INDEX:
Link here to a general overview of the novel
Prologue, Chpt 1, Chpt 2, Chpt 3, Chpt 4, Chpt 5, Chpt 6, Chpt 7, Chpt 8, Chpt 9, Chpt 10, Chpt 11, Chpt 12, Chpt 13, Chpt 14, Chpt 15
Chapter Sixteen
Sebastian
“Hello,” a man’s voice calls out. “Daav, Sebastian, are you in there?”
Fuck, who is it now?
“Kevin.” Daav says. “Johan’s assistant. Johan must have sent him to find us.”
Daav turns to Isolde who’s stood from the couch, all traces of her distress gone, replaced with the cool certainty he’d seen when she’d been threatening them with the gun.
“It’s a regular party in here,” I say, folding the papers and tucking them into the envelope, then tucking the envelope into my inside suit jacket pocket.
The handle turns and Kevin opens the door, smiling at us like he’s won the lottery. He waves at us.
I blink back the deja vu as his other hand balances a small tray with three goblets of the fizzy liquid.
“I’ve been looking for you two.” He walks into the room and halts, noticing the third of our group and frowning. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.” He examines her server uniform and frowns more. He looks down at the other dropped tray and glasses, the spill of alcohol on the carpet. “Did something happen?”
I move forward and take the tray from the man, placing it down on the table. “Nah, just scared the shit out of this lovely lady when she walked in to offer refreshments. Hence, let’s place your own carefully down before we end up smelling like a winery.”
“Uh, okay,” Kevin says.
“Sebastian, this is Kevin,” Daav begins. “Johan’s personal assistant. Kevin, Sebastian is–”
“Oh, I know,” the man says, sticking out his hand to shake mine. “While I didn’t start on Mr. Shiloh’s staff until after you left, I’ve helped coordinate his occasional contact with you in the city.”
“So helpful, of course,” I say, trying hard to keep the dripping sarcasm from my voice. “And this is Erica.” I gesture toward Isolde where she’s standing awkwardly near the couch. “She’s a sculpture student of mine from my outside life. She freaked a bit when she stumbled into us here and made the connection with my not so secret identity. Poor cleaners have their work cut out after this shindig.”
Daav raises an eyebrow at my spontaneous fabrication. I wink back at him. He should appreciate my quick cover, but the poor guy’s been slammed by the bizarre situation with Isolde. He may hide well, but his insides are knotted and he’s ready to rip the hair from his head thinking about the little boy, his brother. And to tell the truth, the tight constriction riding my body isn’t so pleasant.
I believe Isolde, though I’ve been accused of trusting too easily. I’m not her biggest fan, what with the gun to my head earlier, but her own little corner of darkness intrigues me.
“Has Johan sent you to find us?” Daav asks.
Kevin blushes.
“Yes, technically. But he’s in quite the mood, so my search was as much to warn you as report your whereabouts.”
“Thank you, Kevin. We appreciate that,” Daav says. He gestures to the tray of drinks. “You’ve been conscripted into the serving staff? Are they short on numbers?”
The blush returns. “Ah, no. I only wanted to, wanted to toast your courage out at the public presentation taking off your masks.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d think Kevin had a crush on my beautiful Prince. But from all reports he’s married and devoted to his wife. Do I remember hearing she’s sick?
“Thank you, again. Although it’s not courage. I’m doing my part to support our people. They need any gesture they can get.”
This completely puts aside the fact that half the crowd wanted to turn him over to Staltz as much as worship him as a national hero. Verse twist it, the man is infuriatingly dedicated to his end goal. Idiot.
“We appreciate your support,” Daav continues. “Although if I’m to face your boss, I should probably cut myself off from alcohol and get my defenses in line. Is he frothing at the mouth or only muttering to himself and building frown lines?”
Oooh, a funny Prince.
“Yes, of course. I mean, no, not frothing. He’d call it damage control mode I think. Well, I see I’m short one glass for the toast anyway. I’ll leave you three to your reunion,” Kevin stammers. “It’s nice to meet you, Erica. I’ll see you gentlemen later.”
He’s backing out of the room now, waving again, a pinched smile on his lips.
Strange. I don’t know Kevin, but if he assists one of the most powerful men in Orreance, I’d think he’d need more suave in his game.
The door clicks behind him at his exit.
“That was out of character,” Daav says after he’s gone. “I wonder what he really wanted. His wife is dying, maybe the stress is throwing him off.”
I shrug, more interested in getting back to the situation with Isolde, to making sure Daav knows I’ll support him, even if this means even more mess.
Leaning down for the drinks tray, I swipe up one of the goblets of frechinia.
“I’m pretty sure a level head isn’t going to help me more with this situation. In fact, I predict it’ll do more damage. Cheers!” I raise the glass.
“Stop!” Isolde snaps. “Don’t drink that.”
I freeze with the goblet halfway to my lips.
“It’s the wrong color.”
“What do you mean?” Daav asks. “Frechinia comes in all hues depending on the region. The color is normal.”
“I’ve been pouring, preparing trays and serving the alcohol all afternoon. The managers made a point of explaining that they’re only offering the one premier vintage for the big occasion and to make sure the guests knew that if they commented. I don’t know about the regional variety in Orreance, but that’s not the right color. I only saw one type in the kitchens.”
I carefully place the glass back on the tray.
Maybe it wasn’t a crush reddening Kevin’s cheeks. I eye the liquid, its pale blue tint different from the clear liquid offered to us at the beginning of the event.
“I don’t know that man, but he reeked of guilt, like he’d been caught with something after he saw me with you,” she says.
Best to go directly to the evidence. My hand burrows into my pocket, finding the steel triangle of my focus and removing it. I start it twirling against my skin.
“Sebastian, no!” Daav barks my way, clearly unhappy knowing what I’ve decided. “You were just in the Verse, it’s too soon.”
The prongs dig into my skin, sharp bites of pain, and soon enough the repetitive movement sends me into my hypnotic distress and my vision clouds with a golden sheen.
My Verse opens and the tumbleweed tangles cackle. Those ugly nuggets of floating magic bounce with welcome while around me is all desolate pain, filling the twisted corners of my soul. Underneath this landscape is the true reality of the room where we stand, the table with the glasses of frechinia waiting for a verdict. I unfurl my vision of the particles and structures within the glasses and the way the atoms of the liquid are meant to combine.
The combination is wrong and I note the added intrusions. While I don’t need to cajole the tangles to do anything about it, my vision of the patterns answers our first question. Kevin has done something to the alcohol. And now the tangles seem eager, wanting to roll over to the molecules and help shift the liquid, add their force to unbind the unwanted additions, breaking apart the bonds. It’s unlike all the times I must cajole them into helping me. I shoo them away and almost feel their pout.
As I dance among the tumbleweeds, they approach again and try to grasp at me. With the Verse remaining superimposed over the room in headquarters, they whisper their venom to draw my attention elsewhere. My head turns to Daav and they raise their volume and gleefully jitter jagged excitement. They sound almost like they’re chanting a name with their discordant rising and falling noise.
Daaaaaa.
And my body wants to follow their lead, pull me over to my Prince. Fuck, but nasty cold prickles hit my senses because they’re exerting a force that affects my real body, tries to herd me forward.
No! I squeeze my hand around my triangle focus to feel the pain and puncture of reality. And pull. I gasp into the room, falling away from the shadow of the Verse.
I stumble, not from the usual fatigue, but from a new energy buzzing through me. Like when you narrowly avoid being hit by an oncoming car and you feel hyped, alive but there’s nowhere for the surge of chemicals to go.
And Daav’s there, taking my arm. But his touch only ratchets the buzzing up a notch.
“Dammit, Sebastian, what were you thinking? You were just in the Verse a few minutes ago.” He sounds pissed. Too bad.
“Was only a quick trip. Your magic’s overkill. I’m faster.” Okay, my words come out a little slurred.
I let him move me to the couch and push me down where he sits next to me. He’s gentle about it, but it’s still almost painful because all I want to do is pull him into me, run my fingers over him and feel his dig into my skin.
I force myself back into this conversation. I’ve visited the Verse to solve a problem, not make it worse. Kevin tried to kill us for fucks sake and now wasn’t the time to get sex crazed. Bad Seb, down boy.
“And I found it,” I say. Am I panting? I better not be panting. “Mixed in with liquid there’s denayce, good choice for a poison and usually completely colorless, but the reaction between it and the alcohol caused the slight tinge of blue.”
Daav shakes his head. “Why Kevin? This doesn’t fit.”
He looks sad. He likes Kevin. But I don’t want to jump Kevin, I want to jump Daav.
Focus, Seb!
“Do we find Johan and get him arrested? It’ll be a shit show.”
See, I can be a grown up and continue the conversation.
But Verse twist it, the energy only wants me to grab onto Daav. The tangles are running sandpaper fingers over me, suggestive, prodding. I shut the door on them, or try.
“No, the man’s running scared and now his exit makes sense,” Daav answers. “I have another idea.”
He looks over at Isolde who’s observing me with interest. Like I’m a specimen from the zoo, the first of its kind she’s seen.
“I’m fine, darling,” I say to her. “No weirdo after effects of the Verse.” Liar.
“I wasn’t worried. You used the magic quickly to examine the drink? That’s amazing. But why is this man trying to kill you?”
“I have my suspicions,” Daav says. “His wife has a terminal heart condition. More than magic or our medical system can help, but maybe not beyond Staltz’s resources.”
She blanches. “My father.”
“And so coincidental to your visit.”
“I did not put him up to this. I’ve never met the man.” Her indignation is clear.
“I don’t believe you have.” He runs his hand through his hair, blowing breath out with frustration.
The night’s gotten to him and I feel almost guilty that my mind’s more focused on the image of him bending me over the armrest of this couch and ramming into me.
“Where are you staying?” Daav asks Isolde, and I recognize his impatience to put whatever ideas he’s concocting into action.
She refocuses on him. “Why?”
“Sebastian and I have plans to make, but we need you somewhere safe in the meantime,” Daav tells her.
We have plans to make? My mind goes to dirty places, or is that the buzzing leading the way?
“A hotel. Not close, since rooms were booked anywhere at all convenient to these grand headquarters during your special holiday.” The air quotes she injects into her words, and her clear sarcasm-laced comment warm my heart. I think I like Isolde.
“Check out and get to another location we have near the waterfront. Sebastian, can she stay at the warehouse?”
I nod. Good idea, Johan isn’t interested in it now that we’re happily ensconced under his roof. Plus as far as we know, Harkness doesn’t know about it. And anything to get her out of here or she’ll get a good look at me in full panting, begging mode.
“So, you’ll help?” she asks, because Daav hasn’t formally given her his answer. Like there was ever any doubt? But she doesn’t know him. He’s a man who needs love, needs family, needs her and their little brother, even if he didn’t know it until now. Sweet agony, because if she’s telling the truth… .
The potential for healing and for utter destruction of my Prince is standing there in green and ivory, her own guarded hope and fierce vulnerability splashed on her face.
“Yes,” he says. “We’ll need the journals, and to talk further. Get to the warehouse and we’ll join you as soon as possible.”
I pull out my keys for her and take the one to the warehouse padlock off the holder. Lucky I’m in the habit of carrying them to keep all of my options available. And it’s one less thing to strip off me later.
Daav hesitates. “Will you be safe? Our help can’t come at the expense of your life. We can make another plan.”
“I’ll be fine,” she says. “I got here on my own and I’m not without skills or resources.” She glances down at the melted gun on the carpet. “Additional resources,” she adds with a smile. “My position means I’ve benefited from training and education of all types. Don’t underestimate my strength, Daav. Just like I won’t underestimate yours. And yours,” she says to me as she glances my way, communicating unspoken respect.
She’s sure, determined, with a quiet strength of her own, even when she’s shown us her fear, anger, and despair. Yeah, I like this woman. My Prince likes her, too. I’ve read his tells.
And maybe something good can come from Staltz, not the total evil I’ve envisioned for years.
“I’ll retrieve my stuff and meet you at the warehouse,” she agrees.
“Expect us tomorrow,” Daav says.
After listening to instructions about the warehouse address and advice on routes and possible dangers, she punches the location into her phone. The small and shiny gadget has me salivating. Staltz has the good stuff. Or maybe I’m salivating from my Prince, still sitting too close and oblivious to the fucking carbonation inside my bones.
“Leave now, we’ll wait longer to exit the room,” he says, as they finish their coordination.
She heads to the door, but turns back to us. “Thank you. This means….” Her eyes are shiny, but she’s trying hard to keep it together I think.
“I don’t know if I can save him, don’t thank me yet. But I’ll try.”
She jerks her head in acknowledgement and slips out of the room.
Finally!
“Sebastian,”Daav starts to say, but I crawl on his lap, straddling his hips and grinding both my cock and mouth down on the man. The pressure makes it worse and better. Shit!
He stiffens, and then relents, fisting my hair and letting his oh so talented lips return the kiss. Indulging, he lets us enjoy the searing contact, tongue and teeth and sensual, slick hunger, for a good long count before he uses the grasp on my head to pull me off his mouth.
“Angel, as much as I enjoy this, what in the Verse has come over you?”
“Exactly. My Verse is being a bit…forceful about its presence just now. Can we fuck and I promise to tell you later?”
I lower my mouth to his again, nipping at his lips. And despite the sexy growl he gives me, he pulls me away by my hair. Enough so it hurts.
“Yes, more of that,” I say and lick my lips. They taste of him. I’m addicted.
“No. What did you mean your Verse is forceful?”
I blow out and lean back to watch the emotion on his face. As much as my dick wants to get busy dueling with the hard package it feels rubbing beneath, my Prince is juggling a few life altering situations at this moment, and deserves a little consideration before being jumped. I, possibly, need to find an ice bath.
“It’s in full sheepdog mode, herding me to you. I think it wants me to make contact with your Verse, and I’m fucking crawling out of my skin with an energy. There’s no drain from being there like usual after my trip inside to examine the alcohol, more like I’m hyped on some sort of speed. I figured sex might be enough for it, plus I’m about to combust.”
His hands grip by hips to hold them still after I start grinding again. I may whimper a little. My cock’s so hard it’s gone from painful to one of the circles of hell. Mmmhhh. The tangles push, gold vision dots my eyes, but I force the magic back, with Daav watching my face carefully.
“Stop!” he says and the command has me painfully doing just that. “Do you have any control of it?”
My hands rest on his shoulders and I dig them in to regain some of myself. My jaw clenches tight. “Trying to direct it to sex here, Prince. As far as I’m concerned, that’s as good as it gets.”
He’s standing then, lifting me off him and depositing me on the couch. After which he steps away. “I don’t like how it’s got hold of you. It’s suspicious and you’re not making sound decisions. We have important things to discuss. Isolde. Kevin. Instead you’re prey to tangles.”
“Twist it, Daav, I know. That’s why the sex.” I run fingers through my hair with the frustration. Anger twines with the itching arousal. “I told you we need to try merging our Verse. There’s something to it and this last visit just makes me believe it more. Not merging right here right now, I know, but somewhere safer, and soon.”
He needs to hear me. The rigid rules of the Conclave need to be blown apart if all they’ll bring is failure. My hands are tearing at the buttons of my shirt, popping some off as I try to get them undone.
He’s frowning, shaking his head.
“Can’t you fucking listen?” I demand. “I’m not checked out and brainless. We have basically no time before your quarter century. Exactly now may not be the moment to experiment, so screw me hard, I’ll get my shit together and we’ll talk.” Why are the damn clothes so difficult to peel off?
“This is not making your argument, Sebastian.” He stands there with his fists tight and his body clenched and I’m one moment from launching myself from my seat and tackling the man.
My pants go next as I unzip and pull them down my thighs, relieving some of the pressure on my shaft. Not enough though.
“Sebastian,” Daav growls in warning.
“Get over it, Prince. Come here and pound me into this overly ornate couch. Or the wall. Or even the damn floor, I don’t much care. I know what I’m doing.”
“You have no more clue than I do. You don’t fool me for a moment.” His arms are crossed and he’s leaning away, as if he’s doing all he can to keep himself from the temptation which is me. But I know him, know he’s mine and this protest won’t last forever. I won’t let it.
“What are you afraid of?” I ask. My shirt, pants, socks, shoes and briefs are now off, strewn on the floor in front of me, and I spread my arms and legs wide with invitation. Lewd, suggestive, but why pretend?
He blinks, as if he didn’t expect that question and the answer is so obvious. Or maybe he’s distracted by the view.
“Hurting you. An explosion. Our Verse forcing their touch and disaster the outcome.” There’s real fear in his answer.
I rise and stalk over to him. He backs away as if I’m a danger. He has no idea. Or maybe he does. But I keep going until he’s flush against a wall, the beige neutral of the paint a stark contrast to the jungle mural of our raging emotion. It’s vine twisty, complex and overgrown with colors of desire, anger, fear, love and uncertainty.
Until with nowhere to go he stands his ground, a decision shifting his face away from the fear.
His voice becomes the promise of sharp glass as he straightens and takes over the room with his presence, a surrender and domination all at once.
“Fine. I’ll give you your orgasm and stop your impression of a cat in heat. I don’t care to be climbed like a tree as you clearly plan to do. After, maybe you can talk about serious issues.” And then his hands are at my bare hips, and he spins me so it’s my back pressed to the wall. He kneels down, digging his fingers and blunt nails into my skin with a painful, bruising grip as he uses me as leverage to lower himself. He doesn’t need any, but his lust wants to remind me who’s in control. Daav looks up to my face with sea storm eyes as his mouth hovers near my swollen, red shaft, precum weeping at the slit with complaint for attention.
My tangles cackle with glee and anticipation burns across my skin. Yes.
“Wider,” he commands, and I shift my legs out.
He smiles and my own lust is strangely twined with a heart bursting heat of love, perfect connection and knowing of this man.
“I want to taste you, my favorite flavor.” The words are a deep rumble from his chest. His tongue swipes a lick up the impossible steel of my shaft.
Then he dips his mouth to blaze soft, gentle kisses up the inside of my inner thigh to which he now has access. To the crease where my leg meets groin, then down again. Gentle command in every brush of lip to my gooseflesh skin, sending shivers and quieting the call of the Verse. The reverence of his touch replaces it with a vision of us in our maybe future together. Crazy that I see it so clearly with lust riding me rough.
On the beach, walking side by side with unhurried luxury. Bumping shoulders as we weave across the sand. The sweet sparking contact of it. Daav halting, reaching down as he finds the perfect flat stone. Winding back his arm and in a smooth snapping movement skipping the stone out across gentle waves.
Chuckling at his own success and waggling eyebrows at his prowess. A picture of a man finally at ease, a quality of relaxation I’ve never seen him wear, but always wanted for him. We continue our stroll, hunting and collecting the rounded colorful sea glass as my toes curl in the grainy give of the warm sand of our path.
A fantasy of possibility, a yearning dream I’ve tucked away somewhere and dare to bring out when I can bear it. Another taste of imagined freedom.
The tumbleweeds cackle in my head again, and the lust rebounds. In the room, Daav gives up on being gentle. His mouth is at the tip of my crown, opening wide and engulfing it in hot, tight heat, his tongue digging over my slit as he goes. Sweet agony, yes!
“Verse twist it,” I say and gasp.
He takes me down, swallowing me whole and in entirety as I hit the back of his throat, his nose resting flush against my pubes as he contracts around me. My head falls back, bangs the wall at the unholy ecstasy of the sensation.
“Damn, talented, Prince.” I force my eyes back open, down to watch his lips stretched around my dick, the erotic sight of it ratcheting everything higher, into painful bliss as electricity races up and down my spine. I may be using his mouth but he has all the control.
He goes to work on me. Impatient, filthy sounds of wet suction and slurping coming out alongside the incoherent cursing falling from me. I’m fucking into his mouth, my hands finding his head and curling into this dark hair.
While his hands grasp my asscheeks, rubbing a thumb between the crease, back and forth from taint to the pucker of my hole, circling and teasing as he keeps his suction steady up and down my cock. Gently nudging and needing my sac with his remaining fingers.
“Ah, Prince! Fuck, so close. Gonna come.”
My balls aching and full with a tightly coiled sensation, tingles pulsed up from them through my shaft as the heat and pulling suction becomes too much.
His gaze focuses on me while I soak up this man, losing my ever loving mind.
The tangles demand, wear me down as they rub against my consciousness, salacious babbles, pressure. And the pressure at my dick doubles the effect. I struggle to keep them out.
Gold sheen clouds my eyesight, and beneath it, watching Daav’s face, I see his eyes go gold like mine.
It’s too late.
White lightning shatters through me as I release.
Except as my hips punch forward and I shoot into Daav’s mouth, I fall elsewhere.
The Verse opens and its ugly grain of desolation sucks me in.
Until I realize…I’m not just in the tumbleweed desert of my magic, but floating next to something, somewhere different.
Beautiful rainbow color, perfect song, pure light and a swaying gorgeous vibration made into physical form. Crystals dancing with all of it. A peace and grace enough to make me weep.
The alive perfection of it sweeps over me for a long count and I hold my breath feeling Daav inside this beauty, permeating it. His Verse, his magic. I see it all.
My gleeful sandpaper tumbleweeds roll into the path of his bright crystals.
Wait! Stop!
I cry out as they brush, strain to cling to each other.
A detonation of supernova blinding light slams into and over me. A vacuum sucks me from the joy of it all.
Falling.
“No!” A yell, low and desperate and ragged. Daav’s.
Then blink into the reality of the hard salon room floor, Daav lying across from me. His arms outstretched, fingers reaching. Towards me. He’s still yelling a denial.
And less than a breath later hear the shattering burst of glass fixtures explode. A multitude of echoes.
Hear the cascading slithering hisses of aftermath from their destruction as the room falls into total black.
And in the distant background, I hear the screams.