Three of Hearts

by Lillian Lark

  “Do you know how to cook?” I ask because I’m curious, but I hear a snort from behind me that startles me. Greg comes into the kitchen. At my jump, he puts out a hand as if to steady me but pulls back at the last minute with an anxious look.

  “Sorry, I don’t know if you’re okay with me touching you.”

  The man had just seen another man fuck me with his fingers; that he didn’t automatically take my consent to be touched for granted is charming.

  “I’m okay if you touch me.” My face burns when I say it and I have the urge to hide my face under the awkwardness. I had meant touching in a casual way but even those kinds of touches seem to have seductive qualities in this crowd. Greg stares at my wings in amazement.

  It always takes me by surprise how other beings could be so fascinated with my wings. I’ve always had them; they are an extension of me. It’s like being fascinated with my foot. I can empathize that they are surprising to other people, but the way Greg looks at me is akin to a stained-glass masterpiece.

  “You know I thought you were an angel when you flew.” Greg’s voice is full of awe. He’s snapped out of his reverie by a choking sound. Asa laughs, coughing up the wine he just poured after inhaling it. I can’t help but smile at Greg.

  “Don’t mind me.” Asa waves a hand before he continues coughing into the sink. Greg is glaring at him now, a blush rising in his cheeks.

  “To answer your question, Asa’s cooking skills are nonexistent,” Greg says.

  “Excuse me, I can cook,” Asa says in a hoarse affront.

  “Beans on toast doesn’t count as cooking.” Greg takes a step closer to me and Asa makes a face at his comment before shrugging.

  “It’s perfectly fine food, Mr. Bakes Everything from scratch.” Asa’s words seem surly, but they are playfully exaggerated. He pours another glass of wine and offers it to me. Greg ignores Asa and turns to me.

  “Can I touch your wings?” Greg looks so hopeful when he asks that it would be hard to say no. His blond hair is dark from a shower and curls against his neck and his chest is still uncovered but he has on a clean pair of sweatpants that look too small for him. They must be Asa’s.

  “Sure, just don’t tell my family you thought I was an angel. It would be considered insulting to harpies.”

  Both Asa and Greg share a look. I’ve slipped. “Not that either of you will be meeting my family. We aren’t in a relationship and I’m not your mate.”

  I try to soften my words, but it still hurts me to say them. Greg doesn’t seem as affected by my words as he was earlier. He just shares another look with Asa and some unspoken communication passes between them before Greg nods.

  Before I can decipher what just happened between them, Greg reaches out a hand to my wing. My wings don’t look angelic. They have the markings of a bird of prey, striations of gold and black. They inspire feelings of danger rather than comfort.

  I’m trying to decipher what just happened between the guys but the soft feeling of Greg petting my uninjured wing makes me want to purr. The rustle of the feathers under his callused hands is the only sound in the kitchen now and I open my eyes as both men stare at my face.

  “What?” I ask as Greg runs his fingers to stroke my wings again; this time he tugs the feathers slightly and I almost moan. Oh, that sensation is new to me. It’s partway between a tickle and a sting. Asa’s look is dark and the beep of the oven finishing the preheat seems to bring everyone out of the sinful haze.

  “Did you put the food in before the oven reached temperature again?” Greg frowns, annoyed. I’m glad for the reprieve. Stumbling between these two is a bewitching experience that overwhelms all good sense. Greg continues, “We’ve talked about this, how can you know when to take it out if you put it in when the oven isn’t hot enough?”

  “I don’t know, dear, maybe without you around I got into bad habits.” Asa winks at me. There is a comfort in the way they speak to each other. An underlying pain too, blood beneath skin. An infection they’ll need to lance.

  It has nothing to do with me. Even if I let myself be convinced into bed with these two, nothing would affect my life. I send up a thank you to the gods that accidental pregnancy isn’t a worry. Harpies control when pregnancy happens through their own magics. The relationship that needs saving is the one between the men. Harpies don’t claim mates.

  I’m sure it will hurt me to leave them. Asa is wonderful and so intriguing in his bed play and I’m coming to find that Greg has a way of putting me at ease around the sharp-edged demon. I don’t want to ponder the loss when I go back to my own life.

  “So, Greg, Asa was telling me that you have your own bakery.”

  Greg looks shy. “Yes, Asa helped fund the venture. We sell regular goods in a café setting but specialize in paranormal tastes by special order.”

  “Like what?”

  “Small things, like ceremonial breads for witches to more eclectic things like sardine cupcakes for selkies.” Greg sounds less shy now that he’s expounding about the business. I control myself from retching at that last one.

  “That’s… I’m sorry, but that sounds disgusting. Are there even selkies around here? Don’t they live near seawater?” I’m not one to talk, it’s not like harpies stick to one known geographical location.

  Greg’s eyes crinkle at that. “I have a fey on staff that can travel through the gates for delivery.”

  That’s … excellent. It means that he can deliver globally and to all the planes.

  “So business is good?” Sardine fucking cupcakes.

  Greg’s smile is wide. “Business is very good.”

  Something crosses my mind and I open my mouth without thinking. “So why did you take the job with Alice?”

  The room tenses in to silence and I irrationally want to kick myself. How am I supposed to know when I’m stepping on a landmine?

  Asa sighs. “I can figure out why, Gregory. No need not to answer on my account.”

  Greg still looks hesitant. Asa just shakes his head. “Actually, let me. In order for Gregory and I not to have contact, since we are in business together, he would have to buy back my portion of the business.”

  Ouch.

  Asa

  Once Gregory decides that the casserole dish is cooked through, we sit down to dinner. The three of us around a table feels cozy. Gregory and Zephyrine have been making eyes at each other since the incident in the bedroom. It is adorable, really. I imagine it will make the topics we are about to cover just a little better.

  “Gregory, please tell me why you left.” Tell me it wasn’t me, tell me anything that keeps me believing that we can all end up together. Because we are an “all” now.

  I think he’s going to choke on the bite of food he just took but he just takes a minute to chew, looking annoyed either at my question or my timing.

  Gregory had drunkenly told me his reasons before, that his wolf wanted more, and now I want to hear it from him sober. I want him to admit I’m his mate, but I might have to wait for him to come to the realization of that first.

  “Asa…” He doesn’t want to answer me, I can tell.

  “Do you trust me?” I ask. It’s an odd question for me to ask because I don’t think I trust Gregory. I had trusted him and then he left but that is my issue to deal with. When Gregory doesn’t hesitate to nod, I have to keep from flinching. “You left without talking to me about why. It’s hard to imagine that you trust me now.”

  I shouldn’t have said it, but the hurt goes deeper than even I know. When Gregory takes my hand, feelings inside of me swell but I beat them down. Control was paramount; I’m providing direction for this relationship and need to focus on that.

  He looks miserable. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  That he tried to protect my feelings by leaving instead of telling me why is a behavior that tracks. Gregory would rather shield someone than hurt them, even to the detriment of the situation.

  “I can’t provide any solutions if you don’t trus
t me enough to tell me your problems. It hurt more to be without you for two months than the moment of being told that I wasn’t enough for your wolf.” I stay strong.

  Gregory looks stricken. If I were a better person, I wouldn’t feel a vicious sense of victory at causing him pain. But I’m not a better person. I’m a demon, my kind are adept at causing pain and rife with vices. “Instead of either one pain or the other, I got both. So please, Gregory, if you trust me, be open with me.”

  “You’re right. I’m so sorry, Asa. I’ve made a mess of everything.” There are tears in his eyes. “How did you know about the wolf?”

  “You don’t remember getting drunk and calling me?” I’d be amused if the situation weren’t so serious.

  Gregory’s face flushes and he looks down. “I t-thought it was a dream.”

  I soften at that.

  “You told me other things on the phone call. Things that made me hopeful. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” I squeeze his hand. I want him guilty, not destroyed. I think, anyway. “I need to hear them now though, your reasons. It’s important that Zephyrine hears as well.”

  Zephyrine looks surprised to be acknowledged; she has been glued to every word so far, an invested audience whether she wants to be or not. She puts up her hands now. “No, I don’t think so. I can go somewhere else while you have this discussion. It really isn’t any of my business.”

  The longing note that rings in her voice contradicts her words but I don’t confront her about it. That is a different battle to fight.

  “Please, it would mean a lot to me if you stayed.” Gregory gives her his puppy dog eyes as he pleads. Zephyrine’s hands drop and she picks up her fork again, looking a little frustrated, but staying. I duck my face to hide a smile. I don’t think anyone with a soul could say no to the man’s puppy dog eyes. Gregory turns back to me.

  “When I met you, my wolf sent me message after message that you were my mate.” Greg looks down. “I pursued you, but the wolf didn’t demand me to complete a mating. It confused me because it didn’t match anything I’d heard about fated mates before. I waited for instincts to kick in, but it didn’t happen.” I can tell Gregory is intensely uncomfortable with this, but he soldiers on. “At first I wasn’t as concerned about it. I thought maybe since we were both males, my instincts were skewed since breeding isn’t an option.”

  I have to bite my lips to keep from smiling; Zephyrine is across the table with wide eyes at that. If Gregory had told me his reservations, I would have told him that same-sex relationships in shifters work just like hetero ones when it comes to instincts.

  “There were, uh, other reasons that I used to explain away the wolf’s lack of action. My wolf is an alpha of my kind and in our relationship, it wasn’t the dominant one.”

  My brows lift, and I have to admire Gregory’s composure because I can tell just how embarrassed he is. Especially when Zephyrine drops her fork.

  “Sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just… um surprised.” Zephyrine is as red as Gregory is and her eyes bounce from him to me and back again. Gregory inhales then and I can tell he smells her arousal. They complement each other and look so vulnerable when flustered that I want to devour them both.

  I let myself smile then. I hadn’t considered that Gregory’s wolf would want to be dominant. It couldn’t with me, I am the stronger entity and it isn’t in my nature. Even if I had acted submissive to him, it wouldn’t be a true thing. Harpies are stronger in general but Zephyrine likes to submit, as evidenced earlier.

  Zephyrine is the perfect addition to our relationship. The idea of watching Gregory dominate the graceful woman in front of us has me adjusting my position to relieve the pressure of my cock against my pants. Business first, then, maybe, pleasure.

  “Please continue, Gregory.” My command is soft, and Gregory’s flush deepens.

  “I continued to make excuses why my wolf wasn’t pushing me to bite you until it started sending other messages. It was looking for another mate.” Gregory’s face looks devastated. “It wanted to scent everything, go out, and search. I didn’t know what it would have done if it had found someone else, I didn’t want to risk it. What if it found someone and the compulsion was too strong? I didn’t want to hurt you, Asa.”

  I bring his hand to my mouth and kiss it; the brief contact calms Gregory.

  “So you left,” I say.

  How faithful he is about not wanting to hurt me sounds like a broken record that stabs me as it skips. I can understand how he’d struggled now when I’d been so ignorant of it before. I failed him and that hurts.

  If I had investigated his reasons when we were together, we might have avoided the pain. Gregory had a responsibility to tell me all this, but I also had a responsibility to notice when something of this nature bothered him.

  “So now that your wolf has identified Zephyrine as your mate, you’re going to claim her and move on?” I know the answer to that question, but I need Gregory and me on the same page from now on if we’re going to succeed in convincing Zephyrine. He shakes his head but still looks confused.

  “How is your wolf reacting?” I ask.

  Gregory’s eyes are soulful when he looks up. “It wants both of you, but I don’t know how that can work.”

  My grin has a merciless edge to it now. “Well if your end goal is both of us, you have an uphill battle to wage. You better get courting.”

  Zephyrine and Gregory are gaping at me. I let go of Gregory’s hand to take a drink, a stalling tactic to let the concept take up space in their minds. It’s enough time that Gregory looks amazed and Zephyrine is shaking her head.

  I lace my fingers with hers across the table. “What? You would say no to having Gregory court you?”

  “I told you, harpies don’t take mates.” She looks frustratedly at my fingers woven with hers. I can tell she likes this contact.

  “You wouldn’t let us woo you?”

  Zephyrine wants what I’m offering, I can tell by the way she bites her lip.

  “Wouldn’t let us seduce you? Wouldn’t want to wake up to both of us in a bed?”

  There is a sharp, hungry look on Gregory’s face as I use my words to make Zephyrine’s conviction waver before striking a soft spot in her resolve.

  “What about as candidates in case you want to start your clutch? Something tells me that you like having options.” I’ve got her now. Appealing to what she really wants will only go so far when her culture is so adamant about being independent from men. Using tenets of her culture to bribe her will convince her.

  “We’re both strong candidates. From what I know about harpies, the strength of a clutch’s father is important.” I am admittedly uneducated when it comes to harpies and their beliefs, but I do know that one.

  I also know that in ancient times the common practice was to kill the father after breeding but I’m sure that practice has stopped. Relatively sure.

  “I haven’t decided if I want a clutch yet.” Zephyrine’s emotions are so tangled I can practically feel the knots of indecision in her. I could tell earlier that she envied what her parents had even though it’s thought to be unacceptable behavior. “…But you would both be good candidates.”

  “A triad makes the most sense. It gives you options for the strongest clutch and I think you can already tell we’d all be compatible.”

  “A temporary triad could work.” Zephyrine still looks unsure but terribly tempted. Gregory’s brows knit at that and I give him a head shake. Zephyrine knows we want more than a temporary triad, but pushing something permanent now won’t go far. It will be up to us to convince her to stay with us once we get her to agree to try it.

  We can make her happy. This can work.

  ✽✽✽

  Zephyrine switches to water after admitting to being open to a triad and dinner continues without the added drama of relationship talk. Once the dishes are cleared away, I carry Zephyrine to the parlor and proceed to look over her bandages again. I estimate that we can take th
em off in a couple hours, but ask her to stay the night just to be sure. And to give us an opportunity to get to know her. I don’t verbalize the last reason, but she knows.

  While I work on adding some runes to the bandages and removing the ones I used for minor cuts, Zephyrine talks about her remote work with a known software company and some projects that she indulges in on the side. She mentions one that she sold a few years ago and I whistle in recognition, impressed.

  A fascinated Gregory peppers her with questions. Zephyrine answers them and then asks Gregory more about his paranormal-specific baked goods. Some of the combinations Gregory comes up with do sound atrocious but the bakery has been very successful catering to a diverse clientele.

  “So, you’re saying all paranormal beings have different taste preferences?” Zephyrine asks. I had also been skeptical when he told me that but have since become a believer. Gregory smiles.

  “I know it sounds a little out there but it’s just something I’ve noticed over the years from doing independent orders for friends of friends. When I started applying the principle to different kinds of beings, it’s proven true every time.”

  “Oh, that’s so strange. What do demons like?” She looks at me now. She’s guessed correctly that I’ve been one of Gregory’s guinea pigs for our business.

  “Clove and similar spices.” I smile as I answer. It’s an odd thing to find out something like that about your kind.

  I’ve avoided the spices since Gregory left as a self-protective measure. The warm flavors would remind me of cuddling up on the couch together during the cold months and other joyful memories. The blissful recollection would end in the awful pain of him leaving me.

  “That sounds a lot better than sardines. I wonder what harpies like.”

  Gregory only shrugs. “We can go to the bakery sometime and I can give you some samples to see what you like.” As he says this, Zephyrine looks excited then shy.

  “I’d really enjoy that. All of my family enjoys food; it would be fun if we could figure out a flavor palette that all harpies liked. Though my father and brother might be disgusted by it,” she says with a shrug.