Anastas disgustedly let go of the other's wrist and took a step back. The thin fabric of the veil slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor.
"Don't touch me," he cut off coldly. "I'm here only for company with my comrade. I don't need anything."
But the guy wasn't embarrassed in the slightest. On the contrary, a sly smile played on his lips. He took a step following him, trying to get closer again, and seductively rolled his bare shoulder.
"Oh, come on, master. Did you really come to such a place just to stand on the sidelines?" the youth cooed, trying to reach for his neck again. "Let me prove that you are wasting your time..."
Anastas's first impulse was to go out into the corridor and turn this brothel upside down until he found Thomas. But the remnants of his self-control kept him in place. He needed to stay in the room and bide his time.
Anastas planted his palm against the guy's chest, stopping his attempts, and gave him such a look that all playfulness instantly flew off his face.
"Sit on the bed," Anastas said. "And don't make a sound."
Realizing that this client was not to be trifled with, he nodded submissively, walked over to the bed, and sat down, crossing one leg over the other.
Anastas was left alone with his thoughts. He began to pace the room like a caged beast.
So, Thomas is in the other room, — this thought was the only thing his mind clung to right now.
If there were two boys, then there was a probability that Thomas had gone to Eist. At first, this realization brought relief. Eist was an ally. Thomas was safe with him. But as soon as this thought took shape, a sticky, poisonous jealousy began to spread in his chest. Anastas stopped in the middle of the room. His gaze fell on the stranger's bare shoulders, on these transparent fabrics that revealed the body almost completely.
Thomas was dressed the same way right now.
His breath hitched. The image of Thomas like this, locked in a bedroom alone with Eist, hit him hard.
From their very first meeting, from the very moment their paths crossed, Eist had looked at Thomas differently. His gray eyes lingered on Tom too often and for too long. Eist never missed a chance to drop an ambiguous compliment, to get closer, to touch him, as if by accident. Eist was a man with a questionable reputation and attitude toward life.
And Thomas... What if Thomas actually was Athit? What if Eist, finding himself alone in a room with him, did something to Thomas?
Anastas clenched his fists. Jealousy mixed with panic. He imagined the mercenary sitting on that huge bed. Thomas finding himself next to him. Eist's hands touching his skin.
"Damn it," he gritted through his clenched teeth.
Meanwhile, Eist sat the youth down on the bed. The gold chains on his wrists clinked with every movement.
"How are you?" Eist asked quietly, sitting down next to him.
"I'm in one piece. Thank you. I'm so glad you came."
He lifted his head slightly.
"And where... where is Stas?"
"In the other room. We had to split up and play by their rules."
Thomas blinked slowly, digesting what he had heard.
In the other room.
And Anastas wasn't alone there. Someone had been brought to him too. Someone dressed in the same clothes and offered to him as entertainment.
At this thought, Thomas's chest suddenly felt tight. A prickly feeling unpleasantly slashed him from the inside. The image of Anastas alone with another youth in such an intimate setting caused a burning discomfort. Thomas hastily lowered his eyelashes, desperately hoping the poor lighting would hide his face from Eist.
A short pause hung in the air. Thomas sat slightly hunched over, while Eist, seizing the moment, didn't take his eyes off him.
He had noticed before that the youth was built surprisingly delicately and gracefully. But now, in the flickering light of the wax candles, this fragility was accentuated by the revealing outfit. The translucent fabric completely failed to hide the lines of his body, and the tight bodice made Thomas's figure look like an expensive, elegant statuette. He looked so alluring that Eist involuntarily admired him, for a moment completely forgetting where they were.
Thomas felt this gaze on his skin. He timidly lifted his head and caught the sight of the gray eyes gliding over him.
The youth wrapped his arms around his own shoulders, feeling the heat of a thick blush burning his cheeks and neck.
"Sorry..." his voice trembled, and he hastily looked away. "Could you..? Do you have anything to cover up with?"
Eist blinked slightly, as if shaking off a stupor. There wasn't a drop of vulgarity in his eyes—only sincere admiration.
The mercenary got to his feet. With one smooth movement, he pulled his traveling cloak from his shoulders. Eist stepped closer and gently draped the garment over Thomas's trembling shoulders.
He stood so close that Thomas felt he could feel his breath on his skin. The mercenary was in no hurry to pull away; his fingers lingered for a second at the collar, touching Thomas's neck almost weightlessly as he adjusted the fabric.
"Please forgive me," a warm half-smile of a gentleman realizing his faux pas appeared on his lips. "I shouldn't have looked at you like that. But, I must confess, looking away was beyond my power."
These words, spoken so simply and gently, sounded not like a cheap compliment, but like a sincere confession. Thomas looked up at him. He gripped the edges of the cloak in his fingers, pulling it higher, but no longer to hide from Eist, but to keep his scent, the warmth of his cloak, and this fragile, drawn-out moment between them wrapped around himself.