Hels's Gauntlet [Forbidden Legacy 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (9 page)

“Multiple orgasms don’t fix everything, Jude.” Despite the frost in her words, humor poked at the balloon of outrage in her chest. “She’s scared. She’s been told for years she’s frigid. You can’t fix psychological abuse with sex.”

“I get that.” Jude sat up and lipped the book open over his knee. “You need lots of sex. But biting her? How does that fix anything?”

“He didn’t bite her to fix it but because his lust is spinning out of control. He knows the truth. He just wants to show her how he feels. Men are terrible with words.” She gave him a pointed look, hoping he’d get the hint, but the impudent little rascal just grinned back at her.

“We get it. But actions say a hell of a lot more than words. She doesn’t feel sexy. She feels too old and frumpy. He makes her hot and wet. One really can solve the other.”

“That’s not the point. It’s about finding love and trust and acceptance—”

“And sex can pave the way. Telling her he’s gay doesn’t make it easier. It made it astronomically harder. Now she’s attracted to a guy she thinks can’t possibly be interested in her. Mixed. Signals.”

Heat flushed her face, and Cassie charged away from the window to perch on the chair diagonal to the sofa. “But it did buy him time to get to know her. She would have shut down his interest otherwise. He looks like he’s twenty-five, and she’s forty. Women are sensitive about their age.”

Jude snorted. “He’s a five-hundred-year-old bloodsucker—”

“Immortal.”

“Whatever. He’s five hundred years old. Just tell her the truth already. It would simplify things.”

Some days, she really rather doubted that. Learning the truth from Jacob and Hels hadn’t simplified things. Far from it, actually. But would she rather live under delusion?

“And if it doesn’t? It’s easy to stand outside the swarm of self-doubt, the whirlpool of worry, and the anxiety of aging and say that. But if he tells her the truth and she can’t accept it, her family will wipe her memories of him and send her away. Then he loses the woman he’s falling in love with.”

“You can’t lose what you don’t have, and again, sex, sex, sex. He gets her loose enough with orgasms and sooner or later she’s going to come around. Though I think telling her about the excruciating agony she’ll go through to become like him might be a buzz kill.”

Cassie rubbed her forehead. No. She definitely didn’t want to live under a delusion. Her right eye twitched. “Jude, you don’t have a romantic bone in your body.”

He actually patted his crotch and gave her a playful leer of a grin. “I can get plenty of bone, but if this vamp guy doesn’t use it, then he’s going to only have his romantic bone and not win the girl.”

“Finish the book. He’s fabulous. He even considers ripping out her ex-husband’s spine for her.”

“Shouldn’t be hard, doesn’t sound like the douche has one.” Jude flopped back against the cushions and slung his feet up on the coffee table. She should tell him to put them down, but he had the book open to read again.

“You shouldn’t have started with that one, anyway. It’s a huge payoff for those of us who fell in love with him years ago…”

“Fell in love with who?” Jacob’s voice cut across the debate, and Cassie jumped to her feet. Jacob and Helcyon stood in the entryway, bloodied, battered, and absolutely beautiful.

A squeal punched out of her, and she half ran, half skipped across the floor to throw her arms around them. She skidded to a halt when she caught sight of Helcyon’s arms. They were a patchwork of slices, cuts, and dried blood.

“It’s okay, Cassandra. It looks far worse than it is.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. The copper scent filled her nostrils, and her stomach revolted.

“Aww, hell.” Jacob spun her around and Jude shoved an empty wastebasket under her nose, and she threw up the coffee she drank.

Mortified, she looked up under the damp hair falling over her eyes to see twin expressions of concern on their faces. “I’m okay.” But the scent assaulted her again, and she doubled over.

“Go shower,” Paul ordered crisply as he strode into the room. “It’s the blood. Both of you. Go.”

She didn’t get a chance to see their expressions, but Paul’s hand rubbed her back soothingly as she brought up everything she’d eaten in the last day and her wishful thoughts for food, too.

Jacob and Helcyon hesitated, she could feel their reluctance to leave her, but Paul waved them off. Their slow retreat carried the sickening coppery smell with them, and she sank down to sit on the edge of the chair.

A blissfully cold cloth pressed against her face and another draped over the back of her neck.

“That’s some kind of nasty there.”

She chuckled at the innocent rudeness in Jude’s voice.

“Go empty it and clean it out. She might need it again.” Paul sent him on his way. Cassie kept her head down, the room swam around her whenever she looked up, but relief unraveled in her middle. Her men were okay.

Hurt.

But okay.

“They are both fine. Helcyon’s injuries are largely superficial at this stage. His magic is healing him. A good night’s sleep and you’ll barely notice the healing scars. In a couple of days they will be completely gone. The Fae are very hard to kill.” Paul traded the damp cloths on the back of her neck.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She peered up at him from beneath the veil of her hair.

“Old habits. We are trained that in combat, you must go for the killing injury, not the normal crippling one. They can fight through wounds that would leave a human crying for their mother. They can survive worse.”

“And you Wizards are so delicate.” Her stomach stopped lurching, and an ache replaced the hard cramping. The sweet scent of vanilla tickled her nose, edging out the raw copper. Belatedly, it occurred to her that Paul soaked the cloths in scented water.

Paul shrugged. “We are what we were made to be. When most of your existence is war, survival is imperative.”

A bounce of motion announced Jude’s return as he hopped the sofa easily and put the clean trashcan in front of her and reclaimed his book. “We’re tough. We wouldn’t let someone tell our life mate we’re gay.”

Cassie lifted her head and stared at Jude. Next to her Paul went still. “Who told her that Jacob or Helcyon was gay?”

As one, she and Jude looked up at Paul and burst out laughing. Somewhere in her soul, the rocks weighing down her heart eased. The links to her men pulsed. They were nearby. Fatigue wore at Jacob, and concern. Helcyon seemed darker, grayer to the natural shimmer of light she experienced from him. Anger surged beneath the love and affection.

The laughter faded from her as she only half listened to Jude try to explain the novel to Paul. Her gaze rose to the stairs. She rose, ignoring both of her caretakers, as she followed the urge to go to him and climbed the steps two at a time, her upset stomach forgotten.

“Cassie?” Jude called.

“Let her go.” Paul’s next words were lost as she rounded the top of the stairs and headed down the hallway.

Helcyon needed her.

Helcyon braced both arms against the shower walls, forcing himself to stand beneath the sting of the spray sluicing the dried blood and ooze from his body. The scabs opened, letting fresh blood mingle with the old. They’d barely had time to patch him up before that second wave of magic struck and he’d shielded Jacob. Instinct and age demanded it, but he blacked out from the blood loss and exhaustion.

He woke to Jacob loading him sideways into the Glashtyn. The goblin mount transformed into an SUV when traveling with Jacob in the human world. The creature’s loyalty to Jacob was surpassed only by his affection for Cassandra. He’d been out for the better part of an hour. Time enough for his body’s magic to effect greater repairs. The black tattoo that normally swirled over one shoulder sleeved his badly damaged sword arm, knitting the skin back together.

He’d left his damaged leathers in a pile just inside the door, stripping quickly and ducking under the water. If the scent of blood made Cassandra ill, better to remove it all. He lifted his face to the spray, ignoring the bite of the water against the bruises and smaller cuts decorating his cheeks. The magic that healed him focused on the deeper, more dangerous injuries. Superficial ones would be ignored.

But that didn’t make their pain any less nor slow the blood they oozed. He turned, bracing himself for the agony as the water sliced against his back. A soft gasp jerked his head up, and he stared at Cassandra through the glass doors. Mouth tight, he forced himself to relax. “It looks far worse than it is.”

She ignored his words, pulling the panel door open and stepping into the shower. Red stained the water where it ran down to the white tile floor to mingle with the black and green ooze from his enemies.

“What happened?” She ignored the water splashing against her pajamas and soaking them. Instead her fingers tingled across his scalp as she pushed the wet hair away from his face.

“A battle.” The light caress of her nails against his scalp should have caused more pain. He’d taken more than one blow to the head. Instead, pleasure radiated out from every stroke. She patted his arm.

“Turn.”

Far larger than she, he twisted obediently, turning back into the spray. She combed her fingers through the length of his hair, carefully freeing knots and snarls. He flattened his hands on the tile, keeping them on the cold surface rather than stripping her bare and riding her until she screamed.

He needed a little more control before he unleashed the desire coiling in his gut. Not that his cock cared one way or another, it stood hard and ready between his thighs.

“You couldn’t have lost that much blood.” Apparently Cassandra’s thoughts mirrored his. Her slick hands glided down his back and over his ass before sliding around to cup his balls. He groaned at the feather light touch of her warm fingers.

Anger bled away from the fog of his thoughts, rapidly pushed aside by lust and need. But he couldn’t. “I don’t trust myself yet.” The words tasted like ash on his tongue. If she weren’t pregnant, he’d press her to the glass and pound away the fury inside of him. His fingers flexed on the tile. But she is. He wouldn’t risk her children, not to slake base lust.

Her nimble fingers gripped his cock at the base and began a slow, push up until she stroked the tip and then down again. His hips bucked, and he thrust against her hand.

“No. Cassandra.” He growled the words, but she ignored him. Her lush figure pressed up against his back, and her lips feathered just above one of the cuts. He sucked in a breath as she continued the easy, languid strokes. His cock twitched in her hand, and his eyes crossed at the need to increase the tempo. His balls drew up tight against his body.

“Shhh.” The sound whispered between a breath and a kiss as she tightened her grip. “You need to come. You need to let it go.”

He dropped his head forward, staring at her damp, oil-glistening fingers as they vised around his cock and began to pump steadily. The weight of her breasts and belly warmed his back. His breath came in shallow pants. His balls tightened, and desire scissored through his control.

As though sensing his need, she stroked him faster, squeezing the head of his cock at the end of every motion. He shuddered at the feel of her palm on his hard flesh. His cock bobbed with every stroke of her hand from the furry patch at his groin to the damp tip. Images of her pussy splayed, hot, wet, and pink before him rose unbidden. Her soft cries as he sheathed himself in the slick channel.

His body tensed from the soles of his feet to the tip of his cock to his throat. Her nipples tensed against his back. They stabbed at him, begging for his attention, but he kept his gaze on her hand wrapped around the steel pipe of his dick. She stroked her hand up and down, pressing hard enough that he saw stars.

He cut his gaze to the steam-fogged mirror as he strained his hips into her hand. Cassandra met his gaze in the mirror, her mouth open. She watched his reactions, damp hair curling around her flushed face. She made a small moaning sound, arousal sparkling in her eyes. His back threatened to bow from the pleasure.

“Come for me.” She snapped the tether of his control even as she fisted her hand so he could thrust at his own need. The loss of pressure squeezed his balls in a vise, and he fought to push through her tightening hand. He couldn’t resist it, and the sound pouring out of him was low and desperate. His balls twisted, and heat speared up his back. He arched and slammed his fist into the wall, coming in hard jets of white cum shooting against the wall to be washed down in the shower spray.

Another jerk milked him for the rest, and her hand relaxed around him. Helcyon panted, trying to slow his breathing, to find the control that tunneled away from him. But his cock stiffened against her sweet palm. The release took the edge off.

But he wanted more.

He wanted her.

He shut the water off, ignoring his injuries, and turned around to jerk her upward in a hard kiss, but he fought himself. He couldn’t drag her out and throw her on the bed. She needed more care than that. “Strip off your clothes.”

The words were thick, but something in his tone must have warned her that he wasn’t playing. She backed away, peeling the wet pajamas off and letting them drop until she revealed the lush, full figure beneath. Her tapered waist rounded with the press of the baby filling her womb.