank they've got on stage at the royal theatre, ergh, fucking opera. In front of me, I see a young woman who's sailing towards the human equivalent of an iceberg. In that nine-tenths of him is hidden beneath the surface. Don't let the parts of him you can't see tear your hull open, missy."

There was something about this persistent warning that was growing annoying. Maybe it was well-intentioned, but there was a hidden agenda she couldn't see, and it felt meddlesome. Although she did agree with him on his assessment of the opera. It was always performed in Suttapaye, Esterlander or other foreign tongues in a deliberate attempt to make it seem more refined, and vastly overcharging at the ticket booths to keep out the 'oiks'. Though Rusikian operas were never performed, despite them inventing the art form. There was no desire for any cultural overlap there, just in case it inspired certain seditious ideas.

"Didn't feel like indulging in what your wife wanted to do tonight?" Cassya asked wryly, avoiding giving him a response to his warning.

Morton flapped his lips and sighed. "She knows how I feel about opera. It's a waste of money and boring. She just wanted an excuse to wear the fancy new eye patch she bought that's too showy for everyday wear. She took a friend, she's fine."

"Male or female friend? The one who is escorting your wife tonight, enjoying her company," Cassya playfully provoked him.

He let out a derisive huff. "If I were worried about that sort of thing, either would be a concern in her case."

"Assuming I wasn't in the picture anymore, if Alaric were to escort her out for an evening, would it be a concern then?" Cassya coquettishly teased him.

Then she took aim at the target, lining up her sight and took a breath before starting to count. One, two, fire, first bullet, three, four, second bullet, and so on. Once the cylinder was empty, Cassya took stock of where her shots ended up and grinned. It was so much better this time.

"Well, well, well, isn't that an improvement. Were that a live target, they wouldn't be getting up." Morton took a gulp of beer and casually leaned against the counter. "In regards to your little jab, missy, I wouldn't be concerned about that pairing for two reasons. First, even if it were to happen, it would be just for the night. My wife sees him quite clearly, as she fulfilled a similar role to him in the past..." He gave her a jokingly scathing look. "... Clearer than you, even with only one eye. Secondly, me and her have an accord. If she ever fucks Caeranote, then I'm fucking her sister, and she hates her sister."

"Sounds fair," Cassya replied sarcastically, "Yet if it were you and me, you think she'd want to watch? Why would she want to watch her husband with another woman?"

Morton cackled. "Because she's done it before... well, not me and you, obviously, but it's happened quite a few times."

Curiosity burned through Cassya at the revelation. "Wait, what?! How does that even work?!"

He answered with a smirk, "With someone we can both agree on and enjoy together, or get permission when it's not together. It's open and transparent. There are boundaries and restrictions we have agreed on, with penalties for violating them."

"Hence why you'll do the nasty with her sister, any particular reason she hates her so much? Also, what's the penalty for you if you cross a line?" she asked with inquisition replacing her annoyance.

Morton flapped his lips. "If I were to cross a line, she'll either have a tumble with Caeranote... or Mark. I'm never going to give her cause to do such. I would never intentionally hurt her for something so fleeting. I know she feels the same. So, I would have to be very angry and hurt to lay with the woman responsible for my wife only having one eye. In a fit of pique, her sister smashed a pint glass in her face as a teenager, and has never apologised for doing so. Plus, the hag likes to drink dogsnose." He pulled a disgusted scowl.

Cassya was suddenly thankful for Ash and Willow not being as good siblings as they were. "Gin and stout?! That drink is an atrocity, and speaks volumes about her... even without her other actions."

"To this day, I think she did it out of jealousy. Even with one eye, my wife is stunning, funny, smart with wicked instincts. I'm beyond lucky to have her." A genuine grin spread across his face.

"If that's the case, would you really be willing to lie with her sister purely as an act of revenge?" Cassya enquired earnestly.

Morton shrugged. "Threats mean nothing if you aren't willing to carry them out... and I could do worse."

Before Cassya could really process that response, Alaric reappeared carrying a trio of drinks, a glass of whiskey, another of grappa and presumably a pint for Morton. He then set them down on the counter and kept the whiskey in hand while taking a quick look at the target. His eyebrows briefly went up and he smiled.

"That's good grouping. What were you talking about?" he probed innocently.

"Morton's wife," Cassya replied cheerily, gladdened by Alaric's return and the abatement of his huff. "Tell me, is she the same one-eyed woman who you mentioned could 'wrap men around her finger'?"

Alaric smirked and Morton chuckled.

"Is that how you portrayed her?" Morton asked heartily, "can't say I disagree. It's an apt description."

Alaric raised his glass to Morton. "All except the big bad boss, who could always give her a run for her money, and won her heart where so many failed."

"I don't know, if she hadn't had dark hair, you might have entered the contest. That might have made it harder to win," Morton jibed. "I'd have still won though."

As Alaric snickered, Cassya chimed in, "Is everything a contest with you two?"

Morton and Alaric looked between each other and shrugged while chucking.

"Competition is quite healthy, provided it can be set aside for cooperation. The main goal is to learn from each other. There're skills I've acquired due to Morton and him, from me," Alaric explained jovially.

"Such as?" Cassya raised an eyebrow.

Morton offered, "Well, I taught Caeranote how to fight properly, instead of all that formal fancy fighting... and some other skills. While he taught me all those little rules posh cunts live by. It made it easier interacting with the other officers."

Alaric quipped with a smile, "To the uninitiated, all the cutlery in the officers' mess is quite intimidating, too many spoons and forks."

After finishing off his pint and taking the one Alaric had placed on the counter, Morton added, "All that bloody cutlery is superfluous. Just an exercise in pretentious wankery."

Cassya chortled, started to reload before replying, "I too have become enlightened to how exorbitant the amount of cutlery is used in upper class dining... especially when I had to start doing my own washing up."

"Too bloody right. Is it beyond those people to just reuse a sodding fork?!" Morton huffed.

"Your farmboy roots found the idea of a seven-course meal egregious too," Alaric teased him.

"Anything more than three courses is excessive, especially when many people can barely get one," Morton scoffed.

Cassya nodded. "Very true. You grew up on a farm, Morton?"

"Yup, peasant and proud of it. It's hard graft though. When I was a lil'un I was in charge of the chickens. When I was able to hold an air rifle, one was slapped in my hands to deal with the rats. As I got older, I looked after the sheep, using a proper rifle to fend off the wolves," he elaborated.

"I'm going to assume that is behind your marksmanship, many years of practical experience with moving targets," Cassya postulated. "How old were you when you were tasked with fighting off wolves?"

Morton moved his eyes upwards as he thought about the answer. "About... eleven," he stated distantly.

"An eleven-year-old was charged with protecting a flock from wolves?" Cassya asked spuriously.

"My parents were confident I could handle it. It's easy enough when you know what to look for. If ravens are flying overhead squawking their hearts out, it means wolves are close by, and feathery fuckers are trying to lead them over," Morton elaborated with enthusiasm.

"Why do ravens do that? Why help wolves?" Cassya enquired.

Alaric chimed in, "Because wolves and ravens have a symbiotic relationship. Ravens scout for wolves, then will feast on the remains that the wolves don't eat. There have even been accounts of ravens playing with wolf pups. So, a murder of crows can be a very bad sign out in the wilderness."

"Too right," Morton agreed, "taking out the ravens, preventing their consistent cries bringing the wolves over. Failing that, I would just shoot the wolves when they showed up. For any that got too close, I had a hatchet I was handy with."

"I wouldn't fancy my chances against a hungry wolf armed with a hatchet now, let alone as a child," Cassya stated warily.

"Oh, it was fine," Morton said confidently. "I never faced a wolf head-on. I would sidestep and bury my hatchet between their shoulder blades. One precise strike, their spinal cord is severed and they're paralysed, no longer a threat. Got the family quite a few wolf pelts that way."

For a moment Cassya's eyes flicked between Morton and Alaric. Alaric had a slightly tense expression at her hearing that revelation, and she could guess why. Though she would never dare to speak that suspicion aloud, nor allow her expression to betray that she had caught that confirmation on Morton's part. Cassya affixed an innocent smile to her face and chose to pretend nothing was amiss. Although it was strangely vindicating to know she had been right.

"Is that so? Good information to have, but I doubt I will be facing any wolves in single combat to use it on," Cassya replied jovially. "Would you two mind if I engaged in another round of shooting?"

"Not at all, go right ahead," Alaric volunteered, eager for the subject to change.

Cassya took aim at the target. This new knowledge was oddly focusing her senses. She had potentially caught Alaric in a lie. Was it by accident, or had it been intentional on Morton's part, who could say? One, two, three, four, five, six shots fired at the target. Her grouping was even better this time, all centred around the centre of the bullseye.

She was delighted at this improvement and almost jumped for joy, but didn't. Her evening out, having a pleasant time, was with two men of questionable motives. One of whom was her lover and she owed debts in both coin and almost certainly blood. The other was a lion posing as a guard dog. Both, she should not be so relaxed around based on what she knew. Yet she wasn't tense or on edge, Cassya was positively diverted. What did this say about her?

"Excellent!" Alaric gave her a couple of claps. "Perhaps this was the correct venue after all."

Cassya necked the remainder of her first glass of grappa before picking up the next one Alaric had left for her on the counter.

"It has certainly been a better atmosphere and superior source of company. By this point in the evening at the Marksman's Club, I'd been called a whore by two separate people and you had to beat the shit out of someone." Cassya chuckled.

Morton's attention snapped to Alaric. "Who'd you beat the shit out of, and why?"

"Fagin... pulled a gun on me, threatened to do despicable things to Cassya," Alaric relayed coldly.

"Understandable. How badly did you beat him?" Morton enquired further.

"Like your old motto, break the wrist, nose and jaw, leave him on the floor," Alaric answered in that same cold tone.

"Hahaha, good lad. Good thing you aren't in service anymore though. Public brawls are a disciplinary offence," Morton replied with a chuckle.

"I'm grateful not to have to follow most of the rules officers have to these days. though at least mustaches amongst officers aren't compulsory anymore," Alaric commented dryly.

"Thank fuck for that, absolutely hated having to keep that groomed. My eternal gratitude to King Hendrick for repealing that order of his father's." Morton raised his glass.

"All officers had to have mustaches? Why?" Cassya asked with perplexion as she finished reloading.

"Arbitrary reason. The previous king thought they made men look more dignified and macho," Alaric explained acerbically.

Cassya scrunched up her face. "Frankly, most of the men I see wearing them aren't suited to it. They look like walruses or the kind of bloke who'd lurk outside school gates."

Morton laughed heartily. "Ooh, I wonder what she would have thought of yours, Caeranote?"

She turned to Alaric. "You had a moustache?" Cassya asked in wonder.

"I was an officer, and the rule still stood at that point, so I had to grow one," he answered with nostalgia.

"What did it look like?" She giggled.

Morton interjected with a chortle, "Of course this one had a fancy handlebar which he waxed to the nines. He was right proud of it. Thankfully Southie women find that kind of thing charming."

"Please tell me there's a photograph somewhere!" A further giggle snuck out of her.

A somewhat iffy expression crossed Alaric's face as Morton volunteered, "I might, possibly, have a group photograph of the unit. In my personal opinion, he didn't look like a walrus or a corrupter of youth... a ponce though, certainly."

Cassya chortled while Alaric pouted.

"I'm sure it made you appear genuinely macho and dignified," she said reassuringly.

"It did, Morton's just jealous because his made him look twice his age," Alaric retorted. "He also kept getting food stuck in it."

Morton sniggered. "Hence why I shaved it off at the first opportunity. The wife practically threw a celebration. Then a year later tried to convince me to grow a beard. That was completely baffling. How is a beard better than a moustache?"

"Moustaches just look... strange most of the time. A tiny bit of hair while the rest of the face remains bare. Beards though... assuming a man isn't sporting one that looks like he's spent months in the wilderness... it's manly, in an intriguing way," Cassya said playfully.

"Really?" Alaric smirked at her. "I'll take that into consideration. Perhaps I don't need to be as diligent about shaving?"

"She says that now, just wait until she complains it tickles her thighs," Morton grumbled.

Cassya feigned shock and giggled. "General!"

"After all I've said tonight, that's what you take issue with, missy?" Morton sniggered, and Alaric followed.

"I am a lady," Cassya jokingly retorted.

"You offered me a quickie earlier, in front of your 'gentleman' friend," Morton replied flatly with a raised eyebrow.

After taking a sip of grappa, Cassya jibed, "I didn't say I was a respectable one."

That comment had Alaric and Morton guffawing. The three of them spent the rest of the evening chatting, drinking and shooting, right up until Morton left to go and meet up with his wife. Cassya and Alaric stayed a little while longer before calling it a night. Even though the Sword and Wings had been loud and rowdy, no one was rude, unpleasant or intrusive. She even had some friendly chats with people at the bar while waiting for Mark to be available to serve her. Once they were outside, climbing into the carriage, Cassya sat next to Alaric as they set off.

"I genuinely enjoyed tonight," Cassya said to him with a tipsy smile, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Good." He smiled back. "We finally had a drama free outing. At the very least I would hope it wasn't dull."

"Don't need drama to make things fun. We certainly don't want to be one of those couples," Cassya said dryly.

"Those couples are such a bore. Intentionally making trouble because they know neither of them actually likes the other..." Alaric groaned.

"... But can't bear being on their lonesome either, so won't just split. I am aware divorce is difficult, but surely being separated is better than that," Cassya continued the thought.

"You'd think, but some people stay with others like they're wearing a pair of worn-down shoes. Too used to having them even if they hurt their feet so much they would be better off not wearing any at all," Alaric considered aloud.

"How many couples do you know like that?" Cassya queried with a curious tone.

"About half of those I stayed with growing up. The constant bickering at the dinner table was tiresome, along with them perpetually finding reasons to undermine each other." He sighed.

"Who wants to waste time arguing with food in front of them?" she asked with honest perplexity.

Alaric chuckled. "Always focusing on the vital issues."

"There are few things more important than food," Cassya declared with mock seriousness.

"Such as?" Alaric replied, mirroring her tone.

Cassya pretended to cogitate on the matter and said coyly, "Hmmm... you know, I'm struggling to think of anything."

He raised an eyebrow at her and asked flirtatiously, "Is there really nothing else that you enjoy as much?"

"I assume you are referring to something else that's filling?" she enquired with playful snark.

"Maybe..." He drew a finger across her jaw and a thumb over her cheek, moving his lips closer to hers. "... though the idea that each time I lie with you, you're thinking about food is a tad off-putting." He said with a grin.

With a chuckle, she answered, "I promise, I'm never thinking about food during that."

"Well that's a relief," he said softly as his silver eyes fixed onto her blue.

"Though I do have near erotic feelings towards Bakewell tarts with chocolate glazes," Cassya jokingly confessed.

A warm laugh burst from Alaric. "I feel the same about a perfectly fried piece of hangar steak."

Then he wove his fingers through the back of her hair and brought her closer for a kiss and pressed their lips together. Cassya leaned into it, sliding her hand up the side of his neck and sneaking her tongue into his mouth. Alaric caressed hers with his own, growing more involved in the kiss. Then he nibbled on her lower lip before pausing and breaking away.

Alaric returned to stroking his fingers across her jaw and said with a sultry smile, "Are you still up for our wager when we get back?"

Cassya giggled. "I am, and I plan to make it a challenge for you this time."

"Now I am really looking forward to it." His smile widened to a grin.

"Of course you are, you are getting exactly what you wanted. Though I want to hear an embarrassing secret." Cassya playfully booped his nose.

He tutted and lightly shook his head. "That makes me all the more determined to win."

"If you are that eager to deny me, perhaps I should arrange to spend more time with Morton? I get the feeling after plying him with several pints something might slip out," Cassya teased him.

Alaric sniggered. "When it comes to Morton, nothing 'accidentally' slips out. Don't let the friendly Northerner attitude fool you. He's sharper than a knife and harder to break."

"Kind of sloppy him telling me all about his wife then," Cassya retorted with a smirk.

"What firm details did he actually tell you? Anything that would help you definitively identify her?" Alaric replied with a knowing smirk.

"That she has one eye, a sister, and is deputy chief of the Intelligence Division," she answered with diminishing certainty.

"Having one eye isn't as blatant as you might think it is. A good quality glass prosthetic looks quite real, team it with a thick pair of glasses, you barely even notice the scar. Has a sister? Generic, it offers nothing that narrows it down. As for that final tidbit, do you really think that info is publicly accessible?" Alaric elaborated smugly. "He told you almost nothing tangible, but enough to make you feel like he was opening up to you."

"So you're saying the sly bastard was trying to earn my trust?" A deep chuckle crept out of her.

"Of course. It never hurts getting someone's trust... and for when you can't get someone's trust... get them in your pocket," he said jovially.

"In an ideal world, do both?" Cassya played along.

"In an ideal world," he replied before moving to kiss her neck.

"Do you think I trust you? Or do you still believe I'm in your pocket, or both?" Cassya mischievously posed the question.

Alaric stopped kissing her neck and lightly tugged on her ear with his teeth before whispering, "You're no longer in my pocket, and you're letting me play a game where I hunt you down and tie you up. If you don't trust me, then why on earth would you let me do that?"

After another giggle Cassya answered, "Perhaps I like the danger. But you're right, I do trust you."

'Even though I probably shouldn't,' she thought to herself.

He moved his face in front of hers and grinned that wolfish grin.

"I am honoured to have earned such. Though I long to gain access to other parts of you tonight," Alaric said in an amorous tone.

Cassya grinned back. "You have to prove yourself the successful hunter first."

"Oh, I will," he responded with determination.

For the rest of the carriage journey, they continued to share kisses and pushed their bodies together, further stoking the fire between them. Cassya was convinced that Alaric was beyond motivated to win their wager, she could feel it through his trousers. By the time they reached his house she had been pulled onto his lap and could feel it pressing against her rear. When Bradford heeled the horses, Cassya clambered off Alaric and he almost leapt out of the carriage to offer her a hand down.

There was such a victorious smile on his face as he led her inside and upstairs to his office. Once inside Alaric put another couple of glasses on the desk and poured some whiskey into them, he handed one to Cassya. She accepted it, despite feeling a little drunk from all the drinks she had earlier. As she took a sip she admired the near ravenous look in his eyes.

"So, are we operating under the same rules as last time?" she asked with jocose aloofness.

"Of course. Strip down to your underwear, five minutes to hide, thirty minutes to remain undetected," he announced with excitement.

"That depends, are you going to tear off my underwear again?" she asked acerbically.

He enquired wolfishly, "What's wrong with that?"

Cassya declared firmly, "I do not consent to you destroying a perfectly good set of comfortable undergarments!"

"Even if I paid for them?" he countered in a jockish manner.

"Now that is a problematic attitude. You're allowed to arbitrarily deprive me of gifts you gave me because you feel like it?" Cassya tutted.

"But it's so tempting..." Alaric pouted.

She briefly rolled her eyes before suggesting, "How's about you fish out the fancy pink set you bought? You might be more restrained with that if you want me to wear it again... if not, then I don't personally consider it to be a great loss."

He positively brimmed with excitement at that. "It's in the armoire closest to my bedroom door, third drawer down. Come and give me a look once you're changed." Alaric took a sip of whiskey with a smirk.

"Not like I'm going to cheat and give myself a headstart finding somewhere to hide. What kind of person cheats on a wager?" At that she threw some good-natured side-eye at him.

Alaric rejoindered, "I don't cheat..."

Cassya interrupted, "... merely use tactical advantages the other person isn't aware of... 'even by another name a rose still smells just as sweet'," she said acerbically.

She raised an eyebrow and smirked at him before taking a sip of whiskey, putting it down and heading towards the bedroom. Once inside she searched the third drawer of the armoire and found the box of expensive lingerie. Cassya lay the light-pink set out on the bed, it looked immaculate still. She undressed, neatly putting her clothes down on the chair before sheathing herself in this far more erotic silken ensemble. On went the half-stay that hoisted up her cleavage, the miniscule pair of bloomers and the garter belt with stockings.

Cassya briefly checked her reflection in the mirror. In order to seem even more alluring she opted to release her hair from its half-up style, to hang loose and fluff up her curls. It certainly increased the come-hither aspect of her appearance. If Alaric was distracted by the thought of her like this, even better. Cassya limbered up before walking back towards his office, as soon the game began, she would need to get moving. When she opened the door to him again, Alaric's eyes widened and he beamed as he beheld her, beyond delighted.

"You look positively delicious," he complimented her lasciviously.

Cassya rested a hand on her hip and dropped the other side to exaggerate it, creating an inviting silhouette.

"More or less than a perfectly fried hangar steak?" Cassya retorted playfully.

"Ooph, that's a close call, though right now I'm more interested in eating you." That wolfish grin spread across his lips.

"My, my, what big teeth you have Mr Wolf?" Cassya joked.

"I'd make a joke, but I want to get this started. So, run, run, run, little red riding hood," Alaric declared with his grin widening.

Cassya smirked then turned away from him, deliberately giving him the view of her rear as she walked out the office and closed the door behind her nonchalantly to portray confidence. In a way she was, this wasn't going to go like last time. She charged downstairs to the same bedroom she chose as her hiding spot prior, for one specific reason. There was an entrance to the house's hidden passages in that room for sure. She already knew which side of the room it was on; it was just a matter of finding the mechanism. Which might be a challenge in five minutes, but it was a challenge she was going to rise to.

Once on the ground floor, she dashed into the room. She had been loud enough on her descent that he might search this direction straight away. Though if things went according to plan, that wouldn't matter. Cassya rushed to the side of the room behind the bed, opposite the door. There was a bookcase, a light fixture, a bedside table and a small desk. She went for the easiest option, the light fixture, figuring that one of Claudette's passages opened with a curtain hook. It could be anything, but that one was a failure, the fixture didn't move.

Next, she fiddled with the items on the bedside table and the small desk to no avail, which left the bookcase for her to search. She scanned the titles of the numerous books hoping there might be some clue rather than having to check each one manually. One title leapt out, while the rest were all clearly non-fiction, this book was a romance. It was called 'Door to My Heart'; it was so tongue in cheek that Cassya would be disappointed if it amounted to nothing. She lightly pulled on the spine of the book, and she heard a subtle click from the wall next to the bookcase. A section had ever so slightly popped out, granting her access.

Yet again, she suppressed a cheer that night. Instead, she had a small dance to herself before checking inside the passage. It was dim inside as there was no illumination whatsoever, but there was a convenient lantern on the bedside table along with matches. She lit it one and got it going, and then tossed the spent match out of the window to leave no clues. After switching off the light in the room, she then headed into the passage and closed the panel behind her.

The narrow passage was unadorned, wooden walls on the side she came through with bricks and insulation on the other. She had just enough room to stand and walk without having to shimmy through, so Cassya made her way through the hidden corridor. At some point Alaric would probably enter the passages to try to sneak up on her. She needed to find some part of it where she was less likely to bump into him. If this was a proper secret passage, surely there would be peepholes, a means for her to gauge where she was in the house and potentially catch a glimpse of him.

If she could locate other doors in and out of here, then she could find ways to slip past him. Maybe she could wait until he checked a room, then pop out. No, she effectively did that last time, and he caught her from an angle she didn't expect. Cassya needed to keep moving but keep track of him. The best course of action was to quietly make her way upwards and try to listen for him through the walls until she could find a peephole.

So that was the plan Cassya committed to, she followed the passage along until its end, treading lightly. Based on the direction, she guessed she was near the kitchen where she found a small wooden panel that looked like it could be moved to the side. Upon doing so and taking a look, it confirmed her assumption, she was adjacent to the kitchen. Next to the panel was a small lever, which presumably opened what seemed like an exit. She made note of it before moving further down the passage. At the end, there was a ladder both leading up and down. Down presumably would take her to the cellar, which might be a viable hiding spot, but she would be cornering herself down there.

Cassya opted for up instead, and started climbing. It took her up to the next floor where she kept forging ahead. There were a couple more exits and peepholes as she went. The peepholes she made use of, trying to catch a glimpse of Alaric as he searched for her, but she saw no sign of him. He was probably still looking on the upper floors and hadn't moved further down. She would probably see him as she kept going upwards. Another ladder appeared at the end of the passage to take her up to the next floor. One of the peepholes for this part of the passage directly overlooked the staircase.

She finally caught a glimpse of Alaric heading down. He had divested himself of his jacket, boots and shirt, leaving him in just his trousers. His expression was one of abject focus, surveilling everything as he moved. For a split second, Cassya felt a sting of panic as his eyes swept over where the peephole was, paranoid that he might have seen her. Yet his gaze didn't stay, it kept going and Cassya silently let out the breath she was holding. If he worked out that she had found the passage, the game would change dramatically.

As she kept going, Cassya wondered if there was an entrance in his office, surely there was, it was the room he spent the most time in. She quite liked the poetic irony of him looking all over the house for her, only for her to be right where he started. Failing that, perhaps hiding in one of the wardrobes in his bedroom, or under his bed. Though once Cassya reached the summit of the ladder for the top floor her lantern went out, leaving her in darkness. This slowed her progress to a crawl, as she had to feel across the inner wall trying to find another peephole or lever for an exit.

The minutes dragged as she thoroughly checked each foot of wall. Part of Cassya did have a slight concern she might have trapped herself up here, but she just needed to be patient. If she didn't find anything up here, she would just have to backtrack down the passage to where she knew there was an exit. Although this process was taking forever, she might win the bet while neither Alaric nor even herself had a firm idea of where she was in the house.

The night might be somewhat less erotic if he had to rescue her from his secret passage, Cassya would still learn something embarrassing about him. Even if she was stuck in a narrow corridor in the dark, which was slightly dusty, in undergarments. She'd dealt with far worse than this.

Cassya had been roughly keeping track of time counting down as soon as their game began. By her reckoning it had reached about twenty-five minutes into their game, and she was on the verge of winning, practically jubilant about the fact.

So, when hands reached out of the umbra to grab her she squealed in surprise and dropped the spent lantern.

"Found you, Little Red Riding Hood," Alaric growled in her ear as he pulled her close to him, running his hands over her body. "You made it a real challenge this time, clever girl, you worked out the trick."

After Cassya recovered from her startle, she sighed, accepting that she had unequivocally lost their wager. She pressed her back into Alaric and chucked. "Are you part cat? I didn't hear you at all!"

He dragged his lips over her shoulder and up her neck. "It's my house. I know where every creaking floorboard is. You, on the other hand, were quite audible despite your attempts to be silent."

"When did you work out that I was in here?" she asked him jovially.

"Process of elimination, there was nowhere else to search," he answered with disinterest.

His focus was on her breasts kneading his hands over and trying to free them. This happening in the dark was more sensual somehow, she couldn't see him, merely feel him. Once he had slipped her breasts free from her stay, Alaric proceeded to tweak her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, creating tingles and causing them to harden.

"Are you planning to claim your prize in here? Hardly romantic," Cassya said dryly with a sigh, quite enjoying what Alaric's hands were doing.

His lips moved to her ear and gave her lobe a nip. "Is it not?" he purred, "it's hidden, intimate, secret. Nothing but our warm skin and breath to be known in the dark."

One of his hands left her breast and travelled downwards across her stomach into her underwear and between her legs. His fingers swiftly found her nub and started to caress it, causing her to shiver.

He continued, "Don't you find it tantalising? You can hear me, feel me... but you cannot see."

"It... does... hold a... certain appeal," Cassya purred in return.

Her own hands sought him, reaching back to knead his shoulder and run through his hair. She also tried to seek out his lips with her own. She trailed up his neck to his jaw, intuiting her intent, he moved to meet her. Alaric kissed her, tongues massaging together adding to the closeness in the dark. Then his fingers escalated their endeavour, both teasing her nub and sliding between her folds bathing in the moisture swiftly gathering there. Cassya could feel his own arousal pressing into her back, and opted to grind herself against it.

This action elicited an approving groan from him, which made him press himself into her further, practically humping her. His other hand ceased to tease her nipple and instead yanked her underwear down to her mid-thighs. Pulling his fingers out of her sex, he pushed her face-first against the wall and shuffled as he started to unfasten his trousers. Within moments Cassya felt his bare cock against her rear, the tip trying to find its way between her legs. She found it such a tease waiting for him, her breath getting deeper as the anticipation built. When his end found her folds, he continued to tease it along, not penetrating her quite yet.

His lips found her ear and whispered, "I am about to claim my prize, push your rear out and take it graciously."

The words nurtured further enticement within her, so Cassya complied, tilting her hips backwards and arching her spine in the process. Offering Alaric her wordless invite and consent for him for him to do as he announced.

"Good girl," he rumbled.

Then he gripped her waist and impaled himself inside her to the brim, the pair of them shared a moan as they merged, savouring the feeling. Alaric's hand drifted over her stomach and between her legs to resume his teasing of her nub. For a time, he barely moved, only slightly undulating his hips. Instead, he continued to focus on touching Cassya, making her squeeze him. Cassya braced her elbows against the wall, waiting for him to commence properly.

She let out an impatient groan, this tarrying on his part was turning torturous. Her frustration caused him to chuckle.

"Are you eager for me to ram you like a ragdoll?" he asked with a smoothness to his tone.

His voice sounded almost magnetic in the light-absent, confined space, so close and somehow distant when she couldn't see him.

He continued, "Need I remind you that you are mine tonight? To do with as I wish. I may be persuaded... if you feel like asking me very nicely..."

Cassya let out a simpering whine. She wanted it, to feel the slap of his hips against her rear as he aggressively thrust into her. It had felt like so long since he had truly 'rammed her like a ragdoll'.

She ground her ass against him and pleaded, "Take me like that night we first went to a ball... after your carriage... please."

Another chuckle from him bounced around. "Oh, you filthy girl."

He drew himself back then slammed inside, over and over. Each thrust sent a delectable jolt up Cassya's spine and made her let out moans with each breath. Enclosed like this, the sound of their slapping skin and the wet squelches from between her legs seemed loud and obscene. Alaric's breath on her neck as he released groans and grunts, his fingers ever strumming her nub, drowning her in bliss.

She squeezed around him tightly. Her insides were determined to wring every iota of pleasure they could from this coupling, encouraging his cock to further rub that sweet spot within to make her mind go blank. Nurturing that sense of delirium that only arrived within herself when doing this with him. If there was any light, it would have ceased to enter her eyes as they rolled back into their sockets. Cassya was so close to ecstasy, it was virtually imminent with her rushed breaths and rapidly pumping heart.

While Alaric was similarly affected, as she could feel him pulsing within her and the pace of his thrusts grew fiercer. He held her closely, ensuring there was no chance of her pulling away from him, not that was an option in this snug space. Also, Cassya was of no mind to do so, she wanted this as badly as he did. Then as if hit by a bolt of lightning, euphoria shot through her and she let out a squeal of delight. Her body went taut, her sex crushed around Alaric's quivering manhood and wrung his finish from him, as his hot seed sprayed into her depths with him crying out.

After brief tension, Alaric went slack, rested his chin on her shoulder and gave it a gentle bite.

"Mmmn," he sighed breathlessly, "why don't we take this to the bedroom and get things properly started?"

"Exactly where is the bedroom from here?" Cassya asked him just as breathlessly but dryly.

A rumbling chuckle emerged from him. "The switch to the door should be about six feet to your left."

"I was that close?!" Cassya exclaimed in frustration.

"Yup." He chucked again. "Shall we?"

Alaric withdrew and took her hand, leading her a bit further down the passage until she heard a click and a sliver of light appeared. When he widened that crack it opened into his bedroom as he claimed. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the brightness, while Alaric had already gone to a wardrobe and retrieved a length of rope. He held it in his hands with a grin as he turned back to her.

"Take off those bloomers and present your back to me with your wrists behind you," he ordered softly.

Cassya gave him a sultry look, as she fully pushed her underwear down her seed-stained thighs and unhooked them from her feet, kicking them away. Then took a few strides towards him, playfully spun one-hundred-and-eighty degrees and put her wrists behind her while looking back at him. She saw a smile on his face as he commenced to bind her, each wrist secured to the opposing elbow. Once done, he led her over to the bed and made a gesture for her to lie down. Cassya complied, and did her best to shuffle further onto it as Alaric moved over her. He then proceeded to tie them to her ankles to the back of her thighs and knot them further to her elbows. The result was with each thigh tied to the opposite elbow that her legs were forced to stay apart and her back had to arch to prevent any pull or bite into her skin.

He had put her in an exceptionally vulnerable position. Alaric had not been exaggerating about securely tying her up when he proposed this, she could barely even wriggle. All that managed was to convince her that she should remain passive beneath him, ready to receive what he was about to give.

Alaric's wolfish grin was utterly lascivious as he beheld her. "How are the bindings? Not too tight I hope, anything hurting?" he asked sincerely.

"They are tight. They're fine while I'm still, but hurt when I try to move," Cassya answered with a slight hint of shakiness.

Alaric leaned lower down towards her, and brushed a thumb over her lips before replying gently, "That's the point. You are entirely at my mercy. Before I really get going, what did we agree on for you to say if it gets too much?"

"Your title," she responded with meek excitement.

"Good girl," he rumbled.

Next he climbed off her and the bed so he could push down his trousers. Alaric allowed her to admire the view for a moment before he moved to get something. It had not ceased to be scintillating to see him wearing nothing at all for Cassya, especially with how much she was anticipating what was coming. He retrieved a silken sash from the wardrobe and returned to her.

"Are we playing some kind of dress up, or are you tying me up even more tightly?" she enquired playfully as he approached.

Alaric shook his head as he smoothed the sash through his hands. "I was thinking that it might be more fun for you to return to the dark for a while. Not seeing what I'm about to do next will make things more surprising," he announced with lustful glee.

"Don't want me to see you as you indulge these deviant urges of yours?" Cassya teased him.

"This is barely deviant," he jokingly protested.

She countered blithely, "You've tied me up so tightly by design, that it hurts to move, struggle or even try to close my legs. Now you wish me blind while you have your wicked way. I suspect I will be subject to even more degeneracy from you, sir. I believe you were less than fully honest when we drew up our contract, you claimed you had no deviant tastes. This feels quite deviant."

He chortled deeply. "A matter of opinion I suppose. Though if this is too deviant, even for a disreputable young lady like yourself, feel free to say no..." He moved over her again, sliding a hand over her body as he drew closer to her face. "... but, is that really what you feel like doing?" Alaric queried with a grin.

A quick glance down between Alaric's legs told her he was aching for her to say yes, and Cassya was content to oblige him.

"If you must." Cassya jovially rolled her eyes with a sigh while Alaric's grin got wider.

He placed the sash over her eyes and secured the ends behind her head. Cassya was as unable to see as she was in the darkness of the passage. It returned her to that state where everything else amplified, Alaric's fingers as he trailed them over her skin felt more ticklish and his breathing seemed louder. Then his lips were added to the equation, wrapping around a nipple and starting to suck, creating tingles for her. Hands moved to her waist and lower, gripping her thighs and pushing them further apart.

His mouth followed the trajectory of his hands, going between her legs and kissing her netherlips. Cassya let out sighs as his tongue slipped inside her and lapped over her nub. Soon he added his fingers, sliding them inside her to add to the pleasure while his lips sucked around her nub. It made her arch her back further to encourage him to do it more. He maintained this, going faster until it appeared she was on the verge of flying over the edge before slowing right down and denying her. Just like the last time, Alaric was playing this game again.

She would be disallowed from ecstasy until she gave him something he wanted.

"Mnph... why won't you... just let me...?" Cassya panted out, "... fine... please... I beg you... make me cum."

She heard and felt him chuckle before he pulled his mouth away from her sex to speak.

"Perhaps I don't want you to beg this time... I want an apology," he said with a smirk she could easily imagine from his tone.

"What do I have to apologise for?" she asked with breathless perplexity.

"You offered to fuck another man right in front of me tonight, I'd say that warrants an apology," he growled as he moved to brush his lips over hers, making her taste herself.

"And you gloated about what a slut you are and how easily you could fuck another man's wife if you chose, tit-for-tat," Cassya retorted and childishly stuck out her tongue.

Alaric said nothing for a moment before replying stiffly, "I was just bantering, making a joke."

"So was I," Cassya answered him merrily, "or are you really that threatened I might fuck Morton? A night with him and his wife could be fun, perhaps you could watch?"

She was openly goading him now.

There was another moment of silence from Alaric before he flipped her onto her front. Her cheek pressed into the sheets while she was forced to push her ass into the air, so the rope didn't bite into her skin. Then Alaric's palm spanked her ass, the sound of the smack and the sting of it was instantaneous to her senses.

"Bad girl," he said with a low rumble, "Do you want to try that again?"

Cassya was breathing a little deeper from the surprise of it, and she also found it deeply exciting.

"Am I supposed to apologise for a joke and you aren't? Seems unfair," Cassya retorted with a jocular affront.

There was another slap across her rear with that confusing tingle running through her and making her squeak.

She giggled. "Spank me all you want, I'm not apologising unless you do first."

A dark chuckle emerged from him. "You say that now... let's see how many it'll take. Why don't you count for me?"

With each time he spanked her Cassya counted as ordered. Every slap was thrilling, and never performed hard enough to truly hurt. By the time they had reached fifteen, her cheeks felt warm while she was quivering and aching for more. Although Alaric gave her a break, he smoothed his hands over her buttocks as if to soothe them and teased his thumbs over her folds.

"Ooph, your ass has turned pink, it's such a pretty shade too," he declared in a low tone. "How do you feel about apologising now?"

A hearty titter came from her. "Still no, my position remains unchanged. If you want an apology, give me one first. Otherwise, spank me, fuck me, regardless of which you choose, I don't have to see to know you're at full mast right now."

"I'm not going to say you're wrong..." he said with a snicker.

Then he gave her rear one final playful slap before stuffing a pillow under her hips. Which allowed Cassya to rest the muscles holding her ass in the air as the pillow kept her at the same angle. His hands returned to smooth and knead her buttocks, but this time his cock pressed between her cheeks and slid between them.

Alaric's voice emerged close to her ear as he gripped a handful of her hair. "Instead of an apology, there's something I want more right now."

"What's that?" Cassya asked with a small gulp.

"For you to moan and squirm while wrapped around me," he growled.

Cassya felt him prod the tip of his cock at her folds then swiftly sank inside, until his hips were against her behind and his full weight pushed her into the bed. A small, delighted squeak burst from her while Alaric let out a satisfied groan. He immediately started to pound in and out of her, putting a lot of effort into his thrusts. His increasing pace forced moans from her with each breath, a jolt up her spine every time he filled her. Alaric soon had her sweating as he devolved into a rutting beast, along with her blood rushing through her veins while her heart raced. All of his movements had her nipples rubbing against the sheets as her nub did the same, further adding to the pleasure addling her senses.

He tugged on her hair and rumbled in her ear, "You're mine... aren't you?"

She cackled in response. "Am I now?"

Alaric pushed her face into the bed and seemed to partially withdraw his weight so he was no longer covering her buttocks, but remained sheathed within her. His thrusts slowed to a gentle teasing grind as he administered three spanks. Each of those strikes made her squeeze him and whine, after letting her quiver and shake for a moment he gave her another three slaps, then recommitted to the grind.

"Do you think that was the right answer?" he asked with lascivious mirth.

Cassya bit her lower lip, beyond tantalised by what he was doing, then replied, "Same as the apology... only if you agree... you're mine first."

He slapped his palm across her cheeks again, harder this time, making her release a small squeal.

"I'm starting to think you don't understand who's in charge here..." he said with a chortle.

"Do you truly believe you're in charge?" she asked him teasingly.

"You're tied up and blindfolded, is there any other conclusion to come to?" he rejoindered with a blithe manner.

Cassya giggled further. "Yet even tied up, blindfolded, spanked and you holding me down... you're still not getting me quite as you like. I guess you'll have to fuck me into submission..."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Filthy girl." It was obvious in his tone how enamoured he was at that prospect.

Alaric pulled himself out of her, before flipping her onto her back. Her ass elevated by the pillow, he spread her legs wider as he buried himself between them. At this angle, his aggressive thrusts pressed him against her sweet spot inside, causing her to shiver and clench. She sighed and moaned for him until he sealed her mouth with his own, muffling her. His tongue twisted with hers as they merged above and below. Hands moved upwards over her chest, squeezing her breasts and tweaking her nipples.

Everything he was doing felt amazing. Each time he bottomed out within her his hips slapped against her nub further sinking her into a mire of euphoria. When he ceased to kiss her lips, he moved to kiss her neck instead allowing mewls and whimpers to pour out of her.

"You like this?" he rumbled in her ear.

"Yes!" she whined out.

Alaric stopped holding her breasts to brace himself on the bed and fucked her even harder. It made an obscene wet slapping noise as Cassya's mind went blank and she made guttural noises. If it weren't for her bindings she'd be trying to writhe, but they held her still, along with Alaric's weight on top of her as he hammered between her legs. The best she could manage was to arch her neck and back while widening her legs, inviting him deeper inside her. He took full advantage, sinking further within as he tugged on her ear with his teeth.

"You wanted... a rough nasty fuck... filthy girl!" he growled.

Cassya didn't say anything, merely making an affirmative noise as she was almost on the verge of finishing. It wouldn't be much longer until he sent her flying over the edge and that flight was promising to be magnificent. Barely a few more thrusts and she blissfully screamed, rapture seized her like nothing before. Every muscle in her body drew taut, wrenching at the bindings while her lungs couldn't take in enough air. She shook as this feeling had its way with her as much as Alaric was. Though even as she returned to the earthly plane, Alaric had not paused his ravishing, he was relentless.

At this point it had ceased to be only pleasurable and was turning into something else.

"You came, filthy girl," he grunted, "soon, me too."

Even with the confusing mix of pleasure and discomfort, Cassya was willing to wait until he finished too if it was only for a little while. Though that beleaguered patience flew out the window when she felt his hand squeeze around her throat, instead visceral panic filled her.

For the merest of moments she froze, being taken back to a moment she didn't want to recall before she shrieked at him, "Viscount, Viscount Alaric Caeranote!"

In an instant his hand left her throat, and the sash was pulled from her eyes, for her gaze to meet his. Alaric's expression was one of abject sheepish guilt.

"I'm... so sorry... are you okay? I... got too into it... I didn't think," he said with utter contrition as he comfortingly stroked her cheek.

Cassya was silent as she took a deep calming breath in and out. "I'm okay... but I explicitly said not to do that..."

"I know." Alaric closed his eyes as he took his own deep breath then spoke sombrely, "It was a genuine oversight. It's something I've done... when doing this with others. I was so absorbed in what I was doing that I honestly forgot for a moment. I wasn't trying to cross a line or upset you."

She sighed. "I'm willing to write this off as an earnest mistake. Just... absolutely never again. I mean it, consider yourself warned," she said with steel.

"That is... fair," he lamented. "I suppose you want to call it a night now?"

"Well, I certainly would like to be untied... though I still want to have some fun with this part of you." She smiled as she squeezed herself around his cock and he certainly noticed based on the allured expression that appeared on his face.

"As long as I have not become persona non grata, I'll accept what you're willing to give," he answered her with his own somewhat awkward smile.

Alaric then withdrew himself from inside Cassya, almost reluctantly, before rolling her onto her front again and working to unbind her. It was a relief for Cassya when her limbs were freed from their constraints. She rubbed her wrists and stretched out her legs then unlaced the half-stay and tossed it away. Next, she returned her attention to Alaric.

"I was really enjoying that until your considerable faux pas," Cassya declared with a grin.

He knelt beside her, wearing that same smile. "That's good, and nice to hear."

Cassya sat up and gently pushed on his chest encouraging him to lay back and he complied. With Alaric horizontal on the bed before her, Cassya ran her hands over him, his thighs and his chest mostly. She leaned over him and gave him a kiss, which he eagerly received as he wove his fingers through her hair and traced them across her back. Her own hand moved towards his groin and grasped his cock and commenced to lightly stroke it.

He sighed into her mouth as she did so. His manhood was so rigid and throbbing as she touched him. Ever so slightly rolling his hips up into her hand, trying to coax her to stroke him faster. Cassya broke off their kiss just to watch him, utterly fascinated by the needful expression on his face. A wicked idea popped into her head as she beheld him. She focused her touch to rolling her palm over his tip, as she sent her mouth down to meet it. Upon nestling herself between his legs, she ensured his foreskin remained fully pulled back as she licked him.

Alaric sucked air in through his teeth when she started to suck on his head, letting out breathy moans as she bobbed up and down. His fingers remained woven through her hair, gently pushing her to take him a little deeper. Yet Cassya encouraged him to remove his hand, communicating without words that she was now dictating the pace. He hesitantly relented and withdrew his hand and its coaxing pushes. While Cassya continued to slowly suck on him. Sometimes she sped up and went a bit deeper, though when she felt him start to pulse and his breathing quicken, she would slow up again.

Much like in the carriage coming back from the palace, this was an intentional tease. He had tested her willpower and patience tonight, now she was testing his. Cassya was honestly curious how long it would take him to break. Time passed with her repeatedly bringing him to the edge and drawing back, his silver eyes filled with frustration and disappointment every time.

"Mnph, how long are you going to torture me like this?" Alaric grunted with his hands gripping into the sheets.

Cassya pulled her mouth from his manhood with a pop while her fingers continued to caress him.

"I don't know... perhaps until I get bored of watching you tremble... or maybe I'll grant you satisfaction if you apologise for your little joke earlier?" Cassya put it to him playfully.

She didn't wait for an answer and immediately returned to her tormenting teasing towards him. Slathering her tongue across the underside of his cock, base to his tip and making him quiver further before taking him fully in her mouth. Alaric hissed through his teeth again and his stomach clenched.

He replied shakily but with amusement, "That's it? All this, over a joke?"

Cassya stopped sucking, to reply but continued to pump her wrist up and down his length, garnering a similar reaction from him.

She chortled at the somewhat disgruntled yet exceptionally lustful look on his face. "Didn't we already cover this. I didn't like your joke, so I made one you wouldn't like. You're intelligent enough to understand why. You've already apologised for one transgression tonight. What does another really cost you? Especially when I will offer my own apology, then I will ride you until you finish. I know you like that."

There was a near victorious hint to her gaze, she knew she was about to get what she wanted. His face indicated he was on the verge of caving to this bargain.

"You are a merciless businesswoman," he chuckled.

"You have your ways of getting what you want, so do I. Now, are you going to say the words, or would you rather be teased further?" Cassya said in a sultry tone.

She specifically teased a finger over the hole in his tip to demonstrate the point and got something between a grunt and a moan from him.

"Okay, okay... I'm sorry about the joke. I'll try not to be so crass in the future," he answered hastily.

Cassya stopped her teasing of him and straddled his hips, angling his cock at her netherlips, primed to sink herself down upon it.

"I apologise for my joke too," she declared jubilantly.

Then she lowered herself and impaled him within her. A whimpering groan escaped him as he gripped his hands around her rear as her lap rested upon his hips. Her own sigh emerged at being filled by him again, looking down at those almost desperate silver eyes.

In a playful tone Cassya asked, "Don't you feel so much better now?" Then rolled herself on top of him.

Alaric bit his lip and groaned. "Oh, yes. Like a burden is about to be swiftly lifted off my shoulders."

"Really? Are you that close to 'absolution'?" She giggled.

"Getting there... but, it needs to be a bit more vigorous," he said, with that wolfish grin returning.

"Is that so?" With an eyebrow raised, Cassya braced her hands on his chest, and she started to bounce herself on his lap.

Alaric groaned louder with his breath starting to pick up. He sat up and adjusted their mutual positions. Now he was kneeling with Cassya squatting atop his lap using his shoulders for support. One of his hands was gripped around her ass while the other snuck between her legs to play with her nub as he thrust himself up beneath her.

This new pose felt different. The way certain muscles in her lower body were forced to relax and clench was so delectable as he pumped into her. It made it feel like he was so much more snuggly ensconced within. While her inner sweet spot received that delicious massage as both of them settled into a rolling rhythm. Separating and drawing back together in a way that provided a plethora of sensation with minimal effort. It appeared Alaric was trying to take her across the finish line with him and he was very close to succeeding.

She kissed him, tugging his lip with her teeth and trying to taste his tongue. Like him, her breath was harried while her heart hammered in her chest, and he pulsed inside her. Alaric strummed her nub like he was performing an intense guitar solo, and his hips smacking against hers provided a drum beat. Their moans and sighs made a duet as they headed towards a crescendo.

How was he doing this to her when he was the one that had been driven so close to the edge. She could feel it arriving, that ecstasy he so enthusiastically gave her every time they did this. Then as if with the drama of a clash of cymbals, it seized her. Cassya tensed up and mewled, the world falling away as her sex gripped around Alaric's manhood, trying to draw it deep within her to draw out his seed. Its goal was met as Alaric wrapped his arms around her and ensured he was fully enveloped inside and grunted. That familiar sensation arrived of that hot gush spraying within, signalling how utterly captured by his own bliss he had been.

As their energy left and that groggy limp feeling replaced it they fell back on the bed with Cassya laid atop Alaric. Both trying to recapture their breath and enjoy the warmth of this coupling for a little longer.

"You didn't have to do that, you know, you must have been really holding back." Cassya looked up at him, resting her chin on his chest.

His eyes met hers and he smiled. "I figured it would help to make up for earlier... and I find it so satisfying to have you cum around me. It's honestly become my favourite way to finish, worth holding back for."

A titter crept out from her. "How flattering. Though I suspect your ego demanded you reclaim a bit of control?"

His smile widened. "Maybe, or perhaps it is as I said. If I wanted to reclaim control, that would be far too easy." He then rolled her underneath him and pinned her arms to the bed. "Case and point."

With a mischievous smirk, Cassya replied, "Even when you had me more constrained than this, were you in control?"

"Yes. You may not have fully submitted, but you were under my control," he said in a low timbre with a chuckle.

Cassya raised her face closer to his, and brushed their noses together.

"It doesn't sound like it, and I don't agree. If my lantern didn't go out, I probably would have won our game tonight. Your 'control' is ever so fleeting and abstract Alaric," Cassya whispered.

That wolfish grin emerged in full force. "Then I'm very lucky that that lantern wasn't fully fueled. You want to know a secret?" He asked, and Cassya nodded. "All control is fleeting, abstract and an utter illusion."

Then he pressed his lips into hers preventing any further response. Initiating a kiss destined for another bout of carnality.

End of Chapter.