A crooked smile twisted DeKieran’s mouth. “If you wish to further your skills, I’m available.” With those intriguing words, the man turned and strode toward the door to Tristan’s apartment. “Tell Angelica about relocating. I’ll let you know when she can resume her work schedule.”
The door closed on Ramsey’s back before Tristan could prod his sluggish brain to formulate a reply. Swaying slightly where he stood, he blinked several times and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Computer, security protocol Omega Three.”
“Acknowledged, Creator DeHelios. Security protocol Omega Threein effect. All ingress and egress locked. All perimeter motion alarms activated. Window opacity 100%.”
Bemused by the possibilities inherent in Ramsey’s offer, Tris padded back into the bedroom, the floor cool against his bare feet. Mage sat against the headboard, his legs outstretched, head back, eyes closed, a pillow and Angelica’s head in his lap. His elegant hands rhythmically stroked her hair. Angelica’s face wore an expression of innocent bliss.
The upwelling of a desire to stand between the pair and anything or anyone that could harm them rocked him with its intensity and sheer novelty. You’ve got it bad for those two, you dumb fuck. When was the last time you cared like this about anyone? The answer came easily. Never. The voice of his brother echoed in his mind. Can you keep Dr. Giverny safe in Arkodaenia? Are your skills up to the task? Unease nibbled at his thoughts but he shut it out. Nothing would happen to her or Magellan. He wouldn’t allow anyone to take them from him. Not ever.
Fatigue slammed him and eradicated those uncomfortable thoughts and unprecedented feelings. By the Goddess, all three of them could use more sleep. He shoved his pants off his hips and stepped out of them. Crawling onto the bed, he scooped up Angelica and lay on his back, draping her boneless curves over his chest.
She wrapped her arm around him and snuggled close with a murmured plea of, “Sleep.”
Mage slipped down and Tris felt the descent of bedding as Mage covered them. It was the last Tris knew for hours.
Chapter Fourteen
Angelica studied Tristan and Mage. They both look the better for some sleep. I certainly am. The two hunks of mouth watering virility sat across from her at the dining table in Tristan’s apartment and shared a late afternoon meal of breakfast foods. Both men had slipped into loose knit pants but nothing else. The expanse of corded muscle on display would distract anascetic at the temple of Von. She wasn’t anascetic. She hugged her short fluffy robe around her and tried to slip some of the material between her bare thighs and the smooth surface of the chair. It was late afternoon. Angelica forced her concentration back to Tristan’s clipped words.
“…so, until we identify the number and location of the mekanikos, you will remain in the safety of the medcenter compound. Then you will relocate to Nyth Uchel until we can eliminate this new threat.”
The words staggered around her brain like a megaton Cephalian who’d overdosed on fermented mela fruit. Combine this latest threat with the emotional turmoil of yesterday’s events, and her normal mental acuity stuttered. She groped for comprehension.
As if he understood her befuddlement, Tristan’s words slowed and softened. “Because of Verdantia’s unique nature, the meks’ ability to morph will be compromised outside of the immediate vicinity of Arkodaenia. If they decide to pursue you, you’ll be safer if you leave the city. Tok feels strongly that you should leave and we’re acceding to his greater knowledge. Unfortunately, the same electromagnetic forces that neutralize the meks will also affect your technological devices. If removed from Arkodaenia, your sophisticated medical equipment becomes so much carbonite and electron conduit.”
In the pause, she felt Tristan’s eyes examine her as she dipped her knife into the soft butyrum, reached for a toasted piece of panis, and with precision worthy of an accomplished cerebral surgeon, spread a fine layer from edge to edge. She delicately balanced the panis on her plate.
Magellan put his hand on hers as she reached for another slice. “Are you really going to eat all that?”
Startled, Angelica looked at her plate, where a stack of a dozen slices of crusty panis adorned with butyrum leaned precariously. “Oh!” She placed her knife with exaggerated care beside her plate and folded her hands in her lap. Her eyes sought Mage and Tristan. She cleared her throat. With a shaky laugh, she pushed the plate toward the center of the table. “Ah, panis, anyone?”
“Angel.” Mage slipped from his chair and knelt by her, taking her hands in his, his beautiful face inches from her own. “No effort will be spared to keep you safe, you must know this.”
She nodded.
“If you will feel more comfortable, I will ask Lord DeKieran to accompany you and introduce you, though Tristan feels his brother and Adonia will welcome you with open arms,” said Mage.
“Is that what you think I should do… leave?”
“I want you safe. You will be safe in Nyth Uchel,” Mage said.
“What do you think?” Her gaze caught Tristan and lingered. “I don’t want to go. I feel safe here, with you. Can you protect me if I stay?”
Tristan shoved away from the table, stood and began to pace. “I can pro—You don’t—” He stopped, his back to her. With a negative jerk of his head, he clenched his fists and his posture sagged. “I want you to leave.”
Why? Pain cleared her mental fog. Leave for my safety? Or to clear your path to Mage? No… that’s unfair of me. Until she knew how Tris felt about her, about them, she was wrong to assign an ulterior motive to his words. Even so, an ache lingered. Head bowed, she dropped her gaze to her lap where Mage still captured her hands. She lifted a delicate shoulder and strove to keep the hurt from her voice. “Both of you want me gone, so I will leave. I don’t want to bring danger to either of you.”
Accompanied by a growl, Tris fisted a handful of her hair and jerked her head back. His lips smashed hers in a brutal kiss that robbed her of air and logical thought. For an endless moment, all she could do was surrender, swept up in the violence of the act. He broke off abruptly.
“I don’t give a whore’s fart about the danger to me and I’d have to be dead before I’d let anything happen to you or Mage, but I’d be a fool to disregard the significant threat of this new development.” His stare bored into her. “Are we clear?”
She sucked air in needy gasps, her bruised lips throbbed and the back of her head stung painfully from where he still gripped her hair—insignificant details. He cares. She made no attempt to subdue her brilliant smile. “Yes.”
His gaze raked her face and his manner softened. “Good.” He released her hair, cupped the back of her head in his hand and feathered a kiss across her lips as gentle and careful as the preceding had been vicious. He straightened and exchanged a heated glance with Mage. Mage released her hands and slipped back into his chair while Tris continued.
“No final decision is required until we locate the meks and can track them. Activity by any of us outside these apartments will draw attention. I can’t risk that until we know how many and where they are.”
“I’m at a delicate point in the treatment of one of my patients. I’d like to stay in Arkodaenia and complete her stage three protocol before leaving for… what was the name of the city?”
Tristan leaned a hip on the table. “Nyth Uchel. It’s a magickal place. It’s my home and Verdantia’s former capital. My brother’s an arrogant prick, but you’ll enjoy his wife, Adonia. She’s all that is gracious and gentle—until someone threatens Hel.”
“She’s the medical practitioner you spoke of? The one with the magick wand?”
“Yes.” His serious expression lightened and he studied her. “Can you ride a horse?”
Startled, she rocked back to look up at him. “As in an equus ferus caballus? A domesticated four-legged equine?”
He nodded.
Mage chuckled. “Don’t sound so horrified. It’s our mode of transport outside of Arkodaenia. We can arrange for a horse-drawn vehi
cle and driver, but riding would give you more freedom.”
She winced. “That vehicle and driver will be necessary. The closest I’ve been to a living horse is watching them race on a sports-vid.”
“How long will you need for the stage three protocol?” Tristan asked.
“A day or two? It depends on how the patient responds toher final cerebral-remapping. The emotional and behavioral therapy can continue without me, but I prefer to do the first psyche evaluation after remapping.”
Tristan’s gaze narrowed and sharpened. “Explain the cerebral-remapping. I’ve observed what you do, but why is it necessary?”
She welcomed his curiosity. Never far from her side, he’d watched her as she performed her job, and this was not the first indication of his interest. She’d interacted with him enough to know Tristan had a fine, disciplined mind. Why did he hide behind a womanizing, spit-in-the-eye-of-the-devil persona? She would ask him—but not today.
She drew in a deep breath and blew it out. “The medical technicians on Vxloncia mind-raped these women to create unnatural subservience by implanting a cache of behavioral script in their cerebral cortex. I locate the cache, remove it or map around it, and restore the woman’s innate personality. Once done, we run a psyche profile and begin behavior remodeling and emotional therapy.” She shrugged. “That’s a simplified explanation of a complex process that involves interweaving physical and psychological recovery. I’m good at this. My team and I have high success rates with this protocol. It’s why I’m here. My absence will interrupt my patients’ progress. I understand the requirement to protect me… but I don’t like that it affects my patients’ welfare.”
“Yes, we know, Angel,” said Mage.
Tristan and Mage wore dual expressions of respect. She dropped her head to cover her pleased smile. She felt more than saw Tristan’s long look of consideration.
“How much of your submission is due to the obscenities inflicted upon you on Vxloncia?”
She straightened in her chair and, chin up, held his gaze. “None. I’m satisfied my responses are mine and mine alone…Sir.” She shivered in delicious apprehension at the wicked gleam that appeared in his eyes.
“Back to my bedroom, both of you. The meks aren’t due for another day or so. We can sit here and go crazy waiting or spend the intervening time more… profitably.”
As they both rose from the table, Tristan reached for Mage’s arm and held him back. He murmured something inaudible in Magellan’s ear, though she caught the name of Ramsey DeKieran. Mage straightened as if surprised, paused and then nodded.
“All right.”
More shivers spiked throughout her at the expressions on their faces as each shot her a thoughtful glance. What sort of bed play did Tristan plan? What had Mage agreed to? Her nipples hardened. Gooseflesh erupted on her arms. She all but scampered to Tristan’s big bed, worry about her patients and the meks displaced with shivery anticipation.
***
Mage watched Angelica flit into the bedroom while Tristan contacted Ramsey. Well this is an unexpected turn. I wonder how she’ll feel about DeKieran’s presence. He snorted to himself. I wonder how I’ll feel.By the seven hells, it didn’t really matter. Whatever Tristan desired was fine with him. If Tris wanted to use them as subjects for instruction in téad de ghrásta, he had no objection.
He trusted DeKieran to remain professional. The man would enjoy his role as tutor. Mage hadn’t missed the appreciation in Ramsey’s eyes, but he knew from Angelica’s recount of DeKieran’s care for her on Vxloncia, the man was nothing if not disciplined and wholly loyal to his feisty “vixen.” I wonder if his wife will join him. So many beautiful bodies…I won’t know where to look.
While Mage wouldn’t describe himself as submissive, he suspected that anything Tris chose to do with him—or to him—would provoke his overactive libido, particularly if it involved the oh-so-delectable Angelica. Yes, erotic bondage would provide a compelling distractionfrom the meks. He chuckled to himself and sauntered after Angelica.
Chapter Fifteen
Mage eyed Tris as he prowled into the bedroom scant moments later. “That didn’t take long.”
Tris grunted. “No. It didn’t. He accepted and will be here shortly. Did you tell her?”
Mage shook his head. “This is your board game. I’m just one of the pieces.”
“Tell me what? What game?” Angelica asked.
“DeKieran offered to expand my skills in téad de ghrástausing you and Magellan as subjects. I accepted.” Tris leveled a steady gaze on Angelica. “Objections?”
“I don’t know what téad de ghrástais.”
“The term means ‘grace of the rope.’ It is the ancient art of bondage used to confine without injury in an elegant, artistic fashion. Ramsey DeKieran is an artista maestro. I have been presented with a rare opportunity to learn from a master of this art. So I ask again. If you have objections, voice them. Remember I allow no abuse of what is mine.”
Her gaze found Mage and asked a question. He shrugged. “I have no problem with it. You might find it arouses you. You enjoy bondage.”
She studied her feet for several moments before looking up at Tristan. “You are simply going to tie us up with fancy knots?”
“That’s one way of putting it, yes.”
“Is sex involved?”
“Afterward, definitely.”
“With Dominus DeKieran?”
“Absolutely not. I share you with no one but Magellan.”
“Ah.” She looked down and nodded.
A frown skittered across Tristan’s face. “Disappointed?”
When she raised her head, her eyes gleamed with soft emotion, and her gaze caressed Mage and Tristan. “Not even a little.”
Tris grunted in satisfaction. “Mage, strip.”
He pointed to a space in the middle of the room and dropped a pillow from the bed onto the floor. “Angelica, here. Get comfortable. You’ll be there a while.” She began to shrug out of her robe as she crossed to him, and he eyed her, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Leave your robe on.”
“Are you allowing her clothing because you are protecting what is ‘yours’ from another’s eyes or to spare her embarrassment?”
Tris shrugged. “Both.” He grinned. “I confess, mostly the first.”
From the softening of her features and her murmur of thanks, she appreciated his efforts. To Mage, it was another indication Tristan cared more for the doctor than he would admit.
Tris pointed to a space several feet from Angelica. “Mage, stand here. Spread your legs shoulder width. Let your arms hang naturally. For this first lesson, you will be my model.”
***
DeKieran did bring his wife. An odalisque of stunning sexuality had replaced the businesslike captain of the Blue Daggers. Instead of her black synth-skin, white aqua-texclung as if painted on and covered her from chin to ankle. A waist-length ponytail anchored high on her head swept her lustrous red hair back from her face. Interrupting the expanse of virginal white, a massive, beaten gold collar clasped her neck—an emphatic and costly proclamation about her relationship with her husband.
Lord Ramsey had covered Steffania head-to-toe, but the overall effect was anything but modest. Such a visual tease of the carnal senses would arouse any male with an ounce of testosterone. Mage had never lacked that particular hormone, and while he fully acknowledged her desirability, the Blue Dagger could never quench his thirst. He required Angelica or Tristan—preferably both—to satisfy his desire.
Opening a large black satchel, Ramsey removed multiple lengths of flat, black ribbon and aimed an amiable expression at Angelica and Magellan. Mage considered his smile less than reassuring. He couldn’t speak for Angelica.
“I think for your purposes, Tristan, this ribbon will work as well as rope.” Ram’s gaze steadied on Mage for a moment. “And it is kinder to intimate skin.” His gaze returned to Tris. “Steffania will act as my model. You said you will start with Captain
DeLan.”
As anothersubject of the demonstration, it seemed natural to seek eye contact with Steffania. He couldn’t readily identify the mix of emotions that swirled through his brain—curiosity, arousal, vulnerability, anticipation. They all fed into an unsettling mix.
Palpable arousal shone from her eyes as Ramsey demonstrated the arrangement of intricate rope diamonds beginning at each of her ankles and climbing to the tops of her thighs. Her formidable husband kidnapped her attention from almost the beginning. The atmosphere in the room grew charged with their erotic interplay. Only Ram’s occasional observation or quiet, “No, watch… like this. Run this band underneath, ensure that it’s flat, and then bring the tail over, thus,” hinted that the man’s attention wavered from the stunning redhead he adorned in patterns of black on white.
Lances of sensation burst through Mage’s groin. With unsettling speed, his cock stiffened as Tris caressed his abdomen and placed lingering kisses along the fine line of hair bisecting Mage’s torso while he mirrored Ramsey’s work. The steady seduction of the wide ribbon weaving up his splayed legs provided an unexpected source of arousal, and his cock responded as much to that titillation as to Tristan’s appreciative touches and kisses as he bound Mage with broad ribbon. Each wrap was a loving stroke against his psyche. Tristan, finally. The combination mesmerized him and stole all his senses until he was aware of little else but the prince.
From the reverence in Tristan’s intent concentration and the ever-growing bulge in his black trousers, Mage knew Tris was as lost in him as he was in Tristan. Another ribbon turn and Trisfinally relaxed his hands against his work and checked on Mage’s state. Tristan’s eyes met his, and a final understanding crossed between them. Tris might as well have bound Mage’s heart in addition to his calves and thighs, for with each twist of the ribbon, Tristan had wordlessly declared, I must have you, and Mage had silently answered,Take me.I’m yours.
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