by Cebelius
At the same time, Mila was giving him a feline smile as she said, "I am confident that you can do this, Terry. All that is required of you is that you feed me your mana."
Terry felt heat rising in his face and Prada laughed out loud at him and said, also aloud, "Put your hand against hers on her staff and concentrate, you pervert. I will help to ensure you do not give her too much, just like we practiced."
Mila tilted her head in momentary confusion, but it was apparent to Terry when she got it. His face heated even further as her eyes dilated, her ears snapped backward and her tail lashed, then lifted a bit before curling firmly between her legs.
"Focus, Terry Mack," she said. "This is magic, not sex."
Sex IS magic if you do it right.
Prada laughed, again out loud, and Terry reached down and slapped the knot of Prada's sash. He knew it did her no harm, and Prada's laugh just rose in pitch before she said, still chuckling, "Don't tease me."
"You're not helping," Terry growled.
"Yes, I am. You just don't know it yet. Focus, Husband. Put your hand atop hers on the staff. Put all your attention on Mila and, carefully, pour your mana into her. Picture the cup of water, visualize it. Mila is a glass you must fill. Make it real in your mind. If you had a mana pool, you wouldn't have to touch her, but fortunately for you it must be done this way. Your blood circle will make the transfer easier, but on a fundamental level you must still make physical contact and do the work."
"Fortunately for him?" Mila asked as he reached out and settled his hand over hers on the staff.
"Oh yes," Prada said, before Terry could open his mouth. "Your fur is very soft. My husband loves the feel of it. Ever since you fell asleep against him in Monsoon he's wondered what it would be like to pet you. It's a memory he cherishes."
"Prada, enough!" Terry barked, now convinced his ears were about to catch fire. He couldn't help it. Who didn't like to pet cats? In the back of his mind he wondered if Mila could purr even as he protested, "We had an agreement!"
"You dissolved our agreement, Husband. This new one didn't say anything about me keeping all your secrets. Relax. I doubt Mila minds knowing that you enjoy touching her."
Shy and Asturial were both giving him strange looks, though the dryad's eyes were glimmering with amusement. Asturial looked annoyed more than anything.
Terry squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head as he said, "Mila, I'm sorry. This is not ... I mean, you see what I have to deal with here, right?"
A feminine giggle brought his attention back up, and he watched Mila laughing, though it was clear in her body language that she was just as embarrassed as he was. "I understand, Terry. Prada makes me glad I do not have a familiar of my own."
"Enough banter. Send Mila mana so that we can be sure this will work." Asturial wasn't quite glaring, but she was close.
Terry pictured water flowing from a pitcher into a glass, and willed his essence into the water he imagined. He was the pitcher, and Mila was the glass. It took a few moments, then the image in his mind seemed to clarify, and Mila gasped and said, "He can do it. I can feel him filling me. Shall we do this?"
On the verge of throwing in the towel out of sheer embarrassment as his mind continued to take everything she said the wrong way, Terry rolled his eyes and said, "Yes, please lets."
Despite his best efforts, the clarity of the image in his mind was beginning to waver.
As Mila started to chant, Prada's voice sounded sweetly in Terry's mind as he sought to focus on the images he needed.
'It will be easier to focus if you picture what you TRULY wish to fill her with, Husband.'
He winced and thought desperately, PLEASE don't do this to me. Even if we get through this and Asturial doesn't do something drastic, I really don't want Yuri to feed me his sword for breakfast.
'She doesn't have any clue what you're picturing. Just imagine her back to you, the way she would feel if you held her close and filled her with yourself ...'
Prada did more than describe it for him. She practically poured the image into his mind and from there, Terry found it impossible to ignore. Equally impossible was picturing the glass of water or the pitcher.
I married a pervert, he thought as he resigned himself perforce to use the method she suggested, seeing as he was now too horny to focus on anything else, and the ritual had already begun.
'So did I. We should start a club.'
Tuning her out as best he could, he imagined Mila in his arms. He focused on filling her with pleasures, and with himself. She was exotically beautiful, and she had been more than kind. She had been a friend to him when he had desperately needed one. His imagination supplied him with a variety of ways he could thank her for everything, could repay in pleasure all that he owed. But more than anything, he focused on filling her with himself, and eventually Prada's voice sounded again in his mind.
'Husband, I suggest you stop. The poor woman is about to soil her robes.'
He blinked, opening his eyes. All three women had stopped casting, and Asturial had a pleased expression on her face as she said, "That went quite smoothly. I am impressed with both of you."
Shy looked weary, though Terry noticed that — for the very first time that he knew of — the Rod of Arcs had a faintly green halo of electricity around the solid steel ball of the head rather than the random disbursement of lightning he'd come to expect.
Of more immediate concern though was Mila, who stood hunched against her staff looking at him with wide, pleading eyes while openly panting. She was bent lewdly forward, and her tail was high in the air behind her.
"Are you okay?" he asked in some alarm all the while in his mind snarling, What the hell did you just make me do?!
"Hah ..."
Mila swallowed, blinked hard, and her tail twitched and lowered jerkily, as though it were animatronic. She straightened up a bit, though still leaning heavily on her staff. Her large green eyes were completely dilated as she stared at him, but finally she managed, "Fine. I am fine. Your magic has a very powerful ... flavor."
So saying Mila turned and strode away, though on her third step she wobbled and put her staff down hard into the ground to steady herself before she made it out of the tent.
As he watched her leave Terry thought, That didn't have to happen, did it. It had to do with the WAY I conveyed the power. The image did more than send mana.
'All you gave her was power. Mana has a feel to it once it is being worked by a mage. You feel your own power as fire when you feel it at all, because that is how the Rod chose to represent it to you. To hurt you. It succeeded far more than you know. The association is now almost literally burned into your mind. For other mages however, channeled mana has what she called it: a flavor. Mana from different mages will have different flavors. I simply encouraged you to flavor your mana in a certain way, for her sake. Your mana is borne by your blood. It is physical, visceral. The flavor you gave her is one you are well-suited to give, and it looked like she enjoyed it.'
He scowled.
I embarrassed her.
Prada's voice in his mind was calming, but it held a hint of mischief. ''Embarrassed' is not the word I would have chosen, Husband. Embarrassment is one kind of heat, certainly, but that is not the type of heat you conveyed. Not to her. Not this time. Right now the only one embarrassed here, is you.'
Terry refocused on the world outside his mind with an effort as he did his best to stifle his frustration. He'd been manipulated. Again. Of that he was certain.
Asturial was looking at him with a raised eyebrow, and it was immediately apparent that she had said something, and he had missed it.
This is your fault, Prada. Bail me out. What do I say?
'Thank you, Asturial. Your efforts are appreciated. I won't forget this.'
"Thank you. I appreciate this, and I won't forget it," Terry said aloud.
The dragon's expression softened a bit, and she spun to leave the tent, then paused and half-turned as she muttered, "You'r
e welcome," before thrusting the flap out of the way as though it had offended her, and stepping out of sight.
Terry hesitated a moment, then glanced down at Prada as he asked, "Okay, so what did she actually say?"
Prada answered aloud, "How should I know? I wasn't paying attention either."
Shy — despite having caught only the tail end — seemed to understand and sputtered as she started laughing, then stepped carefully into the blood circle to wrap her hands around Terry's hips. She kissed him and said, "Thank you, lover. That went perfectly."
Before he had a chance to say anything, Prada said, "Yes, I would say that it did."
Terry opened his mouth, closed it, then blinked as the tent flap was flung wide and Yuri stepped through. His feline face was inscrutable, but the way his ears were laid back flat on his head and the fact that his tail was lashing gave Terry a bad feeling as the tiger man waved a finger between himself and the template and said, "We need to talk. Asturial says the ritual went well, so you can come outside with me."
He lifted the flap and jerked his head toward it, his eyes never leaving Terry's as he added, "Right now."
Oooh shit.
15
A Touching Story
Terry was apprehensive as he followed Yuri out of the tent.
It wasn't that he was afraid of the man, not exactly anyway. While Yuri could almost certainly stomp him with a weapon in hand, he was too close. Terry would stop the draw, and end the fight. As they walked, he pictured how it would go based on whatever opening move Yuri made.
'It won't come to that,' Prada thought. 'You are over-reacting.'
Hush you. It's your fault I'm in this.
Yuri stopped next to the reflecting pool, and half-turned to look out at the door across the water. His voice was low and quiet as he said, "I do not know what passed between you and Mila during that ritual, but she is ... upset."
Turning the full force of those slitted, feline eyes on him, Yuri gazed at Terry in silence.
"I didn't mean to ..." Terry trailed off as he realized how childish he sounded, squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain effort to clear his head, and took a deep breath. Once he was calm, he looked Yuri in the eye. "I have no excuse. What do I need to do to make it right?"
"In order to give you an idea, I need to know what you did." Yuri said, folding his arms across his chest.
His face burning with embarrassment, Terry said, "The mental exercise I was taught to convey mana to someone else wasn't working. I had a backup method, but it, um, flavors the mana. I didn't know that though, not until after the ritual was done."
"Mm. So you did not touch her? Did not make ... suggestions?"
"I touched her hand. I was told I had to for the transfer to work."
Yuri's lips twisted, and he sighed and said, "Boss, right now my sister is so horny I can smell her over everything else in the jungle. There is something you need to know before anything else happens, something that has been hidden from you. I did not want to be the one to tell you, but after what just happened with my sister your family business has become my family business."
"Okay?"
Terry glanced around, and noticed a patch of complete darkness at the base of a tree at the edge of the clearing. It was roughly ten feet in diameter, and about that tall. Yuri's eyes tracked his, and he nodded toward the black spot as he said, "My sister is hiding. Asturial's spell will keep the jungle denizens from finding this place again, at least for the day, but right now she feels she has to hide from everyone, especially you. She is afraid of you, Boss. She is afraid of your power."
"Why?"
Turning back to face Yuri, he got the sense that the tiger man was searching for words. Finally, making a feline face of disgust, he said, "Because your power has the potential to turn her into a monster. We met Shu Lace in town. She did not die in the fire. She did not die in the riots."
Terry held Yuri's gaze as the blood drained from his face and limbs, a primitive defensive mechanism triggered by a sense of impending doom. Yuri's voice bore no malice, but was unapologetic as he said, "I killed her. She was attacking Shy, and would have killed her if not for our intervention. She was a phase beast, Boss. She had turned into a monster, and Shy told us that happened because you had sex with her."
His legs wobbled as his world tilted, and Terry's gaze slid off Yuri and into the middle distance.
Everywhere I go.
He didn't blame Yuri. He couldn't. He had been through too much with the other man to doubt him. If he said Shu died because she was going to kill Shy, then he believed him. But the underlying problem wasn't Shu.
It was him.
"Now you understand why I am concerned. If you were an ordinary man in whom Mila had taken an interest, you would have my blessing. You are a good man, and we all like you. But you are no ordinary man. You are a template, and everything you do has consequences for the rest of us. Ordinarily, the women of my race go into a fertile period. It lasts a few weeks every year. Married folk spend that time in seclusion, enjoying one another. Single folk have limited options, depending on their own inclinations. They can seek company, or they seclude themselves until the heat passes. Right now, Mila smells like she is in heat, and that is a serious problem for us. Not for me specifically — as a blood relative I am unaffected — but her scent will draw unwanted attention. She had her regular heat a few months ago, and was not due again for a long time."
Reaching out, Yuri put a hand on Terry's shoulder and turned him again until they were face-to-face. The tiger man lifted a clawed finger and put it in Terry's face as he growled, "You caused this problem, Boss. You fix it. If you fuck my sister, you will take care of her through everything that happens afterward or I swear to you that nothing will stop me when I come for you."
Staring into those eyes, Terry felt the depth of Yuri's resolve. It was a sure and certain thing, and Terry stood frozen as Yuri said, "I love you like a brother, Terry Mack. You saved my life, saved all our lives. Were it not for you, we three would be dead in Monsoon and none of us will ever forget that. Do not think for one second that gives you the right to destroy these lives you have saved. They are still our lives, not yours. Do not play with us."
Shaking his head slightly, his eyes never wavering from Yuri, Terry said, "Yuri, I will take responsibility no matter what happens. You three are closer to me than any friends I ever had, anywhere. I'll do whatever it takes to make this right, no matter the cost."
Yuri nodded and set his other hand on Terry's shoulder, now holding him as he sighed and said, "I know you will. I knew it before we talked. It is why we talked, and did not fight. I need you to understand. Shu was not your fault. You did not know. Accept that sometimes what we do has consequences we cannot foresee."
His hands tightened on Terry's shoulders. "Now though, we know what those consequences might be. My sister, my own flesh and blood, is over there with a problem you need to fix. I have it on good authority you are a competent lover. If she chooses you, do not disappoint her, and you will not leave her behind."
"What if ... she turns?" Terry asked.
"She is in heat. That does not mean she is incapable. My sister Mila has more than enough willpower to make her own decisions, even now. That said, she has needs. I cannot, and Marcus would not. That leaves you. She may send you away and satisfy herself. Let her. But you must go to her, and give her the choice. You owe her that."
He nodded again. Yuri released him, then walked away.
Terry watched him go, and saw Laina, Shy, and Asturial looking his way from near the front of the wagon. The dragon wore an expression of frank disgust. Laina was frowning with concern, but Shy's expression seemed deliberately inscrutable.
She kept this from me.
'Shy did what she felt was best. Knowing what I do of you, I believe she was right. Laina knew as well, and I was told, so I knew. If you blame one, you must blame all. Deal with us later. Right now you have a more pressing concer
n.'
That was true. Terry took a step toward the unnatural orb of darkness, then hesitated as he said aloud, "Get off. I'll handle this myself. You've caused me enough trouble."
"I am surprised you did not cast blame on me with Yuri," Prada said aloud as she slipped off him and gathered herself into a droplet at his feet. He shook his head in disgust and said, "I'll blame you myself, but that's between you and me. In the broader scheme of things, you're my responsibility, and what I decide to do at your suggestion is my fault. I'll just have to know better in the future than to listen to you."
"Master ... please." Prada's words carried uncertainty, but Terry heard something else, and it just made him ever more certain that he'd been manipulated. Start to finish.
Again.
He looked down at her with disgust in his expression and asked, "Master?"
Terry shook his head and walked away, putting the treacherous blob out of his mind as he refocused on what was quite possibly going to be one of the worst encounters he'd ever had in his life. He had never left a woman pregnant back home, but if he had, he couldn't help but imagine this might be what it would feel like.
Except I didn't leave her pregnant. I turned her into a monster ... and because of that she fucking died.
He paused at the edge of the darkened area, steeled himself, and asked, "May I come in?"
"What are you doing here, Terry Mack?"
Mila's voice had the careful control of a drunk trying to con the police, and it made him wince.
"I want to help. Whatever you need. Nothing will happen that you don't want to happen. I swear it. I left Prada behind. It's just me."
"She put you up to ... what you did to me?"
"I didn't know what would happen. That doesn't make it any less my responsibility. For what it's worth, I'm here if you need me."
"Put ... put your hand out."
Terry reached into the darkness with an open hand and waited. After a long moment, he felt a hand take his, and guide him into the dark.
