From the reluctant relief on Gideon’s expression, she could tell it did. “Stop sticking things in my ass,” he snapped halfheartedly. Daegan bent down, scored his ass cheek with a fang, earning an attempted kick. “Son of a—”
“You would do better to stop giving orders, servant. All it does is annoy me. And you’ve just seen what I do when annoyed.”
“I’m her servant, not yours.” Gideon gave him a withering glare. “It’s way past time for you to grow up and get your own.”
“Nope.” Daegan rocked up to his heels and gave him an arch look. “They’re too much work. A tremendous pain in the ass.” He punctuated that with a slap on Gideon’s that echoed in the chamber, caused another snarl. It left a delectable handprint on the cheek, one that lingered, despite the third-mark capacity for healing.
She knew Gideon was already worried he’d be in the center of the bed, but Anwyn was ready to give him a break and take that pleasurable position. She brought Gideon in behind her on the left side after he returned from her shower. Once Daegan had done his own cleaning, he slid in on the right. She’d seen in Gideon’s mind the possibility of finding some underwear or any other type of clothing, but she made it clear she wanted them all to stay naked, so she could press every available inch of her soft skin up against their handsome, rougher flesh. Once he settled in, Gideon toyed with her hair, then brought his hand to rest on her thigh, brushing his knuckles along her hip. She didn’t object.
If he belonged to both of us,
she mused,
we could chain him here between us during the daylight hours. We might fondle and drink from him at will, leaving him hard and suffering until nightfall. By then he would be mad with lust, willing to do anything to please us.
A tempting vision,
cher
, but he is your servant. His unwilling desire for me has no connection with a desire to become mine. As he himself said, his physical reaction to me does not mean anything. He is more servant than submissive, even to you.
She knew Daegan had felt a little differently in the heat of the moment, his own subconscious desires rising as strong and undeniable as his cock, but she didn’t press it. It was hard to believe everything that had happened, the way the bonds between them had tightened in a mere handful of days.
Daegan had cocooned their thoughts, kept them from the male behind them, but it didn’t really matter. A light touch told her that Gideon’s mind was still in shock, reeling from his virgin encounter, being fucked for the first time by a man. She could sense a war developing, a conflict between shame and rage, something that would become ugly if she didn’t defuse it. Too many things had been taken from Gideon; anything that suggested that same loss of control, the consequences it could bring, would dredge up ugly memories and feelings.
“More questions,” she decided, ignoring their amusingly similar groans. “Fun ones, not instructive Council stuff.” Shifting onto her back, she compelled the other two to do the same. Both men bent their knees, feet flat on the mattress, so she could put one foot on top of each of theirs, playing with their toes. “It’s your turn, Daegan. Who was your first sex?”
“Or what,” Gideon muttered.
The vampire snorted, turned his head to gaze at them both. “I’m sure I don’t remember.”
“You’re lying. You can’t lie for Twenty Questions. It’s a rule. You’ll burst into flame if you break it, swear to God.”
“Oh, well, as long as your honesty isn’t in question.” Smiling at her solemn assertion, Daegan turned on his side, his gaze passing briefly over Gideon. He was staring at the ceiling hard enough to bore holes. “Like most born male vampires, it was my wet nurse, so to speak. Neela. She was second-marked, and with me into my teens. When the first tide of lust hit with the blood, I was suckling Neela’s neck. Pretty straightforward.”
“All right, then, I amend the question. Who was the first sex you chose for yourself ?”
“I’m not sure this game allows do-overs, if the question is worded incorrectly.” Nevertheless, he turned his eyes upward, considered. “A noble’s daughter named Jenna. She’d been thrown from a horse on a hunt. I helped tend her ankle, carried her to a hunting lodge. Unfortunately, it was close to feeding time, and she smelled so good . . .” He snuffled at Anwyn’s throat like an animal, and she shoved at him, laughing. “I couldn’t resist. Jenna had performed this stunt several times to get boys to take her off to this very same lodge, after all. With such unabashed sexuality, she should have been turned to a vampire.”
“Did you?” This from Gideon, in a wooden voice.
“No.” Daegan glanced his way. “Of course not. She eventually married very well to an older nobleman who traveled a great deal, and had a passel of children she adored. Probably with a variety of fathers. I think you would have liked her,” he said to Anwyn. “Despite being a very repressive period for women, she lived life to the fullest. I regretted that as she aged I couldn’t maintain our acquaintance. She didn’t know I was a vampire.”
“Well, that was horribly dull,” Anwyn teased. “Though vaguely charming.” She turned over then, facing Gideon, and slid into his arms, tracing his jawline.
I’m hungry again.
He nodded, pulled her closer. As his hand cupped the back of her head, he tilted his throat up, his eyes closing. It was such a simple, generous offering, particularly when she could feel how his emotions were bludgeoning him, his heart hurting. It made her own heart contract. So she whispered her lips over his throat, kissing him gently now, stroking her hand down his broad shoulder, nuzzling the fine chest hair across his pectorals, tracing that crimson trinity mark.
You take such good care of me, Gideon. You know that, right? You’re going to be all right. I’m here. We’re here.
The words weren’t planned, but she answered the aching in his soul with nurturing, at odds with her normal demands. But his personal anguish, hidden so deep inside him it didn’t even show in his face, was old and ongoing, a dark, murky river that no one but her might have ever beheld.
His arm tightened around her, his eyes not opening as she put her fangs over the spot that still showed a faint impression from her last feeding.
Will it become a permanent mark?
She liked the idea. The third mark had possessed a thrill of its own, but one she’d purposely inflicted would have its own pleasures, a possessive need she well understood. For all the submissives she’d mastered, she’d never had a slave fully give himself to her, all of it. It had always been contained within the club walls. Though Gideon was far from reaching that point, something about the way he offered himself to her now revived that wistful, adult-child dream.
In time, a permanent scar will remain at the places you bite, because they are wounds marked so often with your own saliva. Wounds marked with your own blood will also remain scars on him.
As he answered her question, Daegan felt tenderness for them both. He saw the thoughts in her mind, deduced Gideon’s state of mind from them. When Daegan spread her hair over her shoulders, caressing pale skin, strands fell into Gideon’s open palm. He held her close with the one arm, but his wrist was loose as she drank deep, limp fingers brushing the small of her back.
Stroking Anwyn’s sable locks, Daegan let the motion cross Gideon’s knuckles, a relaxed, inclusive caress. As he reversed direction to do it again, Gideon’s fingers unexpectedly curled around his wrist.
The blue eyes opened, looking over Anwyn’s head at him. Daegan held the gaze, allowing the restraint, wondering if Gideon had intended it as a warning. His strong hand held Daegan’s wrist as if he needed the connection between them. Though there was confusion in Gideon’s expression, it was a book Daegan could read well enough.
If he’d fucked Gideon merely out of detached logic, his stated rationalization to acclimate Gideon to what he might face at the Council, then this moment might not be so significant. Even with the hot, raw desire they’d experienced, Gideon might have been merely pissed or rationalized it himself as he had in the past, just too many damn pheromones in the air.
But Daegan had led with his anger, made it clear he’d not taken kindly to what Anwyn had clearly seen for some time. He didn’t know how he’d missed it, but then, he wasn’t in the male’s head.
Even so, he hadn’t entirely expected the way Gideon responded, then or now. There was something deeper in his tormented gaze, something that affected Daegan unexpectedly. As he recognized it, he was the one who decided to pull away, but Gideon beat him to it. The man released him, closed his eyes. As Anwyn continued to drink, Gideon pulled her even closer, seeking a reassurance Daegan knew might elude him. The truth could be a bitch to outrun, and the truth was Gideon already wanted them both again.
Though the vampire hunter would get no comfort from knowing it, Daegan knew the feeling was entirely mutual.
10
A
NWYN had told Gideon that Daegan was an incredibly light sleeper, to the point that if she so much as shifted a hand across a pillow when they lay together, he would wake. So she wasn’t surprised to feel his attention as she slid out of the bed.
Before she’d become a vampire, every once in a while on one of her days off, if Daegan was traveling, she’d sleep in the top apartment, the one that had a full wall of windows overlooking the streets below. They were east-facing, so she could watch the sunrise. Since she worked late nights, it had been rare for her to leave the shades open so that newborn sunlight could kiss her awake, but she’d had the choice. She’d never realized the human compulsion to move to a window when in deep thought, as if looking out into a world bigger than oneself would help to balance the troubled waters of her thoughts, but she’d circled the room twice restlessly before she realized that was what she was seeking.
Daegan slid out of the bed, brought her his robe, a heavy terry cloth that came down to her calves, and slid on the drawstring
gi
pants he’d been wearing earlier. As he freed her hair from the collar, she looked up at his face, the planes she could see so clearly, even though the room was almost pitch-dark. A trio of candles burned on the dresser. She’d slept some herself, so she didn’t know which of them had done that, but she suspected Gideon, who knew that she liked candlelight. He did the small things, because he thought he had nothing more significant to offer to her. Never realizing how large a part of her life he’d become in such a short time. A frighteningly large part.
“Come with me,” Daegan murmured. He guided her out into the main room. Gideon had moved, of course, was sleeping on the couch. He’d tugged on a pair of worn boxers, frayed at the hem, and a hole or two along the thigh. She made a mental note to get him some new underwear, though she didn’t mind him going without. Pausing at the couch, she touched his brow.
He knew her touch in his sleep, didn’t react defensively. His eyes opened sleepily and she bent down, brushed his lips. “We’re going up top a few minutes,” she whispered. “Don’t worry. Sleep.”
He gazed at her, nodded, eyes drifting closed again, though his large hand curled around her wrist, held an extra moment. When Daegan loosened his grip so she could slide away, the vampire tousled the man’s hair with brief affection. Gideon rolled over, grunting, and slapped the hand away, burrowing face-first into the sofa again.
Anwyn gave Daegan a smile and let herself be led to the elevator. “How did you know where we were going?” she whispered.
“Sometimes I dip a toe into your mind, so to speak.” He gave her a sidelong glance as he pressed the top floor button. “Forgive me,
cher
.”
“I think you already knew without doing that. You’re just trying to make me believe you don’t know me as well as you do.”
“Hmm.”
She leaned into him, enjoying the comfort of his solid body and his strong arm until the elevator reached the top level. Like her basement dwelling, it was coded for entry. The cleaning staff was taken up and supervised by James once a week, but of course she hadn’t been up here since the night in the alley. The curtains were open, showing the panorama of the city, the jeweled lights a more dense reflection of the stars in the night sky. It was Sunday night, so Atlantis was quiet, no movement or vibrating music from the dance floor below.
She went to the sliding glass door in the living area and stepped out into her rooftop garden. It was mostly an artful assortment of potted plants and trees, garden statuary and benches, unique pieces she’d added now and then. There were three or four beds of perennials and some rose-bushes. None was in bloom right now, but in summer they were rich colors of yellow and red. She sank down on a bench, gazed up at the stars. “I guess we should have invited Gideon to come up here with us. This is too beautiful a view to hoard all to ourselves.” Just as she’d thought, the ability to breathe in fresh air, feel the enormity of the sky and earth revolving above and below her, helped free some of the tightness of her chest.