“Oh, Francis can do amazing things. Hell, man, he’s had hundreds of years to polish his powers, right Francis?” Caleb gives Francis a thumbs-up.
“As much as I appreciate your endorsement, we should let Tate get on with her meeting,” Francis says.
Tate looks around a moment then back at me. “What time is it?”
“While our time keeps pace with the earthly realm, it’s unimportant here. A priority in Bardo is examining your inner feelings. Why do you wish to know the time?” Francis asks.
Not a fucking chance I’m going to let Tate think Francis is boss. “Yes, it’s important to keep in touch with your feelings, but we do what we want to when we want to in Bardo.”
“No matter chaos reigns,” Tate mutters. She gives us one more look before standing. “Well then, my stomach’s telling me it’s time for lunch. Everyone okay with a working lunch?”
Three of us nod and rise. Francis takes a sweeping bow before Tate and offers her his arm. Just great. Tate smiles graciously as if she’s tickled pink by the attention and takes his arm. I’m going to have a word with Francis about making the rest of us look bad. Caleb bounces ahead, as usual, to pull out the feast the silkies left for us. Francis and Tate follow. I fall in behind them. Nameless grunts but slowly takes up the rear.
Francis continues with his courtly manners and pulls Tate’s chair out. He snaps the linen napkin and drops in on her lap before sliding her chair closer to the table. I take my usual seat at Tate’s right, Francis to her left, and Nameless beside him. Caleb has the food spread on the table by the time we’re all seated. The speed he and Francis move still astonishes me after six months. A nanosecond later, Caleb is beside Tate’s chair, asking, “Anything else I can get you?”
Tate takes a quick look at the lunch spread before beaming up at Caleb. “Aren’t you sweet. Everything looks great. Please, have a seat. All this attention is making me self-conscious.” You wouldn’t know—she quite literally preens at the attention. Caleb beams back at her as he takes his seat. “We’re here to serve you.”
“You all should know, though, that I’m a big fan of self-sufficiency. Bob can confirm that my independence is important to me.” Tate helps herself to generous servings of salad and sandwiches as they go by.
“While we’re eating, how about you guys bring me up to speed on more of the rules and regs of this place.” Tate throws a heated look at me. “Like, how did you get the job of angel of death? Seems like a weird thing to apply for.”
I chuckle because I know exactly how Tate’s going to react once she hears what we’re about to tell her. “We don’t get to choose. The gods choose for us.”
“And they operate under a warped sense of morality and humor. Like if you piss Hera off, she’ll turn you into an ugly creature and mate you with a cerastes.” Nameless makes this pronouncement as if it’s a fact.
Tate’s eyes go wide. “What the hell is a cerastes?”
Nameless actually smiles, but it’s more mean than anything else. “It’s a spineless snake with four sets of horns and two tails. It uses the horns to pin you to the ground while it fucks you with its tails in your mouth, cunt, and up the ass, until you’re dead.”
“Ew, gross.” Tate shudders.
Caleb barks out a laugh. “That’s so not true. Why would you tell her something like that?”
“It is so true, and you know it. Why are you all treating her as if she’s some kind of queen? It’s nauseating,” Nameless says.
I shoot Nameless my most penetrating look. “Can it, Nameless. I won’t ask you again. Tate’s my mate, and I want her treated as such. If it’s sanctioned by the gods, it sure as hell better be acceptable to you.”
“It would serve you well to keep a civil tongue,” Francis adds.
“You’re all delusional,” Nameless says. “What the fuck is wrong with all of you anyway? This woman is not Bob’s Tate, or I’d recognize her. I don’t know what kind of game the gods are playing here, but I want no part of it.” He picks up his guitar and marches from the room.
Tate chews slowly as her eyes follow him out of the room. “What’s the deal with him anyway?”
“You don’t recognize him?” Francis says the words, but it’s more as confirmation than as a question.
Tate frowns. “No. I’m drawn to him as if there’s some kind of attachment, but I don’t recognize him. And, I find it hard to believe I’d have been friends with someone that bitchy who throws shade every chance he gets.” She looks directly at me. “Do I know him?”
How the fuck am I supposed to answer that. Hera and Aphrodite made it clear that they’d reveal things in their own good time.
“When the gods are ready, all will be revealed,” Francis cuts in smoothly. “Pressing Robert to answer questions about your past may result in punishment.”
“What kind of punishment?” Tate asks.
“Anything from erectile dysfunction to castration. Your Bob here pissed Aphrodite off so badly he wasn’t able to have sex for months,” Caleb says.
Tate throws me a look that tells me this isn’t the worst news she’s heard and that I can expect to be grilled about my sexual activities since coming to Bardo. I sigh and mouth at Caleb to shut the fuck up even though I know it will be lost on him.
“I would have gone with Aphrodite in a New York minute, but I couldn’t get it up. I’m just doomed.” Caleb looks like the boy who’s lost his best friend.
Tate bursts out laughing. “TMI, Caleb. TMI. Do you have any sense of discretion?”
“Our Caleb has no guile. It is one of his more endearing qualities.” Francis says.
“Endearing, my ass,” I mutter.
Tate cocks her head at me and rubs her left bicep. Suddenly, I get the weirdest feeling that I can’t describe. As if Tate’s found a way to penetrate my brain with that damned intuition of hers. Heat shoots through me as she places a hand on my thigh and mouths, “Are you okay?”
I nod, give her a smile, and clear my head of the negative thoughts building up around the edges. If I’m not careful, I’m going to turn into Nameless, something I can’t let happen. I pride myself on being far more self-aware. I’m also the world’s leading authority on how to redirect Tate. “I’m just worried about the aftereffect of your healing session. All this is new to you. How are you feeling?”
“Not bad, actually. Pretty damned good.” She flashes me a naughty smile.
“So, he fucks good, does he?” Caleb says.
Tate laughs. “My gods, Caleb. Does nothing stop you?”
Tate raises her hand as Caleb opens his mouth to answer. “Let me guess . . .”
“Sex,” Tate and Caleb bellow together before bursting into gales of laughter that remind me just how much Tate loves life.
Doubts like dark clouds creep over the edges of the sunshine Tate brought back to me. I refuse to acknowledge them. Instead, I focus on what matters; I want to slam my dick into her right here, right now, and for the rest of eternity. I brush the hair away from her neck and nuzzle her under her ear. “Yes, we’re rather consumed by it here.” She shivers as I whisper the words in her ear, and desire jumps directly from her cunt to my cock.
“Get a room, you two.” Caleb’s words belie his avid curiosity as he watches us kiss.
Tate laughs again as she pulls back from my lips. “And on that note, shall we adjourn to the sitting room? Better yet, can we take a walk?” She looks longingly at the scenery beyond the large windows. Sunlight glitters off the surface of the lake.
Less than a millisecond later, Francis frowns down at her as he offers his arm. She sighs as she rises, accepting it. “Fine, fine. I get it. Two more days of quarantine.”
“And?”
“And one of you has to be with me at all times.”
Francis pats her suit sleeve. Huh.
“How come you can touch her now?” My question comes from a place of sheer concern for Tate’s wellbeing. Right.
Francis gives me an arch look. “What ma
kes you think anything has changed?”
I look pointedly at their linked arms.
“The reaction seems to require skin-to-skin contact.” He looks down at Tate. “It is doubtless related to the attachment or link you say you have.”
“It was probably a one-time thing,” I say more hopefully than with any assurance.
“Do you mind?” Francis stops and waits for Tate’s response. She looks unsure but nods because she can’t resist knowing. Francis touches a finger to the back of her bare hand.
“Ouch. Fuck.” Tate snatches her hand back. “Do you know what’s causing it?”
“It means you want to have sex with us.” Caleb sounds as if he’s willing to undress this second. Good thing I’m the passive type, or I’d punch his lights out. I glance at Tate. She manages to keep her expression blank, but she can’t hide that she’s blushing.
“I very much doubt that.” Her laugh sounds a bit forced. She reaches back and hooks her free arm through mine. “I’m a married woman, and the only person I’ll be having sex with is this man right here.” The heat of her gaze tells me to expect lots of it.
“You may not have any choice in the matter,” Francis says.
“My dear Francis. We always have choice even if it’s the choice between life and death. I choose my Bob. No one else. He’s all I need or ever wanted.”
Francis locks eyes with Tate. “Is he now?”
By this time, we’ve arrived at the sitting room. We take the same seating order as yesterday with me in the chair beside Tate, Caleb and Francis on the sofa across.
“Yes, he is. So, next order of business, how do I get rid of this link or attachment I have to you three?” Tate enunciates as if she’s choosing her words carefully as she points her pen at the other three guys. Even Nameless perks up.
“What kind of link?” I don’t want to have this discussion in front of the guys. I’m not ready to go down the road of exploring Tate’s sexuality, not with these guys. The second the thoughts form, I realize my mistake. Tate has many strengths that draw me to her, not the least of which is her ability to put aside emotions and analyze a problem from all angles. Francis is the only other match for her strategic thinking abilities.
“It’s hard to describe. It’s like I know all of you, what you’re thinking,” Tate says.
“You’ve always been intuitive. What makes this different?” I’m eager to help her poke holes in this idea.
“I have, but it’s as if I have that sense on steroids. It’s strongest of all with you. Like my sense of you has ramped into overdrive. Like I have super sense.”
“It is called the destined mate connection, and you will not be able to deny it.” Francis says this as if he knows it to be an unalterable fact.
Tate reaches for my hand, and I grasp it like a lifeline.
“And as I’ve already said, Bob is my destined mate, my one and only. I get that I’ve got this feeling about you guys, but just because I appreciate your good looks doesn’t mean I want to have sex with you.” Tate’s tone is firm as fuck. Yeah, like that. You go, girl.
“I hate to disavow you of the notion, but marriage is not a thing in Bardo. Only destined mates matter as you prepare for your next life. Here there is no moral shield you can use to hide your hidden sexual desires.”
Tate glares at him in challenge. “Wanna bet?”
Francis looks entirely too smug for words. “As much as I would love to make a wager with you, in this case, it wouldna be fair.” Francis’s brogue makes a thicker appearance. That only happens when he’s emotionally involved in something. “I am afraid, dearest Gianna, the truth will out while we prepare you for Aphrodite’s trials.”
Godsdammit. I’d forgotten all about the damned tasks. Shit!
“I wish you’d stop calling me that.” Tate’s words say one thing, but her tone says something quite different.
I want to hit something.
“Gentlemen, we need to get our priorities straight. Now, what’s all this about Aphrodite’s tasks?” I ask, this being the first I’ve heard about them.
Suddenly, all three of them find something of inordinate interest in the room to pay attention to instead of me.
“Bob!” I add the crack of a whip to my voice. Nothing pisses me off more than being left in the dark. He raises his head, and his boyish smile that’s almost a permanent fixture finally disappears.
“As punishment for my trip to Earth to find you, Aphrodite has decreed that we must present you at the Tribunal’s weekly event.” Bob’s gaze returns to the floor, and my male bullshit meter pops into the red zone.
“And you’re okay with this?” My tone is frostier than I intend, but none of what I’m reading from these guys makes me feel any better. I’m definitely not going to like the answer.
“Perceptive,” Francis says.
“Another of her strengths,” Bob says this as if it’s an equal parts good and bad thing.
“Can I get you anything?” Caleb asks hopefully.
I give him a wan smile. “No, thank you.” I turn my laser focus back to Bob. “So?”
“No, I’m not okay with it, but we don’t have any choice. We don’t make the rules here. The gods do. So, tomorrow night, the Tribunal will question you to find out if you’re submissive or dominant. We’re not sure what their game is, but we’ll no doubt find out.” The only time Bob has sounded more miserable was years ago when he thought he’d lost me. My female fury ratchets up another notch.
“And just how are they going to do that, precisely? ”
“She means how will they know she’s telling the truth,” Bob says.
“I don’t need help making myself understood, thank you very much.” I know he’s just trying to help me, but I’m in a pissy mood now. He raises an eyebrow but stays quiet.
“They will interview you and ask you to perform a number of tasks until they are satisfied we have categorized you properly,” Francis says.
“Wait a minute. You guys told me no one could force me to do anything against my will. So I’ll say no.”
“Here, the gods make the rules,” Bob says.
“You keep alluding to rules. What are they? Why can’t I just say no?”
“You can say no to doing anything that goes against your nature. Like us, each of the gods has powers. When it comes to anything dealing with love, Zeus, Hera, Aphrodite, Eros, and Hades will see your true nature,” Francis says.
“What’s to stop me from lying? I’m a pretty convincing liar, you know.” I puff my chest up and square my shoulders as if acting confidently will make it so.
Bob snorts.
“You can’t lie to save your soul,” Caleb says. “We can tell that already. Hades will eat you for lunch if you do.”
That’s precisely what I’m afraid of.
“And you should be afraid,” Francis says. “Punishment could include doing a BDSM scene with Hades. They will always give you a choice, but it will be a choice that will force you to submit to their will.”
“No problem, then. Once I make up my mind, nothing will change it. I’m not doing any kink things with any gods. Or anyone else for that matter.” I sound full of bravado and righteous high ground while my heart sinks. But that snake from the old fables wiggles its tail in interest.
“Forgive me for being graphic, but you need to understand the gravity of the situation. We all know one of Robert’s hard limits is anal sex. Tell us what you would choose if, as punishment, Hades offers you a choice: watch your Bob get fucked up the ass by five guys or allow Hades to fuck you? Which would you choose knowing the anal sex will destroy the Bob you know?” Francis’s gaze holds mine like a magnet, and I can feel him probing my emotions. “Truth.” Francis’s voice is low and hypnotic.
Godsdammit, the guy got our weaknesses in one.
“I’d let him fuck me,” I say miserably. The heat of Bob’s gaze hits me, and he’s no doubt pissed that we’re talking about him as if he weren’t here.
“Why?
” Francis presses me.
In that moment, I know I’m not going to like what’s coming. This is taking self-awareness to a new level, uncovering deep self truths that, in my experience, are easier left in the inner recesses of the mind. But ever since Francis uttered, “Truth,” the pull to tell it is overwhelming. My logical brain wants to give Francis the finger. Every other part of me wants to vomit out all my secret fantasies and desires. I lick my lower lip. I look at Bob. He gives a small nod, letting me know he’s okay with this. Okay, being okay with it might be a stretch, but at least he didn’t consider this a breach of his privacy.
“Because that would destroy him.”
“And?”
What was it with this fucking vampire? “And I’d get over it.”
“So, you are telling us you are stronger than Robert?” Francis asks.
“Hey.” Bob manages pissy in one syllable.
“This is fun,” Caleb says.
“You will get your turn in a minute, Caleb.” Francis keeps his gaze trained on mine.
“I’m not saying anything of the sort,” I retort. “You know exactly what I’m saying. I love him, so much so that if I can save him from hurt, I will.”
“Yeah, that.” Bob does an uncharacteristic fist pump, the smile back firmly in place.
“I have not seen such martyrdom since Joan of Arc,” Francis says.
“So you knew Joan of Arc? What was she like?” I’m a master at derailing men like Francis.
“We can discuss my history at another time. Right now, we are waiting with bated breath to hear just why you are so willing to jump in front of the proverbial train for Bob.”
Bam! Arrow to the heart. I throw him my most long-suffering look.
“You know what? I feel sorry for you if your love for Gianna wasn’t enough for you to sacrifice yourself for her. Maybe that’s why you’re still here in Bardo?” I deliver that bitchy comment in my best helpful tone. Francis doesn’t seem fazed.
“You tell him, sprite.” That’s my Bob, always in my corner.
Francis leans forward and rests his forearms on those perfectly creased pants. Gods, just looking at that man in a suit makes me wet. A vision of him whirling me around a marble dance floor, mouth glued to my neck, sends another flash of heat through my core.
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