‘I don’t want—I told you, I didn’t tell him anything. I wouldn’t. I was your pet, I thought we—I don’t want your money like that—’
Ancel’s chest hurt. Berenger turned as Ancel said the last words, and when their eyes met, Ancel couldn’t look away.
Was he going to beg?
‘You must hate me.’
‘Hate you?’ said Berenger. ‘Why would I hate you? You’ve always been honest with me. You never tried to hide what you were.’
‘A whore,’ said Ancel.
Berenger didn’t argue. Berenger didn’t say anything at all, just looked back at him. Ancel lifted his chin.
‘So what if I am? I’m not ashamed of it. I’m good at it. I can make men want me.’ His voice felt raw. ‘It just doesn’t work on you.’
He thought, in the silence that followed, that it didn’t matter. Tomorrow he would have a new patron. He would go to his room, where he would pack his things, the clothes, the paint, the gifts, and Berenger would be just one more owner, one more man from his past, one more name on a list.
There was a hard pressure in his chest that he had to ignore. He would turn and walk away from it, he would move on to the next man, and the next.
‘It works on me,’ said Berenger.
The words, in Berenger’s honest voice, at first didn’t make sense. Ancel didn’t understand it, it was too close to his own hopes. The look in Berenger’s eyes was like the tone in his voice, painfully honest. Ancel’s heart was beating wildly.
‘You’ve never—’
‘You never wanted me to.’
‘Is that what you think?’ said Ancel.
‘Yes,’ said Berenger, steadily.
The stark truth of it hung between them. Ancel knew it, and yet he knew also the confusion that he’d felt, when Berenger had kissed him, knew the hot, sharp feeling at the thought of Berenger ending his contract.
‘Don’t give me up,’ said Ancel.
‘Ancel, I’m going to be supporting the Prince’s claim to the throne. There’s every chance he’ll fail, his supporters cast out as traitors—I can’t guarantee you a life, a future.’ Berenger was shaking his head. ‘If the Regent prevails, I won’t have money or lands. You should be with someone who can give you the luxuries you deserve, not someone who’ll embroil you in—’
‘That’s why?’ said Ancel. ‘That’s why you decided to break my contract?’
He made sense of that much. And he clung to it. He wanted to ask, Does that mean you’re not giving me up because you don’t want me? He didn’t know how to ask that. He was usually so good at asking for what he wanted.
‘Can you honestly tell me that you’d want to stay with me if it meant risking your position?’ Berenger said. ‘If I had no money?’
‘I’ve never fucked anyone without it being for money.’
The words came out differently than he’d intended. The painfully straight
forward way that Berenger had asked him that question meant that Ancel had given an honest answer.
It was Berenger who spoke. ‘When I saw you in the ring, I thought you were incredible. You were fearless, powerful. You took on every lord in the room, and beat them. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.’
‘You want me, too,’ said Ancel.
‘Ancel—’
‘When we kissed, you—’
‘Yes.’