“No, babe. This is for all of us,” Henri answered, then he stood over Fisher and addressed him. “I see you, Fisher. I know what you seek.”
Fisher glanced up to meet Henri’s eyes briefly before looking away. “Yeah?” he quipped with less than his usual amount of sarcasm. “What do I seek, O Mighty One?”
“Exactly that, boy,” Henri answered. “It took me a little longer to recognize you. You hide well behind your defenses, but with Stepho’s help over the past few days, I now see you clearly.”
“Really? And what do you see?” Fisher was almost afraid to hear Henri’s answer. If the man did recognize Fisher’s disposition, would he deny Fisher what he craved and reject him?
“A boy searching for a Master.”
“I’m not a fucking sub, and I don’t do guys.”
“Watch your language with me, boy,” Henri warned in a quiet voice. “I didn’t say anything about submissive sex. Replace the word Master with Father. Does that resonate better?”
Fisher felt the fight go out of him as he acknowledged the truth in Henri’s words. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to find your place in this family.”
“Family?” Fisher snorted. “Families are a fairytale.”
“Then get ready for your happily-ever-after.” Henri placed his hand on the top of Fisher’s head.
Fisher held back the “brat’s” automatic inclination to knock Henri’s hand away. Instead, he allowed himself a moment to feel the warmth of Henri’s palm and the sense of protection that simple touch conveyed.
“Good boy. I will always top you, but we’ll get to our happy ending faster if you don’t fight me.” Henri dropped his hand, and Fisher immediately missed the contact.
“You can’t top me unless I give in.”
“Unless you choose to submit.” Henri nodded. “You are right, and there’s the key to your decision. You’ve accepted Stepho’s kindness this week, but will you also allow yourself to be taken care of by a dominant male?”
“I’m military,” Fisher said.
“And I’m intelligentsia.” Henri shrugged. “Will you let your prejudices hold you back from finding happiness?”
“You don’t even like me.” Fisher struggled to make sense of this new place he found himself in. Was Henri really offering to make a place for Fisher in this “family”?
“You’re growing on me,” Henri replied.
“Yeah, like mold, I bet,” Fisher muttered, remembering the childish put-down.
“That’s five,” Henri said.
Stepho drew in an audible breath from across the room.
Fisher glanced at the other scientist then up at Henri. “Five, what?”
“Five times my hand will land on your ass for putting yourself down.”
“What the hellitude? Do you really think I’ll submit to that?”
“I warned you about your language, boy. That’s another five.”
“Shiitake! You’ve got to be fucking deranged to believe I’ll let you do that.”
“Ten more. You’re at twenty. Do you want to go for thirty?”
“Fisher,” Stepho called from the wall bench. “Don’t push him. He will follow through.”
“Only if I let him,” Fisher snapped back.
Stepho met Fisher’s gaze with his deep brown eyes. “Let him,” he said in a quiet voice. “It’s what will free you.”
Fisher dragged a hand over his rumpled hair. “This is insane. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.” And as he spoke, he heard the lie in his words. This was exactly what he’d hoped to find when Fisher first saw Henri’s relationship with Crystal.
“Yes, we’ve talked enough,” Henri agreed. “Stand up, boy.”
This time there was a tenderness in Henri’s use of the word boy that Fisher couldn’t ignore. He stood in front of Henri.
“Place your palms on the wall,” Henri ordered, and Fisher’s curiosity had him following the command.
“Stepho, come take care of Fisher’s trousers.”
“What?” Fisher dropped his hands and spun to face Henri.
Henri met him with a body check against the wall with his forearm across Fisher’s throat, forcing his head back.
“I told you I don’t do guys,” Fisher managed to speak as he struggled to draw in air. His damn injuries had weakened him too much to toss Henri off, and his ribs were screeching after hitting the wall.
“This isn’t about sex,” Henri repeated. “Your ass will be bare when I lay my hand on it.”
Fisher stared into Henri’s dark eyes. This was his moment, Fisher realized. Was he willing to take this step? And would getting his ass-whipped really help him become part of this family?
Fisher gave a slight nod of his head.
“Use your words, boy. Tell me you’re ready to take your place in this family.”
“I’m ready,” Fisher said hoarsely.
“Stepho, remove his trousers,” Henri demanded without breaking his concentration on Fisher.
Stepho approached slowly, and Fisher even assisted him by unfastening the button. When his pants were down at his knees, Henri released Fisher.
“Hands on the wall,” Henri repeated.
Fisher assumed the position and stuck his ass out a little.
“Saucy boy,” Henri murmured. Then, the first wallop landed on Fisher’s ass.
“Cripes!” The man hadn’t held anything back.
“Another five,” Henri intoned as his hand came down again with a loud smack.
“He doesn’t like bad language,” Stepho reminded Fisher.
“Right,” Fisher panted out as Henri continued with his harsh discipline. He tried to remember how many he was due and count how many had already landed, but the heat in his ass was clouding his brain.
“Relax into it,” Stepho advised. “Let your thoughts drift away.”
Fisher took a deep breath and followed Stepho’s instructions, letting his body absorb the hits and his mind float free. Just as he was finally settling into the rhythm, Henri announced, “Twenty-five,” and stopped.
Fisher hung his head between his raised arms and drew in several deep breaths. His ass felt like it was hot enough to boil water. He flinched when he felt Henri’s palm rub him.
“Easy, boy.” Henri laid one hand on Fisher’s shoulder while he spread some slippery goo on Fisher’s ass. Whatever the stuff was, it cooled Fisher’s skin.
“This is the aftercare,” Henri explained, and Fisher realized it was the first time he’d felt a dominant man’s hand touch him with something other than anger. Henri’s caress was soothing and tender.
Then, Henri continued to see to Fisher’s needs by pulling his trousers up around his waist and fastening them. “All right, boy. Go lay down and get some rest.” The soft tone of Henri’s voice set loose the ball of tension in Fisher’s chest, and Fisher choked back his emotions.
Henri placed his hands on Fisher’s shoulders and guided him to the berth. “Now you feel it, boy. You belong with us.”
Fisher rolled onto his side and looked up at Henri and Stepho. He wanted to offer his gratitude for their acceptance, but his damn ego kept the words locked inside.
“I know, boy. I see you.” Henri nodded, and Fisher felt the truth in those words.
Henri did see Fisher, and he accepted Fisher with all his flaws and stubborn pride. The thought was overwhelming as well as…comforting.
Chapter Eight
Crystal slammed the heavy pot of water onto the stove’s burner, wishing she could find another way to work off some of this negative energy.
“What did that pot ever do to you?” Sammy asked from the chopping board across the kitchen. He’d arrived from Fourth Quadrant a few days ago to help Crystal in sector one.
“Nothing,” Crystal grumbled, feeling tired, irritable, and perpetually nauseous, not to mention frustrated with the three men she hadn’t spoken to since the Pro-Freedom Movement had taken control of the Council last we
ek.
Henri and Stepho had come to the cafeteria every day to see her, and she’d run away like a rabbit each time. Though, she’d been telling herself that her intention was to force the three men to spend time together without her, in the hope they would find a way to make peace with each other. She was still clinging stubbornly to her fantasy of having all three men in a relationship with her, even though Fisher didn’t seem capable of sharing her attention. And Henri hadn’t seemed too ready to accept Fisher, either.
She wondered how Fisher’s injuries were healing. She’d heard from Major Jeffers that Fisher was on temporary medical leave, so apparently he was well enough to check in with their superior officer.
Sammy shook his head. “When are you going to face what’s really bothering you?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” She turned her back on him and pretended to busy herself with measuring the fresh pasta for the midday meal.
The production of nutrishakes had resumed its normal pace, but the residents of First Quadrant were reluctant to give up the whole food meals they’d been enjoying. The demand for Crystal’s cooking was as high as when there’d been a nutrishake shortage.
Her stomach rumbled with hunger, reminding her she was supposed to be eating for two. She had to take the baby into consideration as she decided what to do about Henri, Stepho, and Fisher. Any one of the men could be the father. In the old system of assigned mates, it didn’t matter who the biological donor was. All three males worked together to raise the child because offspring were rare.
But now, with the breakdown of the old ways, Crystal had the opportunity to choose her mates. How could she choose, though, if she didn’t know who was the father? What if she picked the wrong man? She couldn’t leave the biological parent out of the relationship.
In the ancient days of Earth, there had been a test that could be performed on a pregnant woman to determine paternity and a number of genetic anomalies in the unborn child, but that knowledge had been lost through the generations as fewer and fewer pregnancies occurred. There hadn’t been a need for that type of medical testing. Any child produced was a welcomed child.
She thought of Stepho’s dark complexion. It would be obvious once the baby was born whether he or she belonged to him. And that would crush him to have a child with her but not be in her life to help raise the child. But how would Fisher and Henri feel about fathering a child that wasn’t their own?
How the hellitude was she going to make this work?
She tossed the fresh noodles into the boiling water, making it splash back onto her arms. “Shiitake!” She rushed to the sink to rinse the burns under cold water.
Sammy stood at her side with his hands on his hips. “That’s it. You’re out of here.” He pointed one finger at the kitchen door.
“You can’t banish me from my own kitchen. I’m your superior.”
“When you make mistakes that put your safety at risk, it doesn’t matter if you’re the Standing President of Profortuna. You are not to come back to work until you have a lengthy discussion with Henri, Stepho, and Fisher. Get your life sorted out, Crystal. You’ve got a baby to consider.”
Damn, he sounded a lot older than his chronological age. She wondered what had made the change in him.
He handed her a clean towel. “Now, go and find your men.”
She took the offered cloth and blotted at the red marks on her forearms. So far, none of them looked like they would blister.
“Stop dragging your feet.” Sammy gave her a gentle shove on the shoulder.
“Fine. Fine. I’m going.” She set the towel on the counter and pulled her apron over her head. “And I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Don’t rush. Hopefully, those men will give you a reason to sleep in tomorrow.”
She glared at him before stepping out of the kitchen. That Sammy, he’d definitely been picking up too many bad personality traits from the military men he usually worked around in Fourth Quadrant.
She walked slowly down the corridor to her pod. She felt sweaty and wilted, absolutely in need of a shower before she faced the men. And yeah, she knew she was procrastinating, but why rush now when she’d been putting this off for over a week?
She gathered her supplies from her room and took them to the communal bathing room. She and Fisher had been assigned to the smallest of the pods when they arrived, and neither had private bathing rooms.
After dressing in a clean uniform, she combed her shoulder-length wet hair and wrapped it up into a twist with a clip. Then she carried her personal stuff back to her pod and realized she had nothing else to do that would legitimately keep her from having this confrontation with Henri, Stepho, and Fisher.
The worst part was she had no answers for them. She didn’t know who the father was, she didn’t know how they’d ever manage to work together in one relationship, and she didn’t know how she would choose between them, if any of them even wanted her anymore. Maybe Henri and Stepho had come to the cafeteria every day to tell her they were done with her.
Her stomach leaped into her throat, and she dry-heaved into the bucket she kept at the side of her berth. Fortunately, she hadn’t eaten lunch yet, and breakfast had long ago digested. She rinsed her mouth with water from a bottle she kept on the shelf above her bed.
“All right, Crystal. Time to put your big girl trousers on,” she told herself, setting the water bottle down. “Get out there and do the right thing.”
She sent a message from her datapad to Henri and Stepho to have them leave the lab and meet her at their pod. Then she stepped from her room, straightened her spine, and walked resolutely to meet the men who would help her determine the course of her near future.
As Crystal approached the door to Henri and Stepho’s pod, they approached her from the other direction of the hallway, coming from their lab. Stepho’s eyes lit with his obvious pleasure, and since he was the only one of the three she wasn’t mad at, she ran into his arms for a full-body embrace.
“I’ve missed you,” he said simply.
“Me, too,” she answered, hugging him tighter to her.
He kissed the top of her head, gave her a final squeeze then loosened his hold on her as he stepped back to invite Henri to the reunion.
“Do I get one of those?” Henri asked, sounding unsure of his place with her, but one look at his dark eyes and his silky black hair, and those damn dimples that were always just barely present when he wasn’t smiling, and Crystal couldn’t hold back her pleasure.
She threw herself at him and inhaled his familiar spicy scent as she burrowed her nose in his neck. Tears pricked her eyes as her body relaxed in his hold, recognizing where she belonged.
“Don’t ever keep yourself from us like that again,” Henri growled in her ear.
“I won’t,” she promised him.
“Let me look at you.” He grabbed her shoulders and made her take a step back from his body. His dark gaze studied her face, then skimmed down her body and back up again. “Not good enough.”
“What?” she protested, trying not to let his words hurt. She’d thought he wanted her back, now she wasn’t good enough?
“You’re not taking good enough care of yourself, Starlight. You’ve got dark bags under your eyes, and your uniform is loose around your waist. You’re not sleeping and eating enough, and you’re probably working too many damn hours in the kitchen on your feet.”
She coughed out a relieved laugh at his concern with her well-being, glad he’d explained his comment, even if it was far from flattering.
She nodded her head toward the pod door. “Is Fisher in there?”
“Yes,” Henri answered without giving away any additional information.
She was almost too afraid to ask how it was going between the three men. “Is he recovering well from his injuries?” She eased into the topic.
“He’s strong,” Stepho offered. “He’s healing amazingly fast.”
“With the help of some of Stepho’s secret herbs,” Henri
added.
“Secret herbs?” She looked from one man to the other.
Stepho shrugged. “They’re not secret. It’s just some experimenting I’ve been doing with a variety of floral subspecies from Fourth Quadrant, after finding information in the historical records about plants that aid in healing.”
“That’s brilliant, Stepho,” Crystal enthused. “I can’t wait to see these plants.”
“How about waiting until after we all have a little talk?” Fisher asked from where he leaned against the doorframe of the pod.
Crystal had been so engaged with Henri and Stepho she hadn’t even heard the door slide open.
She studied Fisher’s face, noting the fading bruises and the healing cuts. She glanced down at his left leg, but couldn’t tell anything about its condition through his trousers.
“Are you doing well?” she asked as she watched his face.
He probably had no idea how much information he conveyed through his eyes, and she would never tell him, lest he figure out a way to hide his thoughts from her. Right now, his eyes shone with uncertainty, but she caught a glimmer of hope there, too.
“I’m doing fine. Stepho is a good doc.” The honest respect was evident in his tone. “And not such a bad bedmate, either.” He winked at Stepho, who shook his head with mild embarrassment.
“Bedmate?” How close had Fisher gotten to the other two men in a week and a half? And what kind of miracle had Stepho found in those plants?
Fisher chuckled, and the old wise-cracking Fisher peeked out from around the edges of this relatively subdued man in front of her. “We share a bed. That’s it,” he clarified. “They know I don’t do men,” he waved at Henri and Stepho, “but I don’t have a problem with guys who do.”
What the hellitude was going on here? She gazed dumbly at each man.
“Inside, now,” Henri ordered all of them. “This isn’t a conversation I choose to have in the public domain.”
They shuffled into the pod and stood awkwardly in the space that suddenly felt much too small for the four of them. Crystal glanced around and noticed a rolled up mattress in the far corner. Was that where Henri was sleeping if Stepho was sharing the berth with Fisher?
Crystals Three Chosen Mates Page 8
