by Sarina Dorie
He shrugged. “Yes, about that—she’s lactating. It was time for her to feed the baby. Pity.”
Somehow, I doubted that was what had happened. Elric had magically known we’d been up to sexual shenanigans without him. If anything, he’d made Vega lactate on purpose.
Elric went on airily. “In any case, I told Vega I would make it up to her afterward.”
I turned back to Thatch. His eyes studied me in silence.
“How was that for you, Thatchy?” Elric asked.
It was growing dark beyond the garden, but I could still see the crease between Thatch’s eyebrows. I suspected we were both waiting for the other shoe to drop, to find out what Elric’s punishment would be.
“Fine,” Thatch said in a monosyllabic monotone. I could almost hear the rest of the sentence, though he didn’t say it: “Until you decided to show up.”
“Just ‘fine’?” Elric harrumphed. “Well, how was it for you, Clarissa? Did you enjoy yourself? Even though you didn’t come?”
I watched Thatch, trying to read the right response from his expression.
“It was nice,” I said.
“Where does ‘nice’ fall on the orgasm scale?” Elric asked. “Is it a five,’ or is it a ten?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It was nice.”
“What about two days ago?” Elric asked. “Was that also ‘nice’?”
“With you? Yes, it was very . . . nice.” It had been better than a chocolate earthquake cake. It had been like a chocolate earthquake had exploded inside me, surreal and perfect.
“’Very nice.’ That sounds like it rates higher.” Smugness leaked from Elric’s tone. “Was it the orgasm? Or the overall performance?”
The muscles between my shoulders bunched up with tension. I didn’t know where he was going with this. Was this just meant as a dig at Thatch, or was this leading to some other punishment?
“You are making Clarissa uncomfortable again.” Thatch craned his neck to see over me. “Love, two.”
I didn’t know if I’d heard Thatch correctly. It sounded like code for something. Maybe this was part of their getting-along cooperation.
“I apologize. Where are my manners?” Elric chuckled. “I just wondered if Clarissa was thoroughly satisfied. Darling, now that Thatch has had a chance to attempt to satisfy his carnal desires with you, I thought I would see if you were open to the notion of spending time with me.”
Thatch kissed my forehead. “You can say yes. It won’t offend me.”
His passiveness rankled me. “Am I allowed to say no? Can’t I just rest and cuddle?”
“Of course,” Elric said. “We don’t want to wear you out. You are recovering. If you need to, I can wait until tomorrow morning.”
I hated the unfairness of this situation. “So you’re saying I can’t say no. In exchange for your help, I’m one of your mistresses now, so I have to do exactly as you bid. If you decide it’s your turn with me, then you’ll have your way.”
Thatch raised an eyebrow at Elric.
“No, that isn’t what I was saying.” Elric spoke through clenched teeth. “Why are you suddenly so suspicious? What did he tell you?”
Thatch gave Elric another of his pointed looks. “You’re doing it again. Love, three.”
Elric growled. The exchange between them might have been amusing if I had known what game they were playing. Perhaps I shouldn’t have left them alone with the penis trap today.
Thatch stroked my hair and stared into my eyes. “Clarissa, we will stay here and cuddle for ten minutes.”
“Five,” Elric said. “More than that would be bad for your health.”
Thatch nodded. “At the end of … five minutes, if you feel inclined to do something else, it’s up to you. No one is going to make you do anything you find objectionable. Contrary to things I may have said about Elric in the past . . . he isn’t completely horrible.”
“A compliment! From Mr. Thatch!” Elric said. “That means—”
Thatch blazed on as though he hadn’t heard. “He does have a sense of honor, twisted as it may be by Morty standards, and he does care about you. He isn’t going to manipulate you into staying in the Fae Realm or use you like some Fae would.” Each word came out strained and slow, like the experience of uttering them was more painful than pulling teeth. “Elric, for all his faults, loves you. He is trying to make this arrangement work for you and me. If it makes you more comfortable, I will remain here the entire time he . . . has you. And if you wish privacy and want me to leave, just say so.”
I didn’t know what was worse. It was one thing to watch a magical tableau and fantasize about the two of them together. It was another for it to be a reality. The idea of someone watching me was embarrassing. A little shiver stole through me as I thought about the Raven Queen again.
Was it more hurtful to Thatch to send him away? Even if I asked him, he would probably lie, because he never told the truth without me shaking it out of him. The only way I would know was by observing him.
“Will you stay with me?” I asked. “Will you …” A tremor of nervousness spiked through me, even though I had no reason to feel anxiety. “Will you stay close to me and touch me?”
“Anything for you.” Thatch planted a kiss on my lips and then circled his arms around me.
I closed my eyes and snuggled close to his chest. He stroked my hair, and I relaxed. I inhaled his scent of books and Celestor magic, almost masking the true essence of his red magic underneath. He kissed my face and made me feel loved and appreciated.
I would have forgotten about Elric just behind me if I hadn’t felt him shift a moment later. A twig popped, and leaves crunched.
He spooned behind me and smoothed his hand up and down my arm. “Vega would be jealous if she knew how much time I was spending with you.”
“Furious,” I said. “I’m guessing that’s why you’re going to tell her later.”
“Just so.”
Elric swept my hair aside and kissed the back of my neck. A tickle danced down my spine. My affinity fluttered.
I understood I needed this “medicine” in order to refuel my affinity and keep myself from becoming a broken mess, but I didn’t want to enjoy it so thoroughly. I wanted to resist giving in to him so completely that I lost myself. I’d been able to resist Derrick. On the other hand, Derrick hadn’t been a Fae prince.
Thinking of Derrick always made me sad. I tried to hold on to that emotion, to cling to anything that wasn’t Elric’s magic rolling off him in waves and consuming me. Slowly, the sorrow slipped from my grasp, replaced by desire.
Elric massaged my waist and hips, his hands confident and reassuring. Thatch kissed my face, my lips, and my throat, his mouth trailing against my skin. His teeth nibbled at my flesh, tasting it as though I were dessert. Elric slid a hand behind my knee and bent it, leaning my leg against Thatch’s outer thigh. He pressed my hips against Thatch’s pelvis. Only a couple of minutes before I had thought this couldn’t be arousing, but I’d been wrong.
Thatch smoothed out my petticoats and slid his hand underneath. His thumb brushed against the back of my knee. “Position seventeen?” He lifted his head, eyes on Elric.
The Fae prince murmured into my hair. “Twenty-three, if you please.”
“Clarissa? Are you all right with that?” Thatch asked.
“Uh-huh, sure, twenty-three.” I had no idea what page that was, and he knew it.
I circled my arm around his neck, pressing closer. He kissed me deeply. His hands roved over the back of the dress, unbuttoning blindly. I dug my nails into his flesh, trying to remember what he needed.
Elric shimmied the skirts of my dress up. He slid inside me, my pelvic muscles clenching around him. I gasped at the suddenness of him filling me, of his magic radiating into me. My insides tingled. It was so intense, more so than when he’d awakened my affinity to bring life back to my limbs or any time since then. He thrust slowly at first, g
aining speed as my body welcomed him.
“Are you focusing, Clarissa?” Thatch asked.
“Yes.” I was such a liar.
“Elric will stop if you don’t control your affinity. He’ll have to. He isn’t going to want third-degree burns to the genitals.” He nibbled at my neck. “You will hurt both of us.”
I tried to concentrate on the magic swelling inside me, but this wasn’t like with Thatch when I could tell which magic was my own and which was his. Power radiated from Elric, confusing my senses. He wasn’t even wearing his crown of healing.
Thatch’s tone was quiet, but an edge as sharp as a blade cut through. “Slow down or you’ll make her come now, and she won’t be able to control herself.”
Elric slowed. I refocused. I redirected my affinity to spread evenly over my limbs. I contained the energy just under the barrier of my skin so it didn’t burst out from me and into one of them. The pleasure rose higher, but I could separate the physical ecstasy from the magical. When the fireworks went off inside me, I kept the affinity contained.
I blinked the stars from my vision. A little smile tugged at the corners of Thatch’s mouth. I suspected I had made the right decision not sending him away.
“Wow,” I said.
“See what a little teamwork can do. That was more than nice, wasn’t it?” Elric asked.
Thatch cleared his throat.
“Not that I’m trying to outdo Thatch’s earlier attempt,” Elric said quickly. “I’m just saying if it was nicer, it’s because you had both of us.”
“Why don’t you go check on your wife?” Thatch asked.
Elric yawned. “Because I’m busy basking in Clarissa’s afterglow.”
I never knew whether Elric was intentionally dense or he didn’t get rhetorical questions meant as suggestions.
Vega’s voice called from somewhere far off. “Elric!”
He sighed. “I would swear, if you had magic, I would think you had planned this moment.” Elric kissed my cheek and sat up. “This is what happens when one is popular. You can never be in two beds at the same place.”
Thatch grinned and kissed me again. “I suppose I’m fortunate not to be popular.”
I hated to burst their cheery mood, but I had to ask. “What if there’s a day I don’t feel like having sex with either of you?”
Elric laughed. “That’s ridiculous. Who wouldn’t want to make love to me at least once a day?” Elric dressed, his face drawn with exhaustion.
Thatch snorted. “Insensitivity and lacking in empathy. This is what we were talking about earlier. Love, four.”
“No! I wasn’t being serious. That was a joke.” Elric leaned down to kiss my shoulder, nearly falling over. He must have used up a lot of magic.
He righted himself, reminding me of a cat too prideful to acknowledge a fumbled attempt at grace. “If you don’t feel like making love to me, then allow Thatch to satisfy you. It doesn’t have to be me. It doesn’t have to be vaginal intercourse. Just something.” His eyes were so serious, I realized this was no joke. “And as I said before, I need to be present to help.”
“I can monitor my affinity,” I said. “I’ve been doing fine on my own.” Hadn’t I? “I don’t understand why you have to be there.”
“See, I told you,” Thatch said.
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
I sat up, my dress falling off me. “Seriously. After all that, you still can’t get along?”
I told myself this wasn’t like with the Raven Queen. No one was telling me I had to perform in front of an audience. Neither of them was coercing me, but I felt like they were. As loving as both of them were and as much as they tried, there was a little part of me that felt empty inside.
Elric whispered, “You just made Clarissa nervous, not me this time. One, four.” His eyes weren’t shifting colors in the kaleidoscope way they usually did. They turned gold and stayed there. I wasn’t sure what the significance of that was.
“I did not. It’s situational nervousness. If you can’t understand that, and can’t at all empathize with her emotional state, you don’t deserve to be with her at all. Love, four.”
At last I understood what this “one, four” and “love, three” business was about. They were keeping score.
I stepped out of the Regency gown and marched to the house in my undergarments, not caring if his servants saw me in a chemise and stays.
Thatch and Elric mostly behaved at dinner, but it didn’t escape my notice they continued keeping score.
As I watched Thatch’s guarded expression at dinner, I wondered what he still wasn’t telling me about my magical affliction—or his. If the emptiness inside me was from being drained, it wouldn’t be ebbing away as I recharged myself. If the heartache I felt was grief from the loss of my fairy godmother, that would last longer, but surely every time I studied and read books on magic to better myself, I should have felt closer to my goal of being healed. Yet, I suspected the darkness in my soul had to be more than loss. I felt like I was going in the wrong direction, studying the wrong books.
I had tried getting answers out of Thatch. I had tried everything I could to persuade him.
Every way but one.
I hadn’t yet attempted torture.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Safe Word is “Electrocution”
I needed to know what Thatch and Elric were keeping from me. Thus far, asking hadn’t worked. Getting Vega to tell me had been a dead end. Imani didn’t know anything. That meant I had to make them tell me.
I knew I was at my weakest when exposed to extreme pleasure or pain. Perhaps that was because my will was feeble, or I didn’t have as much practice as someone else who had mastered their affinity, but I knew Thatch had succumbed to weakness in the past as well.
I didn’t usually dare venture into Thatch’s dungeon as he was torturing himself. On Sunday morning, I walked down the stairs, feeling wrong about violating his privacy. I had to walk through the cellar to get to his personal quarters. The first chamber after the cellar was spartan. The extreme tidiness reminded me of a monk’s bedroom. No lamps or candles were lit, except in the adjoining room where Thatch worked.
I only knew this to be Thatch’s room because as I neared the wall across from the bed, I realized the painting hung there was of me. The portrait had been carefully rendered in his classical style. It was the one from his room at Womby’s with my back turned toward him, purple wings glowing as I turned my head over my shoulder laughing. I’d never posed for this painting, and the first time I’d seen it, I had thought it was Alouette Loraline. It had been my fairy godmother who had insisted otherwise.
Thatch had captured a whimsical abandon in my expression. The way he’d painted me with such love reminded me that he loved me. Some of my righteous indignation at him for keeping secrets melted away. At least a little.
A second door led to another chamber past this one. The next room was slightly larger. A table and bench pushed into the corner were covered with an array of boxes and tools. Upon closer inspection, I saw these were his tools of torture. Trays of vises and rows of needles cushioned in velvet cases filled the boxes. There were scourges, spiked tools, and clamps. The far wall was left bare, though a set of manacles hung from it.
Thatch kept everything clean and neatly arranged, more so than the artifacts in the school’s museum dungeon. I suspected the rack and the spiked wardrobe in the school were for show, whereas this was all for his personal use.
The creepiness of the room unsettled me. This was how Thatch’s magic worked. I had known that when I’d married him. Yet at that time, he hadn’t been so dependent on practicing pain magic so regularly. He’d been able to fuel himself with Celestor magic and transmute other forms of less palatable affinities.
I found him hunched at an immaculate table covered in tidy stacks of wooden cases. He was shirtless and turned away. From my viewpoint at the door it looked li
ke he was stabbing himself.
I glanced at the shackles on the wall and the instruments on the table. “Hi,” I said. “Can I come in?”
He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Only if you can stand the sight of blood.”
I probably could handle whatever horrible thing he was doing to himself. I stepped forward, surveying his sketchpad and tools. His torture method of choice was a stick with little needles on it he used to prick his ribs. He wiped away the blood with a rag and picked up a black leather book from the table. He flipped through it and handed it to me, opening the page to an ink drawing with a vine of morning glories surrounding runes. It was beautiful, one of his pieces.
“What does it mean?”
“The runes say, ‘I grant thee power.’ It’s a spell to help restore my affinity.”
“Good.” My gaze shifted over the tools. “Can I . . . help?”
He studied me for a long moment. I worried he would see through my motivations. Or maybe it was my artistic skills that were lacking.
“Or we could do something else together. I could spank you instead,” I said, trying to compose my face into a natural smile.
He dipped his head, his tone stiff and formal. “I accept your offer to bring me pleasure and pain.”
His gaze flickered to the box nearest to me that contained vises.
“Um.” My heart started to speed up with trepidation just thinking about what it would be like to use those on another human being. I didn’t relish the idea, but I had a goal, and I was determined to achieve it.
He closed the lid on the box. “I don’t want to hurt you. Even if it didn’t affect your magic, it isn’t what I want for you. I need you to help me.”
“What can I do that will help you the most?”
He threaded his fingers through my hair, his fingers massaging my scalp. “Do you mean that? Are you willing to do this for me?”
Guilt swelled up inside me. I had come down here to manipulate him to get information, to use him. For him, this was as intimate as sex was for me.
