Tate's Tale

by Lilith Darville

  Before long, the smacking, caressing, and kneading whips Tate into a writhing, moaning, begging mess. “Please,” she pants.

  “Please what?” he asks, his voice liquid sex. I didn’t know he had it in him.

  “Please make me come.” She says it without hesitation. As if they’re alone. As if she knows him.

  “You ask so nicely,” he says. The hand cradling Tate’s upper body slides to graze her nipple, while the other teases her folds, making her ass wiggle. “You’re eager, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” she whimpers.

  I know what she’s expecting. She’s expecting him to delay her orgasm, control it just like I do. She’ll be disappointed if he doesn’t.

  “Well, since you’ve been a good girl, I’ll give it to you right away.”

  “Thank you,” she blurts out, the relief in her voice evident. And I can’t believe my ears.

  Not able to tolerate our limited view a second longer, I stand so I can see what’s happening over Nameless’s shoulder. He’s twisting three fingers inside her, slowly but with rhythm, and I can tell he’s pressing hard into her cunt. His other hand slides across her nipples, gently. So gently. Her body is starting to shake, small unintelligible sounds coming from her mouth. She’s right on the edge. How can I want my Tate to have pleasure but want Nameless to fail at the same time?

  As I’m thinking that, Nameless presses his thumb into the perfect rose of Tate asshole, and her body seizes and shakes, cries of pleasure falling from her lips as her orgasm hits her.

  He soothes her with his hand, stroking her skin until she’s ready to sit up. Then he sits her on his lap and cradles her. Her eyes are closed, and her face wears a look of satisfaction that’s different than after our lovemaking, more surprised, perhaps? She opens her eyes and gives him a grateful smile, and godsdammit, he brushes his lips over hers, lips that belong to me.

  I’m torn between raging jealousy and envy as I watch how the two come down together as if they’ve done this a hundred times. Sexual chemistry and affection radiate from them, obviously a by-product of an intense shared experience. Because I refuse to admit it’s real chemistry or attraction. Because I’ve got it in my head that this clan stuff means Tate will be friends with the other guys, but I’ll be the only lover she needs. And I want to kick myself for my selfishness as I watch how perfectly they relate intimately, and as much as I don’t want to share that body, I want her to celebrate and enjoy the full extent of her sexuality, even if that means I have to share. I see wisps of her ether, always visible in the presence of the gods, mingling with Nameless’s as they sit, seemingly oblivious to anyone else’s presence in the room.

  I throw a look at Francis and Caleb. Francis sits in his usual contemplative mode, charcoal suit impeccable, hands tented under his chin. Caleb looks like he’d like to join in. I throw a quick glance at Hades, who sits on his throne looking just as speculative and intense as Francis. That scares the hell out of me. And here we’d been afraid of Tate pissing him off. We hadn’t accounted for her giving him an even bigger boner for her. Shit.

  Riveting—there’s no other word for Tate and Nameless and their chemistry in that scene. One by one, the gods seem to pull their attention away from them, some shifting as if Hades isn’t the only one who got a hard-on. There probably isn’t a dry pair of underwear in the room.

  Slowly, the room breaks into chatter.

  Until a whip cracks. Silence is instant, and Hades rises and slowly takes the stairs down to Tate and Nameless. Nameless stands and places Tate beside him, ready to face the god. But Hades only has eyes for Tate. And I can tell from the set of her head that she returns his stare.

  He steps within reach and stops, studying her. “Things have not gone at all how I planned for the evening, little kitten. May I call you little kitten?” He reaches a hand toward Tate. She flinches. I jerk to my feet. Francis pulls me down.

  “You can call me whatever you like,” Tate says. Her voice is strong and confident. Not good.

  “May I touch you, little kitten?” Hades asks, his hand frozen just above the flesh between her breasts.

  “No, thank you,” Tate says. She continues to return his stare.

  Her ether swirls around her like a filigree of fine gold lace. Hades reaches up and catches a wisp. This time it’s me who pulls Francis back into his chair.

  “Thank you, little kitten.” Hades swallows the ether. “Now I have you with me.”

  “Totally against my will.” Tate steps toward the Tribunal. “Is this allowed? I thought you said nothing could happen against my will. Well, he just took whatever that was against my will. Make him give it back.”

  Several gods rise and start speaking. Hades roars. All hell breaks loose.

  Oh shit, now I’ve done it. That’s all I have time to think before I’m the center of a maelstrom of my own making. And I’ve done exactly what the guys warned me not to—pissed Hades off. Because there is absolutely no doubt that’s what I’ve done. The heat of his anger is almost searing my skin. It burns in the center of those dark eyes, along with . . . Is that a flicker of respect? I hope that flicker isn’t just my wishful thinking. Because I have a point.

  So I do something most uncharacteristic for me. I keep my mouth shut and wait for the shouts to die down.

  Suddenly, Hera’s scepter blazes light through the room. “Silence!” She turns the spotlight of her gaze on Hades and me. Double shit.

  “Give it back, Hades,” Hera says, “or I’ll call Zeus.”

  A murmur of anticipation ripples through the room. Shit times infinity. And now I’ve caused some kind of showdown.

  Hades and Hera do the two-minute stare-down. I hold my breath. Not for one second do I want to attract his attention . . . again. Not if I can help it.

  “Fine.” Hades flicks a wisp of essence in my direction. I catch it. “Thank you.”

  Hades gives me a look that says, “We’re not done here, you little ingrate.”

  “Did he give it all back?” Hera asks Aphrodite.

  Aphrodite inclines her head in our direction then nods. “But the trace has shown him a pathway in. She’ll be vulnerable now.”

  Hera frowns, her nostrils flared. She’s clearly furious. I hope to the gods she has more power than Hades because I sure as hell don’t want to get caught in the crossfire. She must have because he looks ever-so-slightly chastised as if he lost the battle but the war is still on.

  “We’re done here for tonight. You know the rules, Hades.” Hera looks at me, and her gaze softens.

  “Child, thank you for a very unusual and entertaining evening.” She glances at Nameless seated two tiers above us. “And you as well, Nameless.” She smiles warmly then looks back at me. “Aphrodite will let Francis know our instructions for your next event. I look forward to seeing what you’ll have for us.”

  She raises her scepter, and the gods, including Hades, vanish. Just like that. And five seconds later, my guys are at my side.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Francis asks, his face strained.

  But I’m not going to let him rain on my parade. I grab Nameless’s cheeks and let his shock rocket up my arms as I give him a sound kiss. He jumps back as if I hit him with a strong jolt of electricity . . . and maybe I did because it sure felt hot to me.

  He puts his hand out as if to hold me back. “This doesn’t change anything. I have a girlfriend now. There’s nothing between us.” He turns on his heel and strides out of the room. And just like that, all the bliss, all the adrenaline, even the fear leaks from my body. I deflate.

  What the fuck? Shock hits the guys as our four brains connect on the simultaneous thought. As if we’re a robotic unit, we turn and follow, Francis grabbing my wrap on the way. Nameless waits for us on the large veranda.

  “Thank you for waiting,” Francis says.

  “Not like I had a choice,” Nameless says. He doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes, just pulls up the hood on his jacket, hiding his torment.

  Franc
is pulls me into the crook of his arm, careful to avoid skin-to-skin contact. The other three put a hand on him. The next instant, we’re standing in our sitting room. Nameless grabs one of his many guitars and rushes from the room before I have time to take a breath. This teleportation stuff that Bob says is just moving really, really fast, takes my breath away, quite literally.

  “You okay, Tate?” Bob’s voice is full of concern. I nod, catching my breath. “Good.” But his attention is on Francis as he says, “Did you know anything about this?” In that instant, jovial Bob turns into Bob the leader, something that can’t be forced upon him, but that he often assumes naturally.

  “Not a thing,” Francis says.

  “How can he have a girlfriend?” Caleb asks. “Where would he meet her?”

  The guys take their usual seats. I scurry off to the kitchen in hopes of finding Clara or Elli, our kitchen silkies. I find them both. Now that the big event is over, I’m starving—specifically for dessert. I’d give anything for chocolate cake. “Oh thank gods, you’re here. I’m so glad to see you,” I say.

  They both beam. “We’re usually here at this time, my dear,” Clara says. “Like the brownies—she wrinkles her nose in distaste—we prefer the night shift.”

  “But we’re a lot cuter,” Elli says as she whips around, dusting imaginary dust particles.

  “How did it go tonight?” Clara asks as she frosts a chocolate cake. For real.

  “Great, I think.” With my index finger, I scoop up a dollop of icing that hangs off the edge of the mixing bowl. Butter cream. Getting damned near anything my little heart desires before the thought’s barely formed in my head is something I could get used to. “I might have pissed off Hades, but I think he was impressed, too. This is ridiculously good.”

  “Thank you so much.” Clara curtsies, her wings fluttering like mad. “We thought you might feel like a snack after your evening.”

  “I do. I was craving this exact cake. And I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” I pick up the now frosted cake and make my way back to the guys. Maybe the energy in the room will have calmed enough for me to find out why it’s such a big deal that Nameless has a girlfriend. Maybe I need some alone time with Francis to better understand this clan dynamic and why they care so much.

  I most definitely wasn’t turned on by Nameless. I wasn’t turned on by the idea of the guys watching me with Nameless. And no part of me enjoyed performing for the gods. Tonight was purely about me getting through an unavoidable punishment. And if it helped me progress through my steps to get to Nirvana with Bob, then awesome.

  Keep telling yourself that.

  My deep inner self wags a finger at me, tries to get me to face the truths that are being revealed but that I refuse to look at.

  Right now, I’m left with more questions than answers. Questions that almost always lead back to these guys. Like, do I like kink? I might. It’s exciting. How do I feel about that? Well, so far I have trouble getting past the embarrassment of the admission. What if I really like it? What if Bob doesn’t?

  One thing’s sure, I can’t ignore the growing attraction between me and these guys, especially Francis. But, I can control it. After all, sublimation—suppression of my desires or feelings—is one of my best coping mechanisms. I’ll put it to good use by throwing myself into my work and getting the academy back on track.

  As I enter the study, six eyes follow me and a flush creeps up my neck. I get it. I’m a headmistress in a one-piece leather and lace outfit . . . carrying cake. It’s like every man’s wet dream.

  Someone lit the fireplace, and I’m grateful as chill air raises goosebumps on my exposed skin. The guys transfer their rabid hunger from my body to the food. I warm myself in front of the fire, a huge chunk of cake on my plate that I eat while standing. I’m confused, and I want the comfort of Bob’s body, but as much as his gaze follows me around, his body language shouts, “Wrong time.” I guess he’s still a right time, right place kind of guy, and there will be little chance of budging him if he’s made up his mind.

  “You took a big chance, mo chridhe,” Francis says. Gods it makes my pinkish parts tingle when he calls me that.

  “That’s for damned sure,” Bob says. “What on earth possessed you?” The he-man in him comes out to play. His worry makes my girly bits tingle even more. Let’s face it, my girly bits are having entirely too much fun.

  “It wasn’t planned. I just went with my gut. I was perfectly fine. As you could see. I had them eating out of my hands.” I’m still more than a tad lit up from the experience.

  “You’re taking this a tad too lightly,” Francis says sternly.

  “Can you guys not rain on my parade? Please? Can we just enjoy the moment?” I do my best imitation of a sexy pout.

  Caleb grins at me. “Sure we can. We’re just worried about you, that’s all. But you sure did have them. You were awesome.” He beams at me with pride sending more tingles to my girly bits.

  “So what’s up with Nameless’s girlfriend?”

  “We have no idea, which is a bit strange. Normally, we can feel any attachments we each have,” Bob says.

  “Yeah, it’s like with my wolf pack on Earth,” Caleb says. “We’ve got some kind of telepathic link that makes us aware of each other’s presence. So, if Nameless had sex, we’d all know it.” Caleb gives me that grin again. “So, even if we hadn’t watched you and Bob having sex that first night, we’d have known all about it.”

  “Who watched us?” My tone is frosty, but my body simmers.

  “All of us.” Caleb continues to grin. The man has no guile.

  “We didn’t watch, exactly,” Francis says. “We made sure you were safe from harm.”

  Some cliché about splitting hairs spins around my mind but I can’t quite grasp it.

  “It was very hot watching you with Nameless,” Caleb says. “Clothed male, naked female is a kink I think is hot. Of course it could be two people of any sex. And the spanking . . . the spanking was scorching.”

  And there it is again, one of the nuggets of truth I’m trying to avoid: it was hot having them watch. The thought of figuring all this out makes my head ache. I must be suffering from post-party letdown.

  “Why haven’t you seen Nameless’s girlfriend?” I ask. They resume staring at me, their little specimen.

  “The staff quarters are private and protected. We can’t bring guests here. The only others who can get by the protection spells are the hearth silkies,” Bob says.

  This thought pleases me, but I’m suddenly too tired to think. I stifle a huge yawn. Bob wraps his hand around the back of my neck. “We’re safe tonight. Why don’t we all get a good night’s sleep and reconvene in the morning?” He borrows a move from Nameless and crooks his finger at me. I damned near jump into his arms, but he pulls me into his first.

  “You took a big chance tonight, Tate. I don’t know whether to take you over my knee and tan your hide or whether to kiss you.” He slides a finger along the black lace lining the slit on the leather playsuit. “You were the most beautiful woman in the room.” He brushes his lips over mine in the way that makes me melt and get instantly wet.

  “Oh, I was not,” I demur. “You’re just saying that. Aphrodite is absolutely stunning.”

  “But she doesn’t have your exotic appeal.” Bob nuzzles my ear. A surge of lust tamps down my fatigue. I lean into him, and we kiss, long and hard. His hand drifts down, slipping under the edge of my outfit to cup the swell of my breast. I moan as his wristband vibrates. I jump back in surprise.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “A pager of sorts, calling me to the portal.” He gives me another kiss, quick but deep with hunger, and brushes my curls from my face. “Why don’t you grab a bath and get ready for me. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  I let the heat of my kiss answer. His bracelet buzzes again. He breaks the kiss and sighs. “I’ll have Nameless keep an eye out while I’m gone.”

  Lucky me. I resist the
urge to roll my eyes and smile instead. “Don’t get lost.” I echo his favorite goodbye. He gives me that adorable smile, grabs a suit jacket, and heads for the door.

  I fill the large tub. It sits in front of the glass wall facing the mountain, so I can enjoy the almost full moon and a symphony of stars in the clear sky. For a second, a shadow darkens my view. I shake my head and blink to clear my vision, and the shadow disappears. I must be hallucinating in my fatigue.

  I punch up a popular playlist on the sound system and slide into the tub, soaking until the water starts to turn cold. I stare at the moon and try to ignore the cauldron of doubts and dreams bubbling in my head. But I can’t seem to do it. So I rub the open flower on the new tattoo the guys call my unity brand and hold on tight to the one thing that I can count on—my love for Bob, our love for each other. That no matter how fucked-up the situation, we’ll figure it out together.

  I dry off and slather on the lightly scented body lotion before climbing into comfy pjs. I’m too unsettled to read or sleep. Instead, I pace the width of the large room. That bores me in three minutes flat, and I realize I’m starving. My body has already burned through the cake.

  I peek my head out the door, looking for Nameless or one of the other guys. I’m surprised that one of them isn’t camped out in my room, but maybe with the quarantine period over as of today, it’s not necessary. Everything’s quiet, but light seeps out of the kitchen. With any luck, Clara or Elli will have left something else sweet to snack on. I push through the door and stop in my tracks as I see Clara and Elli slumped on the large kitchen island, seemingly asleep. Bob leans against the fridge in the shadows, an apple in his hand. Something doesn’t feel right. I take another step into the kitchen, squinting to see more clearly.

  “What’s going on?” I ask. “What happened to Clara—”

  “Shhh, you’ll wake them,” Bob says, his voice low and gravelly. “I’ve been waiting for you.” He steps back deeper into the shadow and puts the apple on the counter. He opens his arms, and wisps of dark desire curl around me, pulling me to him. This is all wrong. I step back, open my mouth to protest. Something grips my brand, pulling me closer. The wisps, some kind of dark ether, wrap around Bob. Panic surges through me. “Bob, what—”