Guilty as Sin (41 page)

Michael had known he wouldn
‟
t sleep, not with Lise
‟
s trusting weight on his

shoulder, Dax
‟
s deep even breaths coming from the bed. Anyway, he never allowed

himself to sleep deeply unless he was in one of his bolt holes, the door barred and

locked, the outside world unaware of his presence. Squeezing his eyes shut, he

permitted himself the luxury of burying his nose in Lise
‟
s hair. Twister, she smelled

wonderful, of featheroil and femininity and strength.

He
‟
d been trying to summon up the resolution to leave for the last hour. If he put it

off any longer, the Palace guards would be joining the three of them for breakfast. But

first… He cupped his hand around the featherpearl she wore in one pointed ear.

Against his chest, its mate gave a sudden throb. Michael
‟
s nipple drew up with a jolt of

sensation and he had to clench his teeth on a gasp.

“Come to bed,” murmured a voice made of velvet and midnight dark.

A bulky shape rose from the covers. Dax yawned and stretched, the spread of his

wings spanning the room.

“No.” Michael strained to see the other man
‟
s face. “I have to go.”

Rising, Dax padded to the window, pushed the curtain aside and peered out.

Moonlight flooded into the room, cool and pale. “It
‟
s not that far past midnight.” He

turned, his wings a great dark shadow above his shoulders. “Plenty of time.”

“
Mmm?
” Lise stirred.

“Now see what you
‟
ve done,” Michael hissed, unaccountably annoyed.

“Dax?” Lise sat up.

“No problem.” There was a smile in that beautiful deep voice. All the hair stood up

on the back of Michael
‟
s neck. Dax ambled over, grasped his chin in one hand and

kissed him, quick and hard.

190

Pulling back with a satisfied grunt, he scooped Lise off Michael
‟
s lap. Another

yawn. “C
‟
mon, chick.”

Twister
‟
s balls, it had better be Lise he was calling “chick”, but who the fuck knew?

Because a huge hand gripped Michael
‟
s wrist, towing him along. Lise gave him a sleepy

grin past Dax
‟
s shoulder and her tailtip whispered over the front of Michael
‟
s thighs.

But the moment Dax lowered her to the bed, she raised her head. “Here,” she said,

patting the sheet at her side, her slim body a harmony of silvered curves and shadows.

Michael frowned.

Before he could open his mouth, the world tilted as Dax grabbed him and dumped

him on the bed. The Aetherii
‟
s rich chuckle resounded in his ears and he found himself

being thoroughly kissed by Lise while the mattress dipped as Dax climbed in at his

back.

“No,” he mumbled against her mouth.

A strong hand cupped his knee, stroked up over his thigh, skirted his groin and

spread over the curve of his buttock. “
Mmm
,” breathed Dax in his ear. “Nice.”

Gods, it was good. Too good. Michael began to thrash. “Can
‟
t. I can
‟
t—”

Lise came up on one elbow. “Dax, back off a bit. Michael—”

Dax
‟
s warmth fell away as Michael sat up, the pulse thundering in his ears. “Go, I

have to go.” He fought to regulate his breath. A master thief never panicked.

“Look, it
‟
s fine. We
‟
re fine. Ah…” Lise balked, obviously searching for words.

Dax cut in. “Michael, you said it yourself—it works.” He raked a hand through his

hair. “Rip the Veil,
we
work, the three of us.”

“Sure.” Michael managed a sneer. “The fuck was good, but I didn
‟
t sign up for the

nesting part.”

Even in the gloom, the sweetness of Dax
‟
s smile made him shudder, a tremor that

went all the way to the bone. “You want to hear me beg, love. Isn
‟
t that what you said?”

Leaning in, he licked the corner of Michael
‟
s mouth, the merest brush, lighter than

feathers. “Please, Michael. You can go before dawn, but for now…” Slowly, he drew a

knuckle down the center of Michael
‟
s chest. “We want you between us.”

His smile went crooked. “It
‟
s dark. Let
‟
s pretend, for this one night at least.
Please
.”

Lise pressed him down with a firm hand. “For us, Michael. You can do it.”

“I—” Michael cleared his throat. “I—”

For some reason, he couldn
‟
t produce a single word, or not one that made sense.

191

Aetherii—Society:

The Aetherii prefer life in the cool, clear air of their mountain eyries. The thriving Aetherii

economy means they can afford to build sprawling mountaintop palaces or excavate extensive

cave dwellings in cliff-faces.

Excerpt from the
Great Encyclopedia
, compiled by Miriliel the Burnished.

* * * * *

“Lie down,” said Lise, her breath warm against his ear. “We won
‟
t crowd you,

promise.”

Every muscle rigid, Michael lowered himself to the pillows.

Lise kissed his cheek, as sweetly as the mother he
‟
d never had. “Go to sleep.” With

a sigh, she settled next to him, a palm settling over his heart in the most natural way

possible. “Oh sorry.” She snatched her hand away.

“It
‟
s all right,” Michael said gruffly, and Lise smiled and put it back.

Turning his head, he got tangled in Dax
‟
s interested gaze. A strange intimacy

slipped into the silence, smooth and beguiling as honeyed wine. Gods, he couldn
‟
t

breathe! Michael said the first thing that came into his head. “Where do you come

from?”

Dax tilted his head in a considering sort of way. “Me?”

“You.” He waved a hand. “The Aetherii. Where
‟
s…uh, home?”

“Ah,” said Dax. He stretched out full length, the long lines of his body radiating

heat all along Michael
‟
s side. “You mean the Eyrie.”

“It
‟
s beautiful,” murmured Lise. When her tail drifted across Michael
‟
s thigh, he

couldn
‟
t help but sigh with resignation and pleasure. She said, “What
‟
s the matter?

Can
‟
t sleep?”

“Tell me about it, this…Eyrie.”

But it was Dax who described the peaks clustered high above a pretty valley, the

elegant dwellings carved into the cliffs, the clear mountain air flashing with brilliantly

colored plumage as the Aetherii flew about their business. No bridges, no walkways, no

ropes, only a net for the nursery where the little ones learned to fly.

As he talked, the words came slower and slower, burred with love and memory.

Michael was barely conscious of the powerful hand that stroked a soothing path from

his shoulder to his hip, over and over. Twister, he could see it! A city in the air, as

exquisite as it was impossible, forever beyond his reach. The Aetherii were a wealthy

192

people, refined and cultured. He wished he could heap them with scorn, dismiss them

as spoiled and arrogant, but it simply wasn
‟
t so. Lise and Dax, even fucking

Janarnavriel the Noir, they all worked harder than most Grounded—harder than a thief,

that was for godsbedamn sure.

He blinked up at the ceiling, his eyes stinging, so completely outclassed it was

beyond a joke. Dax
‟
s voice had trailed off. Lise was breathing evenly and sweetly, her

cheek pressed against his biceps. Her featherpearl earring burned against his flesh, a

tiny hot spot. Dax had buried his nose in the curve of Michael
‟
s neck, his breath deep

and regular. And now he had another godsbedamn tail draped over him, right across

his groin where its silken weight pressed against his cock. With a disgruntled huff, he

reached down, only to be distracted by the feel of the close-fitting feathers. He skated

his fingertips in one direction, ruffling them, then smoothed them down, marveling at

the strength in the satin-clad muscle. Dax slept on, and Michael did it again and again,

thinking and trying not to think at the same time.

When Lise murmured in her sleep and curled her tail around his wrist, he swore

under his breath and gave up. So what if tails felt good to hold? No one would know,

not even his Aetherii. He could indulge himself, just this once. Timing his breath to the

sweet, small throb of the featherpearl he wore and its mate, Michael fell asleep, his

fingers buried in silken plumage.

He woke in the chill of the hour before dawn, but he wasn
‟
t cold. In fact, he was

supremely comfortable, covered by the softest, silkiest quilt imaginable. It made him

want to burrow. Instead, he forced his eyes open.

Lise
‟
s wing covered him from neck to knee, her flight feathers pewter in the cool

light, but Dax had spread a great bronze pinion over both his lovers. Not only that, but

the bastard had thrown a heavy arm across Michael
‟
s chest, his fingers buried in Lise
‟
s

hair. As for Lise, she
‟
d appropriated Michael
‟
s shoulder, and was snuffling peacefully

into his neck.

He could have slit their stupid throats. His guts clenched with dawning horror.

Fuck, they could have done the same to him and he wouldn
‟
t have known a thing. Not

that he
‟
d ever been in danger of that. Which in a way made everything worse. His head

swam, but he gritted his teeth until the feeling passed. With the utmost caution, Michael

began to extricate himself from his Aetherii.

* * * * *

Dax kissed Lise
‟
s forehead when they woke at first light, an aching emptiness in the

bed between them. She let him cuddle her close, but long before he was ready to let go,

she stiffened her spine, pulled back and said, “Ah, well, what did we expect? He
‟
ll turn

up again.”

“Oh yes.” Dax dipped his head to her sweet lips. “He wants Veryl, but he wants us

more.”

Clear gray eyes searched his face. “You think so? Truly?”

193

“Yes, but he was fighting, Lise, every step of the way. He wants to be loved so

badly he
‟
s terrified. Didn
‟
t you notice?”

“Yes.” Her lashes fluttered down then up, and her fingers tightened on his. “What

if he wins the battle?”

“Doesn
‟
t matter, he
‟
s still outnumbered.” Dax gave her a grim smile. “He can only

make a decision if he knows he
‟
s safe—safe with us, safe from the Prince
‟
s guards. All

we have to do is convince him. Agreed?”

“He
‟
s been alone almost all his life,” Lise said, obviously thinking aloud. “From

what he said, he
‟
s only ever loved once, and it ended badly.” She sighed. “The boy died

and Michael still blames himself.”

“It was his fault?”

“Not from what I could tell, but he said he should have done more, stopped it

somehow.”

Dax settled into the pillows and Lise came easily into his arms, her head a perfect fit

on his shoulder. “Makes sense,” he said thoughtfully. “He
‟
s like a
fellwolf
, Michael—too

wary to trust, but he takes responsibility for those he considers his pack.”

“Like the children.” The tip of Lise
‟
s tail hooked over his.

“Like us. He risked his life to save ours, though I
‟
m not sure he meant to.” His voice

had gone husky. Dax cleared his throat. “After the fight with the Hssrda, he collected all

the feathers I lost. He could have sold them for a tidy profit and I
‟
d never have known.”

“Oh!” Lise clapped a hand to her ear and a huge smile dawned on her face. “My

earring! He took it!”

Dax stared, puzzled. The animation in her face was a world away from her usual

calm reserve. “Stole it, you mean.”

“Whatever.” Lise flapped a hand. “He probably thinks he won it as part of that

stupid bet.” She came up on one elbow and grabbed his shoulder, grinning like a boy,

so lit up and alive with love and joy and exuberance his breath got all tangled in his

chest. “Dax, you know what featherpearls are like. Those earrings are a part of me,

tuned to me. A…a
connection—
and he
‟
ll be wearing them over his hearts.”

“Heart,” said Dax absently. “The Grounded only have one. You
wanted
him to take

it?”

The hope that illuminated her face was almost painful to see. Irresistibly drawn,

Dax rose over her, pressing her back into the pillows. “You
‟
re wonderful,” he said

simply. “Rip the Veil, but I love you.”

He sank slowly into the kiss, relishing every hot, soft second of it. Lise moaned into

his mouth, arching against him, her thighs falling open like music, letting him in. Dax

notched his eager shaft at the small, deliciously wet entrance to her body—this wasn
‟
t

the time for a reckless plunge. Gently, he rocked back and forth, sliding deeper and

deeper in lush increments until he hilted. His eyes rolled at the gorgeous clasp and

194

squeeze, but he wasn
‟
t going to rush this, not for the world. He craved something slow

and luxurious and tender. Gazing at her rapt flushed face, he thought Lise did too.

And if the tenderness was to salve a hurt, neither of them spoke of it, but they both

knew.

* * * * *

“Where
‟
s the thief?” Jan folded his arms, his face rigid with displeasure.

Pale and composed, Lise shrugged. “Gone.” Her lips quirked in a wry smile. “With

my other earring, I might add.”

Ah, she was something, his Lise. Dax stroked the back of her hand with his

fingertips.

Jan arched a brow, but his tail beat an angry tattoo against his booted calf. “You can

take it out of his hide when we catch him.” He turned away, paced to the window. “The

Prince wants to know why we didn
‟
t hand him over.”

A lithe body swinging from a gibbet, torn and violated. Dax
‟
s growl was echoing

off the walls before he realized he
‟
d made any noise at all.

“You wouldn
‟
t!” Lise took a jerky step forward, her mouth grim. “There has to be

another way.”

Jan spun around. “I may have to,” he said.

Terror iced Dax
‟
s veins, but between one breath and next, it coalesced into a

determination as cold and deep as a mountain tarn. “You won
‟
t,” he said, and met that

hard indigo gaze full on. “I won
‟
t permit it,” he added, so there could be no doubt.

Lise cursed under her breath.

“Ah,” was all Jan said. His expression didn
‟
t change, but something swam behind

those beautiful eyes that could have been amusement or admiration, or even both. “I

don
‟
t tolerate insubordination, Daxariel the Burnished.”

Taking his time, Dax furled his wings and unclenched his fists. “Then it
‟
s fortunate

I don
‟
t work for you.”

Lise
‟
s shoulder brushed his. “Forget it, Jan. We don
‟
t need the thief for this.” Her

voice was low and tight, but her hands were steady enough as she retrieved several