Guilty as Sin (59 page)

Her legs tightened around his hips.

Dax reached over Michael
‟
s shoulder to pull her into a kiss that was no more than a

tender brush of lips. “Love you too, chick,” he said. “And you, Michael.”

274

His lips landed at the corner of Michael
‟
s mouth until Michael turned his head

enough to make it real—messy and good. When it ended, Dax gave a funny little shrug.

“You
‟
re my life, the both of you.”

It was a moment before he realized they were waiting. Fuck! His guts turned over.

His brain racing, he licked his lips. “Ah. Where I come from, we jest fuck,” he said.

The silence seemed endless.

“Twister, that ain
‟
t me, all right?” He tightened his ass, arched his hips as far into

Lise as he was able, and felt both his Aetherii tremble in reaction.

“Forget the sweet talk,” he said roughly. “Fuck, I
‟
m here, ain
‟
t I?” He gestured at

the blue all around them. “I trust ye enough for this.”

After several lifetimes, Lise sighed. “Yes, you do.” Her smile was sweet but

somehow sad.

Michael ached, though he couldn
‟
t have said where. His suffering ass most likely.

“You ready then?” Dax slid back and shoved in hard and fast.

Michael choked. “Do it, birdy,” he snarled once he regained his breath.

Without warning, Dax accelerated, powering them through the air with huge

strokes of his mighty wings. Then they were plummeting, Dax yelling in his ear, Lise

laughing and sobbing, the mountains rushing by in a gray blur, the flower-dotted

meadow looming larger and larger in his vision with every second.

Fuck, he was going to die, to die,
to die!
His mouth opened in a soundless scream,

every nerve in his body shrieking a hallelujah of excruciating pinpoint feeling. His

whole existence had come to this, to the giant cock thundering into his ass, the slick

muscle gripping and rippling against his cock.

Fingers fumbled with his balls, he had no idea whose. All he knew was that the

constricting strap was gone, snapped up and away by the wind. So long denied, his

orgasm took him in a full-body convulsion, a maelstrom of shattering primal sensation.

Black spots invaded his vision, his consciousness thinning down to a narrow tunnel.

His last sight was of Lise and Dax, locked in a devouring kiss over his shoulder. His last

thought was that this—
this
—was what he was meant to do, to be, unworthy though he

was, a conduit and a connection for his Aetherii.

His.

When the darkness came, he went into it screaming his joy to the open sky, caring

only for the moment, for
this
.

* * * * *

Lise could hear her own rasping breaths, smell crushed grass, the sharp, sweet

odors of sex. Veil-it, she could barely move for the trembling in her bones. Carefully,

she extricated herself from the tangle of muscled limbs on the grass.

Ow, ow. She rotated a shoulder, flexed a wing. Had she pulled something?

275

Warmth suffused her. What did it matter?

She brushed the tears away so she could check on her men. Dax was still

unconscious, sprawled half over Michael, wings askew. She winced, though it hadn
‟
t

been a bad landing, all things considered. The thief was stirring, facedown in the grass.

His chin was bleeding where he
‟
d grazed it.

Never mind, Dax had brought a big pot of
bruisebalm
. He
‟
d thought of everything.

On the other hand, who
‟
d have thought they could fuck a Grounded hard enough

to make him pass out? She ran her knuckles down that amazing naked spine, from

bump to bump to bump. No Aetherii could have done better, been braver.

Gods, she loved him, her wicked, gorgeous thief.
I love you
. She frowned. Why

couldn
‟
t he say it? She could swear he felt it.

Raising his head, he spat out a grass stem. “
Mmpf?
”

Chuckling, Lise bent to kiss his cheek. “Welcome back.”

“Fuck.” He blinked then smiled. “I
‟
m alive.”

“Absolutely.”

He squirmed. “Dax, get the fuck off me. You weigh a ton.”

“He can
‟
t,” Lise said simply. “He hasn
‟
t come
‟
round yet.”

“What?” With a twist and a grunt, Michael wriggled free. “Shit, what
‟
s wrong with

him?” he peered into Dax
‟
s peaceful face then hissed at the blood on the Aetherii
‟
s

forearm.

“It
‟
s the mating faint, remember? A full orgasm. He waited
‟
til we landed, just as he

promised.”

“Why
‟
s he bleeding?” Michael wiped the blood away with gentle fingers. “Twister,

these are
teeth marks
.”

“He did that himself. The straps weren
‟
t enough.”

Silence.

“Twister
‟
s balls.” Michael swallowed, leaning down to place a reverential kiss on

Dax
‟
s brow.

Dax grunted. A bleary green eye fluttered open. “I
‟
m alive,” he said, sounding

more than somewhat surprised. He stretched. “Ow, that hurts.”

Lise
‟
s laugh broke in the middle. “Come on,” she said, reaching for her usual

sensible self. “Let
‟
s boil some water and wash. I
‟
ll dress that bite.”

“
Mmm.
” Sitting up, Dax threw a heavy arm around each of their shoulders. “I could

eat a
vran
, horns, hoofs and feathers.” He planted a smacking kiss on Lise
‟
s ear then

groped Michael
‟
s crotch with a happy leer. “Gods, that was good.”

Jan always said he
‟
d employed Lise for her common sense as much as her

intelligence, and though her sire had said she was willful, he
‟
d never called her stupid.

She bided her time until they
‟
d bathed and eaten and napped. As the Shadow finally

caught the Sun and dusk drew in, she leaned back against Dax
‟
s chest as he sat with his

276

back propped against a venerable candlewood, her feet in Michael
‟
s lap, all three of

them snug under a heavy quilt, mugs of brandy-laced
roberry
in their hands. A small

fire flickered companionably and every now and then, she threw it a twig to play with.

Dax
‟
s hearts double-thudded serenely against her ear as he and Michael discussed

Dax
‟
s school. The Grounded had some interesting ideas about the curriculum. He
‟
d also

been thinking about teaching hautladies how to pick locks, but he
‟
d turned the idea on

its head.

“I think they
‟
d pay to have me check their oh-so-fine palazzos, see if I can get in.

Because if I can
‟
t,” he went on with no trace of modesty, “neither can anyone else. I
‟
d

start with the library, I think.”

Dax rumbled his approval and the conversation carried on over her head.

They were so fine. So…
hers
. They made her better than she
‟
d ever been, more

daring, more confident—happier.

Michael drained his mug, set it aside and began rubbing her feet.

Lise purred. She loved the unexpected well of sweetness beneath the cynical

exterior. So why couldn
‟
t he—?

She touched his arm. “Love you, Michael,” she said, and waited.

He ducked his head. “Uh, thanks.”

After a beat, Dax said, “It
‟
s polite to say it back. Oh yeah, and I love you too.”

“Too sweet fer my blood.” Michael appeared to be concentrating on the ball of

Lise
‟
s foot.

“What does that mean?” Dax punched his shoulder, but lightly. “Lise and I are

foolish to care for you?”

“No!” He turned his head away. “I jest…don
‟
t do that. Fuckin
‟
leave it.”

Did he know how the slum accent revealed his inner turmoil?

“Why?” said Lise softly.

“It
‟
s stupid.”

“I
‟
m sure it
‟
s not.” Lise wound her tail around his arm. “You said it to him, didn
‟
t

you? Tannio. And it didn
‟
t go well.”

“It was the last thing…” He dried up.

“The last thing you said to him.”

A nod. “He…laughed, told me not to be a girl. I should never—” A shudder. “And

then he died.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It
‟
s only words anyway. Don
‟
mean a fuckin
‟

thing. Ye know how I feel. I did it, didn
‟
I?” He flung an arm toward the star-studded

sky. “Out there.”

“You surely did.” A big hand clasped the back of his neck, gave a soothing rub. “It
‟
s

fine. Let it go, sweetheart,” murmured Dax.

277

When Lise met his eyes, he gave a tiny shake of the head. She scowled, frowning

him down. “The words aren
‟
t a jinx, Michael, and neither are you.”

“I know it
‟
s stupid,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “But I can
‟
t seem to

shake the idea.”

“Ah well,” she said. “The heart
‟
s not a rational organ.”

Dax chuckled. “And we
‟
ve got two.”

Michael gazed up at the stars. “People hear what they want to hear. They
choose
.”

“That
‟
s true,” Lise said slowly. “But I don
‟
t understand what you mean.”

Michael took her by the shoulders. “Liseriel the Gray, I don
‟
t love you.”

Lise blinked. “You don
‟
t?”

“Pick out which words you want to hear and I can say it.” Michael
‟
s teeth flashed

white in the firelight. “Not at all, not a particle, not a jot. See how it works?” He pressed

a gentle kiss to her lips, his mouth tasting of
roberry
and brandy. “Not for the rest of my

life, not forever.”

Dax
‟
s deep rich chuckle rang out. “And people say you
‟
re devious, thief. Can
‟
t

imagine why.”

Michael thumped him in the middle of the chest. “You too, you great lump. I don
‟
t

love you either.”

He gathered their tails together, frowning down at the pastiche of bronze and

pewter, stroking absently. “The two of you, you
‟
re not the most wonderful thing in my