Guilty as Sin (53 page)

When their eyes met, Lise
‟
s chest went tight, her hearts banging against her rib cage

like a pair of trapped birds. “Yes,” she whispered, her eyes stinging. “Go ahead, do it.

Give it to him.”

“Sure?” Dax searched her face, his trembling fingers light against her cheek.

She nodded.

“Kiss me?”

But first, she turned to Michael, his lithe figure somewhat blurred. “Finish him,

love.”

Michael exhaled in a great gusty rush. “Thank the fuckin
‟
Twister.”

Lise reached down to squeeze Dax
‟
s straining shaft, letting Michael
‟
s rhythm rock it

in and out of her grasp. The pace ratcheted up, the hard slap of muscle against muscle a

decisive counterpoint to the whistling rasp of Dax
‟
s breath. Powerful fingers clamped

over hers, dictating the grip he liked. Slowly then faster, feathers flicked her clit, soft

and stinging all at once, an almost unbearable tease. She doubted Dax even knew he

was doing it, but his first instinct was always to give. It was the core of him. Her Dax.

248

She
‟
d intended to keep the kiss light, to let him breathe, but when he groaned into

her mouth, his massive body undulating beneath her, hunger overwhelmed her senses.

Recklessly, Lise used her teeth, scraping at his jaw, his chin, his neck, returning to bite

at his lips, her breath nearly as harsh as his, open-mouthed and desperate.

Dax
‟
s body rocked with the impact of Michael
‟
s hammering thrusts, his tail keeping

agonizingly beautiful time against her burning clit. Lise squirmed.

“C
‟
mon,” rasped Michael. “Godsdammit, can
‟
t—” He redoubled his efforts. “Fuck,

c’mon
!”

Dax reared up and buried his face in Lise
‟
s neck, groaning as if the other man had

wrenched his soul loose. “Rip the—” His shaft kicked hard, the warm spill of his seed

jetting over Lise
‟
s fingers in powerful bursts.

Before the last spasm had died away, he was unconscious, every muscle completely

relaxed.

Half laughing, half crying, Lise went down with him to the quilt. Scarcely aware of

what she did, she fumbled a hand over her belly to the magnificent nagging ache

between her thighs only to encounter— Feathers! Ah, gods! When she pressed with the

heel of her hand, they slithered and rubbed against her and she could have sworn her

clit swelled, rising to meet the silky caress.

The climax took her like a great hungry beast, tumbling her like a leaf helpless

before the wind. She cried out, the sound muffled by Dax
‟
s hair, cried out again and

again, cried her joy and her relief and her ecstasy until she had no more breath and the

world went dark.

“Gods!” Michael threw his head back, sobbing for breath as he jammed his cock

into Dax
‟
s body to the hilt. His hips shimmied with the intensity of the pleasure ripping

through him.

Her breath still coming in pained gasps, Lise watched the spasms die away,

watched him return to his body, his chest heaving. Slowly, his lashes lifted, hazel eyes

dark with emotion. “That was—” He licked his lips. “That was—” He looked down.

Lurching forward, he seized the Aetherii
‟
s shoulder. “
Shit!
Dax!” He shook him.

“It
‟
s all right,” said Lise. “He just gave you…us…everything.” She couldn
‟
t prevent

the stupid tremble of her lips. “Like a Mating Flight.”

“
Mmpf.
” Dax
‟
s lashes fluttered. He fumbled a hand over Michael
‟
s. “Good.

Was…good. Love you.” A pause. “Both.”

Every vestige of color left Michael
‟
s face as he stared at her. “Tears?
Lise
—”

Lise scrubbed at her cheeks. “You
‟
re mistaken,” she said with dignity. “Pinion

warriors never cry.”

Michael gripped Dax
‟
s chin and wrenched his head around. “You fool, why did

you let me hurt you?”

A beatific smile lit Dax
‟
s face. “You didn
‟
t.” A sigh of contentment was overtaken

by a yawn. “Anyway, the burn only made it better. Gods, it was good.”

249

For an instant, Michael seemed to sag. Then he drew back a fist and punched Dax

on the chest. “Fuck you, birdy.”

Dax only chuckled. “Sure.” But as he shifted, a crease appeared between his brows.

“
Hmm.
Tomorrow maybe.”

After a few seconds, all the animation in Michael
‟
s face smoothed away so that

when he turned to smile at her, it was from behind a handsome mask. “Did you come,

Lise?” A cool brow arched. “Was it…satisfactory?”

To hell with subtlety. “Oh no, you don
‟
t.” Lise snagged his elbow and tugged. “Get

down here and I
‟
ll tell you.”

Michael resisted. “I
‟
m sticky. Let me clean up.”

“Here.” Lise grabbed the discarded towel and flung it at him.

“Don
‟
t care.” Dax draped a heavy arm over the other man
‟
s shoulders and pulled

him close, Michael
‟
s nose mashed into a broad pectoral. He dropped a kiss on Lise
‟
s

forehead. “I need petting.”

“
Petting?
” Michael struggled in Dax
‟
s grip but without much conviction. He looked

exhausted, worn down as fine as a wire. Dax wasn
‟
t much better.

“A five-minute snuggle won
‟
t kill you,” Lise said tartly. Her pulse stuttered as she

stretched a cautious wing over Michael
‟
s back. Would he throw her off?

His eyelids fluttered. “It might.” But there was wry amusement in his voice.

She stroked a gentle tail up the back of his leg. “Shut your eyes,” she murmured.

“You
‟
re safe.”

“It
‟
s not me I
‟
m worried about,” he said under his breath.

Dax growled, “Godsdammit, will you shut up?”

Michael grunted, but said nothing further. Lise lay with her head on Dax
‟
s shoulder

and listened to their breaths slow and deepen. Little by little, Michael relaxed until he

was sprawled over Dax, his whole body limp. One strong hand lay palm up in the pit of

the Aetherii
‟
s throat, the elegant fingers curved as if beckoning.

Lise closed her eyes. Two steps forward and one step back.

Michael murmured something as he settled deeper into sleep, his other hand

coming up to tangle softly in her hair.

She set her jaw. Veil-it, she wasn
‟
t giving up now.

* * * * *

As was his habit, Michael came awake all at once. Where the—?
Oh
. Every muscle

in his body tensed, but he was too experienced to betray himself. His eyes closed, he

extended his senses. Twister be praised, he was alone under the candlewood trees. The

sprightly smell of crushed grass wafted past on a light breeze. Cool air caressed his bare

shoulders, but the rest of him was comfortable under a light covering of some kind.

250

Gods, something smelled wonderful, rich and savory. A little way away, Dax laughed

and Lise murmured a reply in the husky voice he loved. He cracked an eye open.

It was almost dusk, the first stars twinkling overhead. Dax
‟
s tall figure stood over a

glowing brazier, stirring something in a pot. At a camp table set up near the tent, Lise

sat with her legs stretched out, a mug of wine in her hand. At the sight of her, the

featherpearls pulsed in Michael
‟
s nipples.

Immediately, her head turned, her profile limned by the light of the brazier.

“Welcome back,” she said. “Come and eat.” The curve of a wing caught silver sparks.

“Stew and bread and wine,” said Dax cheerfully. “There
‟
s plenty.”

Gods, he could smell his own sweat. Ignoring the hopeful rumblings of his

stomach, Michael gave a wave that could have meant anything and took himself to the

pool, to water so cold his skin burned even as he scrubbed.

Clean and dressed, he took a wary seat at the table, but the meal and the company

was unexpectedly pleasant. Michael ate with a better appetite than he
‟
d had at any time

since he left Sere, though he drank sparingly. As night drew in, Lise and Dax conversed

idly, about Sere and work and people they knew. Apparently, Dax intended to establish

a school like Fledge
‟
s in Valaressa. Michael smiled. He couldn
‟
t think of anyone better.

Then he frowned. Unless the little shits broke the idiot
‟
s heart—hearts. Slum kids

survived by taking advantage, and Dax was such an innocent. Twister knew, it would

be easy enough to help him out. Just a few pointers. He could—

Godsdammit. He cut the thought off in its tracks.

Though he didn
‟
t join in the conversation, whenever silence fell, it was an easy

thing. Restful. Eventually, Lise collected the bowls and disappeared in the direction of

the pool, grumbling under her breath. Dax boiled water for
roberry
and filled three

mugs, adding a slug of Aetherian brandy to each one.

Michael tilted his head back. The stars blazed, so close he could have gathered them

up by the handful. What would Barnaby give him for them? His lips curved in a wry

smile. Wouldn
‟
t matter if it was stars or diamonds or lumps of coal, the old scoundrel

lived for the haggle. Which reminded him…

“How did you turn old Barnaby?” he said. “Thieves talk, you know. He
‟
s finished

as a fence.”

Lise emerged from the darkness. Gratefully, she wrapped her fingers around a

mug. “Oh, that wasn
‟
t us. Fort and Griff did that.” She sipped.

“Don
‟
t worry about the old man,” Dax said. “No one knows.” He lit a lamp, its

small glow valiant against the encroaching dark.

The big man with the military bearing and the quiet, dangerous eyes. And the

other—lithe and merry. He frowned, something teasing at his memory. “I
‟
ve seen Griff

before.”

251

“You swear by the Twister. You must have met the Travelers.” Dax pushed his

chair back. “Come lie down and we
‟
ll tell you all about it.” A big hand wrapped around

Michael
‟
s biceps, urging him to his feet.

Lise secured the flaps of the tent, allowing the moonlight to spill in over the

splendid confusion of pillows, cushions, quilts and rugs. “We can watch the Veil.” The

vividness of color was reduced to the monochrome of pattern, Lise a tall slim statue