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SHADOW HOUND FORTRESS
THREE WEEKS LATER . . .
Ahole resided in his chest. Larger than it ever was before. His missing piece was out of reach. From touch, from sight, from sense. The why of it haunted him. It didn’t make sense. The longer he was gone the harder it was to pretend. Athon knew the pain of losing him, but not like this. Before, he could see him, he could have his back, be his friend, find comfort in knowing he was safe. Now, he knew nothing. Jezzie knew nothing, which worried him even more because with her abilities, her connection to them all, she should.
His shadows writhed under his skin, breaking out in wispy slivers, uneasy and in pain themselves, as if trying to taste the air, to find him on their own.
Nithe had found distraction by gaming with Dante in his den. Jezzie had returned to her secret room, intent on finding a way to locate their missing mate. Every day she went, one week turned into two, and still her search turned into nothing as hope began to fade.
The door to his old room clicked open and his eyes strained against the intrusive harshness of light. Here, in the dark, surrounded by the scent of Roth he could almost convince himself the male had never left him. But the lie he told himself turned to ashes on his tongue as he was brought back to reality by the light airy scent of Jezzie invading his nose.
“Leave me be, please, Jezzie. Every day it gets harder.”
“I know, Ath, I feel it too. The shadows within me want him back as much as we do. The pain gets deeper every minute he’s gone. But should we suffer for his choices? I’ve found no way to find him in my search. Leraie’s powers are stronger than mine, and until she chooses to aid us, we must play the waiting game. Come with me? Be with me?” Jezzie held out her hand, with its delicate, long fingers, and smiled at him softly.
“Why?” he asked, almost suspiciously.
“We haven’t spent time together alone much, and frankly, you need to get the fuck out of this room before it completely does your head in.”
He sighed heavily, he knew she was right. Every minute he was in here he felt he was slipping away and when he found his way back out it was like lashes struck his heart anew.
“Okay, let me just grab a few things, yeah?”
“Sure, need a hand?” Jezzie looked around as she turned on the overhead lights. He watched as he squinted even more. Her eyes took everything in, as if she were soaking in the parts of him and Roth she’d never gotten to know.
Grabbing a bag he placed it on the bed and tossed in one of Roth’s old shirts, then another, and another. He figured Jezzie and Nithe could use one too. Or maybe it was just him and Jezzie. Nithe seemed pretty pissed at Roth right now, so who knew?
His eyes skipped over an ornate, black, wooden box and doubled back. Venice. It had been a gift Roth had given him in Venice. He’d known how much Athon loved puzzle boxes.
He picked it up reverently, the carvings of gondolas and masked beauties paled in comparison to the warmth Roth’s eyes had held when he’d handed it to him all those years ago.
“It’s beautiful, Athon, like you,” Jezzie whispered. “ Bring it, too.” And so he did.
With a heavy sigh they turned off the lights, shut the door, and walked hand in hand to Athon’s new room.
Jezzie helped him unpack the bag, he placed the box on his bedside table and turned back to Jezzie who took his face between her palms. Goodness, she was beautiful.
“This is his choice, Ath, for however long, but we do not have to stop living because of it. I want you, need you, crave you. Do you want me too?” Her hands slid down over his chest, teasingly.
They’d spent every night wrapped up in a tangle of limbs. The three of them in the large communal bed. Afraid to be apart, drawing comfort from each other. They’d kissed, they’d touched, they’d loved. But always together. Ever since Roth left Athon’s feelings of not being enough had stopped him from seeking her on his own. She’d been so busy trying to find a way to bring Roth back he’d felt guilty at the thought of distracting her. Silly, he knew, but his reality all the same.
“No guilt, no shame. Roth didn’t leave because of you, if anything he left because of me. Do you blame me?” she asked.
“Of course not. You hold no blame here, Jezzie. You are right. His actions are his own. I only wish I knew why he chose this.” His sigh echoed through the room, ragged to his own ears.
“Do you love me? Do you want me? Would you like to kiss me all over and have my lips wrapped around you, before you take me to the blissful place and make me scream your name as you thrust your cock into me over and over again?” Her sultry eyes glittered as they dipped to look at the rising evidence of his arousal. Her pretty pink tongue slipped out to wet her lower lip, narrowly missing the bite of her teeth that followed.
“Heavens yes, I love you, I want you more than you know. Desire for you courses through my body every time I breathe in the scent of you, every time I hear or think your name. Your smile brings me to my knees, and I am laid bare with want of you,” his whispered words brushed over her lips, and her breath caught between them in a silent tug-o-war.
“Then take me. Take me with every pent-up emotion. Take me with all of your love, all of your pain, all of your anger. Love me like you hate me, like you want to break me. Love me like you own me. Because you do. As I own you.”
Desire burned through his blood like wildfire at her words. He’d always been the submissive to Roth’s Dominant. The slave to his Master. It was what he liked, it was their dynamic, and he loved it. But with Jezzie it could be different. It didn’t have to be the same. What would it be like to bend her over, pin her down, force his hard cock between her legs and take her? Watch her gag around his cock, not because Roth told them to do it, but because he, Athon, made her, because she wanted it too, because her submission to him was her choice. It was always about choice. If she chose this, how far could he . . . would he go?
“Wherever it takes you, my lord.” Her lust-filled gaze defied the demure, innocent look upon her face as she peered up at him through thick lashes and dropped into a slight curtsy.
“Such a good little wench, aren’t you? Hmm. Take your clothes off, slowly.” His groan filled the room as she took him at his words and with agonizingly slow movements slipped each button on her blouse free. She left it gaping open, and she lifted her foot to the bed beside him and undid her boot and removed it, only to repeat the process for the other one. The whole while his gaze was riveted to the flashes of bared breast each time she moved. He growled his warning milliseconds before the hidden darkness within him snapped to the fore, and he pulled her up for a punishing kiss, teeth scraped, lips bled, tongues dueled with a fierceness and urgency that would not be denied.
“Forget the clothes, bend over. Now!” The command left his lips, alien and wild as he pushed her face down onto the raised bed.
