Triquetra

by Marguerite Labbe

  “I expect you’ll survive his wrath and your Ma’s too.”

  “So what now?”

  Kristair picked up the wooden bowl and brush, turning back toward me with a smile. “Now we can get into your body-painting fetish.”

  Nerves struck my stomach all over again. “What if I fuck it up?”

  “I told you, you can’t,” Kristair said, sitting down on the bed. “The key is to relax.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” I grumbled.

  Kristair shot me an exasperated look then set the bowl in my hands. “Everything you need is in that thick skull of yours, if only you’d stop fighting it.” He gave me a playful bite on my lower lip. “Stop fighting it.”

  I resisted rolling my eyes. “Fine. Where do I start? Do I meditate or something, chant a mantra?”

  “Why don’t you start by closing your eyes? Maybe think about how you prepare for a big game, of how you get into that mind-set where no distractions are allowed.”

  That was actually a pretty good idea. I did as he asked. That was the easy part. I willed away my nerves and worry over time passing and then Kristair spoke again. “Remember the night I did the ritual on you?”

  “Oh boy, do I.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t know whether to take that tone as good or bad.” I just smiled and kept my eyes closed. The scent of the candles made the memory sharper, drawing me back. “Now remember that night, but from my point of view,” Kristair murmured.

  The shift was so smooth I barely noticed. I saw myself stretched out naked on the bed, looking up with both uncertainty and wonder in my eyes. I saw my hand, Kristair’s hand, stir the blue paint in my little wooden bowl, taking the excess off the brush with the edge of the bowl, and begin to paint.

  It all fell into place. Kristair wasn’t copying the designs; he was barely looking at them. It was as if his hand had moved of his own volition. When I opened my eyes, I saw that Kristair had stretched out on the bed as I had, gaze steady on my face.

  “Well, I suppose that’s one way to do it.” I always talked to Kristair about faith, so maybe it was time to have a little of my own. I swirled the brush around in the paint, took a deep breath, and bent over my lover. “Does it matter what order we do it in?”

  “Not really.”

  “Good.” I started the big one first. That one would take the most time. I’d get it out of the way first and then concentrate on the triquetra last, since that one meant the most to me. This area of Kristair’s skin was smooth and free of scars and I resisted the impulse to start kissing every inch of him.

  Kristair started laughing. “This kind of thing really does get you fired up, doesn’t it? You kept breaking my concentration the last time with your salacious thoughts.”

  “Salacious? Who uses that word except you? Besides, I did it that night on purpose. This time, what can I say? It’s making me think of feasting on you. Nice and slow.” I shot him a wicked grin. “Kinda like what you did that one night to me.”

  “I remember,” Kristair said, desire sparking inside him.

  “I bet you do.” He’d had me begging and cursing at the same time.

  “Or maybe, given how possessive you are, you like the idea of us marking each other.”

  “You might be onto something there. We’ll have to experiment another night.” I blew some air across the glistening ink, surprised at how fast it dried and seemed to absorb into his skin. “So this language that I have to do the ritual in, what is it?”

  “Pictish.”

  “Well I guess that makes sense, doesn’t it?” I scooted down the bed, sliding the brush over his hip, trying to ignore his nakedness. From our first night together, when I really didn’t understand what was going on, I’d still been affected by the intimacy and eroticism of the ritual. “It’s not the same as the other language you use. The one that’s in your head half the time, where you call me mo chroí and whisper all those things you don’t think I know what they mean.”

  “No, that’s Irish.” I frowned and before I could ask the question he answered it for me. “One of the Gaelic languages.”

  “Aren’t they all the same?”

  A smile flickered over his lips. “Similar, but no, they’re not. What are you trying to uncover?”

  “Just passing time,” I said and sat back to see how the painting looked before bending back over him to start filling in the outline. “I guess I just realized that, though I know you, I don’t know too much about your past. And going through your memories seems like, I dunno, sneaking through your dresser drawers when you’re not around or going through your safe deposit box.”

  “My past would take longer than the few hours we have left to tell.”

  “True, but what else do we have to do while I’m painting you? And to tell you the truth, it would distract me from wanting to jump your bones.”

  He laughed. “Ask away then.”

  “When did you go to Ireland instead of back home? Where was home anyway?” I had a vague idea that it was somewhere in Great Britain, but that was about all.

  “Home? It was in what’s now Scotland, somewhere around Perth or Stirling, I believe. It’s been a very long time.” His voice was lost in thought and I made a promise to myself that one day we’d go back and find out exactly where he’d lived. “I did return once, but there was nothing left for me there and staying around seemed pointless, so I left and ended up in Ireland. Only it wasn’t called by that name, yet. I was there for a very long time. Longer even than Rome.”

  “What made you leave?” If Kristair had been restless when we mentioned his first home, he became even more so now. Enough that I raised my head to look at him. “What is it?”

  “It’s not important. We should be concentrating on other matters tonight instead of spending our energy on the past.”

  Now my curiosity was really aroused. “You do realize I’m not gonna let it drop now.”

  “I had hopes.”

  “They’re dying an early death.” I brushed against his mind, not so much to pry, because I preferred him telling me himself. I just wanted to see how reluctant he was to talk about it. To my surprise, I found that his reluctance centered around me and my feelings. “Go on; I can deal.”

  “That is a very bad habit you’ve picked up, poking around in other people’s heads.”

  “I wonder who I got it from.”

  “Point taken.” Kristair paused, and then made an impatient sound. “If you really must know it was because of another man.”

  I tamped down on my gut’s initial possessive surge, though the look Kristair gave me told me he sensed it. “One of the other ones you did the exchange with?”

  “Yes, only he couldn’t handle who or what I was. It ended up driving him away.” He rubbed his hand over my knee. “I think I only worried once that I’d do the same to you, but you quickly disabused me of the notion.”

  “I’ll admit it took some adjusting.” I grinned and gave him a wink. “Well worth it, though.”

  It didn’t take nearly as long to paint the designs on Kristair’s skin as it had been to tattoo them on mine, and he hadn’t bothered to do any on my back. Soon I got to the last one and paused to kiss Kristair’s shoulder, just as he had done to mine.

  “No more joking,” I said as I began to outline the triquetra. “So this symbolizes that we’re married or something like that? Did your people even have marriage ceremonies?”

  “Not as elaborate as your modern-day one, though the celebration lasted days longer.” Kristair touched the interwoven lines he’d tattooed on me. “It didn’t always stand for marriage, but it did stand for two people who shared a deep bond and committed themselves to each other. Sometimes it was husband and wife and sometimes it was an older sibling with a younger one, or two warriors who’d become closer than brothers. The type of bond wasn’t as important as the strength of it.”

  “We do have that.” I thought about it as I finished painting the triquetra onto him. No ceremony c
ould make our connection stronger than it was right now. We were such a part of each other that even after the link had been broken the first time, we’d somehow, on instinct, found a way to forge it again. I supposed in the most intimate sense we could already say we were married.

  Weird. Then I grinned. It just meant Kristair had no way of getting away from me. I kept what was mine.

  “You are the most possessive man I have ever met,” Kristair teased as I straightened and set the bowl aside.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” I tugged on my earlobe and grimaced, feeling the nerves again now that I was no longer concentrating on what I was doing. “How’d I do?”

  “You did just fine. We’re almost done now.” Kristair took my hands and brought them to either side of his face. “Do you remember the words I spoke that night? Bring them to your mind.”

  I closed my eyes and the memory became so clear to me. The power in Kristair’s eyes, his voice, the electricity in the air, and the strange words that rolled off of his tongue. I sensed Kristair’s guiding presence in my mind. “Open your mind, mo chroí. Open your eyes and look at me.”

  When I did, I felt the power of the night weave around us again, only this time it was inside me, and just as when I’d painted the tattoos on Kristair’s body, my nervousness vanished. The words of the ritual poured from my lips as if they were ingrained into my bones. The candles flared and wavered, flickering madly before sinking low as the power between us built.

  The sense of who I was, the memories, the feelings, the ingrained character, all seemed to well up until it almost formed a distinct second self. I smiled at Kristair, leaning over him until our foreheads were pressed together, and then said the final words. I sensed a part of myself pour into my lover and merge with him. Then exhaustion rolled over Kristair.

  Chapter 28

  “ARE YOU okay?” It was weird. I didn’t feel any different from how I had before, but then I hadn’t last time either. Maybe it was because our psychic bond had already been firmly established before we’d done either ritual. This just kinda made it official.

  “I will be. It takes a great deal of energy from the recipient.”

  “If circumstances weren’t what they were, I’d make you take a little nap,” I teased, then stretched out next to him. “How’s it feel to know every last bad thing I’ve ever done?”

  It was euphoric, realizing that we’d done it. There was no way the Ascended could keep us apart for long. Not now. And we still had time before dawn. I had been so afraid that they’d figure out we were up to something, stop us, and take him from me. But he was still here.

  “I don’t know. I’ll explore your misdeeds another day,” Kristair said, reaching for me and pulling me over him. “You wanted to hear me beg earlier. Well, now I am. Right now, I don’t want to think about anything, but you. I don’t want to feel anything, but you. I want all my senses to be consumed by you. Please, mo chroí, whatever you’ve ever dreamed of doing with me, make it real.”

  Some people might not consider that begging, but from my lover, it was as good as Kristair going down onto his hands and knees and pleading. I smiled at him and rubbed my lips over his jaw before giving it a rough nip. “That’s a very good start.”

  Shock flickered through Kristair and then a shudder as I entered his mind, letting him fully understand the strength of my conviction. “A start?” he said breathlessly. “I thought I did a rather good job.”

  “For you, my oh-so-restrained love, it was better than good. I know how hard it is for you to let go of your control, just as I know how much you want me to have it. I want more than what’s on the surface. I want the deep unconscious begging, the gut reaction pleading when you can’t think anymore. I want you to let loose all of that wild emotion I know you keep locked up inside you and give it to me.”

  “I don’t know if I can.” I had to smile at the genuine worry in his dark eyes.

  “I do.” I wrapped my arms around him, pulled us over onto our sides. I wanted to be so tangled up in him nothing would be able to tear us apart. “Now stop thinking about it, love. Just feel. No more thinking for the rest of the night.”

  Our mouths met and I could have drowned in his kiss. Those firm lips against my own, his hot tongue and even hotter mouth, the way he tasted, and the heat sizzling along my nerves as we kissed.

  I wanted to touch him forever, be touched in return. Calloused, warrior hands whispered over my skin with a gentleness and reverence that came from the most private part of him. I caressed him in return. All that golden skin covered in tattoos, the scars on his shoulder and thigh, and every other inch untouched by needle or blade.

  I sank myself into his mind as I claimed his body with my mouth and hands. I stroked his soul with my own and felt the response that came from the deepest heart of him. Still I demanded more.

  Kristair shuddered, moaning into my mouth, his arms tightening around me. “Jacob….”

  “It’s okay,” I soothed, sliding one hand down his long leg, lifting and spreading him wider. “I’ve got you.”

  Bit by bit, I chipped away at his restraint and, trembling, he made no move to try to stop me. I knew he wanted to, but he didn’t. He just kept saying my name, with desperate hot kisses against my skin and urgent arches of his lean body into mine.

  I kept my eyes locked on his face, drinking in every flicker of emotion. Of how velvet-hot his eyes looked instead of cool and reserved. Smiling, I used my mind and touched him inside, the way he’d done with me on the plane, groaning at how sinuously he moved beneath me. And we were only getting started.

  “You’re beautiful,” I murmured, snickering at his incredulity.

  “And you talk too much,” Kristair replied. His hands cupped my ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “Not to mention that you’ve picked up some very unsavory habits.” He gasped as I used my thoughts to massage his prostate, his eyes darkening to midnight. “Wicked brat.”

  I chuckled and dragged my tongue down his chest, tormenting his nipple with my teeth. “Once again, you only have yourself to blame.”

  “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that revenge is rude?”

  I savored the breathlessness of his voice, the way his heart beat faster inside my chest. “You’re not one to talk about revenge. I’ve seen you in action.”

  Kristair pressed a kiss to the side of my throat and I couldn’t stop the shiver of weakness. It had never been one of my hot spots before I’d met him, but it sure as hell was one now. His teeth scraped against my skin, an almost feral ache welling up. I shivered again. No matter what happened, whether everything went the way we hoped it would or not, I had the sudden intuition that this was the last time he was going to bite me.

  “Kristair….”

  There was a sharp prick, then the soothing brush of his tongue along my exposed throat. I made a soft sound and trembled as he penetrated me slowly, drawing out the moment. It was when he bit me that Kristair held nothing back. Maybe that was why I liked it so much. His love for me, his need to be in my life, washed over me so completely it swept everything else away.

  I was panting by the time he pulled back and kissed me. I tasted my blood on his lips as the fire in my throat eased. For once, I wished I didn’t heal so damn fast.

  Breaking away with a groan, I reached for the lube and coated my fingers. Kristair’s eyes gleamed as he hooked his arms under his knees and spread himself wide open for me. Somehow he made such a vulnerable position seem more like an erotic demand than one of submission.

  I stroked one finger down the shadowed cleft, teasing his puckered entrance with the tip. “You are going to make me ask, aren’t you, damn you?” Kristair said, with an impatient rock of his hips.

  “No, not yet.” I pushed the tip of my finger inside him and stopped. It was so rare that I got Kristair to curse that I reveled in it. “You’d just be saying the words then, not meaning them. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be meaning every last one.”

  “Sound
s like a hell of a challenge. Sure you’re up to it?”

  I pushed my finger all the way into him, stroking just the edge of his spot. “Have you ever known me not to be up to it?” I twisted my finger, teased before easing another one in. “I’m always up to taking you on.”

  He clenched around my fingers and shivered. “Do it, Jacob.”

  Raw lust combined with pure heat, need, and love. I shifted through his mind until I found the pressure point I wanted, and then chuckled as he gasped. “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure you can’t come, love. Not until I’m damn good and ready for you to.”

  His eyes narrowed and I laughed again as he touched my mind in the same way. “Two can play at that game.”

  “I play every game to win,” I promised. Not that there were going to be any losers this time. I just wanted to come out on top, and I would.

  Kristair started to uncoil his body to reach for me, but I shook my head. “Don’t move. Leave yourself open just like this.”

  He made a sound, a half-frustrated moan, but didn’t argue. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.” I kissed the inside of his thigh, trailing my tongue along all the tender, sensitive areas. My teeth nipped the curve of his ass. I drew his balls into my mouth and lashed them with my tongue. The whole time I continued to torment him with my fingers, stretching him, making him more than ready for me.

  “Jacob….”

  “Not yet.” I swirled my tongue over the head of his cock, tracing it over the slit as my mouth filled with the musky, salty flavor of him, and his thighs trembled. “Not even close.”

  Kristair moaned again in that rich voice of his. I kissed and nipped, following up the thin path of hair on his stomach and chest. He shivered again as I settled against him, our cocks grinding together. As much as I wanted to thrust into him right then, I made myself wait. Not quite yet. Kristair had to be wild.

  “I want to touch you,” Kristair said. But he kept his hands on his thighs, still holding himself open as I rocked my hips. I shifted so my cock thrust between his cheeks and rubbed against the fingers I still had buried inside him.