Pervade London

by Fewings, Vanessa

  Intrigued, I slid the gloves on and watched him approach a chrome cabinet. After he punched in a sequence of numbers on a panel I heard a click. James pulled on a pair of gloves himself and reached in to remove a small tray, upon which rested an arrowhead, its worn down point proving it had been used back in its day. James lifted it from the tray and carried it over to me, leaning forward so he could show it off.

  “How old is it?”

  “1271. From a crusade stronghold.” He let it slip into my gloved palm.

  I held it reverently. “Where was it found?”

  “Scotland. More specifically, in the ribs of a skeleton.”

  “How come you have it?”

  “It’s part of my family’s treasures.”

  “Your ancestors are Scottish?”

  “On my dad’s side.”

  There was something else I had to ask. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

  James blinked in surprise. “How would you feel if I admitted I had?”

  “I would be sad for you.”

  “Me?”

  “That you had to live with that.”

  His expression changed, becoming somber. “If you knew innocent lives had been saved because of it you would not judge me so harshly.”

  “Enough lives to make it worthwhile?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “Did you like doing it?”

  His brow furrowed, but it was in response to my robe falling open, revealing my breasts…and my sex. I let it stay like that to distract him.

  I studied his face. “I don’t judge you.”

  “Yes, you do,” he said, as his jeans brushed my bare thighs, sending a jolt of arousal through me.

  “You want to ruin my life.” I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his.

  He stepped back, biting his lip seductively. “Want to see something special?”

  I tried to keep my mind on the ancient artifact in my hand.

  His gaze fell to my lips. “I’ll get it.” He lifted the arrowhead out of my palm with care.

  After he stepped away, I drew in a sharp breath, trying to erase the effect he was having on me. But there was no denying that my clit was still throbbing from the way he’d brushed up against me in a devilish tease.

  He pressed a button and the arrowhead was returned to its drawer. From the same cabinet he withdrew a gold crown inlaid with emeralds and rubies.

  I reached out to take it from him. He pulled it out of reach.

  I rested my hands in my lap. “Sorry, it’s just so pretty.”

  “It was destined for Queen Anne Boleyn.”

  “It’s so beautiful.”

  Mystical even, the way the fluorescent light bounced off the jewels, transmuting them into shards of colorful light. My thoughts raced over what I knew about Henry the Eighth’s second wife, who had fallen victim to his passion for beheading his women.

  My thighs widened again to give James the room he needed to get closer and he confidently stepped between them. I exhaled sharply as I felt the pressure of his erection through his jeans. It gently rubbed against my clit, causing my lips to quiver at being kept in a climactic holding pattern.

  “Dazzling,” he whispered.

  We both looked down at the crown he was holding.

  “Anne and I belong to the same club,” he said matter-of-factly, “both of us were destined for the throne.”

  “She was beheaded.” My voice sounded breathy.

  “I fared better.”

  “Does it make you sad you aren’t king?”

  He looked amused. “I fulfill my role in other ways.”

  “How?”

  “I ensure Britain remains a sovereign state.”

  “It’s not the same as being king?”

  He leaned in. “I still rule.”

  It was the way he held my stare that titillated me. More than this, it was the way he was causing a delicious arousal to burn through me with each move of his pelvis. I’d never been one to chase power, but he was mesmerizing.

  “I want to see a demonstration,” I said breathlessly.

  “Of my authority?”

  “Yes.”

  “I doubt you’d like what you see.”

  “Why?”

  Sadness flashed across his face. “‘I am death, the destroyer of worlds.’”

  The spell shimmered toward a nightmare…

  I swallowed hard. “That’s a quote from Oppenheimer? The man who created the atomic bomb.”

  He gave a nod. “It comes from the translation of the Hindu scripture the Bhagavad Gita.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “Despite personal concerns or views, one honors his duties. One remains a warrior. Does what is needed.”

  “You’re saying…”

  “No one gets in my way. No one.”

  Until me.

  His jeans pressed against my sex and he held himself there. A heady mixture of pleasure and fear slithered up my spine.

  I readied for his deadly kiss. James’ lips were parted and near, so full of promise, so ready to deliver that final strike of power.

  Shuddering, I was being drawn into the flame of his sensuality, not caring if it singed my wings, unable to resist him. Unable to deny myself what only he could give. Yes to him pushing me back. Yes to him ripping open my robe all the way. Yes to his cock pressing into me and him fucking me hard on this table.

  Yet my body remained rigid as though my mind was his to control, only my gasps revealing my rising climax brought on from the pressure of him against me.

  “You are breathtaking,” he whispered huskily.

  “James.”

  “Not without Xavier.” His warm breath on my lips.

  I dipped my head. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “We both know what you were thinking.” He broke into a heart-shattering smile.

  “What must you think of me?”

  “This.” Raising the crown, he then lowered it to rest on the top of my head.

  Wearing such a priceless piece made me self-conscious. I reached up to touch it and then pulled my gloved hand away respectfully.

  James pulled off my gloves. “Touch it.”

  “What about keeping it preserved?”

  “Anne would want you to enjoy it.”

  My fingers curled around the bejeweled spikes. “Her memory is captured in this.”

  “So is yours, Emily.”

  “I see the good in you,” I whispered.

  His irises darkened. “It’s inevitable that at some point I will shatter your heart to smithereens.”

  “Then I better make the most of it.”

  “That’s my recommendation.” He leaned forward and kissed the end of my nose.

  I wanted to tear his heart apart like he was threatening to do to mine, but all I could do was surrender to these sensations that were making my face flush.

  “I will be inside you again soon,” he whispered. “With Xavier present.”

  I gave a nod and tried to look casual at his sensual promise.

  James grinned. “Looks pretty on you.”

  “Wish I could keep it,” I said. “Though I don’t know when I’d wear it.”

  “Keep it on.” James reached for my hand to help me down. “Xavier will enjoy fucking you while you wear it.”

  “Then I’m never taking it off.”

  “I love that plan.” He weaved his fingers through mine. “Let’s go to the battlement.”

  “What?”

  “Roof.”

  With me still wearing this precious crown, we wound our way up a stone staircase until we reached a door.

  We stepped out into the crisp early morning air and strolled along a turreted wall.

  “It’s cold,” I said.

  “I have just what you need to warm you up.”

  Turning a corner, I saw what he meant.

  Staring out at the horizon was a vision of loveliness—Xavier.

  He’d carried the du
vet up with him and had wrapped it around his shoulders, the mound of material swamping him as he snuggled within its sumptuousness. He turned to look at us and his face lit up with a smile.

  Rushing forward, I fell against the warmth of his naked chest. PJs were his only clothes, and he was barefoot, too. He welcomed me beneath the generous duvet and hugged it around us, then kicked it out so we could stand on the trailing material.

  Facing the wall, I stood with my back against his chest and peered out at the dramatic vista with its oranges and yellows and bright reds lighting up the morning sky as dawn ascended along the horizon.

  Xavier looked amused as he glanced over at James. “Is her crown from the collection.”

  “Yes,” he replied.

  I leaned back against Xavier. “It was Anne Boleyn’s.”

  “Oldest trick in the book,” joked Xavier. “Make a woman your queen and she’ll do anything.”

  James gave us an indulgent smile. “I’ll come back with coffee.”

  “Stay,” I told him.

  Xavier pressed his lips to my shoulder, as though thanking me for saying it.

  James turned to go. “Take the time you need.”

  We watched him disappear from view.

  “He cares so much for you,” I said softly.

  Though James’ need for Xavier was multi-layered, and he had to know this.

  “How are you feeling?” Xavier leaned forward to look at my face. “That was a lot to take in yesterday.”

  “I’m doing okay.”

  “Sure?”

  I drew in a sigh of happiness at being back in his arms. “So many questions.”

  “Ask me.”

  “The secrecy has lifted?”

  “Some.”

  I needed to mull over what I’d seen and heard. Needed to come to terms with what I believed was happening with us all.

  “Our second date,” I began quietly. “What did I wear?”

  His sigh matched mine. “Black halter-neck dress. Strappy shoes. A thong that snapped easily. You’d removed your nose ring. Which told me you were already addicted to my cock.”

  My elbow hit his ribs. “Earrings?”

  “Gold studs.”

  “What else do you remember?” I asked wistfully.

  “I wanted to impress you, so I took you to Hide, that restaurant in Mayfair.”

  “I was already impressed.”

  “We had oysters. You wanted to know how pearls are made. I told you over a bottle of oaked chardonnay.”

  “Xavier,” I coaxed.

  His grip tightened. “Are you sure you want me to go there?”

  “Yes.”

  A raven flew low and landed on a tree in the distance.

  “You blinked over one thousand three hundred and ten times during the first hour. That was another way I knew you liked me.”

  “What?”

  “The average is one thousand two hundred.”

  “You counted?”

  “Not consciously. That would be tedious. I can recall at will.”

  “What must that be like?”

  “I don’t know any different.”

  My mouth went dry. “Something else.”

  He tapped his hips against me. “You’re as bad as James.”

  “I need this.”

  “Remember our table at Hide? We sat near the window. Watched the commuters scurrying by.”

  “It was raining.”

  “Two inches fell.” He chuckled. “Two point four, to be exact.”

  That was six months ago. I felt a chill through my bones.

  “On the back wall of the bar were the spirits. I can tell you the amounts in each one, if you like. All twenty of them. The vodka bottle was empty. Rum half-full. Jack Daniels had a torn label from when the cap was opened. Wine bottles lined along the top of the bar. Ten of them. A row of white and then red. The barman had a lime stain on his tie. He checked his wristwatch seven times during the last hour of his shift. He looked like he was going to meet someone. He’d check his reflection too many times for him to be merely heading home that night.”

  “Something else.” Hopefully something I would remember.

  “The couple sitting to our left,” he continued. “Remember them? The woman wore red. She played with her silver cross necklace. Nervous. We’d guessed it was their first date.”

  “I remember.”

  “He received a text from his wife during dinner.”

  “You saw that?”

  “I saw her face. Then his. It was disappointment that he’d gotten caught. He’d already taken Viagra.”

  “You saw that?”

  “He went to the restroom to take it. The tablet needed several swigs of water to wash down when he got back to the table. The drug kicked in at the thirty-minute mark.” I turned my head to look back at him and he added, “His pupils dilated. He adjusted his trousers. Twice.”

  At some point in the evening I remembered glancing over to see the woman in the red dress looking deflated. I’d guessed the dinner wasn’t going well. This fit my memory of it.

  “She left after dessert,” said Xavier. “Took a cab. The advert on the side of the car was for the musical Wicked. The driver opened the door for her. Across the street a couple were arguing. A pedestrian was struggling with his umbrella. He never did open it in time for his Uber to arrive.”

  “Tell me something else,” I said.

  “You’re beautiful when you sleep.”

  “You watch me?”

  “It replaces my need for chess.”

  “Oh, Xavier.”

  “Want me to go on?”

  “Maybe one more?”

  “I know when you lose an eyelash.”

  “Seriously?”

  “And Emily, I recall every single orgasm you’ve ever had in minute detail. Their length, their power, and those times where you came more than once.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Obviously I know when your period’s due. That’s easy. I make sure we have in your favorite meringue pudding. The one from Marks and Spencer.”

  “Ha.”

  “The one you like to dip your finger in and then lick off the cream.” He tapped his hips playfully against me.

  “I want that life again,” I whispered.

  “We have it.”

  “Permanently,” I said, testing him.

  “I’ll always watch over you.”

  There it was, the possibility of us ending swinging around again. I refused to believe it.

  I refused to let my hope die. “Do you know how to stop time?”

  “It’s my superpower.”

  “I wish we could hide out here forever.”

  He pulled me closer. “Nothing can touch you.”

  Together, beneath the warmth of the sumptuous duvet, we watched the sun rise. Beautiful and cruelly unstoppable—a profound vision of blazing colors drenching the landscape in purples, reds and golds, the brightness dancing over the trees and fighting off the grey. As the colors burned into being, my heart was scorched with the inevitable.

  Xavier squeezed me tightly. “You’re my greatest love.”

  “What about…him?”

  He dipped slightly to kiss the nape of my neck, his lips staying there as the sun continued to rise over the landscape. “We’re perfect together. All three of us.”

  His fingers trailed down my abdomen and then dug in as he gripped me to him possessively.

  This crown felt wrong. Like an omen, or a portent to something in my future—as though Anne Boleyn’s fate was somehow aligned with mine.

  “I love you, Emily Rampling,” Xavier whispered.

  I felt a rush of warm happiness, which was quickly swallowed by a swell of concern. James was standing a little ways off and he was looking out over a turret.

  The helicopter flew low over the fields, banking toward us.

  I’d been pissed off when I’d first arrived at Ballad’s castle. Now I didn’t want to leave. The irony was not lost
on me.

  With the noise of the chopper blades above us, our voices were virtually drowned out. We’d had to put on headsets and that had made it possible for me to listen to the chatter between James, Xavier, and the pilot.

  The castle turrets faded from view.

  After the rush of adrenaline dissipated from our rapid take-off, I was lulled by the thrum of the engine and the view of James and Xavier sitting opposite me. Our civility hid what we’d been to each other back in that ancient fortress.

  What we’d done with each other.

  What they’d done to me.

  I squeezed my eyelids closed for a beat, enjoying the soothing memory of being wrapped in their arms. I already missed spending time alone with them.

  My experience at the Ballad estate had been flawed at the start, but the threat of torture had morphed into carnal pleasure. Even now, hours later, my body thrummed from our lovemaking.

  No, love wasn’t part of it. It had strived to be something darker, something forbidden. A ménage-à-trois that took fucking to an entirely new dimension—the forget-you-exist kind.

  It was hard to tear my eyes away from James—the architect of my pleasure and pain. That wicked mouth had delivered blinding pleasure, his charismatic presence placing him firmly at the center of the universe. It made me wonder what drove him, what spurred him on to place himself as king of everything. Or, who made that decision for him.

  Gone were the jeans and shirt from before—he had donned a designer suit, a shiny pair of brogues, and had even put on an expensive watch. His tousled hair had been arranged in a sophisticated style.

  I hate him.

  Hated how he’d drawn me into the center of his flame.

  Had I gone willingly?

  His promise to take me again soon with Xavier present alighted my being, burning me from the inside out. The attraction I felt for him was intoxicating, and even though uncertainty plagued me, I couldn’t walk away. This craving for more of them—more conversations, more shared meals, more passion—was impossible to deny.

  I needed it…needed them.

  As though sensing my stare, James looked up from the screen. He didn’t smile, though, and there was no reassuring gesture. No kindness. With each beat of his heart, he was transforming back into the man I’d first met, reasserting his control.

  Xavier’s eyes were closed as he relaxed during the flight, as though us being whisked away was perfectly normal. He’d gone for a more casual look, wearing jeans and a Polo shirt—and wearing a different pair of shoes than the ones he’d arrived in. He kept clothes back at Ballad’s castle, and I found it unsettling.