by Grace, Viola
His tongue swirled around and around, taking every drop of slick honey that she had produced. He slowly leaned back, licking and nuzzling at her as she panted and tried to calm down while her pulse was thundering through her. He looked at her in pleased surprise. “That did it. Thank you.”
She nodded and shuddered. “Mmhmm. Can you untie me now, Patron?”
He grinned. “What is the penalty if I keep you, angel?”
“Well, I will have to show you the full activation, and that spoils the fun.”
He nodded and got up, his towel slithering to the ground. She sighed. “That could be fun, but not for me. Don’t want to make Gorith grumpy, and I know that Torenne or Salat will squeal. Also, I don’t actually have a sexually authorized contract.”
The patron kissed her inner thighs and then eased her legs under her again. He stood to remove her wrapped wrists from the hook and untied her. He chuckled. “So, what was that?”
She licked her lips. “I am going to record it as an enthusiastic kiss for greeting.”
Torenne snickered. “I do so love semantics in the hands of a master.”
She pressed her palms against the patron when her hands were free, and she slid her hands up his chest. “Did you get what you need, Patron?”
He nodded. “I did. Thank you... Tirra was it?”
She inclined her head. “I will overlook the fact that I am now missing part of my clothing.”
He grinned. “If I have to wait a few hours, it might help to have your scent with me.”
“Mmhmm. Torenne, is there a chance to get a new pair of shorts?”
Torenne was snickering. “We will negotiate a little.”
The patron licked slowly at her neck and back up again. “Thank you, management. That was most satisfying.”
She nodded and stepped back, pulling in her wings. “Please, enjoy the rest of your stay.”
He laughed as she left his quarters, and she exhaled slowly when she made it out of the bungalow.
Torenne came after her and linked arms as they returned to the office. “So, do you know who that was?”
“A patron.”
Torenne walked her back to her office and poured the tea from the set waiting on the desk. She handed the cup to Tirra and sat back, grinning.
“I did not know that you had reapers on your roster.”
The teacup rattled in the saucer. “We have three.”
“How did you know what he needed?”
“He is a regular here, he requires a lot of physical contact, and he likes doing... that.” She sipped at the rattling teacup.
The healer laughed. “You are really shaken up.”
“He was really enthusiastic, and I am pretty sure that he checked the inside of my navel for lint.”
Torenne smiled. “So, what will you give me to not tell Gorith about that incident?”
Tirra smiled. “Absolutely nothing. I will let him know when he calls me and asks me about my day.”
“You aren’t worried about it?”
“Why would I be?” She sighed and looked at the healer. “I know what I am, I know what he is, and while we have found each other, it is not a permanent state. He will have social pressures to marry or, at least, have children, and I will manage this until someone more suitable comes along. I might open another business or even go on a vacation.” She smiled. “Based on current numbers, I will be here for about three years.”
A smug Salat and giggling Khytten came in, and Salat raised his head. “Is Erodo here?”
Torenne grinned. “He’s been around. Is he coming to the wedding?”
Salat nodded. “He is the bride’s cousin, so probably.”
Torenne laughed at the expression that Tirra knew was on her face. She cancelled Seven’s standby, and as soon as she was alone, she was going to talk to Gorith. He may want to retract his invitation.
Chapter Twenty
On the day of the wedding, she and two escorts who were attending ran themselves through thorough grooming. The other two were going to be masked, but Tirra needed a full face of makeup.
The aesthetician grinned. “I love doing eyes. This is going to be fun.”
With that, Tirra sat through the final layer of covering, and when she was done, the robe was removed from her, and she was there in her day look for the wedding. The evening look was one layer of fabric away.
Dressing her in the same blue as Gorith’s eyes seemed to be a theme, but the outfit had been made by Torenne, and the rest of the accessories had been provided by Gorith.
She looked at the filigree vambraces and greaves in glowing silver with blue gems studded throughout. The heavy collar necklace took up a lot of space around her neck and over her collarbone, and she felt like the matching earrings and all the metal was designed to hold her down.
“Okay, let’s get these rings on, and then, your transport is waiting.”
Tirra nodded to the other two women, who were just going to the reception, and she headed to the vehicle. The driver nodded and held the door for her, her overnight bag already tucked into the hatch. She sat still in the back when he put the transport into gear.
Salat, Khytten, and Torenne had to be there for family interactions, so she was on her own as she was driven into the city.
She had Gorith’s room number, and she would get her bag brought up while she went to the ceremony and found Gorith.
She also hoped that Erodo wasn’t going to rub in their encounter. Gorith had been resigned to the contact as part of her job but had been unhappy when she mentioned that he was a reaper. The soul stealers were infamous for dealing with political opponents or regimes where the leader could not technically be killed. After everybody’s excitement over him, she had done some actual research. He could kill with a touch, and she had calmly invited him to eat her out. She was really suffering from some poor decision-making lately, and she figured that sex was to blame. Or Gorith. She could blame him.
She fidgeted, and she typed a message to Gorith that she was entering the city. In ten minutes, she would be in the most tense social situation that she could have imagined, and she was super nervous. Wearing half a million dollars worth of custom jewels also didn’t set her mind at ease.
After the ten minutes, they got in line to enter the entryway, and she smiled when she saw Gorith. He walked toward her, and he smiled. “My date is here.”
“Would you like to get out, Miss?”
“Um, let me out, or he’s coming in.”
The door opened, and the driver walked around to the hatch to get her bag. Gorith smiled and said, “My lady.”
She snorted and sighed as she took his hand, and he eased her out, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm before taking her bag. “Ready to have a nice date?”
She chuckled. “Absolutely not. Lead the way.”
To her surprise, she was taken through a back corridor to the groom’s prep room, and when Salat opened the door, he asked her, “Will you give my brother a kiss for luck?”
She blinked in surprise and nodded. “Sure.”
Salat leaned down and whispered, “Will it turn his lips silver?”
She blinked and shook her head. “No, that only happens with Khytten.”
He grinned. “Good then. I wouldn’t mind some luck myself if you are willing.”
“After the groom. You have Khytten; you got lucky enough.”
He laughed and took her hand to pull her into the room and passed five other men to the groom. Emmer was looking a little nervous, but when Salat came in, he exhaled. “I thought you had been called away.”
Salat smiled. “No, no one dies today. This is my friend Tirra, and she is the one I mentioned.”
Emmer was a more broad-featured member of Salat’s family. Instead of the delicate features that Salat sported, Emmer’s jaw was heavy, the nose was broad, but the nearly feline set to his eyes was the same.
“I would like to offer a kiss for luck.”
He blinked nervously
. “Do we need privacy?”
She grinned. “It isn’t that kind of a kiss. Having witnesses will confirm to your bride that nothing strange occurred here. Well, not stranger than accepting luck from women you haven’t met.”
She held out her hands, and he took them. She whispered. “Bend down.”
He bent down, and she went up on her toes, pressing her lips to his, breathing luck into him. His eyes went wide, and he tried to pursue the kiss, but she broke it and chuckled. She looked at Salat. “Where will the wedding ring go?”
He blinked in surprise and said, “Left hand, third finger.”
She nodded and lifted Emmer’s hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to that finger where the ring was going to go.
He looked down at her and was relieved. “It didn’t turn silver.”
She laughed. “No. That only happens when I spend too long on a project.”
Salat snorted.
Emmer’s nervous demeanour had faded, and he smiled. “Thank you. I feel... better.”
Salat chuckled. “Me next.”
She rolled her eyes and turned to him. “Fine. C’mere.”
He bent down, carefully gathered her to him, and kissed her while she gave him a little luck to last the day. His kiss was far more invasive than Emmer’s had been, but then, she had done far worse with his partner.
She finished the transfer and tried to push away from him, but he purred, and the kiss went on. She stroked the sides of his face, and when he let her loose, she chuckled. “Hi, Khytten. Next time, tell him to warn me before he looks like a tramp in front of the groomsmen.”
Salat chuckled. “You knew she was coaching me?”
“Yeah, and you have Torenne’s grip on me right now, so this was a group effort.” She gave him a peck and tapped his head with hers. “Now, let go because Gorith is waiting.”
Gorith cleared his throat. “Gorith is here.”
She turned in Salat’s arms and smiled. “Hello, sweetie.”
He walked up and stood behind her. “Salat, let her go, or I will kiss you.”
Salat laughed and released her with a gentle caress of her jaw. “Fine. See you two at the reception?”
“Of course. I am not one to kiss and run.”
Gorith cleared his throat. “Now, excuse us; we are expected in the bride’s suite.”
“Oh, I am doing the bride as well?”
Gorith nodded. “That is your gift to the wedding. I got them some silver.”
“Oh. Cool. I didn’t know you had to pay to attend a wedding.”
They walked past the other five bemused groomsmen. One of them reached out and said, “May I get a kiss for luck?”
She laughed and nodded, beckoning him down. He wanted luck with his partner. It was in his kiss. She gave him what she could.
The other four looked like they were trying to get up the nerve, but the one she had kissed smiled, and his shoulders straightened. “Thank you, Miss.”
She squeezed his hand and winked. “Good luck.”
Gorith led her back into the hall and up a level via a curving staircase. Elegantly dressed guests were passing them in the hall, and to Tirra’s surprise, she blended in, even with her silver eyes and lips. There were far more noteworthy people attending the party.
They knocked on the bride’s door, and Khytten smiled. “They asked me to wait here for you since Gorith is not coming in.”
Gorith chuckled. “I will be the doorman then.”
Khytten pulled her in. “Not one foot over the threshold.”
The bride and her six bridesmaids looked at them. Torenne was sitting in the corner, reading a magazine, graceful and elegant in a dark pewter gown.
Khytten smiled. “Wellia, this is the angel.”
The bridesmaids snickered.
Tirra glanced behind her, and the wings had clearance, so she activated them and stepped toward the stunned bride. She asked, “Will you accept a kiss for luck?”
Wellia nodded slowly.
The makeup artist was sitting there. Tirra winked. “Better get ready to do a lipstick repair. I will try and be careful.”
Wellia blinked. “Khytten wouldn’t let me put it on.”
Tirra looked to Khytten. “Good girl.”
Tirra touched Wellia’s neck and pulled her close then kissed her and slowly breathed luck into her. The bride mimicked the grip, and they kissed softly for several moments, long after the probability energy was transferred. When Tirra lifted her head, she smiled. “Good luck. Emmer’s a good guy.”
Wellia smiled. “I know. I wouldn’t have let him near me otherwise.”
Tirra stroked her neck softly and then stepped away. “You are an active?”
Wellia nodded. “Light projector.”
“Oh. I shouldn’t have touched you then.”
“I am glad you did. Your spectrum is so soothing.”
Tirra chuckled. “Well, you need to finish getting ready. The guys look great.” She winked.
Khytten took her away from the group of women staring at Tirra, and she tapped her lips. “You have to pay the toll for my guidance.”
“For twenty feet of guidance?”
“Yes. Definitely.”
“Is Salat urging you on?”
Khytten winked. “Yes, definitely.”
Tirra looked at the bridal party. “Uh, we can go around the corner if this is a problem.”
Wellia smiled. “It doesn’t bother me, and it is my opinion that matters. Go ahead. I would like to see the difference between you kissing a stranger and a friend.”
Tirra chuckled. “In that case, Khytten, would you care to stand on a chair?”
“Funny. Sit on that ottoman.”
Tirra obeyed the short tyrant.
“Lean back on one elbow and your wings.”
She did, and Khytten moved over her, laying her body onto Tirra’s, bracing her hands to either side of her. “Do you think they are shocked?”
Khytten murmured, “If they aren’t now, they are about to be.”
The kiss started with a light brushing of lips and then got a little out of control. Tirra’s mind went black, but she and Khytten were being pulled apart by Gorith and Torenne.
Tirra’s vision was blurry, and she was panting. She blushed and apologized to the bride. “Sorry.”
Wellia was standing and shaking. “Not a problem. Get to your seats. I want to get down the aisle and drag Emmer into an alcove.”
Gorith set Tirra on her feet, and they made their retreat. Tirra blinked, and her vision focused. “Why did you come in there?”
“Torenne asked me for help. She sent me a com message with an image of an angel rolling around with a kitten on an ottoman with a bunch of bridesmaids with their hands in inappropriate places.”
“Oops.” She flicked her wings away.
“You think you are having an awkward moment; Salat is being held back by the other groomsmen. He got the visual and the audio.”
“Oh, dear. I am going to hear about that.”
“Probably.” He chuckled. “We are seated at the table with my parents, Salat’s parents, and Torenne’s parents. And Khytten and Torenne. The rest of the bridal party will be seated at the front of the room.”
“Oh, your parents are here?” She suddenly checked to make sure that her dress was in straight lines.
“You look lovely. A little flushed but lovely. No one but me knows it is because you have spent the afternoon kissing strangers.”
She elbowed him. “And friends. But not you.”
He shook his head. “No, not me. I think if I start kissing you, I won’t stop.”
“Ah. Right.”
There were ushers from the groom’s side of the family, and they were seated in the crowd of the two hundred or so people in attendance.
Khytten and Torenne were a few rows ahead as they were considered family. Khytten turned and waved.
Tirra waved back.
Gorith leaned over and said, “I think you have a fan.
”
“You’ve rolled around with an angel. Is it an experience you would care to repeat?”
“Oh, yeah. I am looking forward to it after the reception. Just you, me, and our energy projections tangling until we are exhausted.” He glanced down at her. “If that plan meets with your approval.”
She shivered and wished her hair was long enough to cover the peaks of her nipples through the gown. “Sounds like a fun end to the evening or morning.”
She looked around and spotted four other patrons who had visited the resort. Erodo’s profile was on the bride’s side.
“Uh, is Erodo...”
“Bride’s cousin. Juro is an acquaintance of the family. Zyroth is her brother.”
He was helpful.
“How did you know...”
“That you were looking at patrons? Easy. Who else would you know here? The patrons occasionally get together in chats or at events like this and compare notes.”
“So, Aksalla...”
“Has a larger quantity of physically manifesting actives.”
She blinked. “Okay. Right. That explains the resort. Wait. Juro didn’t book a date.”
“Maybe he has someone here he is interested in.”
Understanding smacked into her. “Oh, no. I get it. He is interested in someone, but she isn’t here.”
Gorith chuckled. “The sculptor?”
“Yeah. I think so.” She smiled. “I think Uradda is about to get a sudden pinch in their port traffic.”
Erodo’s head turned toward them, and his ear flickered as he grinned.
She turned pink but knew that for dinner, he was going to enjoy the company of his escort.
The music started, the room went quiet, and everyone found their seats. The groom and his groomsmen were standing at the front of the room and waiting.
Processional music started up, and the bridesmaids walked up the aisle and smiled shyly as they passed Tirra.
The bride glowed with brilliance, and in keeping with actives who had to technically separate themselves from their families in a symbolic severance of legal responsibility, she had no one to walk her down the aisle. No registered active had a family name, but only a few countries encouraged actives to marry. Aksalla was one of them.