Any Wicked Thing Read Free Page B

leather case with his smoking utensils inside. Precious balls of poppy resin mixed with headache powder rattled around between the implements, promising peace.
    His father had warned the guests about the north tower. It was unsafe, therefore off-limits for the foolish revelers. There was a rope with threatening signage blocking the steps, which Sebastian cleared easily even though he was more than a bit drunk himself. Soon he would be entirely at one with the universe. A universe where his father was in a different galaxy altogether.
    He gave up counting the steps, but there were many. They were worn and slippery beneath his bare feet. Once he reached the top, he found himself in an odd-shaped room with half its ceiling gone. The black Yorkshire sky was sprinkled with stars winking down on him, cementing his idea he was rather insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He swept away some rubble and settled in the window alcove, or what would have been a window if it was still intact. A pleasant summer breeze swept through the space, nearly clearing his muzzy head. That would not do.
    With the sort of patience his father would apply to reconstructing a medieval document from fragments, Sebastian opened his case and heated his metal needle, turning a pea-sized lump of opium into a cone. Holding his pipe over the flame, he warmed it, then placed the cone into the bowl. Some of his friends skipped all these laborious steps and simply wrapped the opium in rice paper and inserted it into their rectums, but Sebastian respected the traditional way. The ritual was nearly as compelling as the smoke. He inhaled deeply.
    Heaven. Or hell. Opium was highly addictive. He felt the need for it more urgently every day, especially since he was now subject to his father’s disapproval. His supply was limited, and not apt to be replenished in Yorkshire. He could fob himself off with drink or hashish for a time, but this was his greatest, most sinful pleasure.
    He took the flask from his pocket and drank, feeling the heat of the brandy dance with the cool detachment of the drug. Sebastian no longer felt insignificant but invincible now, like a prototype of mankind. He removed his robe, rolling it up under his head, and stared at the night sky. So many stars, so far away. How many men had seen the same grouping of constellations since the world began? Perhaps as many as the stars themselves. He sipped and puffed until the stars spun.
    His cock called to him. It had been some weeks since he’d had a woman, an unnatural state for a man of one and twenty in full possession of his wild oats. He wrapped his hand around his shaft and set his imagination free. There was no shame to it. He was halfway to stroking himself to completion when the masked milkmaid tip-toed in.
    At first he thought she was part of his opium dream. She was a fetching piece, her hair covered by a ruffly mobcap, her skirts hiked up to reveal her garters. Her girdle was laced so tightly that her breasts burst over the trim on her low-cut blouse. But she was not his usual fantasy. If she blushed, it was hard to tell for her powder and rouge under the black mask. Her lush mouth opened. She had a naughty beauty patch at the corner of her reddened lips. Sebastian had an urge to kiss it off.
    He didn’t miss a stroke. “Hello, darling. You must be my reward for bad behavior. Do you want to help me finish this properly?”
    Her eyes widened and she gave a strangled gasp, not at all the sound he preferred from his ladies. No doubt she was shocked. One of his father’s dull guests was bound to be. This one looked a bit younger than most of the women downstairs. He hadn’t noticed her at dinner, but then, he hadn’t been looking hard.
    â€œCome closer. You are much too far away.”
    She took a step forward and coughed.
    â€œDon’t mind the smoke. I’ll share if you like.”
    The milkmaid shook her head so violently that her little cap