“You’d better watch it,” she says. “I could get used to this.”
“You’d better get used to this because now that I have you back, I’m not letting go.”
“Not even to go to Nirvana?”
“Not if it means being without you.”
She gives me an adoring look. Like the time I turned down a promotion. I didn’t want her to have to choose between giving up her career or living apart. When I’d told her, she’d looked at me the same way while she told me I shouldn’t have turned down the promotion, but she was obviously delighted I thought enough of our relationship to put it first.
“Bob, looks like dying turned you into a hopeless romantic.” She moves the tray to the foot of the bed, lies back, and pulls me on top of her. “Now show me.”
You don’t have to ask me twice. We spend the next ten or fifteen minutes making out and groping like we haven’t since our college days. I press her head onto the mattress and draw circles around her ear with my kisses. “You are so beautiful.” I keep my tone low and blow across her ear the way I know drives her wild.
“Oh gods, Bob.” Her moan makes my cock go from attentive to rigid. I trail down the side of her neck and move to her perfect breasts. I pull one of her large nipples into my mouth and do the nipple-bud tango with my tongue and teeth. I slide my fingers into the hot pool of lust between her legs. She moans and arches, reminding me just how responsive she is.
Gods, if I don’t take a breather, I’m going to blow my load before I’m ready. Mornings aren’t my best time for endurance. I flip to a standing position and look down as Tate’s mouth forms a perfect O of surprise. “Shower.”
She takes my outstretched hand and follows me into the shower. The view of the mountains doesn’t hold a candle to Tate’s beauty. Her laugh, including the cute little snort she makes, sounds better than any singer on any station on satellite radio. Back on Earth, I’d flip through my hundred channels and never hear a sound I liked better. She stands with hands above her head and legs spread while I use soapsuds to paint her body. My hands slip over her firm, round breasts, then between them and across her stomach, her hips. Tate’s body is taut but with a womanly softness that makes me want to grab. But I don’t. I graze teasingly across the cleft of her cunt. When she struggles to control her panting, I finally prop one of her legs on the shower stool and sink to my knees.
Tate grabs the waist-high bar and arches back, opening wider for me. I take about ten seconds to admire her swollen clit and the lust leaking out of her before I suck it into my mouth. I’ve missed her taste. I’ve missed the feel of her in my mouth. I can never get enough. Her moan is deep and feral. I answer her with one of my own. Gods, she’s beautiful. I take her on a slow ascent up the mountain, using my teeth and tongue as rest stops when sucking brings her to a frenzy. I do this until she’s moaning out unintelligible words and barely able to hold herself up. And then I slide two fingers into her cunt and thrum her G-spot. It’s what she needs. Tate arches back and lets out a keening scream, the contractions of her cunt so strong my fingers ache as they try to keep thrumming. I plunge and suck. She screams and writhes. When her panting turns to huge, hungry gulps of air, I let go.
Tate sinks to her knees.
I’ve hurt her. Adrenaline shoots through me as I move to pull her up. “Tate, are you okay?”
She looks up at me with those multi-coloured irises, which my Tate didn’t have, but which she seems to have retained from Anya. Are they part of her true essence? The pressure of her hands on my thighs stills me. She slides her hands up until one cups my balls and the other holds my cock at the base as she swipes her tongue over my cock head, flicking it through the precum on the tip and using it to paint the shaft. She takes her sweet time even though I’m ready to bust. I groan and grab the top of her head. Make me come. The shake of her head is almost imperceptible, but her nonverbal answer rockets through me. “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”
When she’s good and ready, she takes a deep breath and slides my shaft into her mouth, pausing to let the air out through her nose when my cock hits her gag reflex. She tips her head back slightly and, grabbing my ass, pulls me bodily into her until I’m buried in her throat with her lips pressed against my pelvis. Gods. She treats me like a gourmet popsicle, licking, and sucking, and moaning her love of every little reward of precum until I can’t stand it anymore. I roar loud enough to bring the gods calling as I come. But she won’t stop and keeps sucking, milking every last drop of ether from me. Showing me just who is boss in this relationship. I pull her into my arms, and we stand under the flow of the water, murmuring to each other.
“I love you.”
”Ditto.”
“Oh, gods, I’ve missed you.”
“Never leave me again.” The words are a jumble and could have come from either of us.
Eventually, I look up and see a faint reflection in the corner of the mirror, Francis. Our eyes meet, and the message in his is clear. “You are no longer alone.” And he’s not talking about Tate.
The three guys sit in leather chairs lined up in front of the desk as Bob and I enter the study, a recognition of my new position that I appreciate. I give a nod to Francis for the gesture as I take the seat behind the desk. He inclines his head slightly in reply.
Something about this room reminds me of Francis and feels like home. The carved wood and stone fireplace sitting to my left complement the beamed ceilings, leaded-light windows, and wood floor. The glass top of my desk sits on carved wooden legs. My notebook and pen are lined up precisely on the desk blotter. Caleb. I look into his twinkling brown eyes and point to the desk.
“Did you do this?” I ask.
Caleb nods. “Sure did.”
“Thank you, how thoughtful.”
“That’s our Caleb, Mr. Thoughtful.” Nameless is in another mood. Maybe this is his normal. I hope not. For once, his guitar sits beside him instead of being an appendage of his body. “Can we get on with this? I hear you two have breaking news.” Vitriol spews from him like a black cloud from a volcano, but I won’t let him derail me.
“Thank you all for coming.” I look at each of them and smile. I take an extra moment with Francis and Caleb. “Thank you both for your help last night. We owe you big-time.”
“Yeah, thanks, man.” Bob shakes Francis’s hand. He and Caleb do some kind of man-bonding handshake thing. Guys! They can’t just hug like normal people.
“No thanks are required. As examiners, we have formed a clan. As clan members, we are responsible to and for each other. What one does affects the others. When you and your Bob here reunited, it changed our dynamic.” Francis shoots the cuffs of his impeccably tailored suit, this one a dove gray with a black shirt and checkerboard gray tie. Super GQ. I flip my notebook open and grab my pen. This could get interesting.
“How so?”
Francis looks pointedly at Bob, whose vibe has been unsettled since we came into the room. Although I may not be the best judge of character at the moment—my system buzzes with so much emotion it’s as if I swallowed a hive of bees.
Bob clears his throat and looks at the guys. Nameless scowls back. Francis looks expectant. Caleb, supportive.
“Obviously, you’re all aware that I went through the portal last night to find my Tate,” Bob says.
“Why would you do something so gods-damned stupid,” Nameless growls.
I shoot him a look and take a split second to wonder just why I feel a pull toward his holy grumpiness. I expect Francis to do one of his hand-waving things to shut him up, but this time, it’s Bob who challenges him, turning, shoulders square, annoyance on point.
“When she wasn’t at home, I called her office. Her assistant told me she’d been shot and was in a coma. That’s where I found her before Aphrodite and Hera snatched me back. You know the rest.” Bob gets up and pours a coffee from the urn on the sideboard. He pours from another, adding honey and lemon and setting a cup of tea in front of me befo
re resuming his seat. I throw him a grateful smile as I take a sip.
“It’s not her.” Nameless’s voice is flat and firm.
“What makes you say that?” Caleb asks. “The gods wouldn’t have revealed her to Bob if it wasn’t her. Now we just need to wait for them to reveal her to the rest of us.”
“That’s assuming she’s your destined mate as well, which is not a certainty,” Bob says.
“I don’t believe it.” Nameless jumps up, snatches his guitar, and heads out of the room. Touchy.
“Nameless.” Francis’s voice has a sharp edge of warning.
Nameless shoots him the finger without breaking stride. “Bite me.” He slams the door on his way out.
I didn’t realize how much of my buzz was because of him. When he walked out, he took half of the bees I’d swallowed with him. Why do I want them back?
We sit in absolute silence for several seconds before I clear my throat. Time to take charge. If I leave things up to these men, we could be here for a few millennia.
“Okay, help me understand the rules of the game here. While I have the unenviable job of ridding your school of its incubus infestation, I’ve been reunited with my destined mate, right?”
Caleb nods emphatically.
“And you two,” I look from Francis to Caleb, “are under the mistaken impression that I’m your beloved Gianna, a mortal you knew in a past life. Have I got that right?”
Francis’s look lights the coils of the heater that’s taken up permanent residence in my core since arriving. I feel the heat of Bob’s gaze on me, too, as I lick my lips. Oh boy. “We are not mistaken.”
“Yeah,” Caleb says as he bounces up to refresh my tea. “We just need to wait for you to figure it out so the gods will lift the cloaking spell.”
“If you can remember this past life, why can’t I?”
He lifts his shoulders in an elegant shrug. “My hypothesis is that as a mortal, you cannot be allowed to access past life files until your fate is determined.”
“Yeah, that,” Caleb says.
“And what precisely does that mean?” Bob asks. He doesn’t sound at all happy about this.
“It means you might have to share this beauty.” Caleb looks me over, but it’s more like a puppy waiting for a treat than prey eyeing a tasty morsel he’s about to tear apart . . . That’s how Nameless looks at me.
Bob says nothing, but thick dark green clouds of jealousy roll around his head. One thing I know for sure—my Bob doesn’t play well with others, and he most certainly doesn’t share.
I should probably feel intimidated about now, but I don’t. And I have to admit that having four guys—okay three guys who think I’m their beloved—please and pamper me is a huge ego boost.
“I am beginning to understand why Aphrodite cloaked us all. This is all very distracting when we have a serious problem to solve. It’s time we get started on academy business. The rest of this will sort itself out in time.”
Bob frowns but nods. Caleb gives what I’m recognizing as his whatever-you-say nod.
“Where would you like to start?” Francis asks. Bless you, my son. School admin stuff I could handle; in fact, I excelled at it. A strange light flickers through Francis’s eyes, and even though his lids don’t move, I’d swear he just winked at me. My body responds, images invading my imagination. A cool, hard, pale chest sliding over mine. Cool skin meeting hot skin. Lips meeting my neck. Teeth—I cross my legs to control my desire, but that only makes it worse. These men are so distracting!
I clear my throat. “Normally, I’d meet with you each individually, but since you form this clan, as you call it, I guess it makes sense that we do it together. But what about Nameless?”
“I’ll get him,” Caleb says. He moves across the room so fast I’d swear he hasn’t moved. Werewolf superpower, I guess. He pokes his head out the door. “Get your ass back in here, buddy, before Francis reports you to Hera for insubordination.” Caleb returns to his seat.
Nameless follows a tad slower and sulkier. I’d swear those two nubs I see from time to time on the top of his head pulse red with anger, but he sits.
“Thank you,” I say to him. He ignores me.
I take a moment to go through my mental checklist.
1. Promote myself. Given the adoring looks coming from three and the distaste coming from his royal grumpiness, they know all they need to know.
2. Accelerate my learning. Big-time. I need to find out everything I can about Bardo, the academy, and where incubi come from. Then I can make a plan to stop the infestation—followed by a plan to get Bob and me out of this situation.
3. Match strategy to situation. First I need to figure out the problem . . . problems, plural, and clarify the challenges and opportunities. Lots of kinky sex. Fuck four guys. Dammit, Tate, focus!
4. Secure early wins. I seem to have made headway with Francis and Caleb. Nameless, not so much. Time to focus on the academy issues.
5. Build my team. And here they sit. Check! And yikes.
Three guys look at me expectantly. Nameless silently plucks at his guitar.
“What are the biggest challenges facing the academy?”
Caleb’s hand shoots up in a pick-me gesture. I return his smile. “The incubi. And now they’re even worse than before. Hades put some kind of spell on them so they can come out during the day instead of just at night.”
“What does Hades want?”
“Hades looks for recruits for his dungeon, The Inferno,” Francis says.
I frown. “What do you mean, dungeon? He looks for people to maim and torture?”
“A BDSM dungeon. Don’t you know anything?” Nameless.
I give him my best stink eye. “Are you always so rude?”
“I suggest you treat her with the respect she deserves,” Bob says. Oh boy. Things won’t go well if he loses his temper. I rush into the fray.
“Okay, before you two come to fisticuffs, let’s continue.” I look at my notebook. “Any other issues?”
“A lack of effective leadership,” Francis says. “We need a strong leader who has the authority to match her leadership.”
“General Patton,” I say. “I’m a fan.”
“So is Laird Salton. Our Francis is also a practitioner of all martial arts, at least those that existed a few centuries ago,” Bob says. “So, he has a few more special skills to throw into the mix.”
“Wow, that’s pretty impressive,” I say, and I mean it. I love martial arts, in theory. So much so I’d tried Kung Fu in the days before Bob. I lasted for about ten classes, and eight of those were because I hooked up with the very cute sifu, until I found out the bastard was married. I’d learned two very valuable lessons from that experience: I truly dislike pain, and I was capable of sex for sex’s sake.
Francis gives me a penetrating look. I look down, thankful my hair hides my crimson ears. Bob studies me intently, too, and I know what that look means: we’d be having a chat about my wicked wet vagina sooner than later.
“What left the academy vulnerable to an incubus attack? I heard mention of guardians.”
Bob nods. “Yes, we have guardians. Four of them. Like us, they only have so much power until they unite with their destined mates.”
Caleb nods. “We think someone is working with the incubi from the inside, but we haven’t been able to figure out who.”
I look at Francis. “Even you?”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Nameless.
“It means since he can read my mind, I assume he can read others.” I give him my most patient to toddler tone.
“Let me explain this once again,” Francis says in an equally patient tone. “I do not read minds. One of my many gifts is that of empathic perception, which allows me to feel and hear heightened thoughts associated with a specific emotion. I only have the gift if I have some kind of connection with the other person. Mind readers hear the thought of other people as if they’re talking.”
“There he
goes, splitting hairs again,” Bob says. “And to answer the question I know is coming next, some entities are blocked from vampire perception.”
“Such as?” I give Bob a smile of thanks and look back to Francis. I’m fascinated by this conversation and learning more about him. I mean, fuck, he’s a real live, or dead, vampire. I lean forward.
“Watch out, Francis,” Bob laughs. “She’s latching on, and once she gets her hooks in, she won’t let go.”
I’m not at all sure I like the way Francis studies Tate, and why the hell is he hesitating? He knows damn well what blocks his power. And the way she’s looking back at him . . . She’s interested. It was one thing when she was a complete stranger who seemed to have the hots for all of us—that was a sexy distraction—but now that I know it’s Tate, that’s a whole other story. Tate is mine. Period. She gave herself to me, heart and soul, and I did the same. One of Tate’s very attractive traits is her single-mindedness. She decides on the path she’s taking and rarely veers from it. It took years for our love to build, but once I’d taken the commitment plunge, I hadn’t looked back. Tate has never believed this, but when she wrapped her small hands around my heart, I lost interest in being with any other woman.
Francis continues to study Tate. She taps her pen on her notepad, an unconscious sign of her impatience. “Francis, which entities are blocked from vampire perception?”
“I’ll tell you,” Caleb says. That man has no fear of Francis’s wrath. I’ve been fascinated by the dynamic between the two of them, but that was probably more boredom than anything else. “Francis can’t detect the power of the gods. He might have a vague idea of their presence, but he can’t use his power absorption ability.”
“Talented man,” Tate says. She looks impressed, but in typical Tate fashion, she throws me a look and scrunches her face in her version of a wink, letting me know I’m top of mind.
My cock twitches, and I wink back, letting her know she rules my world.
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