A Gray Area

by Amy Sumida

  “No,” I finally said. “I've never felt anything like it. It was...”

  “Yes, it was,” Cyprian agreed with my unfinished sentiment. “And Malik felt it too. He knew it was the Fusion, but then the fire of it all burned through his anger. Did he not say anything to you?”

  “No.” I stared at Cyprian's serene face.

  It was a mask; I knew it now. I could feel his true emotions; the writhing need and hunger inside him. What shocked me—and clenched things low on my body—was that his hunger wasn't his faulin need for sustenance through sex. This need was stemming from somewhere deeper than that; deeper and higher. Somewhere in the region of his chest.

  “I would suggest that you bring Malik here so we could talk about this together but, honestly, I'm glad to have you to myself,” he said wryly. “And it's probably best if I'm not a part of that initial conversation. It will be difficult enough for him to admit to enjoying sharing his mvarra with another man without that man being there to witness his confession. Even without me there, Malik will most likely grow angry before accepting it.”

  “What's happening between us?” I tried to still my racing pulse but just looking at Cyprian's stark beauty was doing things to my body that I hadn't expected.

  Now that I knew the real Cyprian, he was so much more attractive to me. And now that we had this fusion between us, that attraction was growing in frightening amounts. It was all I could do to keep my hands pressed against the tabletop and not reach across that small distance between us to touch the curve of Cyprian's cheek, trace the pout of his lips, and stroke the pale silk of his eyebrows.

  “Sweet maple syrup,” I whispered. “I shouldn't be here.”

  “Did you just use maple syrup as an exclamation?” Cyprian's lips twisted into a grin.

  I laughed; the effervescent feeling banishing my fear. “It's one of Landry's lines. I use them automatically sometimes.”

  “I've tried to free you, se esaria,” Cyprian said, suddenly serious. “I believe your mark from Malik has made it more difficult.”

  “Malik's mark? How?”

  “I don't know how, but every time I try to pull away from you, I feel the fire of his mark pulling me back. The only thing I can think of is that it craves power and is refusing to release another source.”

  “The mark isn't sentient, it only binds sentient beings,” I scoffed.

  “Then perhaps its one of you who has been subconsciously using it to hold onto our fusion,” he suggested gently.

  “One of us,” I whispered. “Using Malik's mark.”

  We stared at each other. We both knew he was being kind when he said that. Because there was no way it was me. If I wanted to hold onto our fusion, even subconsciously, I wouldn't do it through Malik's mark. I wouldn't be able to.

  “He's most likely unaware that he's doing it,” Cyprian offered generously.

  “I'll speak to him about it.”

  Cyprian nodded.

  “What happened on your side of things?” I asked.

  “My side of things?” Cyprian cocked his head; the glistening veil of his snowy hair falling over his shoulder and down his chest.

  He was wearing jeans and a half-buttoned, silver shirt today; a sex god on hiatus. I followed the trail of his hair down to his smooth chest and then quickly looked away.

  “With the sex, Cyprian,” I clarified. “We need to figure out how it happened so it doesn't happen again.”

  Cyprian took a deep breath, sat back, and considered me. He sipped his tea; looking as if he belonged in another age. Especially with that hair. He'd probably fit in with Queen Elisande's court far better than I.

  “As you like,” he finally murmured. “Why don't you tell me what happened on your side first?”

  “I was with Malik,” I said. “Things were... normal. And then I began to feel other hands on me; another mouth. I felt you kiss me.”

  Cyprian's cheeks flushed lightly; just a slight blush of pale pink. But it was enough to show his reaction to my words. Not that I needed the visual; searing lust rocketed through me, and I knew it wasn't mine. I gasped and swayed forward.

  “Se esaria,” Cyprian said anxiously as he took my hand.

  “I can't deal with both Malik and your emotions blasting me all the time,” I hissed as I angled my eyes up at him. “This is too much, Cyprian.”

  He jerked as if I'd slapped him and then pulled away. “My apologies. I will try to control myself.”

  “What happened with you?” I asked again. “What did you feel?”

  “I was lying in bed.” The reserve faded from his features and a warm pulse of pleasure ran along my skin despite his vow to control himself. “I was alone; watching a movie. Suddenly, I saw you. I thought it was a random fantasy, but it was so vivid. I turned the television off and started touching myself.”

  My mouth went dry.

  “I could feel you,” Cyprian murmured as his gaze went distant. “Taste you.” His eyes closed briefly, and he groaned. I shivered with his need. “I didn't even care that Malik was there. In the way of fantasies, I pushed away the parts I didn't like. He became incorporeal; a ghost I simply moved through. And then I was inside you, but I was also here, in my bed. My hand worked my cock but it felt as if it were also inside you. I thought it was our fusion giving me a wonderful daydream; something to get me through the pain of our unfinished bond.”

  Pain. My stomach clenched, and I felt the sharp ache of something incomplete. I was nearly there; just a little further. But instead of falling into the abyss of pleasure, I hung suspended over it. Satisfaction just out of reach. Was this what Cyprian felt all the time?

  “I didn't realize until we peaked together that it was a true connection,” Cyprian went on. “I saw you look down and see me; the me who lay on my bed. And I knew it had been real.”

  “So, there was no warning,” I whispered past the tightness in my throat. “Nothing you sensed that triggered it.”

  “As I said; I wasn't even thinking about you, se esaria.” Cyprian moved his elegant hand in an accepting motion. “I did not seek the intimacy.”

  “I don't think I did either.”

  Although, there was that moment I had thought about Cyprian's hair.

  “Then it may not be something we can control,” Cyprian said gently.

  “I need to talk to Malik,” I said as I stood. And I needed to never think about Cyprian while having sex with Malik ever again.

  “Amara.” Cyprian stood with me; his demeanor shifting from cool to anxious in a heartbeat. “Don't leave yet. Please.”

  I paused.

  “At least finish your tea.” His expression was shaky; his lips trembling. But, at his sides, his hands clenched into fists. “I haven't seen you in days. Please.”

  I sank back down onto the chair. Cyprian sighed and resumed his seat as well.

  “There are certain needs that come with the Fusion,” he murmured. “I didn't think they'd affect me with only two steps concluded, but I was wrong. I won't ask you to betray your relationship with Malik, but would you consider spending time with me, se esaria? Just until we figure out how to release ourselves from the Fusion? I need to...”

  I felt the scrape of Cyprian's words over his raw emotions. This was hard for him to say; to admit.

  “What do you need, Cyprian?” I asked gently.

  “Just to see you; be around you,” he said it quickly. “This ache lessens when you're near.”

  I stared at him.

  “I don't like this weakness, se esaria,” he whispered. “I swore to never make myself vulnerable again but it had to be done to save us. It was the only way. I accepted that but now, I—” He shook his head angrily. “Forget I said anything. I'm fine.” Cyprian lifted his chin and clenched his jaw. “I will get through this. Don't concern yourself with me.”

  “Cyprian,” I whispered gently as I moved toward him. Nothing could have stopped me from going to him; not with the pain lancing through his words. I stood before him and
held my arms out. “We are in this together, and I know you got the worst of it. You offered the Fusion fully knowing that you would. If I can help you without hurting Malik, I will.”

  Cyprian groaned as he surged to his feet. His arms were tense when they slipped around me. His whole body was tight with his warring emotions. He truly didn't want this. He didn't even want to hold me. I was a liability; to both him and his people. Cyprian couldn't protect the Faulin if he was weakened by a woman. I could taste the bitter irony of it blistering his soul. That a faulin male would be depleted by a woman instead of strengthened by her.

  I stiffened against his fury and frustration, but then Cyprian settled his face into the curve of my neck and exhaled warm breath across my skin. His fury eased, and I felt what had been lurking beneath it. This was doubly painful for Cyprian because he did want me. He'd wanted me before the Fusion and even if we found a way to break it, he'd want me afterward. I could feel the cold certainty of it inside him. Cold because it scared him.

  And I didn't know how to ease that fear.

  “I can't love you, Cyprian,” I said softly. “But I will do my best not to hurt you. I'll tread carefully around you and chose my words with kindness but not affection. I'll try to ease your pain without invading your heart. In short; I won't take advantage of your vulnerability but instead, try to shield you until you're strong again.”

  “Fuck me,” he whispered against my throat, “even your honor hurts.”

  “I'm sorry; I was trying to—”

  “Get out, Amara.” Cyprian pushed me away from him resolutely. “Go back to the Bleiten and leave me be.”

  “But you said...”

  “Go.” Cyprian turned away from me and stared out the window. “I'll call you when I need you.”

  I went.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Malik took the news fairly well. Both that his mark might be keeping us tied to Cyprian and that Cyprian had indeed been a part of our sexual interlude the day before. He only crushed one coffee mug and that was because he'd been holding it when I'd first told him.

  Blood mixed with coffee on my small dining table in the kitchen. We both stared at the creamy tan swirling with crimson while Malik got his breathing under control. Then he scooped up the pieces of broken pottery and dropped them in the trash before going to the sink to wash off his hands. I grabbed a paper towel and sopped up the liquid.

  “Could he be lying?” Malik's deep rumble vibrated in my chest.

  “It felt honest to me,” I whispered.

  “So, I'm to blame for this.”

  “No one is to blame,” I said steadily. “The marking was more my fault than yours and so was the Fusion. I made the choice without you.”

  “You did what you thought was best.”

  “And these are the consequences,” I said steadily. “We will handle them. We can try to block Cyprian out when we make love. I don't think it will be a problem now that we're all aware of it.”

  Malik let out a long exhale and sank back into his seat. “Perhaps not. But this has given Cyprian an even greater tool to seduce you with. Even I can't resist it, as embarrassing as that is to admit.”

  “You never have to worry about Cyprian seducing me.” I scowled at him. “Not if you trust me.”

  Malik's expression went horrified as he realized his mistake. “Mvarra”—he stood to pull me out of my seat and into his arms—“of course, I trust you. I trust you with my life; you are my life now. That's not what I meant. I know you wouldn't willingly give in to his seduction, but it doesn't mean that I'm okay with him trying. It's offensive to me; both that he does it knowing you are marked and that you must endure it. That we must endure it together. That we may possibly share more intimate moments with Cyprian; moments that he should never be a part of. What kind of mvarro would I be if I allowed you to be treated like that? Allowed our sex to be shared with another man.”

  “Oh,” was all I could think of to say. Suddenly Malik's possessiveness seemed honorable. It put a new twist on all of his recent aggression.

  Malik chuckled and stepped back to look at me. “I'm the same man I was before I marked you, Amara. The ties between us may have brought out my protective nature, but they haven't changed who I am. Will you give me your trust in return?”

  “You have it already.” I traced his sharp cheekbone with a fingertip and smiled. “That and much more.”

  Malik grabbed my hand and kissed the palm. “I love you, I trust you, and I believe in you. In us. We will find our peace one day, Mvarra. But—as with anything worthwhile—it will likely come at a cost. I'm willing to pay it—whatever that cost may be—just to be with you.”

  “I am too,” I said firmly.

  And then Malik's lips were moving over mine, and I was wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders. Malik was right; this was worth any price. Whether the toll was taken by a Danutian queen, a faulin friend, or our own scheming relatives didn't matter. We would pay it, or we would make them pay. But either way, we would stay together. The die had been cast for us—perhaps by the Universe itself—but this was our game now, and we'd play it to the best of our abilities.

  That's what superheroes do.

  Keep reading for a sneak peek into the next book in the Spectra Series:

  A Compression of Color

  Chapter One

  Malik's strong arms were around me; one at my waist and one beneath my pillow. The one beneath me stretched out past the fluffy down I rested my head on and hung over the edge of the bed. I nestled into the heat of his body as I stared at his warrior-hand. Thick fingers, wide palm, and hardened callouses that nonetheless felt soft when he stroked my body. We had made love many times through the night; the knowledge that I'd be leaving today driving us together again and again.

  I shivered and shifted my stare to my luggage. I didn't want to go to Eden. I didn't want to meet my family. I knew that I should be excited. I was traveling off-planet for the first time in my life; going to meet royal relatives who were eager to welcome me into the fold. But these were Triari; the same people who had hunted my father and killed both of my parents. It had been done without my uncle's knowledge, but I still felt uneasy about meeting him. Or perhaps it was what meeting him would mean.

  For most of my life, I'd thought I was a regular person. As regular as a supernatural can be. I had power over colors; the wavelengths that surround all things. I could manipulate the colors in the world around me, alter auras to hurt or harm, and see the full spectra from ultraviolet to infrared. It was a good talent, but one I had used offhandedly. My chosen profession was more interesting to me; translating for the U.S. Government. Specifically, for the President.

  I'd been happy. I had Landry; the man who raised me after my parents were murdered. I had Mama, the tentacled woman with the kindest heart I'd ever known. I had a few friends and even more acquaintances. Such as Davorin; a supernatural who could turn anything to stone, including himself. But then Davorin's little superhero hobby had bled into my life just as my world exploded around me. I'd discovered that my father had used the Amaranthine Elixir—a potion he'd concocted by accident—to heal me of a childhood illness; the big C. This elixir had been the catalyst for his escape from Eden and the desertion his own people; the Triari.

  Considered to be Angels by humans, the Triari are far from angelic. My father had been a prince; brother to the ruling king. He'd also been a scientist. He created the Amaranthine Elixir in an attempt to make his people invulnerable to the hostile environment of a planet they wished to colonize. It had worked a little too well; granting not only healing abilities and immunity to all poisons but also everlasting life. Yes; my father had made me immortal.

  When the Triari and their enemies, the Bleiten, discovered that I had survived the murder of my parents and that I had also been given the elixir, they both sent teams to Earth to catch me and collect my blood. Mainly, to collect the elixir which they hoped was still inside my blood. I had believed that the Bleiten
had murdered my family, but that was a lie. My father had been murdered by his own people. The Bleiten treated me respectfully and merely offered to pay me for a sample of my blood while the Triari kidnapped me and stole it. Ironic, since the Bleiten are the people who inspired the human myths about demons.

  Malik had been in charge of the Bleiten team sent to offer me riches in exchange for my blood. He's their prince; the heir apparent. But somewhere along the way, we had fallen in love, and I had saved his life with my coveted blood. Malik was immortal now too. His eyes had shifted into a darker version of mine; deep amethyst.