Eleven
- Steven Brust's Dragaera universe, Vlad and Kragar
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I paused, then threw the blade I had in my hand, leaving it stuck quivering on the outer edge of the wagon wheel I had mounted on the wall of my office. "You're the second one to say that to me recently, Kragar."

My assistant blinked. "Who else?" I nodded at Loiosh. Loiosh spread his wings and preened a bit.

Kragar pursed his lips, then nodded to Loiosh. "And if my sources are right--" I tried not to show it, but inwardly I perked up. Kragar's network of informants was second to none. "--that isn't all he likes."

Oh, Verra. I didn't want to hear this, did I? Given the little smirk on Kragar's face he knew I didn't want to hear it, so I sighed and said "Oh? What else does he like, Kragar?"

He told me. At truly unnecessary length. I think he was enjoying himself.

I'm proud to say I only blanched once. Some day soon, when I had a moment to spare, I was going to have to teach my assistant a thing or two about tact. Tact and never ever saying the words 'bloodplay' or 'self-exsanguination fetish' in my hearing again.

"You look a bit green behind those whiskers," Kragar blandly noted. "Want me to get you another cup of klava?"

"Yes, please, and try not to put any internal organs into it." I half-sat half-fell into my chair and rubbed my hand over my face. "How is it that it doesn't bother you, Kragar?"

Kragar paused in the doorway, one hand on the doorframe, looking back at me over his shoulder. "He's a Dragon," my assistant said, as if that answered everything.

"How does that--oh."

When Kragar smiled, his eyes narrowed, and he looked every bit the Dragon he'd once been. "Be right back, boss," he said, and he flipped me a wave and disappeared. I touched my stomach, assuring myself that I still had all my internal organs in their correct places.