“And what you did to Balthazar?” she asked as he rinsed her hair.
He smirked, recalling the way he’d handed Balthazar his ass yesterday. An overreaction, sure, but the bastard deserved it. “Child’s play.”
Issac rinsed his hair and brushed his lips against hers once more before shutting off the water. Her eyes glimmered with questions, causing him to arch a brow. “Is there something you want to know, love?”
She nodded slowly, her cheeks reddening.
“And?” he prompted, intrigued.
“You didn’t… We didn’t…” She pinched her lips to the side. “You didn’t bite me again. Last night, I mean.”
He wrapped a freshly warmed towel around her shoulders, grinning. “I typically only feed every two weeks or so. But if you’re craving a bite, I’ll be happy to oblige.” He nipped her chin playfully.
“And you usually feed during sex?” she asked as he grabbed his own towel.
“Yes.” He met her gaze. “Is this where you ask about my experience?” Because he really didn’t want to have that conversation.
She shook her head. “No, I’m well aware of your playboy reputation. As you said, you don’t date women, you fuck them, right?”
“Hmm.” He caught her around the waist and yanked her to him. “I’m not sure I like that tone, Aya.”
“Just stating facts.” The bitter quality in her voice had him narrowing his eyes further. “And what does Aya mean?”
“It’s my nickname for you,” he murmured, his palm wrapping around the back of her neck. “Just yesterday you protested Elizabeth referring to me as your boyfriend. And now, your mood has soured over a few experience-related questions. Why?”
“Those are two very unrelated topics.”
“Oh?” He tightened his hold around her when she made to step backward. “Allow me to relate them, then. You don’t want me to be your boyfriend, yet you ridicule my relationship behavior. So which is it?”
“I don’t…” She shook her head. “What are you asking me?”
This was why he avoided dating. Too much confusion and emotions. But with Astasiya, he found he wanted that.
While he hadn’t realized it yesterday, her outright rejection had hurt a bit. Never in his life had he ever considered a romantic relationship with anyone. Then the first one he desired to truly court—Astasiya—had seemed quite affronted by the proposition of a label.
“Would you like me to be yours exclusively, or not?” he asked, tired of dancing around this topic. Either she admitted her feelings ran as deep as his own or she laughed him off.
Her eyebrows rose. “Like seriously date? Not just a charade?”
“If this were a charade, love, we wouldn’t have just spent a night fucking in my bed.” She was the first woman he’d ever entertained here. Typically, he reserved his Hamptons estate for family and friends only, since Amelia and Eli were the primary inhabitants. Until recently, anyway.
“Oh.” Her cheeks pinkened. “You want this to continue.”
“That is the general idea, yes.” And he’d really appreciate a more telling response on the prospect sooner rather than later. He couldn’t be the only one who felt this intensity between them.
“Exclusively,” she added.
“Now you’re just repeating my phrases.” He released her to run a comb through his hair before handing it to her. “That mark on your lower back—how long have you had it?”
She looked taken aback by the abrupt subject change, but as she didn’t seem ready to discuss their future, he switched to a more practical topic.
“I… The what?”
He pressed his palm to her lower back over the towel, rubbing the spot to the left of her spine with his fingertips. “There’s a heart-shaped blemish here, and I’m wondering how long you’ve had it.”
Her brow crumpled. “Uh, my birthmark? Forever. Why?”
“I don’t think it’s a birthmark.” He kept replaying the image in his head, the details too exquisite and contrived to be of natural occurrence. “I think it might be a rune.”
“A what?”
He didn’t bother repeating the term. She’d heard him. “With your permission, I’d like to show Aidan and Lucian. They’ll be able to confirm for sure.”
She blinked. “You want me to let them examine my lower back?”
“No.” He tapped his head. “I can provide the detail they need.”
“Ah, right.” She started combing her hair, her lips curled down. “I mean, if you think it’s useful, then okay. But only my lower back, Issac.”
He chuckled and kissed her temple on his way to his closet. “As if I would ever share the rest of you with anyone.” He meant that in a multitude of ways. The idea of another seeing her naked, or worse, touching her, had his fists curling around the jeans he’d just picked up.
No. Definitely not sharing her. Ever.
Except, one day he’d have to. Because a Hydraian and Ichorian relationship was too risky to consider.
So we’ll date until we tire of each other.
That would work.
Astasiya didn’t have to join the Hydraians tomorrow. She could wait a year, or five.
He selected a gray shirt, his movements stiffer than intended. Clearing his throat, he reentered the bathroom to find Astasiya pulling up a lacy blue thong from her suitcase. She added a matching bra that had him regretting having to join the others in the main house.
“You’re killing me,” he said, his voice hoarse.
Her gaze ran over his bare torso to the towel wrapped around his hips. “Likewise.” She sauntered toward him, a smile in her eyes. “Yes, Issac.”
“Yes what?” He hadn’t asked her a question.
“I want you exclusively.” She went onto her toes to kiss him softly. “Feel free to bite me anytime.” She nibbled his lip and took a step back, her hooded gaze nearly undoing him.
He dropped his clothes and pulled her into him again, his mouth on hers. She couldn’t just say that and wander off. No. He needed to feel her promise against his lips, to taste it with his tongue, to memorize the words with his heart.
She grabbed his shoulders, her nails claiming him as she dug them into his skin.
He had no idea what they were doing.
But fuck if he cared.
For the first time in his life, he allowed emotion, rather than logic, to drive him, and he followed the sensations to his very soul.
A handful of images flashed in his head from the others, as well as a timer that Tristan seemed to be imagining.
Countdown, Issac translated, slightly irritated by the clear intention to interrupt.
With a sigh, he slowly released Astasiya, his forehead falling to hers. “The others are getting impatient.”
“You can hear them? Like, telepathically?”
“God, no. That’d be awful.” He shuddered at the thought. “I just see them. Tristan, specifically. He’s planning his interruption.”
“The Ichorian who can control sound.”
“That’d be the one,” he murmured, stepping away to retrieve his clothes as a buzzing sounded through the room.
“What the hell is that?” Astasiya asked, her gaze darting back and forth.
“Tristan being an impatient ass,” he growled, pulling on his jeans. He sent his progeny an image of his middle finger, and the noise stopped.
“That’s… Is he outside?”
“No, he’s in the main house.”
“Is he able to manipulate sound for miles the way you can influence vision?” she asked while rummaging through her suitcase.
“Yes. Our powers rival one another.” He ran his fingers through his hair, not caring at all to style it. “I suspected what he would be able to do based on his affinity for music. He was actually quite famous in the late eighteenth century, renowned for his skill with a harp. I met him in New York, during one of his visits. He fancied the States, you see, and, well, the rest is history between us.”
“Eighteenth century,” she repeated, a few articles of clothing in her hands. “Do I even want to know how old you are?”
He chuckled, amused. “Nearly four hundred, which is quite young compared to Aidan and all the Elders. They’ve experienced several millennia, Aidan being the oldest of us all.”
“I… This… Yep. Completely surreal.” She shook her head and focused on choosing an outfit.
She donned a blue sundress that hit her midthigh, and left her hair damp over one shoulder. No makeup. No styling. Just all-natural woman, which he appreciated considering his usual female company.
Pulling his shirt over his head, he walked over to nibble her pulse.
“You’re gorgeous, love,” Issac whispered.
“Even with my supposed rune?” she asked, her tone teasing. “Which, by the way, they’re going to tell you is a birthmark.”
“Are they?” He gazed down at her. “Care to wager on that?”
She laughed. “Yeah, I have about ten dollars in my purse, but why not?”
“You know I’m not interested in money,” he reminded her, pressing his hips into hers. “But I’ll wager other, more pleasurable activities.”
She licked her lips, intrigue flashing in her features. “Such as?”
“Hmm.” He pressed his lips to her ear. “If I’m right—which I am—then I get to fuck you however and wherever I want.”
“And when I’m right?” It came out breathy.
“You can tie me up tonight and do whatever you want.” Which he wouldn’t enjoy nearly as much as being in charge, but he could concede to her for an evening. Not that he would need to. The mark was most definitely a rune.
“Yeah, I’ll take that bet,” she agreed.
“Brilliant.” He nipped her lower lip. “Ready to face the others?”
She scrunched her nose, clearly not ready at all. “There are no rules, right?”
“Oh, I can come up with some, if you like.” He wrapped his hand around her throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Maybe later in the bedroom.”
She swallowed, her pupils dilating. The interest flaring in her gaze intrigued him. They would definitely be exploring that later. “I meant with the Ichorians,” she said, her voice husky.
I know. His palm slid upward to cup her cheek. “You’re free to do whatever you want, love. We’re surrounded by friends here.”
“Your friends.”
“They’ll become yours as well, over time.” He kissed her gently, lingering. “Can you do something for me?”
“Depends on what it is,” she whispered, her lips moving against his.
“Hear them out,” he replied, just as soft. “Let them show you who they are before you judge them. And remember, your decisions will always be your own. No one can make them for you. All right?”
She was quiet for a long moment, a million emotions flashing through her features. But eventually she nodded. “I can try, yes.”
23
Once upon a Time
Stas’s resolve to try for patience and understanding went out the window when she entered the house. Her grasp on Issac’s hand tightened, her legs threatening to give out beneath her.
The female auctioned during the Conclave sat at the dining table with her arms wrapped around her middle. Incredulity radiated from her dark irises. At least she appeared to be in better health—minus her frail state. But someone had clearly offered her a shower and clothing.
“Ah, Stas,” Luc said from the head of the table. “I was just telling Eliza about Hydria.”
Eliza? That must be the woman’s name.
“Hydria?” Stas repeated.
“It’s where they all live,” Eliza replied, her voice far stronger than Stas expected. “An island near Athens.”
Luc nodded. “Yes. It’s technically owned by Greece. However, we’re self-sufficient and report the bare minimum to the Greek authorities to maintain citizenship status. Everyone on the island has a job, whether it be in Athens proper, part of the security system, or other, more lucrative means.”
“Investments,” Issac added as he took the chair catty-corner to Luc. He held out the one beside him for Stas, his indication clear. Join me.
The only reason she didn’t protest the request was because of the food on the table—cheese, fruit, and a relish tray. Her stomach growled at the sight, her fingers snagging a raw pepper as she sat down.
He smiled as she ate, the gleam in his gaze suggesting he knew what had inspired her appetite. Their midnight snack and early-morning post-sexathon meal hadn’t been enough.
Issac poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on the table while saying, “When you live forever, you invest and watch the money grow. That’s the lucrative side Lucian is referring to, which is a skill set I’ve cultivated over the last few centuries.”
“Yes, Issac is one of our advisors on the subject, having amassed billions over the centuries.” Luc shrugged. “No one wants for anything, but we do support each other.”
“So you can live forever and you all choose to work,” Eliza said, sounding very unimpressed. “How boring.”
The Hydraian King’s lips thinned. “Survival requires even the most menial of tasks. It’s a strategy that works.”
She snorted. “Okay, so my work history involves sex. What will my job be on your island?” Sarcasm colored her tone and radiated from her eyes. A clear defense mechanism, one Stas understood all too well.
“My suggestion? College, to acquire a more marketable skill that will benefit everyone.” Luc leaned back in his chair, his muscles flexing with the movements.
“You don’t find sex to be an adequate skill?” Feisty energy poured off Eliza. This woman had spirit, even after the Ichorians tried to break her.
Speaking of which… “Where are Anya and Aidan?” Stas asked softly, her focus shifting to Issac while Luc and Eliza continued their conversation beside them.
“In the living area with the others.” He wrapped his arm around the back of her chair, leaning in close, his voice equally hushed. “It’s been a while since we were all together.”
She started to nod, then frowned. “So this isn’t a unique occurrence?”
“No, we used to gather more frequently before Amelia and Eli passed.”
“In the Hamptons?”
“Sometimes. The location shifts. Aidan and his harem currently live in Vancouver, while I’ve resided along the East Coast for the last century or so. The Hydraians are just off the coast of Athens, as Lucian said. Jacque’s ability to teleport facilitates matters, at least now. He’s actually quite young for an immortal, only a hundred or so.”
Teleporter.
Right.
She shook her head to clear it. “Okay, help me understand this. You all gather like this, frequently, despite the Blood Laws urging you not to? Does Osiris know?”
“If he did, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation right now.”
Fair enough. “But you just risk it anyway?”
“We’re family, Aya. You have to realize that up until the eighteenth century, Hydraians and Ichorians lived in peace. The war between our kinds started when Ichorians realized the threat lurking in Hydraian blood.”
“War?” she repeated, her eyebrows lifting.
“It didn’t last long,” Luc cut in. “Also, I’ll add, the only reason we lived in peace, as Issac calls it, is because the Ichorians put us all on an island—Hydria—and withheld resources. They wanted us weak, to cripple our dual gifts, but what they created was a brotherhood founded by the desire to live. We knew for over three thousand years that our blood could kill an Ichorian. However, we kept it quiet and safeguarded the secret, knowing they would round us up and kill us. And instead, we worked as a cohesive unit to become stronger so when the inevitable happened, we could protect ourselves.”
“The Ichorians tried to eradicate the Hydraians,” Issac murmured, his thumb brushing her bare shoulder. “They failed miserably. Not only were they outmatched in pow
er, but several Ichorians refused to fight. Including myself and many others with personal ties to Hydraians.”
“In the end, Aidan, Osiris, and I drew up the Treaty of 1747—a tentative agreement evoking peace.” Luc leaned forward, hands clasped on the table. “The Blood Laws were created as a result, to deter fraternization between the immortals.”
“Yes, Osiris is a clever leader,” Issac added. “He’s biding his time, breaking down the relationships built over the centuries through fearmongering, and, we believe, will one day lead another attempt against the Hydraians. Hence the reason Aidan and I and the others play nice and attend the Conclave meetings.”
“You’re playing the role of double agent,” she translated, completely awed by the history and purpose he just detailed. “I don’t know whether to call you brave or suicidal.”
He chuckled and tugged on a strand of her hair. “I’ll accept ‘brave.’ As I told you the other night, I have no intention of dying.”
A collection of giggles coming from the hallway interrupted them as Balthazar entered with his arms around Anya and Clara. All three of them were dressed for the pool, or maybe a magazine spread. For a sexy magazine. Because the girls were in thongs and tops that barely covered their breasts, and the man between them… wow.
“Oh, you’re here!” Clara bounced over to Issac’s chair and wrapped her arms around him from behind, her lips against his cheek.
He grabbed her wrist to press a kiss to her hand. “Yes, just rehashing history with Lucian.”
Clara didn’t move, her breasts firmly pressed into Issac from behind, her lips still near his face. The ease with which she touched him indicated a history, one that soured Stas’s stomach.
Yes, they’d just discussed exclusivity.
But this, well, she didn’t like it. Not one bit. Especially the part where Issac kept holding Clara’s hand.
“You should invite Aidan,” Clara said, a smile in her too-blue eyes. “You know how he adores a jaunt through the past.”
Vote Then Read: Volume I Page 147
