by Kate Hill
Brice kissed the top of his wife’s head. “I want more dessert. Anybody else?”
* * * * *
After dinner, Trey took Nadia back to his office to discuss the finer points of Photoshop. Piper found it interesting that shapeshifters seemed to gravitate toward artistic pursuits—Trey was much more skilled at the graphic design aspects of his chosen profession than the technical side. Maybe it was related to their ability to recreate a human face in such intricate detail. Or maybe she was completely off the mark—after all, she’d only met a few shapeshifters, and, to be fair, really only knew Trey. But it was an interesting theory.
Brice, who had been putting away the dishes, came back out carrying a cup of coffee. He glanced toward the door that Trey had just opened for Nadia and smiled.
“She loves passing on tips on blending and smudge tools and whatever.” Settling into a chair across from Piper, he shrugged. “I don’t understand a damn word she says about it half the time.”
“Maybe she’ll teach him something,” Piper said. She’d wanted to tag along, but it hadn’t seemed right.
Brice nodded. “They wanted a little alone time, I think.”
“Yeah.”
Sipping his coffee, Brice studied Piper’s face. “Does that bother you?”
“Of course it bothers me. Doesn’t it bother you?” Quickly, Piper collected herself, embarrassed at the near-outburst. She’d been fairly calm the entire evening, taking things in stride—why was she hitting the end of her rope now, when things were actually calmer than they’d been most of the day?
“Yeah.” Brice’s voice was calm, unruffled, but he looked at Piper and she saw a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “But I think you and I could use a little alone time, too.”
Surprised, Piper looked up at him. His expression was open, searching her at the same time.
“I suppose we could,” Piper conceded. She let her gaze fall from his, her attention going instead to his hands. They were good hands, square, with nicely tapered fingers. She thought about what they might feel like touching her, kneading her breasts, working her cunt. She fought the urge to close her eyes, to lose herself in the thought.
A smile curled the corner of Brice’s mouth, as if perhaps he realized what she was thinking, and she felt her own face go hot at the thought. He leaned back in his chair and picked up his coffee cup.
“How…” she ventured, but paused, gathering courage before she went on. “How does Nadia feel about…this?”
“She very much wants to have a child. She has for a long time.” Brice’s voice was low and serious. “I want a family, too, and if this is the only way, then…” He trailed off, then looked up at her, meeting her gaze squarely. “I love her. I knew what I was getting into when I married her. I knew this would happen, and we had talked about it. We came very close about three years ago, then Mesharet pulled the rug out from under us—” He shook his head. “I can’t see her go through that again. She wants this more than anything.”
Piper nodded soberly. “I understand that.”
“What about you? Do you want a baby?”
“I do.” She answered immediately, without thinking. And it was true—she did. “I do. I just…hadn’t pictured it happening this way.”
“Did you ever picture yourself meeting and marrying anyone like Trey?”
“No. Of course not.” She smiled a little, his point taken.
“Neither did I. Neither did Nadia, and I’m sure Trey didn’t plan any of this, either.” The words could have been taken as criticism, but his tone was gentle. He shrugged, picking up his coffee cup again. “We just have to make the best of it.”
Piper eyed him, until her scrutiny seemed to make him uncomfortable. Finally she said, quietly, “Do you love her?”
“Of course I do. Why else would I do this?”
Smiling, Piper nodded. “I think I like you,” she said. “Maybe that’ll make things easier.”
“I hope so.” He looked away, his expression a little embarrassed, and rubbed his hands on his jeans. “Because honestly, Piper, I’m nervous as hell.”
To her own surprise, Piper laughed. “Yeah. So am I.” Suddenly daring, she reached over and laid a hand on his knee. “That honestly makes me feel a lot better. Thank you.”
Brice laid his hand on top of hers. The contact warmed her, and suddenly she thought of herself not as having sex with him, but as mothering his child, nurturing a part of him inside her. She smiled.
“It’ll be okay.”
* * * * *
Brice and Nadia bid them farewell a few hours later. Alone in her bathroom, Piper changed into her pajamas and regarded herself in the mirror. Nothing had changed since the last time she had looked at herself. She wondered if she would look different after she became a mother.
In the bedroom, Trey had already settled into bed. Piper crawled in next to him and slid against him, cradling her head against his chest. Surprised, Trey lifted his arm and put it around her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to cuddle a little.”
He nodded and kissed her hair. “I can live with that.”
Closing her eyes, she nuzzled into him, breathing in his smell, smiling. She fit against him as if she was meant to be there. Sometimes she wondered if he had arranged himself that way, made his body a certain shape, just so she could lie here like this, pillowed against his heartbeat.
“Kiss me,” she said, and he obligingly bent down to press his lips to hers. She leaned into the kiss, savoring his taste, the subtle flavors that had made her certain which man had been him.
After a time, he drew back. “How did you know?”
She smiled up at him. “That. What you just did. The way you kiss me. The way you taste.”
“I didn’t try very hard.”
“I know. That was part of it, too.”
He stroked her hair, his fingers gentle, soft. “I like knowing you can do that.”
“Me, too.”
“I can’t believe you kissed Nadia, though. Man—she was all over you.”
Piper chuckled, settling back against Trey’s body. “Yeah, she surprised me, too.”
“I knew it was her. That made it hotter.”
“Well, play your cards right, maybe I’ll kiss her again while she looks like a woman.”
He bent his head back to look into her eyes. “Don’t tease me like that.”
“What makes you think I’m teasing? I’ve kissed you when you were a woman. Made love to you, even.”
His expression sobered. “Yes, you have.”
“All right, then. So you know I can be flexible.”
“I know you can be flexible with me.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what might happen. It’s not exactly the kind of situation I’m familiar with.”
“But you’re willing to accept it.” His fingers traced her face. “That means a great deal to me.”
“I want a baby.” Her tone was firm, stubborn. She was surprised by its intractability.
“It’s more than that, though,” said Trey, and he caressed her forehead, slipped the tips of his fingers into her hair.
She nodded. “I know. Please don’t ask me to explain.”
“I won’t.”
“Because I don’t think I can.”
“I won’t ask. I promise.”
His heartbeat was firm and steady beneath her ear. The rhythm had picked up a bit as they had spoken. It seemed quick and eager now, a slightly accelerated pitter-patter to match his quickened breath.
“I love you,” she said, and turned her head, and kissed his bare chest.
Chapter Four
Trey had to acquire supplies, before they could pursue the ritual in earnest. Some were easily obtained at the local health food store—herbs, a certain kind of scented candle, essential oils—but others were more difficult to find. A particular kind of wine, for instance, produced by a shapeshifter colony in North Africa. He ended up on the phone ag
ain with Nadia, who agreed to meet with him for lunch, so they could discuss the situation.
“I know where we can get the wine for half that price,” she told him, daintily eating the French fries that had come with her veggie melt. She’d only eaten a couple of bites of the sandwich.
“Is it authentic? I think that’s important.”
“Yeah, it’s authentic.” She trailed a fry through the puddle of ketchup and mayonnaise she’d made in her plate. “I’m wondering if we should do this.”
Trey eyed her quizzically. “Really? You’ve been waiting a long time. Is Brice…is he having difficulty with the situation?”
“Of course he is. He’d never admit it, though.”
She picked at her sandwich finally, opening it up and taking out the circles of black olives, eating them one by one.
“What about you?” Trey asked. He knew this would be difficult for all of them, but he was surprised Nadia was actually considering backing out, as long as she’d waited.
Still not looking at Trey, Nadia took a long breath. “It’s not an easy thing. But nothing about what we are is ever easy.”
“That’s true.”
They sat in silence for a time while Nadia finally gave her sandwich the attention it deserved. Trey pulled out his cell phone and called the number Nadia supplied to acquire the wine. A short conversation, interspersed with “passwords” only another shapeshifter would use as everyday vocabulary, assured Trey the supplier was genuine.
Finally finished with lunch, and with all the necessary preparations either done or in progress, Trey walked Nadia back to her car.
“I’ll call you in a couple of days, then,” he told her. “As soon as everything’s ready, we can decide on a date and time.”
“Undoubtedly based on mutual fertility cycles, temperature, and the phase of the moon.” She gave a wry smile. “Romantic. Another issue, I guess.”
Trey looked at her, noting her strained expression. “I think it’ll be all right. It’ll be fine in the long run.”
She nodded. “I’m sure it will be. It’s just…getting through the short run that’s giving me some issues.”
He cupped her face gently and smiled. “Don’t worry. Worry will make it worse.”
“I know.” She smiled back at him, looking a little more relieved than nervous, finally. He watched her get into the car and closed the door behind her, then headed for his own car, and home.
* * * * *
“How was lunch?” Piper asked him when he came home.
“It was fine.” He laid his bags of purchases on the table and she walked over to take a look. She unloaded the bags, examining each item as she took it out.
“Interesting shopping you’ve done here,” she commented.
“It’s for the ritual.”
She set down a small bag of loose, dried sage. “I see.”
Trey turned at her tone. “Are you all right?”
Piper shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I will be.” She gave him a direct look. “This isn’t going to be easy. For any of us.”
He stepped up to her and put his hands on her shoulders, gently. “I know. But we’ll do what we can. We’ll keep it together.” He kissed her forehead. “We’ll keep it holy.”
She looked up at him, then suddenly reached up to grab the back of his neck. Pulling him down, she kissed him, hard and needy.
The suddenness of it, the urgency, surprised him. He put an arm around her, holding her close, as she harshly plundered his mouth. Her teeth scraped his tongue almost painfully, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
He drew back as gently as he could, considering her intensity. “Piper, what’s wrong?”
“I need you.” Her voice was soft, a little broken. “I just… I need you.”
He nodded, understanding on a level that didn’t allow words. Her fingers clenched into his shoulders again, and she dragged him backwards, until she was against the kitchen cabinet.
He kissed her as hard as she seemed to need him to, holding her with one arm wrapped around her waist, the other braced against the cabinet. She moved in his embrace, jumping up onto the cabinet, wrapping her legs around him.
“You’re mine,” she said against his face. “Mine. You know that. I own you. Because of what you did—”
He silenced her with his mouth, his tongue pressing against hers. His hands moved down her body, cupping her breasts, her hips, soothing and quieting her. When she seemed less frantic, he moved back a little.
“Yes. You own me. Now and always. Nothing will ever change that.”
She fell against him, letting him support her. The action both flattered and disturbed him. She trusted him to save her from falling—hopefully in more ways than one.
He sensed what she needed, the emotion shivering over the surface of her consciousness, just there where he could read it. Following her need, he jerked at her shirt, tearing it off over her head and throwing it across the room. He jerked her bra open, roughly, threw it, as well. He thought he heard it hit one of the kitchen chairs, but he wasn’t sure.
She gasped as he bent forward and took her breast in his mouth, his teeth scraping her nipple until she cried out. He could feel her urgency, her need. She needed to be…branded, she was thinking. Marked. The thought made his own desire rise, hot and intense, filling him. He wanted her, wanted to own her before he had to let her go, even that little bit, for that short time it would take to do what they needed to do.
Releasing her breast from his mouth, he cupped it with his hand, mounding the firm, round flesh against her body. She pressed her face against his hair, breathing hard. “I need you inside me,” she managed. “Hard. Fast. Now.”
He knew this, of course. But decided it might not be prudent to point out there would be a slight delay, since she still had on her jeans. Instead he jerked the button open and yanked the zipper down, shoving his hand between jeans and panties. The soft cotton was damp under his fingers and she opened her thighs convulsively as he touched her there. He could feel the soft, springy cushion of hair, the heat, the outline of her labia, the protrusion of her clit between hot, swollen lips.
She jerked under his touch, fingers digging into his shoulders. The tip of his finger grazed lightly over the pebbled nub, teasing. Feathery contact, barely a touch at all, just enough to stimulate, arouse, ignite her.
The warmth of her desire moved over him like water. He kissed her throat, licking her skin, sucking at her pulse, while his fingers traced the shape of her sex beneath her panties. The heat pooled there, greatest above her opening. He pushed in a little, taking the cotton with him, feeling the wetness soak through and drench his fingers as he did so.
He could smell her, the rich, musky odor of her desire floating to him. His cock strained against his zipper, shifting in its own, instinctive way, growing larger, changing shape so that when he entered her it would fill her completely. The shape of the inside of her body had imprinted on him; his cock filled her exactly every time, unless he made a conscious effort to shorten, lengthen, thicken, or narrow. After two years he still hadn’t explored all the combinations, still hadn’t found all the ways he could love her.
He lifted her against him, raising her hips off the counter so he could push off her jeans and panties. She grabbed at them, too, shoving them over the curve of her ass, out of the way, then kicked them off her feet. They hit the floor in a soft shush of collapsing fabric. He settled her back on the cabinet, and she lifted her knees, draping one over each of his shoulders.
Trey looked down. She was open, thighs spread, so he could look into the wide, damp folds of her sex, the dark, curling hair, the open channel of her vagina. He went to his knees in front of the cabinet and buried his face between her legs.
She gasped, arching back. He shoved his tongue inside her, tasting the thick, sweet salt of her arousal. Sucked hard at the slick, tender flesh of her labia until she dug her fingers into his scalp and cried out.
“Too much?” he ask
ed, lips moving right against her heat.
“No. No. No.”
Her grasp on his head wasn’t urging him away, but it wasn’t moving him forward, either. He eased back a little, licking softly, feeling her clit harden and rise under his ministrations. She was pushing into him a little, encouraging him, and he could feel the shivery tension growing in her thighs. He stroked her there, fingers slipping softly over the velvety skin.
So close. He could sense it, knew she was nearly there, ready to topple over the precipice into orgasm. He didn’t want her to. Not yet. Backing away, he traced his tongue along the insides of her thighs.
“God,” she breathed. “Don’t stop.”
He chuckled. “I’m not stopping. Just taking a break.”
“You don’t need to take a break.”
“You were about to come.”
“I know!”
Her obvious annoyance amused him. “It was too soon.”
“Not for me.”
“Yes, it was.” He sobered, straightening. He pressed his chest to hers. “That’s not what you need.”
She looked into his face, her own expression softening. Tears pooled in her eyes and he touched her face.
“What do I need?” she asked him.
“This.”
He shifted, his hips moving her thigh apart, he shoved inside her, hard, all the way to the root in a single stroke. She gasped and grabbed his hair, her fingers twisting in the strands until he felt some separate from his scalp. Her head tipped back and her eyes went dark, almost vacant, empty of anything but lust.
“Who am I?” he demanded. He shoved into her again, impaling her, taking her hard, so she could feel it deep inside her, as deep inside her as he could go.
“Trey,” she said, automatically, he thought. Her eyes met his briefly and he heard her swallow. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, fingernails nearly breaking his skin.
“You’re mine,” he said, his voice rough as he speared her. “Mine. Always.”
“Yes…”
He reached between them and touched her clit, gently, in contrast to the rough violence of his penetration. Her body lurched, then shuddered at the contact, then suddenly she let out a low, keening moan and he felt her come apart around him, her body pulsing on his cock. His own breath hitched and his body, too, let go, his release tearing through him as he emptied deep inside her.