by Lillian Lark
Asa doesn’t point out the flaws in my logic, he just nods. It’s nice to have this kind of support. Our relationship isn’t perfect, as the blowup about which house we’d move into had shown. Guilt stabbed me for the ultimatum as soon as I had said it. Even implying that he could live somewhere else had put a terribly vulnerable look on his face that I still can’t shake weeks later.
Asa loves to be in control of situations. The power he exerts during sex has me needy and panting constantly. But I hadn’t realized how much Asa clung to control, outside of the bedroom, until the fight about where we would all live. His reasons for moving into his house had been that he wanted his mates at his place. He only realized his reasons were illogical after we’d calmed down. Promising him that he could have control of the decorating decisions and telling him that I need sheets like the ones on his bed had helped some. Since that blowup, Asa and I have been trying to emotionally check in with each other more often. Hence, the small touches that drive me crazy.
Demons always have vices. Mace had explained it to me last week. Some of them love sex of all types, some love alcohol, and some, like Asa, love to be in control. These are things that can serve as a demon’s weakness or strength, depending. When I’d asked Mace what his vice is, he just laughed but gave me a wink. “Secrets.”
“Tell me about harpy culture. I want to know how my daughters will be raised,” Asa asks. I can only quirk a brow, but this is knowledge he should know before meeting more of my family. I begin how my aunts would have when lecturing my sisters and me.
“Harpies have always been isolationists. Throughout time we’ve been the target of violence, predation, and slavery so we react with violence and exclusion. It’s a female society with rules that are supposed to project an air of strength to the outside world.”
“Does it not?”
I hum before answering. “Our numbers are small. Part of the reason is because we control our reproduction to what we can handle as a single parent. Originally, harpies would cluster together to raise young but there is a belief in these modern times of independence that keeps harpies from wanting to rely on their sisters or mother. It’s… difficult, emotionally and financially to raise a clutch on your own but it has become a point of pride and status.” I pause, we’re getting further from the harpy approved curriculum.
“The need for independence is strong for us. Some competitive harpy branches have had occurrences with a harpy being at the mercy of the male who spawns their clutch because that harpy doesn’t want to admit that they wanted children but couldn’t do it on their own. They didn’t feel like they’d be respected if they went to their branch. To ask for help is equated to failure.”
I swallow even though my mouth has gone dry as I continue, “We lost a harpy last year to domestic abuse. Her mother is one of three harpies worldwide who speaks to the Council on our behalf. Her daughter hadn’t even told her that the male was still in the picture. The reaction has been to double down on the independence and pressure the younger generation to be able to support themselves before breeding.”
“That doesn’t seem like it will help with the issue,” Asa says.
“It doesn’t. But our community is so small that we still deal with issues on an individual basis. The modern world makes it hard to have a clutch, even if you plan for it.” The principle that you only start your clutch when you’ve prepared for it is where some of my shame about the pregnancy had come from. I can support myself, but I still hadn’t chosen this beforehand.
It’s a small thing to have shame about when I have, not one, but two mates. Honestly, we don’t have to be open about the fact that the clutch was unplanned but that felt wrong. This can happen to other harpies if they ever find themselves in a similar situation. It’s better that the knowledge be out.
How will the harpy community treat me for my transgressions? I don’t really know; I know it won’t be good.
Asa
“I think out of all the shitty ideas you’ve had, this is the shittiest one by far.” Mace looks slightly sick when he says that.
“Did you get it?”
I keep my voice down. We stand in a corner in the living room as people laugh and congregate around the house and garden. Zephyrine’s family had shown up early and transformed the house with decorations. The effect is lovely, with streamers and fairy lights running through the rooms to the patio where the party space is set to be.
The party is about to start and there are more people in attendance than I had anticipated. I recognize the females from Gregory’s family. Some other women drift around with a standoffish air. I don’t recognize them but I assume they’re harpies from different branches. Zephyrine’s aunts can’t be here yet because she had warned that that will be a loud affair.
The Shirazi women and Gregory are busy in the kitchen adding finishing touches to the food. I don’t have time to have this battle with Mace. I need to settle the desperation that has been dogging my steps for days.
“I think you should let me check on them.” I sit on the bed, watching Zephyrine get changed into a sleep set. Gregory is in the shower; he had gotten home late after doing an emergency order. Zephyrine turns to me and rolls her eyes, which always makes me want to spank her and she knows it.
“They are fine. I told Greg, and I’m assuming he passed on the info to you, this is a magical pregnancy. Very few things can go wrong.” Zephyrine’s face is relaxed and I take comfort in the possibility that she has finally accepted the pregnancy.
Gregory had passed on that info. Our teamwork lately has been unparalleled.
“I still want to check on them.”
Zephyrine sighs but comes to stand in between my legs, placing her hands on my shoulders.
“Then I’ll let you do what you want.” There’s a playful lilt to her words that makes my cock jump, but I don’t know when she’d let me do this again so I’m not going to waste the opportunity. I place my hands over her flat stomach and focus.
Threads of magic weave through everything, the air, people, things. Reading these threads and influencing them is an ability that many beings have, especially demons. I follow the magic to where I want, and I find them.
Tiny things, but strong. They’re already yanking on the surrounding magic in a troublesome way that makes my mouth quirk. Zephyrine has been wondering why she keeps dropping glass things. Her computer keeps randomly turning off as well. We’re going to have our hands full, that’s for sure. I send soothing messages to them, wordless sensations that will hopefully lead to them having mercy on their mother.
Something prods me back and I almost break from my trance in surprise. I take a closer look and feel my throat go thick in understanding. One of them is mine. I had already claimed all of them as my children but the possibility that they’d be related to me by blood never occurred to me.
Zephyrine wipes my cheeks and I come out of it to comprehend that I’m crying.
“Everything okay in there?” She sounds a little concerned and I can’t control my smile.
“Everything is perfect.”
Since we’d started this relationship there has been a low-key desperation in me not to lose both of my mates. Issues, that I know come from Gregory’s abandonment, had lain in wait until I couldn’t stand it anymore.
These weeks with Zephyrine and Gregory have been amazing. Feeling the young, my young, in her belly had set off something despondent in me. I can’t stand the possibility of losing them all. It’s a risk that I can’t abide.
Mace continues to look at me in dread but hands me the small ring box. Mace always comes through for me. We’ve been the only person the other could trust for decades.
“Don’t do this, Asa. At least talk to Greg first. Do this together!”
“This is the only way I can ensure my place with them, Mace. Gregory and Zephyrine are mates. Bound soul deep. Gregory’s and my bond is a frayed thing in comparison. If Zephyrine and I marry, then I’ll always have a place with her, and
Gregory by extension.” I hadn’t even confessed to Gregory about the looseness of our soul bond. I can feel all the bonds in our relationship and know where I stand in this triad.
“You need to trust them and stop trying to control everything!” Mace runs his hands through his hair in aggravation.
“It’s what I do! This is too important to leave to chance!”
“It isn’t to chance. It’s the man and woman you love. Don’t even try and say you don’t love her too because I know you’d be lying.” Mace always did know me best.
It would be a lie. I love them both. I haven’t said the words since I’d been abandoned. Something keeps me from responding in kind when Gregory whispers the words into my hair. Zephyrine hasn’t confessed love either but both Gregory and I are more than willing to give her some leeway in the matter since she has to deal with the pregnancy.
“I have to do this, Mace.” I’m fully committed to my actions. Mace must be able to see that because his shoulders deflate.
“I’m going to go raid the kitchen. Good fucking luck, my friend.” Mace stomps off.
I go to the patio to help entertain people until the big moment. I don’t want to upset Mace, but this is what has to happen. I hope.
Chapter 13
Mace
What to do when your friend is determined to sabotage his own happiness? Frustration bites at my back muscles because I don’t know. Asa is on his way to upset the dynamic of his delicate triad and there isn’t a thing I can do about it. This calls for sweets.
It had been a relief when Asa and Greg had made up, partly because it made Asa happy and partly because it means that I can stop hating Greg on principle and enjoy his baked goods. I wouldn’t name sweets as a vice of mine, but they are definitely the best part of this century. They are the next step for me to drown my concern for whatever is about to happen.
I love Asa like a brother. Our connection is as much personal as magical. Years ago, he saved me from my brother-by-blood and now we are as tightly knit as a Christmas sweater. We are the other’s anchor to this plane as a safeguard from other demons preying on us. We need each other.
That Asa’s soul bond with his mates is a fragile thing worries me for his happiness and also for the eventuality of having a mate of my own. I do eventually want to find a mate. Had the way Asa and I connected ourselves years ago make a soul bond with another impossible?
As I walk into the kitchen, I’m hit with lovely scents that ease the stress of my thoughts. Greg really has out done himself with the baked goods. Icing drips off of his famous cinnamon rolls, the messy confections kept separate from a prettily arranged plate of macarons, eclairs, and cupcakes with sprigs of lavender here and there.
The saliva pools in my mouth as I pick out the scent of clove from the rolls. It’s unfair that Greg knows how to cause my self-control to abandon me with the mere tweak of his spice mixture. Luckily, I never put as much stock in controlling the happenings around me or myself as Asa does.
The baked goods momentarily distract me from the conversation happening. Bad demon.
“Alice wanted me to tell you that the scumbag from the job you helped with has escaped Council custody.” The woman speaking has to be one of Zeph’s sisters. Their looks are too similar not to be. Greg looks at the woman with concern.
“Does she know anything else?” Greg asks.
I sneak to the side of the counter and plate one of the rolls, ignored by the room. I take a bite and keep myself from moaning.
Zeph’s sister looks uncomfortable. “She said that with Henderson’s penchant for harpies, we should all be on the lookout. Zeph could have caught his eye.”
I nearly choke, “Wyatt Henderson? Zeph has caught Wyatt Henderson’s eye?”
Dread squeezes my heart like a vice, but suddenly so many things make sense. Zeph met Asa while doing a job with Alice. I had known about that job because I had helped set it up. Even all of these years later I can’t keep myself from hunting the likes of monsters like Henderson.
Zeph’s sister squints at me before blowing up. “You!”
I point to my chest. “Me?”
“You’re the one fucking with my business!”
I’m so confused.
“What are you talking about, Sophia? This is Asa’s friend, Mace.” Zeph looks confused but suspicious.
Sophia. Ah, I try not to smile too wide as I extend the hand that isn’t sticky from sweets. “Mace Reynolds at your service.”
Sophia doesn’t take my hand and I give myself a moment to note her appearance. Sophia Shirazi is a lovely creature even when it looks like she wants to bludgeon me. I let my hand fall.
“You must be the one who arranged for Alice to feed me wrong information last week. That was very clever. Alice is usually one of my best informants. Let me tell you I looked like a right fool.”
I can’t stop myself from smiling. I had been quite angry when the truth had come out but in hindsight and in front of the perpetrator, I can admit that it had been a smooth play. Zeph’s eyebrows are high, head turning from Sophia to me and back again.
“Mace is the Reynolds ruining your business?”
Sophia looks away for a second and I see a delightful flush come to her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Oh, but it does. I’ll let her lick her wounds before approaching her with a fix for whatever trespass I must have committed. Something about the woman’s treachery calls to me and my curiosity. Back to the matter at hand though.
“Zeph, you need to be very careful if Henderson is after you. He deals in slaves and has for years. The Council only just received enough evidence to put up a trail. His penchant for harpies is a professional interest. He sells whole slaves and spell ingredients.” By the time I’m done Greg is tense with a feral worry. His eyes show his wolf’s anxiety.
Sophia has gone pale. Guilt shows through her spectacular green eyes. Ah, Sophia is the reason that Zeph was involved with the capture in the first place. That would be an uncomfortable burden. Hopefully, Henderson is captured before anything happens. I make a mental note to reach out to some contacts about accelerating that.
At that moment, two women stride into the room and I think I can taste blood on the air. They look at Greg and me before giving a dismissive sniff.
“So, this demon and that dog are your ‘mates’?” the taller one asks in derision.
I wave the cinnamon roll in my hand. “Not me, I’m just a family friend.”
The aunts have arrived.
Zephyrine
Aunt Fairuza’s plain face scorn shouldn’t trip me up, but it does. The fact that a slaver could be after me undoubtedly has something to do with me stumbling over my words. I take a moment to breathe as Greg takes a step toward me and rubs a hand up my back. I’m safe here. All my family is here. My mates are here. I am safe.
My moment lets Fairuza spew more hate into the kitchen.
“Ah, more men hanging around. Just what we need,” she sneers.
Mace just gives my aunts a dazzling smile. I’m grateful for this havoc-wreaker even if he is the one messing with Sophia’s business. Sophia is an adult. She can handle Mace. Probably.
“Aunt Fairuza, Aunt Jasmine, let me introduce you to Greg.” I make a hand motion to him. Greg starts forward as if to shake their hands, but I stop him. The idea of watching my aunts refuse Greg’s polite gesture flirts with a protective violence in me that would be better left unexplored. “Greg is my mate. Asa is also my mate, but I think he’s on the patio.”
Fairuza takes Greg in, with his apron that says Real Men Bake, courtesy of Mace, and her mouth goes thin. “So this is the one who bakes? How precious. I know you don’t need to choose a mate based on finances, but I would have assumed you would have at least chosen one who wouldn’t have cost you to keep.”
I flinch at the callousness of her words. The shame on Greg’s face only lasts for a second before he hides it under a neutral mask, but the expression is telling. Fairuza touched
on a sensitive spot for him that I’ve been ignorant about. My aunt’s eyes light up as if she’s been given a present, and the glee I see makes me sick to my stomach.
This is a woman who I love as a part of my family even though I know her own feelings for me are conditional. To see this part of her is ugly. Something roars alive in me. Fairuza just hurt my mate and she is going to do it again, and again until whatever wounded pride she’s carrying for my choices is appeased. Her pride is fathomless, she will never be satisfied.
I’ll never receive approval from her for this mating and it doesn’t matter. I will not let anyone hurt my mates, physically or emotionally. Fairuza looks smug and opens her mouth to start digging at this weak point but I interrupt her.
“My mates are my family now. They are the fathers of my children and my chosen partners. Anything you say against them you say against me. If you cannot accept their place in my life, then you are not welcome in my home or around my clutch.” My voice is full of fury, but I keep it measured.
Both of my aunts look shocked. And my mom ducks her face to hide a smile.
“B-But what about the Shirazi name?” Aunt Jasmine asks in disbelief.
Frustration makes me throw up my hands. “What about it? It’s not like we’re making plans about marriage right now.”
Mace chokes on the pastry he’s been eating like popcorn at a movie theater. Greg gives me a squeeze on my waist. I probably shouldn’t have said that since I’m sure these men want me at the altar someday but that hasn’t happened yet. I glare at my aunts.
“Who is to say that I wouldn’t give my daughters a different name just to spite you? I don’t need your approval or any other harpies’ approval to live my life the way I want.”
Aunt Fairuza doesn’t look as confident anymore. “You would never hold a position of respect in our community.”
“I’m having trouble giving a fuck about that. Why should I cut off parts of myself to serve a community that is letting our own traditions weaken us?”