A Man of Many Talons

by Vivienne Savage

  “Daddy!”

  “Coming!” Before the princess could fuss at me more, I hurried out to the patrol car.

  Dropping Sophia off at the front of the elementary school took no time at all, most of the early morning rush done and over with.

  “Morning, sheriff,” one of the greeters said, smiling kindly as she opened the passenger door for Sophia to exit.

  I waved. “Morning, Miss Mary Lou. Be good at school, Sophie. Love you.”

  “Love you, too, Daddy.”

  It didn’t matter that Sophia wasn’t my biological child. I didn’t need another baby as long as we had her.

  2

  Ian

  The beauty of having a doctor in the know was that I didn’t have to mask my medical history or keep any secrets. A werebear receptionist worked the clinic’s front desk, and the doctor herself had bonded to a werewolf. My close friend Sasha, a member of my shifter special operative team and a doctor, had given me the rundown on everything I needed to know.

  Leigh and I sat in front of a slim blonde woman with a kind face. Compassion was one of those traits needed in a fertility specialist. From the moment we entered, Doctor Kline did her best to make us feel welcomed.

  I still didn’t want to be here. Cutting my own throat would have been preferable to what was coming, no matter how many times I told myself to man up and accept that we needed medical intervention.

  Like she could read my mind, Leigh set a hand on my knee, her touch more reassuring than she’d ever know.

  “Nothing in your histories implies an underlying medical condition preventing conception, so at this point, I’d like to perform a physical evaluation on Mrs. MacArthur. We’ll draw some blood, perform an X-ray of her uterus and Fallopian tubes, and also request a semen sample from you for analysis.”

  I grimaced. Something told me my wife wasn’t allowed to jack it for me in a private room, and I hadn’t handled my own business in years.

  “It’s okay,” Leigh assured me. “I, uh… made these for you.” Without making eye contact with the doctor, she slipped a white envelope from her purse and passed it to me. “I’ll go get my tests done and you go do what you need to, okay?”

  “What’s this?” I opened the envelope and slid a black, faux leather portfolio onto my lap.

  Curious, I opened it to the first page of photographs—pictures of my gorgeous wife in her underwear. In the top photo, she wore a black, thigh-length robe and sprawled across a red velvet chaise. In another photo, she’d donned a black leather corset and a thong. She stood with her back to the photographer, exposing both luscious cheeks and a line of ribbon down her spine while she aimed a coy smile over her shoulder.

  Fuck. I fumbled the book in my haste to slide it into the envelope again.

  Bless this woman for always knowing what I needed, because no amount of porn or dirty magazines would have helped. Looking at other women did nothing for me, bound to her as I was.

  “Ah, thanks. We’re going to talk about this later.” Though it would probably have little to do with words and more to do with bending her over the edge of the bed and having my way with her.

  Her cheeks turned pink.

  A nurse guided me to a private room with a healthy supply of magazines and even videos. She wrote my name on a label, applied it to a plastic cup with a blue lid, then pressed it into my hand.

  “Take your time, Mr. MacArthur. There’s no rush.”

  The moment the door shut, I spread the book of Leigh’s boudoir shots on the table. God. She was so beautiful.

  Eyeing the little cup, I unzipped and prepared to get down to business.

  When I had a view like this to entertain me, I didn’t have any excuse not to fill the cup.

  Leigh

  The pelvic exam was the worst part of the testing. Doctor Kline wanted to look at my ovaries and my womb, which involved inserting an uncomfortable device up my no-nos to perform the ultrasound. I endured the discomfort, because five years had passed since my gynecologist removed an IUD from where it had embedded in my uterine wall.

  Five years since the thing had almost killed me.

  When the doctor had told me her suspicions about the pain I was experiencing and suggested a hospital admission, I never told Ian it was serious. I hadn’t wanted him to worry.

  Family friends watched Sophia for the day of what should have been an outpatient procedure in the OR to remove the shifted IUD, but parts of the intrauterine device had broken off the main piece and migrated to another part of my body.

  My quick in-and-out procedure became a search to find the lost arm in my intestines instead.

  It could have been worse. A couple days passed before they released me and by then I had to beg and plead with our friends not to call him. Sophia tattled on me within minutes of Ian coming home while I was still hobbling around with the worst cramps I’d ever experienced in my life.

  He’d been so furious. That was the first time my husband really lost his temper with me.

  Now I wondered if my fertility was the price I’d had to pay for our perfect life together. It had seemed so wise at the time when I had a new husband and a baby who wasn’t yet a year old.

  Doctor Kline didn’t think the IUD had caused lasting damage.

  Her parting words to me in the examination room became my mantra as I crossed the waiting room to my husband, taking in his stoic features and tense posture.

  When I stepped up to his side, he slid his hand around mine. “How’d your part of it go?”

  “As well as bloodwork and a coochie exam can go, I guess.”

  A deep crease lined his brow. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Doctor Kline says I have a beautiful uterus at least, and it’s perfect for growing another baby.”

  “Ah.” He led the way outside and held the door for me.

  “We have time before Sophia gets home. Should we grab lunch, maybe? Coffee and a pastry?”

  “Sure.”

  Great. Monosyllable Ian had returned. Long time no see, old friend. The Ian of many grunts and single syllable responses hadn’t visited in a few years, not since I’d last screwed up bigtime.

  A coworker had been hitting on me and behaving super aggressively, pissed about me being married to a guy three decades older. Instead of telling my boss or reporting it to HR, I let him intimidate me. When Ian found out, he lost his shit.

  Looking back, I did a lot of stupid things.

  “So,” he started.

  My gaze flicked to him, hopeful. “Yeah?”

  Ian opened the passenger door for me. After I slipped in and fastened the seat belt, he moved to the driver’s side and opened the portfolio. “When the hell did these happen?”

  “Oh, um...” Was he pissed about the photos? Heat rose in my cheeks. I ducked my head, allowing my bangs to fall down and hide me. “The last time you went out of town I had them shot... I just got them back yesterday.”

  “I wouldn’t have minded seeing them yesterday.” Ian whistled. “I think I found my favorite one.”

  Definitely not mad if he was checking out my tits. The corset had done wonders for them. “You were hardly in any condition to see them last night, hon. I, um... Julia introduced me to someone to take them. A really nice woman in Houston with her own studio.”

  He shot me a look. “Uh huh. Trust me. If you tossed this in my lap last night, that would have changed.”

  I stole a glance at the current page. In that photo, I wore a thin, ice-pink silk slip against my fair skin, blonde hair in sleek curls. White down feathers fell around me like snowflakes. He admired it for a moment longer before closing the booklet and setting it aside to start the engine.

  “Sorry...” Biting my lip, I wondered if I should have saved them for our anniversary in November after all. Too late now. To avoid eye contact, I peeked beneath the gauze taped to the inside of my arm. The bleeding had stopped, at least. I pulled it off and tossed it into the little waste bag behind my seat. We kept one back there
for Sophia’s trash.

  “Sorry for what?” He glanced at me and frowned. “You okay?”

  “Huh? Yeah, fine. The tape didn’t want to come off.” I put on a smile. “I’m glad you like them. I was going to save them, but I thought maybe this would be, you know... better. Uh, your part… seems a little awkward.”

  Ian started the car, back to the standard mask of stoicism. “A bit.” He didn’t speak again until we were out of the parking lot and moving onto the road again. “Thank you for that. You always seem to know best.”

  “I know you, not what’s best.” I reached over the center console and squeezed his thigh.

  And then he smiled at me, and every second of that invasive exam became worth it. “You do.”

  I’d do anything to give him a biological child to complete our family.

  3

  Leigh

  Why had I allowed Sasha and Isisa to sweet talk me into a hosting a Romance Rave?

  Stupid question, because I knew precisely why I’d been dragged into throwing a naughty, adult-themed party for ten ladies in my living room on a Friday night.

  Three weeks ago, during Sasha, Isisa, and Nandi’s bachelorette party, my dumb ass had asked Isisa for a recommendation for a new battery-operated boyfriend. I’d been blackout-drunk off the most powerful daiquiris to ever touch my lips. Three of them reduced me to a giggling mess, Juni passed out on the couch, and someone ended up naked in the pool. I think it was Jada, Taylor’s wife.

  Jada, Daniela, and I were three of the four humans of the group, each of us married to a shifter on our husbands’ spec ops team. Ian happened to be the official leader, though he’d been muttering about stepping back and passing it all to someone else. He’d only taken on more responsibilities.

  He’d made that promise years ago and hadn’t fulfilled it yet.

  And I wasn’t going to pressure him, because he loved it.

  There were women out there with husbands deployed for months at a time. Compared to them, I had it easy.

  But I still needed a backup buddy for those nights when Ian worked third shift or left town. My current vibe was on its last legs.

  I glanced down at the moscato-laced punch I’d made, as Dani emerged from the kitchen and dumped a load of dick-shaped ice cubes into our sweet, alcoholic bounty. Jada had shown up with penis-shaped sugar cookies, iced in chocolate or vanilla with chocolate, cherry, or banana sprinkle pubes on the round testicles. Then she’d placed two with cherry sprinkles in front of Julia and grinned.

  “You know, since Lyle is a ginger.”

  Ceres and Emma, bless them, had brought vodka in five different flavors. As the person selling the products, Isisa had a basket filled with mechanical goodies and a load of flyers.

  Nandi glowered from the couch where she rubbed her enormous pregnant belly. She wasn’t due until August, but the twins made it appear she was ready to pop at any moment. “You are terrible friends, drinking all of this delicious alcohol in front of me.”

  “Oh!” I smashed my cookie into my mouth and hurried into the kitchen, returning moments later. “I made a non-alcoholic pitcher for you, mama.” Dani added a trio of dick cubes to the glass I poured for her, and we all laughed.

  Everything was hilarious when you were surrounded by penises.

  While we stuffed our faces, our purveyor of pricy adult goodies set out an enormous dildo as long as my forearm. And maybe as thick as my wrist, if not wider. Most of us stared, but Nandi and Sasha barely noticed.

  Living in a pride of lion shifters must have been wild.

  While most of the guests ooh’ed and ahh’ed over its ridiculous girth, Juni shrank back, looking intimidated. I didn’t know if it was her rabbit shifter nature, or the fact that dicks did nothing for her. I’d picked up years ago that she never had a boyfriend or spoke of dating guys and surmised she was a lesbian, even if she didn’t speak about it.

  Hell, maybe she didn’t even realize it herself. Was that possible?

  My only hope was for Juni to find the woman for her, the way we’d found our guys and each other. Last I’d heard, her parents were trying to hook her up with another Korean-American rabbit shifter, pleading for her to give them grandchildren before they were too old.

  Eventually, she’d have to come out to them. To all of us. When she did, we’d all be there for her to provide whatever support she needed.

  “Isisa, seriously?” Jada demanded, gesturing with a hand covered in breathtaking henna artwork. She’d traveled to India to train with a couple of her cousins a few years ago, and now offered the art as a service in her salon and spa. “What is that?”

  Isisa smiled at us. “This is the Atlas, our second-largest novelty dildo. It measures in at sixteen inches, and we do not recommend it for use…” She paused long enough for me to digest that she’d said second largest. “Unless you are a giantess with a lot of kink. Now, as Leigh is the hostess of the night, every order made by all of you will earn her gifts and rewards, as well as a discount on any purchases she makes. If mechanical toys aren’t your interest, I have so many other things to show you. There is something for every occasion, including L’amour’s line of massage oil candles. I’ve never done one of these parties before, so I hope everyone has a great time. To kick off the night, I have several games for us to play before I introduce you to the products.” Isisa began to babble, speaking rapidly with her mounting excitement.

  I took a seat beside Juni and put on a reassuring smile. Isisa chattered on a moment longer before revealing a six-sided die beside two decks of cards decorated with sexual positions. Three sides said truth, two said dare, and one said double dare.

  I shuddered, wondering what the hell a double dare was in sexy Truth or Dare.

  Our saleslady grinned. “Leigh, since you’re already shivering in anticipation, you get to roll first.”

  Damn. I picked up the die and rolled it.

  “All right. You rolled Truth.” She plucked a card from a deck beside her. “So, tell me what’s the most orgasms you’ve had in one go?”

  “What?”

  Isisa held out the card for me to see the question.

  Heat surged to my face. “Ok, um...”

  “It’s all right,” Ceres said. “We’re all friends here, right?”

  Except Ceres was also Ian’s niece. Sort of. Goddaughter really, but she and I were about the same age. Ian and her father had been active duty together in the Air Force, the latter practicing law as JAG.

  Still embarrassed, I drained my spiked punch. “Are we talking multiples, ’cause I think he gave me a triple when we bonded, and he’s repeated that a couple times since then… Or do you mean one session?”

  “Session,” Jada chirped.

  “Right. So... six, okay? I guess he was feeling ambitious this one time. And omigod the things he said. I didn’t know Ian knew language like that.” The memory flushed a wave of heat to my face and made my core clench. I held my flaming cheeks with both hands. “Anyway, every time I thought he’d be ready to call it quits, he kept going.”

  “That sounds like Ian,” Sasha muttered.

  I glanced at her, raising a brow. My face still felt scorching hot.

  “The overambitious part. Not that orgasms aren’t great.”

  Most of us laughed, cracking up at the idea of overambitious orgasm-giving. I couldn’t really complain.

  Juni filled a cup of punch from the bowl and settled down with a cupcake covered in frosting and fondant designed to resemble a boob with a perky pink nipple. Some of them were warm toasted tan with chocolate tips. She eyeballed hers then glanced at Emma and Ceres. Emma made up the fourth human in our group, a talented Native American woman bonded to two werewolves. I couldn’t bear the idea of sharing Ian with anyone, yet she and Ceres shared Thomas without drama.

  Then again, it wasn’t really sharing. They all loved each other, much like Sasha, Nandi, Isisa, and Esteban. The four lions were meant for each other. Fated. Three gorgeous African goddesses and one
hunky Latin warrior.

  I bet the sex was absolutely phenomenal.

  I also kind of wished I could be a fly on the wall for a session—for scientific reasons. How did one man pleasure three ladies?

  “This design is… interesting,” Juni said, appearing at a loss.

  “What? Isisa asked me to be creative with my donation.” Emma owned her own bakery out west in Atropos, a small town near San Antonio packed with supernaturals. “They’re cream-filled, by the way.”

  Ceres grinned and reached for the dice next, voluntarily taking her turn. “Truth for me, too.” When Isisa drew a card and asked the blonde werewolf’s favorite sexual position, Ceres rolled her eyes. “Pffft. Doggie style. Duh.”

  Sasha made a face at her. “I know you’re more creative than that. It’s like the default shifter sex position.”

  “Hey. It’s not about creativity. Don’t fix what isn’t broken.”

  Emma nudged her wife in the shoulder and took the dice next. “Dare.”

  Isisa practically cackled in glee as she pulled a card. “You are dared to make your best orgasm sound.”

  “Oh, that’s gonna be an easy one. She’s loud in bed,” Ceres boasted, making Emma nudge her again.

  The game went on like that for a few rounds, until everyone was laughing and relaxed—the perfect ice-breaker. “The Truth or Dare set is fun for parties, but it’s also hilarious in the bedroom if you’re a polyamorous group like some of us and you’re not the type to freak out about your partner having a sex life before you came along.”

  Jada laughed. “I don’t care who Taylor sexed before me, as long as I’m the only one who gets the D now. None of us were virgins, right?”

  “Girl, same,” Julia said. “Some woman cornered me in the dairy section at the grocery store and tried to tell me I had her leftovers because Lyle was hers first. Who gives a damn who had him first? I have him now. I’ll always have him.”