"Holy Shit!"

As his eyes adjusted to the light and he got a look at Lamia's Lair, plainclothes detective Karl Urban took a step closer to his partner. Viggo Mortensen curbed his irritation at the younger man's lapse in character and glanced coolly around the room. Karl took the hint and covered his slip up as smoothly as he could.

"This place is amazing!" Karl whispered loudly.

Viggo silently agreed. He'd been in a lot of strange, sordid places in his career, but this one managed to shock even a jaded serial crimes detective. The kid, the "informant", that had told Viggo about this club had inadequately described it as "kinda Goth, sorta S & M, but not the usual kind, it's like, you know, magic and vampires and shit."

This modern dungeon of dressed stone was softened with swathes of rich fabrics in deep jewel-tones, lit by candles and oil lamps that shed a buttery glow on the satiny wood of the furnishings. Whoever had built this pleasure palace had spared no expense to recreate a medieval hall. If buildings in the Middle Ages had come complete with air-conditioning. Viggo had concentrated on the furnishings, letting his gaze skip over the occupants of the big room while noting their positions and lack of armament. They were the cause of Karl's shocked outburst, and Viggo could almost excuse his partner. These young men were designed for sin and dressed to provoke any number of wicked ideas.

"Gentlemen." Surprised that they had not heard anyone approach on the stone flooring, Viggo and Karl turned to face the speaker.

"Welcome to the Lair," the big man said. "I'm Sean and I'll be your guide until you don't need one. Would you like to tell me your names?"

"I'm Viggo and this is Karl," Mortensen said.

"Are you a pair?" Sean asked. "Because I wasn't informed."

"No," Karl said hastily. "We're not a couple."

"Odd," Sean said. "My instincts are rarely wrong, however, please follow me and I'll show you the Incubi that are available this evening."

"Great," Viggo said. "My buddy told me all about this place. He said I had to experience it to believe it."

"The experience can be intense," Sean said, "and certainly memorable. Ah, here is Jude."

A slight breeze scented with sandalwood wafted toward the visitors. A slim young man stepped into the light, silver studs and rings winking softly at his ears, nipples and navel. More gleaming metal, in the form of spikes, decorated the black leather bands around his neck, wrists and upper arms. A thong circled Jude's waist and ran down the cleft of his pale buttocks supporting the pouch that was his only garment. The soft leather sac, cinched by a thick silver ring, contained his balls and erect cock.

"Good evening, gentlemen," the blonde said in a cultured accent.

Viggo's gaze traveled from the top of Jude's pale head to his bare feet without a flicker of expression.

"Perhaps Jude is not to your taste," Sean said. "Many men enjoy forcing an aristocrat to submit, but perhaps your fantasy is less... ordinary."

Karl was looking at Jude the way a Doberman eyes an unattended steak. Viggo caught Sean's smug smirk and followed the big man's gaze. The hunger in his partner's dark eyes made Viggo frown. Then Karl blinked and the moment passed.

"I'll let you know when I see something I like," Viggo said like an arrogant tourist.

Sean's eyes narrowed. "Ewan," he called.

A redheaded lad with an open, innocent face and a devilish glint in his dancing eyes came forward. He wore a white Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. The shirt was unbuttoned, but held together at the neck by a striped tie. His round butt was encased in a pair of very tight gray shorts that matched his knee socks. Ewan took off his cap, and grinned mischievously.

"'Ello, gents," he said cheekily, exuding boyish charm and the sharp, clean smell of mint.

"Schoolboy?" Viggo raised an eyebrow. "No thanks."

"How about you?" Sean asked Karl.

"Oh... uh, no. No schoolboy for me, either," Karl stammered, tearing his eyes from Ewan's lascivious leer.

"Don't fret," Sean said. "We've hardly scratched the surface of the variety we offer here at the Lair. There is an Incubus for every taste."

"Where do they come from?" Karl asked.

Sean's cold, green gaze pinned the young detective. "Your friend should have told you that we don't discuss the backgrounds of the Incubi."

"Sorry," Karl mumbled.

"Forgive my nephew," Viggo said. "My sister married for looks instead of brains and her offspring are handsome, but somewhat lacking in other areas."

Karl shot Viggo a look that was ignored by the older detective. Sean seemed mollified, and they moved farther into the room to where a young man lounged on a long bench heaped with cushions of velvet, silk and satin brocade. As Sean stopped beside the carved wood bench, the Incubus got to his feet and bowed slightly from the waist.

"Keanu," Sean said.

Keanu looked up at the two visitors with kohl-smudged eyes. His only article of clothing was a long strip of white silk wound sumo-style around his loins. Every inch of smooth skin from his chin to his shapely feet was covered with elegant inked designs. Sean reached out to stroke the blue-black hair that fell to the small of the Incubus'ss back. From the raven tresses wafted the delicate perfume of jasmine.

"Perhaps a blossom from the mysterious Orient is more to your liking? Naturally submissive and concerned only with your pleasure."

"No thanks."

"I'm not doing my job very well," Sean said. "Usually, I can sense what a client desires. Either your urges are deeply buried or you're masking them for some reason. Maybe you could give me some indication as to what you're seeking. We don't have female company."

Karl darted a look at his partner, but Viggo was gazing calmly at their shaggy-haired host as though the man had asked them their preference in wine. Karl knew Lieutenant Mortensen was gay; the man made no attempt to hide it. Karl also knew that's why they'd been paired. The department felt it would cause less trouble to put them together, as if the fact they were gay automatically meant they were compatible. Karl shook his head. Viggo was a top-notch cop, but he was hardly Karl's ideal partner. The older man was intuitive and as for going by the book, well, Karl didn't think that Viggo even knew there was a book. Mortensen got results, but Karl felt that the man's unorthodox approach to police work perpetuated the stereotypical image of gays as fanciful and flighty. Of course, there was nothing Karl could do about it beyond requesting a transfer that he was unlikely to be granted. He sighed and listened to his partner work the big pimp, or whatever this Sean guy was.

"I came here to have a look around," Viggo was saying. "I'd like to see everything you have to offer before I make my decision. Is that against the rules?"

Sean's grin put Karl in mind of a documentary he'd seen about timber wolves. "We don't have many rules here," their host said, "but they are strictly enforced. I would have gotten to them when you chose an Incubus, but I'll go over them now, if you wish."

"Maybe just the big ones," Viggo said. "And show me something else while you're talking."

Sean's lips tightened at the man's haughtiness, but he didn't react to it. "Very well," Sean said. "Here's Johnny."

Out of gloom, slunk a swaying, sinuous man with the ramshackle grace of a tomcat. Masses of night dark hair were festooned with gleaming, tinkling trinkets. His smooth skin was sun-bronzed to the color of wild honey and his velvet dark eyes were pools of melted sin. Full, plush lips pouted petulantly as Johnny canted his hips to an alluring angle and planted a hand on one of them. Silver bangles dripping jeweled pendants circled his wrists, ankles and upper arms. They made music each time he moved, setting adrift the nose-teasing aroma of cinnamon. Bringing his folded hands up to his chin, Johnny inclined his head to the men.

"Something saucier?" Sean said. "If you're looking for spice, you've found it."

Viggo shook his head and gave Karl a look meant to imply that his patience was wearing thin.

"One of our rules is that no one leaves the Lair unsatisfied," Sean spoke up again. "We'll find something to suit you, never fear. You should also know that what happens here is never discussed outside the door of the Lair. This is for your protection as well as ours. Within these walls, anything is allowed as long as all parties consent. Any non-consensual act will see you barred from the Lair for life. I hope that's clear."

"As spring water," Viggo answered. "Show me more."

"This way," Sean said, leading them toward the back of the building.

"Are you trying to piss this guy off?" Karl hissed to Viggo as they walked.

"I want to see the whole place," Viggo answered. "I couldn't care less if it pisses off that big bastard. Matter of fact, he's looking good as the perp."

Karl subsided, knowing from experience that it was useless to try and talk sense to the man. A stray image of Jude, pale skin banded in black leather, flickered in Karl's thoughts before it was brushed away. 'Get hold of yourself, Urban,' Karl berated himself as Sean pulled aside a velvet curtain and they entered a room that was smaller but no less sumptuously appointed. At their approach, a dark-haired boy turned with all the wild grace of a startled deer. Wide set, velvet brown eyes met Viggo's and then quickly moved on to Sean, but it was already too late for Viggo. The damage was done. The man knew with cold certainty that those eyes would haunt him to his grave.

"What are you doing here?" Sean asked.

The man's voice was mild, but Viggo heard the anger held under tight leash. The detective's eyes returned to the boy, noting the tension in the elegant frame as the Incubus turned fully to face them. "Elijah called for me," the dark-eyed boy said in a voice like frost crystals on a windowpane.

From subtle clues in Sean's expression, Viggo intuited that the boy's answer was not the right one, but it was a safe one. The detective's eyes went to the other lad dwarfed by the throne-like chair on which he sat. The diaphanous drift of pale silk draped toga-like over the narrow shoulders did nothing to shroud the pointed nipples and sparse tangle of hair at the juncture of the pale thighs. Viggo jerked his gaze up from the boy's crotch as Elijah raised his head. Large, luminous eyes as blue and bottomless as glacial lakes snared the detective in their swirling crystal depths. Cool shadows seemed to beckon the man forward into their soft muffling embrace to rest there for all time, breathing the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle.

"What is troubling Elijah?" Sean's voice halted Viggo's free-fall into the sky-blue abyss.

"He dreamed of the Grotto again and woke weeping."

Sean went to stand in front of Elijah, blocking the waif from the policemen's view. As Viggo edged to his right, Karl focused on the willowy brunette whose attention was on Sean. Karl had never seen anyone as beautiful as this boy, not even the stunning Jude possessed the combination of qualities that made this Incubus the exemplar of his kind. Both boys had lithe, well-muscled physiques and sculpted, flawless features. In sheer physical beauty, they might be called equals, but the dark-eyed rent boy had a melting expression of such sweetness that it could pull the heart right out of your chest. And, in addition to the staggering physical beauty and alluring demeanor, the boy had something ineffable: an indefinable appeal that had nothing whatever to do with looks. Karl felt the tug of the Incubus's dark charm, but found he could resist it. This sloe-eyed, olive-skinned faun whose silken curls hung against his cheeks like bunches of grapes might be the most desirable being on the planet, but he wasn't Karl's type.

Karl liked blondes. Like Jude.

Having settled that, Karl glanced at his partner. Viggo was eyeing the brunette's outfit with a complicated expression on his handsome face. Karl could relate; this boy was definitely dressed to incite an amorous assault. A micro-thin shirt of cotton/spandex painted the boy's torso from neck to wrists to navel in bright crimson as if a red light were shining on selected areas of his body. The dark circles of his pierced nipples showed clearly through the translucent material that coated the smooth planes of his well-defined chest. Black shorts of butter-soft leather hugged the Incubus's firm ass and showcased his long, lean-muscled legs. The shorts rode low on the slim hips, exposing a treasure trail and the tip of a hard cock. The membrane-thin glove leather clearly revealed the outlines of the boy's stiff shaft and the thick ring that kept it that way. Once he noticed it, Karl found it hard to drag his eyes from the strawberry-shaped head peeking over the ultra-low waistband.

It seemed Viggo found it difficult as well. Sean finished his conversation with the blue-eyed urchin and noticed Viggo's interest in the brunette. Karl found the look on their host's face as revealing as the Incubi costumes. Before the young detective could even try to relay a warning to his partner, Viggo had begun to speak.

"This one," Detective Mortensen said. "I'll take him."

Sean's face curdled into a frown. "Orli is not one of the available Incubi," he said coldly.

"Then why is he on display?"

"He's not on display," Sean said firmly.

Viggo cocked an eyebrow, letting his gaze settle on the top of Orli's shorts.

"Orli is dressed as he is because it's my preference," Sean continued. "He belongs to me."

Viggo's vivid blue gaze met Sean's feral stare with a steely clash that Karl could almost hear in the silence of the chamber. The moment drew out, testing Karl's nerves as his hand crept under the lapel of his jacket. The young detective wasn't sure what might have happened had a slender form not been interposed between the two alpha males. Orli moved in front of Sean with his back to the big man. Sean looked startled and then smiled at Viggo over the Incubus's shoulder. One of Sean's arms went around the young man's pliant waist, his hand pressed possessively to the taut belly. Before he realized it, Viggo had dropped his eyes to the man's long fingers idly toying with the rosy tip of Orli's shaft.

"I told you," Sean said. "This one is mine."

"Is there any room for negotiation?" Viggo asked, his nose full of the ancient, holy perfume of frankincense.

"You intrigue me," Sean said. "Perhaps you would join me for a drink and we can talk like two men instead of client and employee."

"Will Orli be there?" Viggo asked.

Sean bared his teeth in a close approximation of a smile. "And what shall we do with your attractive nephew?" he asked.

Viggo gave Karl a subtle signal with his eyes.

"I liked the first one we saw," Karl said ingenuously.

"Excellent," Sean replied. "Elijah. Take Karl to Jude and see that they're settled, and then return here. And Lij? No more whining; do you understand?"

The frail-looking boy nodded and came to take Karl's hand. With a bemused expression, Karl let the young man lead him from the room.

"Shall we?" Sean invited.

Read Chapter Two of Nineteen of Bailey's Chimera