“I don’t really feel anything, babe. It wasn’t sexual, really. Not in the way you’re thinking.” I lob the conversational ball back at him. I’d play this round very carefully.
He rockets it back at me. “Oh, and just what way am I thinking?” Oh yes, snippy Bob has come out to play.
I sigh. “Are you seriously going to tell me you’re jealous of something you asked me to do? That we needed to do to save his life?”
One thing I can count on, if I can hook it before his emotions take over, is Bob’s rational mind, something he prides himself on.
Bob heaves out his own sigh, and his muscles relax just a bit. “I guess not.” He kisses my forehead. “Not if you tell me it was just medical for you.”
I giggle. Come on, right? We were rutting like pigs, nothing medical about that.
“What’s so funny?” Have I mentioned that there are times when Bob has no sense of humor at all?
“Lighten up, Bob. You’ve got to admit that it’s hard to describe what we were doing to bring Francis back from the Fade as medical. I’m still all yours.”
Bob’s body relaxes. “Good, because I don’t want to share you. You’re all mine.” The laughter underlying his tone lets me know my Bob is back.
Dodged that bullet. Don’t kid yourself. “No worries there.” I tilt my head and kiss those gorgeous lips in reassurance. “You’re my Neo, my one. You know that.” Time to change the subject. “What happened to Clare and Elli?”
“Who?” My beloved asks. “Oh yeah, our silkies. They’re okay. Had a bit of a hangover when they came to, but they’re no worse for wear. A little pissed that an incubus got past them.”
At the mention of the incubus, my unity brand pulses and weaves on my wrist as if it’s a living thing. Ever since the incubus touched me, dark threads weave around my unity brand, pulling me toward all manner of dark and delicious thoughts about sex. Bob’s hand caresses my breast, and his brand pulses with heat. Francis stirs beside me, his brand itching in a way no ordinary scratching will relieve.
“Child! You’ve got a job to do.” Hera’s voice pierces my head like an ice pick. I grab the sides of my head and moan, vaguely aware of Bob shaking me.
“Sprite, are you all right? Speak to me.”
“Perhaps she’s reacting to some kind of ether surge,” Francis’s voice soothes, taking the edge off the pain.
“Breathe, babe.”
I latch on to Bob’s mouth, breathing in huge gulps until the pain subsides. As the pain subsides, the dark threads become exponentially more active, and the heat in my core flares. But the shadow of the pain reminds me of my priorities. I push Bob away and sit up. The intensity of Francis’s gaze lets me know he’s just fine. I stand and step over Bob’s legs, landing on the thick fur carpet lining the slate floor.
Get your body under control, Tate. You have an academy to save. “Both of you in the study, fifteen minutes,” I say in my best headmistress voice, but my body isn’t listening, and it sashays out of the room, wiggling its butt like a Kardashian. Gods help me.
Francis waits for me, another impeccable bespoke suit making him look like sex incarnate. I think the thing is cashmere. Whatever it’s made of, I’m not sure what’s making me drool more—the tailoring or the body in it. Those cornflower-blue eyes scan my body, only this time, it’s white heat that ignites in my core, taking the hum of my body up a gear. My breath hitches. Pushing back a lock of his gorgeous blond hair, he offers me his arm. I take it gingerly, careful to avoid skin-to-skin contact and the dreaded electrical buzz. But Francis gently places a cool hand over my hot one. No painful buzz. Instead, the buzz feels like a motor revving, and the heat in my core ramps into overdrive.
“Something about our excursion in the Fade seems to have removed the barrier between us.” His voice with that delicious Scottish brogue washes over me like smooth aged whiskey, all smoky and warm, and I’m overwhelmed with the urge to jump his bones. Godsdammit . . . All this lust. Could the effect of the incubus be this strong? All I know is that ever since the fight in the kitchen and my trip into the Fade I’m an endless pit of need. Maybe it’s a spell. Maybe those damned gods cast a sex spell over me. I take a deep breath and march us down the hall.
“And if it isn’t?” Francis asks as I hurry him along. I choose not to answer that question as we enter the kitchen. One of these days, I’m going to figure out how to stop him from reading my mind.
“Good luck with that, as you say.” Francis smirks.
I give him my best fuck-off look before we enter what is fast becoming one of my favorite rooms.
The other guys are seated, each with their choice of brunch food plated before them. Bob studies me as Francis pulls out my chair, and I return his gaze with what I hope is my most innocent smile.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” I say as I take healthy portions from several tempting dishes my guys pass to me. There I go again, thinking of them as my guys.
“As you should,” Francis says. “We are a clan, bound by blood and oath.”
I give him my best corporate smile. “Perhaps that would be a good place to start. Do you remember the history of this clan of ours?” I ask.
Francis nods. “I do, indeed.”
“And the rest of us can’t wait to be bored by it,” Nameless says. I send him my best stink eye, and he subsides.
I turn back to Francis. “Continue, please.” I settle into my brunch as he holds forth.
“We first met, you, your Bob, and me, in 1557 at the court of Henry II of France, not England.” Francis focuses his cool gaze on Bob. “At that time, you were Lord Robert and Lady Gianna de Vincent. You’ve had a penchant for the name Robert throughout the centuries.”
“Something like you have for Francis, no doubt.” There’s a tinge of sarcasm in Bob’s voice. Like me, Francis chooses to ignore it.
“I was still human, and we met at a masquerade party of all places,” Francis says.
“Sounds like fun. Go on.” I throw him a warm smile. I really do love this stuff. As a child, I was convinced reincarnation was a real thing and read everything I could get my hands on about it, wondering whether I’d been Cleopatra or some other famous woman.
“You weren’t Cleopatra, but you’ve been a number of famous people, most notably, you and your Bob were a czar and czarina of Russia.”
“That is so cool,” I breathe in delight.
“Can we get back to the story,” Nameless grumbles.
“Cool it, man. I want to hear this,” Caleb says. And my warm, gooey hot-fudge sundae just went up a notch in my esteem. I throw him my best smile, and he winks back. I’d have to remember to thank him . . . and Nameless *sigh* . . . for their help last night. Note to self.
“Back at the royal ball, we made an instant connection, and the three of us ended up drunk in bed together.” Francis pauses, no doubt for effect.
“Please tell me you fucked Sir Robert,” Nameless says. “I’d love to know someone was able to put a dick up that prick.”
Bob stiffens and opens his mouth to retort. I put a calming hand over his. “Ignore him.” I give Nameless another stink eye, which seems to work momentarily. Or maybe it’s the chilly look from Francis that makes him back off.
“No, I didn’t fornicate with Robert. That’s something else he’s remarkably consistent with over the ages—he doesn’t do men.” Francis throws another white-hot glance at me. “You, on the other hand, did fornicate with me. Often. The three of us became inseparable as we explored the bawdy and kink houses of Paris.”
“What kind of kink?” Caleb asks.
“We can skip over that part,” Bob says.
“Of course we must do as his lordship commands,” Nameless says.
“King Henry died in 1559, and Louis XIV took the throne, imprisoning all women guilty of fornication or adultery. When the new moral order swept over France in 1560, practicing kink became dangerous, but we were not deterred. In late 1561, Gianna was captured in a raid.” Francis locks
eyes with Bob. “When we tried to rescue her from the Pitié-Salpêtrière, I fought off the guard in a vain attempt to allow Robert to get you to freedom. They left me for dead and recaptured Gianna. By some miracle, Robert was able to get away. Things get fuzzy here, and the next thing I remember is the two of us walking into the fire to join you.”
At that moment, Francis shocks the shit out of us by pouring himself a cup of coffee. He returns from the sideboard and deliberately adds two spoonsful of sugar and cream. We watch in amazement as he takes a sip, shakes his head, and adds more sugar. He takes a sip and sits back. “Ah, that’s better.”
“You want to drink?” Caleb asks, astonished.
“It would appear so,” Francis says. “Some things seem very different this fine morning.”
“Christ! Did someone give you a happy pill or something?” Nameless asks.
“I’ll enjoy it while it lasts. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, when we were killed. I’m assuming that because we all died at the same time, we ascended to Bardo together and were thrown into the first level to review our many sins and plan our spiritual journey for the next life. Despite my being a newly minted vampire, and at Gianna’s insistence, I was able to stay with you in Bardo. Something that, upon reflection, needs examination,” Francis says.
“When did we get our brand?” I ask. My brand is a living thing, making its presence well known whenever I’m anywhere near one of the four guys, especially Bob and Francis.
Francis shakes his head and gets back to the story. “Yes, I think so. Something about our bodies, blood, and essence fusing in the fire merged our souls. In our years together, we’d developed a deep love, Robert and I as soldiers and brothers, you and I as lovers and friends.” Francis meets my eyes, and this time, I see more than heat—I see love, feel it.
“After our assessment, the gods informed us that we’d passed the Ludus—Playful Love level. We learned at that time that by being linked for eternity, we’d live through most of our earthly lives together. As an immortal, I could choose whether to assume a new identity or pass the time in Bardo. So can Caleb, but we’ll get to his story later.
“We returned to the earthly realm in 1565 for our second level, Philautia—Love of Self—as triplets. Life as circus freaks together with our sibling bond gave us the platform we needed to learn to unconditionally love ourselves.”
As fantastic as it seems, this story fascinates me. But, just about everything in Bardo is fantastic, and I’m still not convinced this isn’t a delusion. I’m bound to wake up anytime at a mental sanatorium bound in a straightjacket. Which is probably why I’m not heeding Hera’s call to get my ass to work at quite the speed she’d prefer.
“No sign of Nameless?” I ask. I want him to get through the story so I can ask my list of burning questions, like, other than a czarina, which other famous women have I been? Not that that should matter. But I’d have made a kick-ass Joan of Arc.
Francis smiles. “You chose another body to fulfill your Agape level. Nameless come along shortly.”
Meanwhile, my backside still hums with heat from the spanking, and my pinkish parts sing loudly in response to the wonderful hammering I received from Francis last night. Sure, the first part had been painful as I fed him Ether and absorbed his pain as he returned to corporeal form, but somewhere along the line, pain turned into exquisite pleasure.
3
— Francis —
Being able to read Tate’s mind is a delight I intend to take full advantage of until she figures out how to block me. She’s able to do it for moments at a time, but it’s an autonomic response she can’t control. She’s enthralled by our history. And even though she isn’t convinced any of this is real, she’s enjoying the ride on the wave of supposed delusion. And I’ve had her again, and despite the circumstances, it was exquisite. If it is possible for a vampire heart to burst with joy, mine is near. It’s been so long since I’ve felt much of anything, it’s almost overwhelming. As is the nectar of Tate’s scent. And the feel of her tongue on my lips.
She wants me. I can feel it. And she’s doing the thing she’s done best throughout all these centuries, she’s sublimating that desire. She’s pulling on that vast well of determination that’s always been part of her core being. Because her godsdamned Robert means that much to her. Because she’ll always err on the side of doing the right thing. Because he was there first and demands to remain first. And we’d agreed with whatever rules, whatever boundaries she set. We loved her. Being near her was better than not having any part of her. But I am not willing to wait anymore. It’s clear something’s changed. Something big. I’m going to get to the bottom of it.
“When did we meet Nameless and Caleb, or did you meet them separately?” Tate tries to hide her impatience for me to get on with the story.
“I lost track of you both in the next life, but we met again in Bardo. We decided we’d do our Philia—Affectionate Love—level in the French court. Something about the transition from Bardo back to earth removed your memories of past lives and my recall of the plan for our next earthly life, so I had to search for you in each new life with only a vague idea of where you’d be. I think that’s one of the reasons we kept choosing the European court circuit.”
“Wouldn’t our unity brands bring us together?” my perceptive Tate asks.
“Sadly, that only seems to work in Bardo although I’m sure its pull helped connect us on earth. Robert, Nameless, and I met in 1625. As the elite of the Musketeers of the military household of the King of France, we quickly became inseparable. In that earthly life, you were the Lady Melinda Alveye, Queen Anne of Austria’s head lady-in-waiting. You suited the meaning of your first name to a T—the pretty and dark one. Robert’s name had been Clayton Freemane, one of the rare occasions he chose a name other than Robert, and Nameless was . . . was . . .”
“All my past-life names have disappeared, too? This sucks balls.” Nameless crosses his arms in a huff.
“You’ll get your name back,” I say. And I’m confident he will. Soon. I continue, “Just for fun, I’d assumed the identity of Bran Kermitm although as a vampire I could no longer be reborn into the earthly realm. I could only visit. Assuming different identities throughout the centuries gave me the freedom to return to places we’d frequented through different lives while I sought to reunite the clan.
“When rebels were mobilizing to storm and capture the castle, the Captain of the Musketeers dispatched Robert, Nameless, and me to protect the queen. Fighting our way through the rebels, we reached the queen’s chambers moments ahead of the rebel force. We burst through the badly barricaded door to find a stately figure in royal robes staring into the fire, her back to us. ‘Your Majesty,’ Robert said. The figure turned, and my vampire heart skipped several beats. I’d begun to despair of ever finding you.” Francis smiles as if enjoying the memory.
“Standing before us with feet spread in a fighting stance, brandishing a sword, was our Gianna in her new form. You stood there, fierce and ferocious, ready to take us on despite our ability to overpower you. You thrust the small sword toward us in defiance, not at all like the lady-in-waiting you were supposed to be.”
Tate clasps her hands together. “Oh my gods, this sounds just like a movie. Could a woman really get away with being strong like that in the 1600s?”
“Good question. Needless to say, it was frowned upon, but that’s never stopped or changed you throughout the ages. You’ve remained strong and steadfast, something we can always count on.”
My Gianna almost preens as I pay her homage and then clamps her hand to her temple, wincing, as if she’s been seized with a sharp pain. “I really need to get to the academy, but I need to know how this story ends. Quickly, what happened next?”
“I bowed and said, ‘The King’s Guard, at your service. We’re here to take the queen to safety, Lady Alveye.’ You seemed shocked that I knew you but seemed to quickly decide we didn’t have time to waste. You kept brandishing that damned sword until you
were satisfied we were who we said we were. Long story short, you took us to the queen, and we led you to safety.”
A huge clanging noise reverberates throughout the room. Sard. I slip through space into the school and survey the chaos. Another apprentice disappearance. I slip back to the kitchen to announce the news.
“What the hell is that noise? And where did you disappear to?” Tate asks.
“It’s the academy alarm bell. Another apprentice must have been snatched,” Caleb says.
“That’s correct, Caleb.” I growl in frustration.
They all jump up. Tate scrubs her face with her hands. “I was supposed to be there. Hera called me twice,” she says, tapping her temple, and I remember her sudden wince. “I should have been there.”
“Hera called you?” Bob asks, his brow furrowed.
The fact is indeed a surprise. It’s not something we’ve known to happen. “Well, we are going there now, mo chridhe.”
My vampire perceptions give me a tactical edge, so over the years I’ve naturally taken the lead in such situations. I start issuing orders.
I say, “Nameless, you and Caleb go ahead and call the staff into the examination room. Robert, you get the apprentices assembled in the auditorium. Tate and I will follow.” I give Robert the eye as he hesitates, ready to give him a boost using my mental-inducement power, and the bugger knows it. He gives a brief frown, then nods and follows Caleb and Nameless from the room.
Thankfully, one of Tate’s many gifts includes the ability to look at the big picture and prioritize, so she doesn’t waste time. She fires questions with the rapidity of an AK-47.
“You went to the academy? Usually, when you slip, we’re all along for the ride. It’s totally unnerving to have you just disappear. Is this a confirmed incubus snatching? How often has this happened? What powers do we have to use against them other than you draining them? Because that almost killed you. How do we identify them?”
Tate's Task Page 2
