Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3)

I turn to look, finding a group of women I hadn’t noticed in a small alcove. Their bodies are slumped against the wall with pillows beneath them, hands between thighs. Unfocused eyes are staring at the walls like they aren’t completely aware of where they are, even as their fingers move and their lips moan.

An unsettled feeling sifts through my chest, a sieve of grating sand to scrape at my worry. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Fulke was a flesh trader,” Rosh says with a shrug, voice slightly slurring as Gia rakes her fingers through his hair. “His royal saddles weren’t permanent, so he switched them out a lot from what we’ve heard. They mostly keep to themselves, but they love their dew. King Midas has been making sure they still get it.”

I drag my eyes away from their lax faces, their empty eyes. “I don’t think you should take it.”

“But feels so good,” Isis says from the floor, her hand trailing up the other woman’s dress. ”You should try some.”

“Like I would ever waste my gift on her,” Polly snips.

I ignore that. “You don’t want to end up like...like them,” I say in a whisper, eyes darting over to Fulke’s saddles. But even if I’d yelled it, I’m not sure that they’re aware enough to care.

“They’re happier this way,” Rosh says absently, his gaze zeroing in on Gia’s chest.

“Mmm, I want to be happier too,” Gia croons. “Come on, Polly. Let us have some more.”

“I can’t even see your irises anymore, and you’re dry humping Rosh. You’ve had enough,” Polly retorts testily. She then reaches beneath the pillow at her back and pulls out a small glass box. As soon as she flips open the lid, all four of the saddles perk up, heads swinging her way, like dogs scenting a bone.

Isis tries to lean over and reach inside the box, but Polly yanks it out of her grasp and slaps her hand. “No, you’ve had enough, too.”

Isis scowls and rubs her hand. “You’re not the boss of us.”

“King Midas gave me this extra dew. That means it’s mine. If you three bitches aren’t careful, I’ll cut you off. You’ll have to try to get some from the Fulke phantoms over there,” Polly says, waving a hand in their direction. I can’t help but wince at her description of them. She’s not wrong, they are like phantoms, listless and empty-eyed ghosts. “I said you’ve had plenty for now, and I meant it. Now go away. You’re annoying me.”

Isis shoots her another peeved look but obviously takes her threat to heart, because she gets up, offering a hand to the girl beneath her. The two of them stumble away toward the first swinging cocoon they reach and climb inside. Moans strike up soon after.

A throaty laugh pulls my gaze back. “That was mean, Polly,” Rosh purrs. Gia is rocking on his lap now, the length of him noticeably growing beneath his velvet leggings as her small hips move up and down.

“You like it when I’m mean,” Polly replies with a sultry look.

Rosh simply chuckles again before turning his head to lick a line down Gia’s chest. She arches back in response, making an incredibly carnal noise that seems to rumble out of her.

“Can someone just tell me where to find Rissa?” I ask, growing impatient. I don’t want to be here anymore. Uneasiness is crawling over my skin at how wrong this all feels.

“Nope,” Polly says before flipping open the box again. Inside, there’s a stack of thick white petals with what looks like blood-red droplets on them.

“Polly…”

She ignores me and raises a petal to her lips, setting it on her tongue. She closes her mouth with sensual decadence, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as a look of euphoria crashes over her features.

She chews slowly, as if savoring every grind of her teeth and lap of her tongue. Rosh grabs Polly’s face before she can swallow the petal, devouring her mouth, tongue thrusting greedily as if he’s trying to lick away every essence she just ingested.

I’m still staring at them when a voice behind me says, “You should probably leave them to it. They’re going to be at it for hours now.”

I whirl around to find Rissa standing behind me, looking beautiful as always. “There you are,” I say in relief. A loud moan erupts behind me, making me wince.

“Not a fan of dew?” she asks knowingly.

I shake my head.

“It’s a popular commodity here in Fifth Kingdom, though I’ve heard it’s quite expensive. King Fulke ke

pt a stockpile of it, apparently. His old saddles don’t seem to care about much of anything else. Well...that and fucking, since it enhances sexual desire. It’s quite useful for saddles to be hooked on something like that, don’t you think?”

Her words are bitter, biting. The snap of dainty teeth behind pretty lips.

I take in Rissa’s coiffed blonde hair, her clear eyes, her lack of blushing skin. Unlike the rest of the saddles in the room, who I now realize are either doing something sexual or dozing in a stupor, she’s completely put-together.