Blurred Memories

by Kallysten

  “I’ve always been a slow learner,” he grunted, and tightened his opening around Marc’s finger.

  Both Marc’s sharp intake of breath and Kate’s gasping chuckle were lovely.

  “I’m gonna side with Blake on that one,” she slurred the words a little. “Com’ on, Marc. Don’t make us wait any longer.”

  Outvoted, Marc gave in. His finger retreated and was quickly replaced by the slick, thick head of his cock pressing against Blake’s entrance. Blake tried to push back against it, but Marc gripped his hips and held him in place with a shaky, “Let me.”

  For a second, Blake wanted to remind Marc that holding him down was not a good idea, but that thought disappeared, along with everything else, when Marc finally slid inside him, his movements still agonizingly slow. He rocked his way inside Blake’s body with tiny, nearly imperceptible thrusts that nonetheless made Blake’s entire body press inside Kate so that they were both moaning long before Marc was fully sheathed inside Blake. After all this time, the pressure was exquisite. When Marc was all the way inside, he pressed his torso against Blake’s back and kissed the nape of his neck.

  “Is this all right?” he asked, tension crackling like electricity in his words.

  “Only if you start moving,” Blake groaned. “Otherwise I think I’ll self-combust.”

  Marc pressed a quiet laugh to Blake’s back and finally—finally!—started to move. His hips slid in long, slow movements, and with each of them, Blake’s body moved over Kate again.

  Memories teased the edge of Blake’s consciousness. He remembered how he used to want this before he had been taken. He had maneuvered and plotted to bring his lovers closer together, so that they would share each other and him. Marc used to call Blake greedy when he brought it up, and that might still have been true even after all this time, because Blake only wanted one thing: everything.

  And everything was exactly what he had right now.

  The three of them settled into a slow rhythm: arching, pushing, thrusting against each other like the steps of an intricate dance. Kate had been close to pleasure before, but now she fell into the abyss, waves rocking her with a succession of small orgasms. Her heart fluttered like music, her moans further notes in that symphony, and Blake kissed them off her lips to make them his own.

  The entire time, she clung to Blake, her fingers flexing on his shoulders, waist, and neck; Marc’s hands held him just as tightly. Snug between them, connected to them by flesh and love, Blake felt anchored, safe. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had truly felt safe. He also couldn’t remember the last time he had been so close to them, and not just in a physical way.

  Without Marc or Kate needing to say a word, their fingers entwined on Blake’s hips. Marc’s rhythm picked up, his hips slapping faster and faster against Blake. With each of his thrusts, Kate moaned, urging Marc onward, her slick walls tightening and releasing around Blake’s cock. It was all Blake could do to hang on and let this last a little longer. With each thrust, each squeeze, harsh breaths wheezed out of Blake.

  “Tell me what you want,” Marc asked, almost growling.

  “Tell us,” Kate echoed, her gaze burning as it held Blake’s.

  That question, at least, was easy to answer. “You,” he panted. “Both of you.” The rest of it came out as a plea. “Don’t let go of me.”

  “You’ve got us,” Kate said, even as Marc replied, “You’re ours. We’re not losing you again.”

  Kate raised her head to kiss Blake. At the same moment her lips touched Blake’s, Marc’s mouth pressed to the crook of Blake’s neck and bit down. Fire shot through Blake, ignited by both kiss and bite. His body jerked as he came. The next second, they followed him over the edge.

  Their bodies fell apart, but they all remained close as they rearranged themselves on the bed. As pleasure ebbed away, one thought remained in Blake’s mind: he loved them both more than his own life, and it would kill him to lose one of them now.

  * * * *

  Kate fell asleep first. Damp strands of hair stuck to her cheeks and forehead. She lay curled against Blake’s side, her head resting over his heart, her hand on his shoulder. She had never looked so beautiful. Marc’s fingers twitched at his side. He itched to reach out to her and caress her, not to rouse her but simply to touch her again, connect with her, enjoy her warmth a little longer.

  The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up, however. He needed her to be asleep, and Blake as well. Unfortunately, Blake still seemed to be fully awake, his hand sweeping lightly over Kate’s mussed hair but his gaze directed unflinchingly at Marc.

  “See?” Blake told Marc in a whisper. “All better. Just fine. I don’t need you to run off and be a hero.”

  Despite himself, Marc couldn’t help but smile. Another small glimpse of the old Blake. It just wasn’t enough.

  “This has nothing to do with playing hero,” he replied as quietly. “You know it never was about that.”

  Blake blinked very slowly, an agreement of sorts. “Does that mean you’re not going?”

  If Marc had given Blake the answer he wanted to hear, it would have been a lie. So he didn’t reply, and said instead, “I’m sorry I didn’t find a way to come for you. I should have tried harder. I should have—”

  “So you are going, then,” Blake interrupted him. “That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

  Slowly because he didn’t know whether his touch would be welcome or not, Marc reached out and passed his fingers through Blake’s hair. Blake closed his eyes briefly, but when he opened them again, he stared at Marc, demanding an answer.

  “I have to go,” Marc whispered. “I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t. I know it can’t make up for not rescuing you, but—”

  Blake interrupted him again, this time with a kiss that was all teeth and desperation. Marc returned it with the same force, finally dropping his fangs to cut his own tongue and add his blood to the kiss in offering. Blake made a little sound in his throat, quiet and yet frantic.

  “Promise me you’ll come back,” Blake whispered as he pulled away. “Just promise you…”

  He swallowed hard and didn’t finish.

  Marc ran his fingers over Blake’s features, desperate to touch now that he knew Blake wouldn’t flinch away.

  “Of course I’ll come back,” Marc murmured. “I’ll always come back for you. You know that, don’t you?”

  Blake didn’t respond. Marc leaned in again and brushed a kiss across Blake’s mouth before doing the same to Kate’s forehead.

  “I’ll be back soon,” Marc said when he sat up and slipped out of bed. “Tell her that for me, all right? I’ll be back before either of you even has time to miss me.”

  He got dressed with his back to the bed and wasn’t sure whether he imagined the whispered words.

  “Already do.”

  Chapter 17

  Marc raised his closed fist, but before he could knock on the door, it swung open to reveal a grim Simon. He clutched the leather bag in which he kept his magic supplies to his chest with one arm and nodded at Marc.

  “Ready,” he said before Marc could ask. “Let’s go.”

  For all the determination he tried to project, however, his scent told a very different story. He was scared, which wasn’t much of a surprise. From the very first time they had met, fear had seemed to be Simon’s primary emotion. But back then, it had paralyzed him. Not anymore. He strode by Marc’s side with an outward appearance of confidence.

  After their conversation that morning, and after seeing how much on edge Simon had been during the squad meeting, Marc had been half certain that he would need to convince Simon again. Seeing Simon determined enough to act despite his own fear was unexpected, but truly welcome.

  Before the elevator doors had even closed on them, Simon was already opening his bag and pulling out a small plastic jar. He twisted open the lid, picked up a pinch of a silvery powder and threw it over Marc before dosing himself the same way.

&nb
sp; “Hey!” Marc batted at the sparkles on his shirt. “What are you—”

  “Hush,” Simon demanded.

  The word startled Marc so much that he found himself staring at Simon. He soon understood what was going on, however; Simon recited a brief incantation, and suddenly his reflection on the mirror-like doors of the elevator disappeared.

  “You didn’t need glitter the last time you did a glamour,” Marc said, still a little annoyed he had let himself be surprised.

  “It’s not glitter,” Simon huffed. “For your information, it’s a focus aid. So the glamour will hold on even if crossing the breach changes the strength of my magic.”

  In a whisper, he added, “Or at least it should hold on.” Marc probably wasn’t supposed to have heard that last part. In any case, he didn’t comment on it.

  “I didn’t expect you to come so early,” Simon added after a second. “There’s still sunlight outside. Isn’t that going to be a problem?”

  You didn’t expect me, but you were ready, Marc thought, although he didn’t say it. Instead he answered Simon’s question. “We’ll have to be careful, but at least the road out of town won’t be barricaded yet. With any luck, we’ll be through before they even realize we’re gone.”

  At that point, he fell silent; the elevator had stopped on the office floor. Jen’s cell was only feet away—and so was the soldier guarding her door. Signaling Simon to be quiet, Marc stalked toward the soldier. He almost tripped over his own feet when Simon said behind him in a clear voice, “You do understand the concept of a glamour, right? He can’t hear you any more than he can see you. There’s no point in tiptoeing.”

  Marc glared back at him, although he didn’t reply. He advanced toward the soldier and struck once, a precise blow on the side of his head. The guard went down without a cry; Marc caught him before he could make noise as he fell.

  “The key card,” he told Simon urgently. “It should be in his pocket.”

  With a nod, Simon searched the guard and found the key to Jen’s cell. While Simon opened the door, Marc had to wonder what the scene would look like to someone passing by, with the soldier floating in the air as though carried by a ghost. He didn’t have time to wonder very long, however; already Simon was entering the cell, Marc right on his heels. Marc set the soldier down and watched Jen’s reaction. She was sitting very rigidly on her cot, frowning in their approximate direction.

  “Pretty good,” she sniffed lightly. “Not even your smell betrays you.”

  Simon snorted as he threw some of the silvery powder over her and recited his incantation. He waited until she was under the spell too before he said, “Of course there’s no smell. I’m not stupid. And if I were you, I wouldn’t talk about betrayal.”

  Jen didn’t seem fazed in the least by the magic, although she did raise a mildly surprised eyebrow at Simon and sniffed again. Now that she was within the folds of the glamour, she could smell Simon’s scent, and Marc understood her surprise: Simon was still scared, almost terrified. But still, he turned to the door and said, “Let’s go. No time to lose.”

  They left the hotel together; minutes later, Simon, who had shed the glamour on himself so it wouldn’t seem like the car was operating on its own, drove them out of the city, Jen and Marc hiding from the sun under blankets. Now that he was so close to Jen, Marc realized that she, too, smelled like fear, although she did her best to hide it.

  Looking inside himself, Marc searched for the same fear his companions shared, and found nothing. He wasn’t scared, not at all. He was doing the right thing, and that thought alone was enough to push him onward. He would free those prisoners, destroy the prison, help Simon close the breach—and then maybe he wouldn’t feel quite so guilty anymore when he looked at Blake.

  * * * *

  Kate snapped back to consciousness, going from the deepest slumber to full awareness in the time of a blink. It only took her a second longer to realize what had awakened her.

  A whimper.

  Blake’s whimper.

  It tore at her heart like claws. She sat up in bed, her hand searching for him next to her but finding only an empty bed. She looked around the room and discovered two things: Marc was nowhere to be seen, and Blake was sitting in the corner, hunched over his raised knees, naked and trembling.

  Immediately she knew where Marc was. After all, he had told her where he was going.

  Why had she believed that a few moments of shared pleasure would change his mind? Blake had seemed to think his ‘proof,’ as he called it, would be enough, but surely Kate should have known better.

  She stumbled out of bed, feeling a little numb, and immediately slid to her knees. She remembered what Blake had said about how he didn’t like seeing her kneel, but he seemed too far gone to care right then. She wasn’t even sure he could see her or hear her when she said his name.

  “Blake…look at me, please.”

  But his gaze remained clouded, unfocused. Every few seconds, he banged his head against the wall behind him. Kate was almost surprised not to see blood there already. She wrapped her hand around the back of his head, cushioning his head the next time he jerked back. Her other hand cupped his face, and she stroked his cheek, trying to draw Blake’s attention to her.

  “Blake.”

  Her voice was louder this time, almost commanding. It was the voice she used on the battlefield, and it felt oddly appropriate at the moment, especially because it seemed to work. With a slow blink, Blake’s gaze focused on her.

  “Calm down,” she demanded in the same tone. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Blake’s mouth worked soundlessly for a few seconds before words finally rose, no louder than a whisper.

  “He’s gone.”

  Kate’s stomach lurched as her fears were confirmed. She knew what he meant, and still she heard herself ask, “Marc? He…He left?”

  “I showed him,” Blake said, now pleading. “I showed him I was better, and he left anyway. Why didn’t he believe me?”

  Because you’re not better, Kate thought, but she couldn’t voice the words, not when Blake was looking at her with heartbreak in his eyes. She pressed the briefest of kisses to his lips and tried to smile.

  “I’m sure he believed you. That’s not why he went. And maybe there’s still time. Let’s get dressed, all right? Can you do that for me?”

  For a few seconds, Blake gave her such a blank look that she wasn’t sure he was still with her. When she started to rise, however, he followed her movement. She handed him his clothes. After a beat, he started to get dressed. Kate picked up her own clothes from the floor but only set them on the desk. First, she needed to make a call. Maybe there was still time, but only if she acted quickly. She picked up the phone and dialed the number for Daniel’s office. It rang five times before Daniel picked up and barked a terse, “What is it?”

  “It’s me,” she said quickly, keeping an eye on Blake’s progress; boxers and t-shirt, and now his overshirt. “Marc cooked up this crazy plan. He wants to go to the demon dimension with—”

  “Jen,” Daniel finished in a tired voice. “Which is how she escaped. Great.”

  “There’s still time,” Kate said urgently. “We can catch them before they get to the breach.”

  Blake stilled, his fingers trembling on the buttons of his shirt. “I told you, he’s gone,” he murmured, at the same time as Daniel said at the other end of the line, “He already went through. I can’t feel him anymore. It’s like what he said happened to him when Blake was taken.”

  “Gone,” Blake repeated. His hand dropped to his thigh and scratched the tattoo.

  Kate hung up the phone without another word and went to him, wrapping her arms around him and holding him as tightly as she could.

  “He’ll be back,” she whispered. “He’ll come back for us.”

  She meant each and every word, but seeing Blake so distraught still had an effect on her. As much as she understood why Marc had done it, she also wished he hadn’t. Marc could
take care of himself—she knew that—but more danger lurked on the other side of the breach than she even wanted to imagine. She had no idea how to calm Blake, how to stop him from trembling against her, when she was so close to shaking herself.

  * * * *

  Blake’s world was whirling, everything too blurry for him to distinguish, like he was caught in a tornado. He tried to cling to reality, but there was nothing for him to hold on to, nothing but this truth:

  Marc was gone.

  Marc, or his Master?

  It didn’t matter. He was gone. He had abandoned Blake. And as Blake tried to understand why, more and more reasons kept being added to the list. He had done everything wrong. He had broken more rules than he would ever have thought possible. It was a wonder Marc hadn’t left earlier. A wonder that he hadn’t disciplined Blake long before now.

  Had it been a test, maybe? Had he let Blake do as he pleased to see exactly how badly he would behave? If it had been a test, Blake had undoubtedly failed. And that was why Marc was gone.

  Why he wouldn’t be back.

  Would he?

  “Come on, Blake. You’re hurting yourself again. Stop it.”

  A hand curled around his wrist and pulled his fingers away from his thigh. He looked down, and blinked when he saw the blood that covered the tingling skin and obscured his tattoo. The same blood stained his fingers. Kate’s hand was clean, though. Clean and tight over his wrist, holding him safe. His Master was gone, but she was there.

  Was she part of the test? Was their Master watching, somehow? He always seemed to know everything that happened in Blake’s cell. Would the punishment be even worse if Blake listened to her or let her touch him?

  Instinctively, he scrambled away from where she was sitting on the floor next to him. She looked pained, but she had to understand that he was only moving back to protect her. Surely, she could understand as much. She had been hurt often enough for being kind to him to remember…