Authors: Denise Rossetti
Tags: #Fantasy, #General Fiction, #Science Fiction
His lips thinned. “That honest enough for you, birdy?”
“No problem.” And it wasn
‟
t. Dax pressed his lips against Lise
‟
s hair. “You
‟
ve
never been what I
‟
d call subtle. What did you have in mind?”
Michael
‟
s handsome face went completely blank. He blinked. “You
‟
d do it?”
Dax smiled. “Tell me,” he said softly.
“Uh.” The thief licked his lips. Slowly, he sank to his knees beside the bed. Leaning
forward, he placed his mouth next to Dax
‟
s ear. “We could share her.” His voice was no
more than a hot thread of sound, unbearably erotic. “Fill her up, make her scream. She
‟
s
hot inside, strong and tight—”
Teeth closed gently on Dax
‟
s earlobe. He shuddered.
The whisper went on, relentless, the accent thickening. “Soft too, ye know? Like silk
against my cock—no, like cream, all slippery an
‟
gorgeous. I
‟
ve dreamed about her,
about you. About mouths an
‟
cocks an
‟
asses, an
‟
Lise spread wide between us,
beggin
‟
.”
Michael drew a ragged breath. “Oh
beggin’
…”
Lise stirred in Dax
‟
s arms. “Dax?”
137
Dearest Mama, Respected Sire,
I have been so busy lately that I have neglected my correspondence. I am not permitted to
disclose too much about the security work with Lise, but you will be interested to know it has
involved tracking down a master thief and rescuing victims of the slave trade. Yes, I am perfectly
safe, so please don’t worry.
In fact, this brings me to a decision I have made. Pinion training notwithstanding, security
is not where my talents lie. I have finally discovered what I believe I was meant to do—and that
is to work with children, specifically children who have been orphaned or abandoned or abused.
You will recall that I mentioned Fledge’s school for slum kids in my last letter.
Sire, this is work that needs doing. It is challenging and difficult, but it makes a profound
difference. I realize that it may not be what you had intended for your only son, but this is the
right decision for me. I have no doubt of it whatsoever.
Ever your loving son,
Dax
* * * * *
Michael froze while Dax smoothed Lise
‟
s hair. “
Shh
,” he crooned. “Go back to
sleep, sweetheart.”
“
Mmpf.
” Snuggling her cheek into his shoulder, she fell back into slumber.
Michael began to rise. “I
‟
d better go.”
“In a minute.” Dax wrapped his tail around the thief
‟
s forearm where it rested on
the bed. For good measure, he grabbed the other man by the back of the neck and
pulled him close. “Why?” he asked, studying gold-shot hazel eyes, noting the blown
pupils.
“Why? Gods, why not?” He flicked a glance at Lise
‟
s elegant profile, her mouth soft
and open as a child
‟
s. A brow arched. “Surely Aetherii have mirrors? Which makes me
a featherslut, I guess.” Amusement should have lightened his expression. Instead, he
looked bitter, almost ugly.
Dax shook him—hard. “Don
‟
t say that!” His breath caught as Lise stirred and
murmured. “Get back over to the window,” he hissed. “Wait for me on the balcony.”
“Huh,” said Michael, but he moved soundlessly, going to perch on the sill at the far
end of the room, one booted foot swinging.
His heart pounding, Dax slid out from under Lise in a series of fits and starts. He
wasn
‟
t sure why it was so imperative to keep this conversation from her, only that he
138
was so close to what he needed, he could feel it in blood and bone and feather—and
Michael wouldn
‟
t give it to him if Lise could hear, he was certain. Gingerly, he settled
her back into the pillows and joined the thief, drawing him out onto a balcony so
narrow there was barely room for two grown men to stand. Very carefully, he closed
the casement behind them.
“That
‟
s not the reason,” he said in an urgent undertone.
Michael lifted a lip. “I
‟
m not fussy about gender when I
‟
m hard,” he said. He thrust
his face into Dax
‟
s, following up with an insolent nudge of the hips. “I just want to fuck,
get it?”
“No.” Dax only had to lean in an inch to nip the other man
‟
s lip. “There
‟
s more to
you than lust and wickedness. Give me the rest.”
The silence throbbed like a living thing. Through the window, they watched Lise
shift and sigh in her sleep, clutching a pillow.
“By the Twister, you
‟
re soft. You wouldn
‟
t last a minute on the streets.” Michael
worked a hand down between them. Talented fingers took Dax
‟
s cock in a confident
grip and squeezed. “Soft in the head, that is.”A cruel chuckle, gusting against Dax
‟
s
throat. “Not here.”
Blood throbbed at the base of Dax
‟
s spine, spilled into his aching shaft, tightened
his balls. Breath rasping in his throat, he wrapped strong fingers around the thief
‟
s
wrist, feeling the bones shift under the skin.
Nose to nose, they glared. Dax waited.
“You got in my way,” Michael said at last. “Saw me, caught me. No one does that to
Michael of Sere.”
“So, it
‟
s pride then?”
“If you like. Payment, getting even.”
“And?”
Michael turned his head away. Dax grabbed his chin and wrenched it back. “And?”
“You
‟
re both so godsbedamn perfect. I want to…muss you up a little.” A sneer and
an impudent squeeze. “Reduce you to my level.”
“Ah.” Dax used his weight to pin Michael against the wall. Taking his time, he
nibbled and licked along the man
‟
s jaw, the rasp of beard stubble a strange tingle
against the flat of his tongue. “And what level would that would be?”
“The gutter, birdy. What d
‟
ye think?” Michael squirmed. “Get the fuck off me.”
“Tell me about Lise. About what you did.”
“No.”
Gods, the power of it was heady, exalting, like riding a fever dream. Hearts
drumming madly, Dax licked into the corner of Michael
‟
s mouth. “I
‟
m waiting.”
A pause then Michael said, soft and fierce, “You
‟
re in love with her.”
139
Dax
‟
s flinch was instinctive. Under his, the thief
‟
s mouth curved in triumph. Rip the
Veil, he should have known Michael wouldn
‟
t play fair.
“Yes,” he said steadily. “For years. What about you?”
“Don
‟
t be stupid.” He got a sidelong glance, bright with malice. “She was a great
fuck though. Never had one like it.”
Deliberately, Dax spread his wings, until he reached the full extent of his ten foot
span. He breathed through the pain of his injuries, using it to smother the ache in his
hearts. Then he ripped those knowing fingers away from his cock. “What did you
swear? Give me the words.”
Michael patted his shoulder, smirking. “Don
‟
t be sad, birdy. You
‟
ll get your turn.”
“You can
‟
t offend me, Michael.” Dax gritted his teeth. “I lose my temper about once
a decade.” Deep breath. “And right now, I
‟
m a hair
‟
s breadth away. Give me the
godsbedamn words.”
The thief grinned. “Oooh, I
‟
m so scared.” Then he shrugged. “What the hell, it
didn
‟
t mean anything. I swore I wouldn
‟
t fuck you or make you become unduly
attached to me.”
Dax blinked. “Unduly attached?”
Michael laughed, his face alight with genuine humor. “Give me some credit. It was
the spur of the moment. I knew if I said „make you love me
‟
, she
‟
d kill me on the spot—
or try to.”
Dax struggled, his head spinning. “Arrogant much?” he managed. By the seven icy
hells, he didn
‟
t need Lise
‟
s protection, endearing though it was. A rasping chuckle
forced its way out of him. He could make his own godsbedamn mistakes, thank you
very much.
“I know, funny, isn
‟
t it?” The thief ran an admiring hand the length of a silky
plume. The first blush of dawn sparked ruddy bronze gleams from Dax
‟
s outstretched
wing. “Kind of sweet, in a really stupid kind of way.”
Was
this a mistake? No question, anything real with the thief would be difficult.
Add in Lise, and it was damn near impossible. But every instinct he possessed was
shouting at him, insisting he try.
A warrior trusts his gut,
his Pinion trainer used to say.
“I should go.” Michael shoved at his chest, not very convincingly.
“Listen to me.” Dax leaned in to touch their foreheads together. “Have you put the
word out on the street yet, about Veryl?”
“What do you take me for?” Michael gave Dax
‟
s chin a reproving nip. “I even
offered money, Twister help me.”
Dax chuckled. “Impressive. You
‟
ll let us know?”
“Maybe. Shouldn
‟
t be long at any rate.” Reaching up and sideways, he snagged a
dangling length of thin rope, knotted at intervals.
Dax stared upward. “That tied to something solid?”
140
Michael fluttered his lashes. “Yes dear.”
“Listen—”
The thief gave the rope a testing tug. “What?”
“Thanks for bringing me home.”
“You would have made it—maybe. Anyway, we
‟
re even now.” White teeth flashed
in a grin. “I can honestly say parts of it were my pleasure.”
Words tumbled out of Dax
‟
s mouth before he could bite them back. “I want my
chance with Lise.”
Michael shrugged. “No one
‟
s stopping you, birdy.”
Dax stood back, his arms falling to his sides. He furled his wings. “If she… After
we…” He had to stop to clear his throat, acutely conscious of the other man
‟
s
unwinking attention. “I
‟
ll ask her, all right?”
“Will you indeed?” With a dark chuckle, Michael pressed full into Dax
‟
s body, the
remaining featherpearl burning hot against the Aetherii
‟
s skin. Dax hissed, his hips
jerking involuntarily. “Good luck then,” said the thief.
Before Dax could recover, he
‟
d whisked himself out of reach up the rope. Clinging
to it one-handed, he let his body swing out into space, all supple strength and wicked
amusement. He grinned down at Dax. “Keep her warm for me, farm boy.”
Farm boy?
His tail lashed out, catching the other man a cracking blow across the firm curve of
his ass.
Michael swore. Then his laugh rang out, echoing around the quiet street.
The window opened and Lise leaned out, looking confused and rumpled and oh so
very fuckable. “Dax?” She smothered a yawn with one hand. “What are you doing out
there?”
Above Dax
‟
s head, the thief blew a mocking kiss and swarmed silently up the rope
and onto the roof. A quick heave, a ripple of muscle and his trim backside disappeared.
The last Dax saw of him was the soles of his boots.
It was barely light outside. Lise narrowed her eyes until Dax
‟
s calm, smiling face
came into focus. What in the gods
‟
names was he doing? Contemplating the dawn? Her
stomach turned over. Veil-it, perhaps he was still off his head.
“The fever,” she said. “Is it—?”
“Gone.” Dax gave her a sunny smile. “Told you.” He rolled his shoulders, the
muscles across his massive chest rolling in a long, smooth ripple. “Constitution like a
herdbeast
.”
Cautiously, Lise extended a hand. “C
‟
mon,” she said. “You should be in bed.”