Guilty as Sin (36 page)

Michael
‟
s breath hitched. So it was true. What had Lise told him? The three of them

were…mated? Twister, who
‟
d have thought there could be more to a three-way than

the fucking? But there must be, because when a stone-cold bastard like Janarnavriel the

fucking Noir wore an expression like that…

168

Dax towered over the children, big fingers slow and sure on buttons and laces.

Every now and then, a little hand would reach out to touch a wing or stroke his tail, but

he didn
‟
t seem to mind. Well, at least the kids were cleaner than usual. Lise was deep in

conversation with Bitsy, clad once more in a threadbare shift.

Enough
. He mustn
‟
t soften, not even for an instant. Considering the lousy hand the

gods had dealt him from birth, he
‟
d done well—Twister he had!—but in the final

analysis, he was no more than a jumped-up rag picker with no place in this world

of…of connections and relationships. Thinking he belonged—even for an instant—

could cost him his life. Any minute, Jan would stop mooning at his lovers and decide to

have a certain master thief tied hand and foot and delivered to the Palace with his

compliments. Heart thumping, Michael edged behind the nearest curtain.

Fledge and Mirry chivvied the kids into a tight group and urged them toward the

door, but Bitsy lingered, looking over her shoulder. Unerringly, her gaze locked with

Michael
‟
s and one eyelid fluttered down in a wink. He sent her a tight smile in return.

She was a survivor, Bitsy. She
‟
d be fine.

Jan broke off a low-voiced conversation with Lise to frown in Michael
‟
s direction.

Fuck!

“Oh no, you don
‟
t.” Dax grabbed his arm before he could reach the window.

One corner of Jan
‟
s hard mouth tucked up as he watched, but he said nothing.

“You wait here,” growled Dax.

“Fuck that.”

Dax followed Michael
‟
s gaze to the security chief. “Trust me, you
‟
re safe.”

Trust Dax? All very well, but he didn
‟
t speak for Jan. Michael shook himself free.

He could be out that window in a split second.

Dax said, “I
‟
ll be back in a minute, I swear.” With a huff, he bent and picked up two

of the Gesachts by their trussed ankles, one set in each hand. “Just putting the garbage

out.”

“I sent a message to the Palace,” said Jan to the room at large. “There
‟
ll be guards in

the street.” He showed his teeth. “They
‟
ll take care of the trash with pleasure.”

“Good,” grunted Dax.

The Gesachts groaned.

He made for the door, the bodies of the two thugs bumping along behind. Michael

winced, even as he grinned. He could hear regular thuds as their heads bounced off

every step, accompanied by a receding chorus of truly vile curses. Bubba and his

daughters split into two teams and puffed in Dax
‟
s wake with the remainder of the

Gesacht criminal dynasty.

The quiet was unnerving. Surreptitiously, Michael loosened his blade in the

scabbard, an empty space like a clenched fist where his guts used to be. He
‟
d take his

chances out the window before he let the guards take him, and if he had to, he
‟
d fight to

the death.

169

“Shame about Veryl,” Jan said to Lise.

She flushed. “I know.” Her wings arched high behind her, the missing chunk of

feather as ugly as a hole in a stained glass window. “But we
‟
ll get him.”

A cool brow rose. “Of course. But Veryl aside, the children are safe, which was

always the priority.” He touched her shoulder. “You did well. My office first thing

tomorrow. We need a plan.” Gem-hard eyes flickered over Michael and away. “Bring

the thief with you.”

Janarnavriel the Noir turned on his heel and walked out, jet-black wings folded

neatly behind him.

Michael locked his knees and pushed away from the window. He dredged up a

cocky grin. “What makes him think I
‟
m yours to bring?”

Lise shrugged. “We need you,” she said simply. When she pushed the hair off her

forehead with the back of her wrist, she left a dark, oily smear behind. Making a

disgusted noise, she wiped her palms down the sides of her trews. Then she laughed

and some of the weariness fell away. “Do I look as bad as you?”

Michael glanced down. The blood and sweat and oil and coal dust didn
‟
t show so

much on his black clothing, but the fabric clung, clammy and unpleasant. He wrinkled

his nose. Gods, he stank.

“We
‟
re in a bath house.” Dax
‟
s bulk filled the doorway. “Which is a very good

thing.” He beamed. “C
‟
mon. Bubba gave me a cut rate on the best chamber—and he

threw in refreshments.”

Michael
‟
s cock gave a hard, heavy throb a fraction of a second before his brain

caught up with the sense of Dax
‟
s words.

Dax drew Lise into his arms. “Gods, chick, aren
‟
t you dying to be clean?” His voice

dropped a good half octave. “We
‟
ll take care of you. I
‟
ll show Michael how to groom.”

The slightest crease appeared between her brows. “Take care of me?” She flicked a

sidelong glance at Michael, and even the filth on her face couldn
‟
t obscure the delightful

color that pinkened her cheeks. “But I don
‟
t— I mean I
‟
m fine.”

Tenderly, Dax kissed her eyebrow. “Come and tell her what you want,” he said to

Michael, stretching a hand toward him.

Michael froze. Twister, what was wrong with him? Lise
‟
s nipples made hard little

points against the damp linen of her shirt. Unaccustomed confusion trembled adorably

on her lips, but her eyes shone wide and brilliant. Dax was devouring him with that

earnest green-gold gaze. Why was he hesitating? His balls and his groin ached, his cock

throbbing fierce and proud in the confines of his trews. The desire to cup himself and

ease the pressure was almost irresistible.

All through his unlovely childhood, when he
‟
d been little more than a small human

animal, instinct had kept him alive. As an adolescent, something about Hautlord Idris
‟

pouchy eyes had stayed his hand. Not all Tannio
‟
s tears and fury, not all his dreams of

170

wealth and power had persuaded Michael to scrawl his mark on the contract. He
‟
d

taken heed and survived when Tannio had not.

But now his blood was pounding in his ears, drowning that warning voice in a tide

of want, want,
want
. This wasn
‟
t about settling the score anymore. Perhaps it had never

been and he
‟
d been too blind to see it. Fuck, when had he ever desired something with

such total conviction, with every particle of his being?

He had the strangest sensation of vertigo, as if he were teetering on the edge of a

roof, arms milling to keep his balance.

Dax waited patiently, his hand extended.

This must be what it felt like to fly without wings.

Twister, a man only lived once.

Pinning a reckless grin to his lips, Michael launched himself into free fall. Gripping

Dax
‟
s hand, he allowed himself to be pulled into an odd three-way embrace.

He pressed his lips to the warm silk of Lise
‟
s cheek, stroked her hair. “Please,” he

murmured. And after that, he couldn
‟
t think of another godsbedamn thing to say.

Dax chuckled, deep and rich. Ignoring her startled protests, he swept Lise up in his

arms and headed for the stairs. As he brushed past, his tail snaked out, coiling around

the thief
‟
s forearm, warm, smooth and incredibly strong. “You too,” he said firmly,

towing Michael along in his wake.

The chamber was on the top floor, less than half the size of the one Veryl had hired

but furnished in what had to be Bubba
‟
s idea of luxury bordello decor. His heart

banging wildly against his ribs, Michael surveyed flocked crimson wallpaper, a single

square stone tub with shining spigots set on a marble dias off to one side and a huge

bed topped with a downy quilt. On a squat chest of drawers made of some fancy

polished wood sat a bowl of fruit, a carafe of wine and two glasses. Steam rose in gentle

wisps from the surface of the bath water and sweet fragrance drifted in the air.

The two Aetherii made almost identical noises of satisfaction. Before Dax had even

lowered Lise to her feet, she was peeling off her shirt. Michael barely had time to draw

breath before she was naked before them, a miracle of smooth flesh and sumptuous

feathers.

Lise took Dax
‟
s hand and stepped into the bath, the line of thigh and calf long and

graceful in the lamplight. When her wings lifted with pleasure, he could see her hips

were almost as narrow as a boy
‟
s, but no boy had ever had such luscious, singing

curves, the indentation of her waist and the soft taut swell of buttocks unquestionably

female. Michael
‟
s palms itched and his mouth watered. Gods, to set his teeth in the

curve where bum met thigh, to open that sweet little ass—she
‟
d be virgin there, she had

to be, surely?—and wrap her tail around his waist and fuck gently inside then hard and

harder until she keened beneath him and he could reach around to her dripping cleft—

But no, he
‟
d be staring into Dax
‟
s beautiful eyes over her shoulder, drowning in green-

gold desire. Dax could touch her for him, or they could stroke her together, their fingers

slipping over each other in her sweet juices—or, better yet, Dax would be fucking her,

171

his huge cock buried deep inside, rubbing the whole length of Michael
‟
s shaft with

every thrust.

“Does it hurt, love?” said Dax, palpating Lise
‟
s wing with gentle fingers.

“Idiot,”
said Tannio, clear as a tenor bell in Michael
‟
s memory.
“Does it hurt?”
His

voice had been rough with concern.

Michael
‟
s knees shook, so he sat on the side of the bath, splashed wine into a glass

and drained it in two hasty gulps.

He’d gritted his teeth, refusing to wince as Tannio dabbed at the blood with a wet cloth.

“Sword Master said it served me fuckin’ right fer gettin’ distracted,” he said. “Yer not me

godsbedamn mother anyways.” Forcing a grin, he fluttered his lashes. “Gonna kiss it better?”

A dimple creased the olive skin of Tannio’s cheek. “Nah. Got other places for that.” All lithe,