by Amy Sumida
“My blood to your heart,” Viper's voice dropped deeper, resonating with power and purpose.
His soul didn't slither into my mind in snake form but instead shone softly like a star. Its light connected with my own star, merging to sink through the Trinity Star and into my soul where it anchored itself. There was snake magic within that light, and it rose its reptilian head in greeting, but Viper didn't connect with that as much as he did his star magic. The snake was a bonus, not his foundation. Viper's soul, full of both compassion and passion, was more akin to starlight—glittering through the heavens—than it was to something that crawled upon the Earth.
Viper's starlight filled me then settled into a silver mist, shifting in my soul along with the others. We opened our eyes and stared at each other in wonder for a moment.
“Now, it's my turn.” I took the knife from him.
I had held Viper's soul in mine; carried it from the Void and placed it into a physical body. I knew him more intimately than I had known any of my men before they'd given me the Blood to Heart. Even Azrael—who had done for me what I had for Viper—hadn't been truly known by me until he had given me a piece of himself. The roles were reversed with Viper and me. I knew him, but he didn't know me in the same way. He would soon.
I cut my thumb, and Viper shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it on the bed. I blinked, momentarily distracted by the breadth of his shoulders, then refocused. Viper returned my earlier wink, getting flirty, but then I laid my thumb over his heart, and his expression shifted back into wonder.
“My blood to your heart,” I made the vow and the magic pulled me into Viper's mind.
I saw the star in his heart. Not nine-pointed. Viper's star wasn't a symbol, it was the real thing. A burning light within him, making him shine in ways that only I could see. I dove through that light into the soul beyond—a soul just as glorious as the star—and found a place to anchor myself inside it. I released a small piece of me then drew back into my mind.
Viper's bright green snake eyes were wide and full of love. He dragged me up his chest and held me dangling against him as his mouth covered mine. I groaned, the vow still shimmering between us, adding another layer to our desire.
“Vervain,” Viper murmured into our kiss as he set me down, but only so he could remove my robe.
Then Trevor was behind me, his mouth on my throat and his bare body pressed against my back. Viper shoved out of his pants then lifted me by my thighs, settling my legs around his waist. Without hesitation, Viper surged into me, and I cried out, laying my head back on Trevor's shoulder as I held onto Viper's. Trevor snarled and bit my neck, pulling another gasp out of me. His shaft was thick and hard between the cheeks of my ass, stroking gently. Trevor's arms and chest held me steady for Viper's thrusts, but he still managed to slide a hand up to massage my breast.
“Aw, baby, this is amazing,” Viper groaned, his pace increasing.
Our lips met again, violently slashing over each other; tongues dueling. When we broke that connection, I stared down our bodies and watched him enter me; sleek, pale, and powerful. Viper's knees were bent slightly, setting him at an angle so he could thrust upward, and it made the muscles in his thighs stand out. I moaned, one of my hands roaming up his sculpted chest then the column of his throat to finally lay against his cheek while my other hand went to Trevor's face.
“I love you,” I whispered to them both.
Viper's groan rolled up into a shout as he gave one last thrust then shivered in release. He kissed me tenderly as he withdrew, shaking again from the feel of the removal. My body clutched at him as he left, still in need. But a second after our kiss ended, Trevor lifted me away from Viper and turned me to the bed where he set me on my hands and knees.
I had a few moments to brace myself as Trevor guided his shaft into me, and I needed that time. Man and beast were united in need and, once seated inside me, Trevor slammed forward with an urgency that left no doubt as to how much it had cost him to wait for Viper to finish. He could have taken me in that other place instead of waiting, but I sensed that this interlude was important to him. Sacred. And he needed to consummate it in the traditional fashion.
I was at the edge of the bed, my lower legs sticking out into open air. Trevor stood between my calves, his hands on my hips, claws starting to emerge from his fingertips. I felt them scrape my skin and shivered. Danger and sex are a heady mix. Especially safe danger. I shoved back on him, wanting to feel the sting of his claws, but Trevor lifted them, unwilling to draw any more of my blood.
I lowered my forehead to the blankets, lifting my ass, and Trevor groaned my name as if it had been pulled from him. His hands slid inward and spread me, his breaths coming in pants. The tip of a claw tickled that other place then turned so that its rounded back pressed into me. I cried out and rolled my hips.
“Trevor,” his name was lost in silk and velvet.
“Minn Elska, this is going to be a long night,” the gravel of Trevor's half-wolf voice tumbled over my back. “I have a beast to satisfy.”
“You mean; I have a beast to satisfy,” I lifted myself to say over my shoulder then smiled at him wickedly.
Trevor growled, “Get that beautiful mouth ready because when I'm done here, you'll be sucking me back to life.”
I licked my lips in response, and it was all Trevor needed, He howled, emptying into me as his head lifted to the moon.
The shivers of aftershocks were still riding me as I turned on the bed to eagerly take his spent shaft into my mouth. Trevor made a surprised sound but his hand also went to the back of my head to urge me on.
“You look so beautiful,” Trevor murmured.
“That she does,” Viper said as he settled between my legs.
I groaned over Trevor's hardening flesh as Viper slipped inside me again, his passage eased by my arousal. He surged deep in a second then started a grinding thrust. It pushed me onto Trevor, and I went with it, letting Viper set the pace for all of us. But Trevor couldn't allow that; he grabbed my face in his hands and began pump himself past my tightened lips. I went still between the men and just accepted the pleasure they offered. If they wanted to do all the work, I was more than okay with it.
In my mind, their presences billowed to fill my head as they filled my body. I awoke myself in them in return and heard their strangled sounds of desire. Sex is always better when you seduce the mind along with the body. Desire starts there, after all. They started speaking to me through our bonds, pouring words of love directly into my soul, and my whole body clenched then convulsed into a magnificent climax.
Yes, it was going to be a long night, and I was looking forward to every, blissful minute of it.
Chapter Fifty
Kirill let me sleep in, bless his lion-god heart. When I woke, he had Lesya ready to leave; boots tied and her cute fur coat waiting to be put on. She cheered when she saw me open my eyes.
“Come on, Mommy!” My daughter urged. “We're all going back to Saint Peter's Burger today! All of us! Vero too!”
“Petersburg,” Kirill gently corrected her.
“That's what I said.”
“Don't get sassy with your daddy,” I growled, rolled out from beneath the covers on the side of the bed closest to the bathroom, and slipped into my robe.
Behind the glass wall that served as a headboard, a few immortal butterflies had made it into the shade of the thick foliage and fluttered—as they were meant to—brightly. I glared at them; it was too early in the morning for happy fluttering. It felt as if they'd ventured into the thicket with the sole purpose of taunting me. I had half a mind to set some birds free in their garden.
I grimaced at myself as I shut the bathroom door behind me and my god healing kicked in to freshen my mind. Damn, even divinity couldn't make me a morning person. I went about my usual routine and emerged in a better mood thanks to a liberal application of hot then cold water. But not so much better that tea wouldn't improve things.
I smiled gratefully a
t Kirill as I accepted a mug of strong, black tea and went straight into my dressing room to prepare for... wait.
“Did she say that we're all going to Saint Peter's Burger?” I asked.
“I vant to visit my parents' graves,” Kirill explained. “Ze others said zhey'd like to go as vell.”
“You guys want to visit a grave?” I asked the other men in surprise.
The others were—of course—Trevor, Vero, Odin, Azrael, Re, and Viper. All of them nodded at me, Vero adding a squeal for good measure.
“Ve can have lunch afterward,” Kirill offered. “Zen you, Lesya, and I vill go back to Latvia.”
“Okay,” I agreed and went back into the dressing room.
A few minutes later, I was dressed in cold weather clothes with my “faux” fur coat—that I'd refreshed with territory magic—hung over my arm. I settled into the chair Viper held out for me and hung the coat on the back. Another sip of my tea and I was fortified enough to start on the pancakes waiting for me.
“Mommy,” Lesya whined.
“I swear to the Gods—all of them—that if you ruin my breakfast, Lesya, I will not only take longer to eat but I'll also insist on taking a run with the Pride before we leave.”
Lesya gasped in horror then fell silent as the males, including her brother, laughed. I rushed breakfast despite my threat then all of us slid into our coats and headed downstairs in the gilded, cage elevator.
“Why don't we ever trace downstairs?” Lesya asked as the elevator moved smoothly downward; evidently too slowly for impatient lion cubs.
“She's already addicted.” I shook my head in mock disappointment.
“Try to trace, Kotyonok,” Kirill suggested and winked at me.
“Really?” She asked.
“Da. Picture entry hall and trace.”
Lesya tried. Scowled. Closed her eyes and scrunched her face. The rest of us burst out laughing.
“Remember when we were discussing putting a door on the tracing chamber?” I asked her. “It's because all territories are protected by wards and the only place you can trace within a territory is at their tracing points.”
“But I thought that once you were inside, you'd be able to trace around,” Lesya whined. “You can do it in the Human Realm.”
“The Human Realm isn't protected by magic,” Odin explained. “The type of wards that are used to protect a god territory also inhibit tracing within that territory. It's another layer of safety.”
“Inhibit?” Lesya frowned at Odin.
“Stop,” he said.
“I just wanted to know what the word means,” she whined. “You don't have to be mean.”
“No.” Odin laughed. “The word 'inhibit' means 'stop.' Little lioness, you get more and more like your mother every day.”
“Hey,” I growled. “That sounds suspiciously like an insult. And inhibit doesn't exactly mean stop or I'd be able to say; look, the elevator just inhibited.”
“It's a version of stop,” Odin countered. “And I was simplifying it for Lesya.”
“It's not an insult.” Lesya grinned up at me. “I like being like you, Mommy.”
“I know, baby.” I bent to kiss her. “But it's kind of an insult for me. Mommies are supposed to know more than their children.”
“I referred only to her personality, Vervain,” Odin chided me as we piled out of the elevator. “You're so sensitive this morning.”
“Maybe I'm feeling inhibited.” I smirked at him.
“I rest my case,” Odin declared as he strode into the tracing room.
“Since someone brought it up, I might as well get this started.” I looked around thoughtfully then wandered onto the drawbridge-veranda and picked up a leaf that had been carried in by the wind.
“What are you doing?” Lesya asked.
“Just vatch,” Kirill chided.
I held the leaf up within the archway of the tracing room and visualized a door filling the space. The leaf shifted with my intent and became a door; solid wood attached to the stone wall by iron hinges. I nodded in satisfaction.
“Aw,” Lesya grumbled.
“I'll enchant it while you're on vacation,” Odin offered.
“Thank you, honey.” I kissed Odin's cheek and opened the door. “Now, let's go see some dead people.”
“Ewwww, Mommy!” Lesya cried as Vero giggled.
Chapter Fifty-One
The Peter and Paul Cathedral where Peter the First and his wife, Catherine the First, were buried stood within a fortress of the same name. It was the original citadel that Kirill's father had built on an island in the Neva River that runs through Saint Petersburg. The island was close enough to shore that bridges had been constructed to connect it to the mainland and the curve of it nearly matched that of the shoreline, leading me to believe that they had been connected at one point. You know; back when there were dinosaurs and the Gods lived on Atlantis.
We didn't bother crossing a bridge but traced directly into the fortress. Orangey-pink walls stood guard around the complex, matching the roofs of several buildings that stood in orderly rows to the right of the entrance. At the far end, a forested garden grew and between that garden and a few other structures, rose the cathedral. It was easy to spot. Its gilded spire crowned a four-story tower and had an angel hanging precariously from its point.
“It's vorld's tallest Orthodox bell tower.” Kirill waved his free hand at the cathedral. His other hand held Lesya's.
“Did your father have to name everything after himself?” I teased Kirill.
“He didn't.” Kirill frowned.
“Vervain, Saint Petersburg is named after Saint Peter, not Peter the Great,” Odin said gently. “It's right there in the name.”
“Saint Peter vas my father's patron saint,” Kirill explained.
“Oh, that's good. Your father was slick.” I chuckled. Then, in a deep voice—one I immediately dubbed my Peter voice—I declared, “I'm not naming the city and everything in it after myself, no; I'm naming it after my patron saint whose name just so happens to be mine too.”
Kirill grunted. “Vell, arrogance vas hardly his biggest sin.”
“Hey,” I said softly, “I was joking. I can feel your tension so I thought I'd try to lighten the mood. I'm sorry if I offended you.”
“It's okay; you didn't.”
I glanced at the other men and back at Kirill. I could feel the significance of this for Kirill and knew he had started to quote facts as a way to distract himself. His father and mother weren't in this place; their souls had left long ago, and Kirill knew that. Especially now that he... was...
“Oh, my God,” I whispered as I stared at him; the words appropriate on two levels.
Kirill slid a look my way and lifted a brow.
“You're really going to speak to them, aren't you?” I asked him.
“I'm going to try,” he admitted. “I don't know vhere either of zem are. Zey could be in Underworld or Christian Heaven or even Lucifer's Hell. I don't know vhat zey believed or vhat judgments vere laid upon zem.”
“But here, through their bodies, you will have a connection to them,” Odin noted. “It will be one-way, but they may be able to hear you.”
Kirill smiled gratefully at Odin. “Zank you. I'm going by instinct.”
“That's the magic guiding you,” Odin said with an approving nod. “You're a natural, but I suppose that has something to do with having the Intare magic inside you for so long. Just keep following your instincts.”
“I'll try.” Kirill led us up to the doors of the cathedral.
The Peter and Paul Cathedral—not named after Peter the Great—looked plain in comparison to the other one we'd seen in Saint Petersburg. But that was only its exterior. Inside, it rivaled the garishness of the Church of the Savior of Spilled Blood. Perhaps even outdid it. The iconostasis—an elaborate arrangement of gold icons bigger than my house in Hawaii—stood at the opposite end of the cathedral, bracketed by gilded columns that were topped by angels. A domed c
rown hung over its sweeping background; a gathering of saints. To either side of this, massive pillars—bigger than the angel columns and adorned by recessed carvings, gold, and paintings—were connected by an arch that rose even higher than the iconostasis it guarded, right up to the painted ceiling.
Before the iconostasis, placed in rows and neat groups, were white marble sarcophagi with gold crosses embedded in their lids. Each grouping was contained by a black and gold iron fence as if it were a flower bed displaying rare specimens. Except nothing grew there; life did not flourish within, rare or otherwise. Plaques hung on the fences before each sarcophagus, doubtless providing the names of the dead within.
