"Uh...yeah, I think so."
"You don't sound sure at all."
“I’m laying low at home, just working on some songs. My gigs this week are canceled. Is it true? The queens?"
"Well, it's..." Ian clearly didn't want to spread the news all over Brooklyn. “No. Not that I know of. It’s such a crazy story."
He got off the phone as Flor turned on the news. I was immediately greeted with a live scene of the police and the National Guard at the bridge I used to cross almost every day, never without a tiny spike of fear. Whatever had happened seemed to have calmed down to some extent, but there were ambulance sirens blaring in the distance. The news cut to scenes of a mob of humans rushing an elderly couple and a little girl, screaming, "Where are you hiding the witches?" When they shied back, the man in front shoved the old woman into her husband, both of them falling painfully into each other, the little girl trying to help, and then it flashed to another scene of men attacking a woman.
"No," I said. "No! Turn it off..." I grabbed the remote from Florian and mashed the button, so the TV went black again. "I can't watch the news. I never have. Waylon, you're right, I barely remember anything about the Austin bombing. I tried to ignore it. I don't want to know..."
"We don't need to see it," Ian said. "I'll just call home and find out."
He used Florian's phone right then and there, and the relief in his voice mirrored my own as soon as I heard him say, "Mom? Are you okay there? Good, yeah--I just saw."
I was still standing there, shaking a little.
"I'm sorry," Flor said in his lowest, roughest voice. "I didn't realize it was triggering for you."
"No, I'm not triggered, I just don't need to see stuff like that, where I can't do anything about it."
"Can't you?" Florian said. "Isn't that the point?"
"Well...not yet," I cried. Then I swallowed. "I don't think I'll ever know, or remember, exactly how my mom died. I guess it might...stir some memory. I don't know. I guess a queen has to face these things."
"Not alone," Waylon said. "But I do think it's time to stop dancing around. Frankie...I think you should submit to Flor tonight. And I do mean submit. Maybe Flor is the one who needs to unlock that thing I haven't been able to crack inside you that helps you control your power. Whatever he does to you, you should just take it."
"What!? It’s not up to you, Waylon, and anyway, what if he's into choking or something?"
"No, I have rules for him too. And I think you know by now that if you hurt her in any way, I know a dozen different ways to fuck you up."
"Okay, Frankie's dad," Flor shot back at him. "I'm not into hurting anyone. That's not my thing.”
"So what is your thing?" I asked.
"We share the same goals," he said. "The same enemies. I will support you. And I do like to fuck, but...I'm no lover. I don't like to be touched. I don't like eye contact and I don't like kissing."
You sound like a challenge, I thought.
"She is our queen," Waylon said. "So I hope you're willing to give before you take. Make Frankie come five times before you come once. You okay with that bargain, pussycat?"
"I'm not sure when you turned into my negotiator. I mean...is this all at once? Five sounds like a lot."
"Like I said...learn to let go. Flor, meanwhile...this way you keep it impersonal. But not selfish."
"I accept those terms," Flor said. "I'll see you tonight, Frankie." He was so matter of fact, like it was just a transaction, but I wasn't sure who was the whore in this situation.
I wanted to punch Waylon for being an arrogant ass about my sex life, but I was too intrigued. I had been trying to get the wheels turning and running into Flor’s walls. Waylon was off the hook…for today.
I knew being with Flor was going to be very different than Ian or Waylon. Flor was more broken, but also much more hardened. I saw enough of him to remind of Ansel that I knew he did care about people. He had a soul, and I was determined to salvage it.
That is, if I could think straight after five orgasms...
Chapter Sixteen
Florian
What if this is different, from all the other times?
How would it feel? Good? Safe? Or terrifying?
I felt a draw to Frankie that grew every day I was around her, and I tried to resist it. Prophecy? Consorts?
That wasn't love, it was just...some weird magic.
Still, I wondered how it would feel if it kept growing stronger and I couldn't resist it any longer. Or maybe I was already there, because here I was, agreeing to pleasure her before I got the whole thing over with...and that was all it had been for me. Getting it over with. Sex was a drug, a rush that felt good for a moment, but ultimately was just as damaging as anything else.
I saw her with Ian and Waylon, the caresses, the easy banter, and I felt myself shutting down. I wouldn't know where to begin with that. She needed to learn right away that if she wanted me, I could only get the job done. She couldn't turn to me for physical comforts.
That part of me snapped a long time ago.
I walked into the hall that night and found her waiting for me, with steel in her eyes that made me pause. She wasn't the sort of woman I usually went for. I liked them stupid, horny and half-drunk.
For a split second I looked at her legs, long for her frame and toned, her lithe body, the very sober gaze balanced by a little tilt of mischief in her mouth, and I saw a glimpse of something I'd been missing.
"I'm not gonna lie, this feels weird," she said. "But I'd rather break the tension between us before it starts to distract me from my queenly duties."
She was right. It did feel 'weird'. I needed sex to be impersonal, and this already felt too personal.
Silently, I opened the paper shopping bag on the dresser. The sex toys I'd asked for were all there in neat packages of smooth quality card stock, cursive script, ribbons--like they were gourmet pastries or something. I'd never bought stuff like this before.
She sat up straight on the bed, her eyes widening. "Where did all those come from?"
“The servants will get you anything you want if you ask."
Good. They remembered the batteries. I took a bullet vibrator from the package and popped in an AAA. It was cold, smooth and metallic. A barrier between my hand and her soft skin.
Her cheeks turned pink as she was clearly considering what the servants knew. "Isn't that cheating?" she asked.
I put a hand on her back and pushed her down onto the bed, firmly, but I would never hurt her. "No touching, no kissing, no eye contact," I reminded her, and then I teased a hand along her spine and scratched her tailbone lightly.
I'd never met a cat who wouldn't lift her ass right up for this move. I'm not sure they could help it. She was already glancing back, trying to look at me. "You don't want to tie me up or something?"
"No. No restraints. You just stay there and control yourself. You have other men you can touch, but I guarantee I can at least put all the troubles out of your head."