My hand slid up over his shoulder and around his neck, the muscles feeling like satin and stone under my palm.
“We get to choose what we are to each other.”
I stepped up on the stone plateau so I was eye height with him, more or less, our mouths drawing closer but didn’t touch.
“Yeah? And you can choose to come or go, to reach for me or not. I’ve just gotta convince you that’s a good idea.”
He swung me up into his arms, settling the two of us down with me across his lap, and reached for the basket.
“No more talking now. There’s always way too much talking,” he said as he dragged the basket closer. “How do you feel about cheese?”
“I fucking love cheese.”
We ate and we drank, and despite his rejection of conversation, we talked about the shit that was happening. In sharp, biting words, I described what had gone down with Aen, Johnno, Billy, and Jake.
“I shouldn’t be lying in your arms, talking about other blokes,” I said.
“No? You won’t talk about me when you lie in theirs?” I felt his lips on my hair as I thought about that, then looked up to meet them. He kissed me with a smile. “This is your life now.”
“This is my life now,” I agreed with a nod and then curled up back against him.
I felt lighter somehow as we walked back into Aragide, us using those slow, irregular steps lovers use when they’re trying to string out their time together. I glanced up as we went down the hall, his hand holding mine, and he caught me looking, smiling when I smiled at him. It was like we were performing some old, elaborate dance with asynchronous steps, all the way up to my bedroom door.
But of course, we didn’t make it that far.
“Kira,” Aen said, pushing himself away from the wall.
It was time to pay the piper.
“You can come in, if you like,” I offered Luc, but he shook his head.
“I wasn’t going to. Looking like that?” His eyes trailed down my body. “I want to find my way with this, and those clothes are not at all conducive to that.” He reached down, pressing a long, slow kiss to my mouth, my hands going to tangle in his hair. He tugged me close, so I could feel it, everything tonight had done to him, and I felt the same.
But he pulled away, placing a kiss on my forehead.
“Goodnight, Kira.”
Chapter 7
“C’mon.”
A flash of fear, or something a whole lot hotter, spiked through me as Aen wrapped his hand around my arm, not willing to let me skate away this time. He hauled me inside the bedroom, shutting the door with a decisive click.
“Where do I start with you?” he asked, a darkness to his voice alerting me that things were not good. My eyes flicked to the bed where Marlow lay across it. “Don’t look at him. Look at me.”
The command in his voice was sharp, jerking my attention back to him, but he wasn’t all cool composure. For the first time, I saw the bleed between his forms, the female one pushing through as his face slimmed down, his fingers narrowing, but he grit his teeth and held onto his male form, eyes blazing as they stared at me.
“What am I going to do with you?” It was a rhetorical question that held a world of love, pain, and need. More than I deserved. “I should spank your arse raw for running from me. After everything…” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “Take every stitch off, especially that bloody corset.” He turned to look at Marlow. “Were you trying to kill me?”
“She looks fucking hot,” Marlow replied with a shrug. “Finding the clothes you most want to rip off her is a gift.”
“You’re as much of a masochist as Jake. Clothes off, Kira,” he snapped when I just stood there. I jumped at the crack of his voice, hands going to the lacing that bound the corset, pulling the bow at the base of my spine.
Aen watched as it came loose, as I pushed my jacket off, undid the belt, kicked off the boots. He stopped me when I just stood there in my jeans, stepping closer and taking over, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper like it had personally offended him. His eyes stared into mine as he shoved his hands in between the denim and my skin, pushing them down and off over my feet. I went to remove the last item, my underwear, but Aen pushed my hand away, grabbing them and ripping them off like some kind of CEO Dom in a romance novel. I stood there, completely bare as the two of them remained clothed.
“I’m sorry—”
“The time for talking is well past. You ran from me, like I was some kind of abusive churl.”
“That wasn’t it. I—”
“I said no talking, Kira.” A thumb brushed against my lips. “I’ll tell you when I want your input. What happened in the trial was to be expected. It was rushed and a lot more brutal than I would have advised right now, but effective. Trials are incomprehensible in some ways. There’s often no clear goal in mind, so the trial is in the working out what the point is. We protected you, you succeeded. That’s what’s supposed to happen.”
I looked up at him warily, a frown forming.
“Consorts are expendable, love. That’s the way it’s always been. We get you to where you need to go. That’s our purpose, and it’s our privilege.”
I laughed at that, imagining Liam throwing himself in front of a bus for me, but effectively he had, hadn’t he? When I sobered, Aen jerked his thumb to the mattress.
“Get on the bed, now.”
He didn’t get undressed when he sat on the edge, and neither did Marlow as he shifted closer. I climbed on but was quickly picked up and placed across Aen’s lap.
“Really?” I said, rolling my eyes. “You’re gonna do the whole—”
My response was choked off by the slap of his hand, broad and stinging, across my arse. My body jerked in response, aborting my sarcastic reply. My teeth clamped down as I pushed myself up and off his lap for just a second before another hand shoved me back down again.
“I’ve done my bloody damnedest to be gentle, to take things slow and help you adjust to this life, but when it gets too hard, you still run.”
“I’m sorry! I can’t control it. It just—”
“I don’t want excuses or explanations. I’m too bloody angry. You’re mine, Kira. Your body knows it, your heart knows it, but your brain needs to catch up. It’s catching up now. Don’t fucking move, or I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
One hand pressed down hard between my shoulder blades, pinning me to the spot, forcing my breasts to squish against his thighs. And the other, it came whistling down, cracking across my arse, over and over.
I held tightly to my old fear and new anger. He was spanking me? Like a fucking child? Like some kind of BDSM scene? But there was no safe-wording out, apparently. He wasn’t seriously hurting me, but I felt it—his answering anger and his fear. We were a hammer and an anvil, pounding this out between us, whether I wanted it or not. Every muscle in my body braced, against him, against his bloody fucking hand, my jaw tight as I endured this.
Which he seemed to sense. When he rubbed his hand softly across my flaming butt, my skin prickling in response, I flinched harder than when he hit me. He chuckled at that, forcing me to feel the vibrations all through my body. His hand roamed, up my spine, stroking me to keep me in place before dropping down to pull my thighs wide.