Interlude: The Scent of the Market
Callis pushed through the rear entrance of The Stag & Ember, dragging the cold night wind into the dimly lit kitchen before shoving the thick oak door shut to seal out the draft. He had scrubbed his face with lye soap at the courtyard pump, hoping the caustic lather would erase the evening's detour. The hurried effort only managed to irritate his skin, leaving the trapped musk deep in the collar of his tunic and the lingering taste of Lysa Morcant firmly on his tongue.
Mara and Yselle already occupied the warm space, evaluating his late arrival with immediate attention. Mara stood by the hearth wiping down a massive cast-iron skillet, while Yselle sat slouched at the timber dining table nursing a half-empty mug of ale.
Setting the skillet onto the stones, Mara wiped her hands on her canvas apron and crossed the floorboards. "You are out incredibly late, Callis," she noted, reaching up to check the line of his jaw for fresh injuries.
Callis leaned into her palm, preparing to offer a brief explanation about the escort contract and the mud at the logging camp to keep the transition back into the household simple.
Before he could form the excuse, Mara froze mid-motion. She leaned in closer, dragging her nose directly past his mouth. Her dark eyes widened briefly before narrowing into a sharp gleam as she parsed the distinct layers of scent clinging to his skin.
"Hickory smoke, rendering fat, preserving salt, and a very distinct, lingering musk," Mara listed, pressing her thumb firmly over his lower lip. "You picked up an impressive amount of debris simply walking past the outer pens."
The wooden legs of Yselle's chair scraped loudly against the floorboards, breaking the quiet of the room as she shifted her weight. "What exactly did he drag himself through, Mara?" she asked, her voice carrying a demanding edge.
Mara kept her thumb pressed against his mouth, dropping her tone into a low register. "He carries the curing shed all over his clothes, alongside the unmistakable scent of a woman's arousal smeared directly across his chin."
Crossing the kitchen in long strides, Yselle grabbed Callis by the jaw and forced his head upward. She inhaled deeply, allowing her pale eyes to flash with a sudden territorial hostility.
"That is cheap curing salt and meat grease underneath the lye," Yselle decided, digging her fingertips into his jawline. "Pavel Morcant's quiet wife."
Callis kept his breathing steady, holding their combined pressure without shrinking away from the accusation. "I helped Pavel with a stuck wagon earlier today," he explained, carefully modulating his tone to avoid sounding defensive. "Lysa offered me a bowl of stew in the shed as compensation."
Mara let out a dry, rasping sound in the back of her throat. "I know exactly how lonely that shed gets, considering Pavel's schedule, so I understand why she pulled you into the dark," Mara said, stepping directly into his space to crowd him against the timber door. "You came back to my kitchen carrying her fluids on your face, however, and you decided to keep quiet until I smelled it myself."
Yselle let go of his chin only to shove his shoulders hard against the door, pinning his spine against the wood. "You believe you can return to our hearth carrying another woman's heat on your skin?" she demanded. "You belong to this house, Callis. You cannot let the rest of the market mark you like a stray."
Mara stepped even closer, moving her hands directly to the brass buckles of his leather cuirass. "He is young and easily tempted by the frontier," Mara murmured, unfastening the rigid straps with practiced efficiency. "We simply cannot have him walking around tasting like the outer pens."
Reaching down, Yselle ripped the fastenings of his trousers open. "I will scrub the butcher's wife right off his face," she promised, dragging the coarse wool down his hips.
The sudden exposure freed his erection. The swollen flesh proved exactly how much the encounter with Lysa had primed his body for a desperately needed release.
Mara smiled, transforming her usually maternal features into an expression of sheer predation. "Scrubbing him clean is an inadequate solution," Mara corrected softly, dropping the discarded leather armor onto the floorboards. "We need to completely overwrite the taste."
Gripping him by the collar of his tunic, she pulled him away from the door and guided him toward the long wooden table. "Sit him down," she instructed over her shoulder.
Yselle grabbed his shoulders and shoved him firmly onto the timber bench.
The sudden handling forced the breath from Callis's lungs, sending a jolt of pure adrenaline down his spine.
Mara stood directly in front of him. She reached down to bunch her heavy wool skirts up around her waist, exposing her bare thighs to the warm air of the kitchen.
"You eat at my table, Callis," Mara commanded, stepping forward to press her wet core directly against his mouth. "Now open your mouth and remember exactly whose house you belong to."