Lust's Temptation

Lust’s Temptation Tawny Taylor

Book two in the Masters of Sin series.

Troi and Amun—one dominant, the other submissive, both alpha—are possessed by the spirit of Lust. Its dark demands have tested their will every minute of every day for centuries. And they’ve committed deviant, selfish acts to satisfy its unrelenting carnal hunger. But the guilt doesn’t overwhelm them until they meet Oriel. She is their salvation, their peace. They need her. But they don’t deserve her. Life’s lessons have taught Oriel not to trust anyone, especially gorgeous men who will use anyone for their own satisfaction. Granted, they’re sexy. Charming. Her body responds to their every look and touch. But she can’t—won’t—take a chance on them. Until she discovers she can run away, but she can’t escape the emotions they stir. As darkness closes in, Troi and Amun’s lives and souls hang in the balance. The beast will consume them if Oriel can’t accept her own dark needs, and trust the two men who have summoned her most decadent desires.

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

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Lust’s Temptation ISBN 9781419929106 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Lust’s Temptation Copyright © 2010 Tawny Taylor Edited by Grace Bradley Cover art by Syneca Electronic book publication July 2010 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

LUST’S TEMPTATION Tawny Taylor

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: 7-Eleven: 7-Eleven, Inc. Barbie: Mattel, Inc. Coach: Coach Services, Inc. Diet Coke: The Coca-Cola Company Doritos: Frito-Lay North America, Inc. Barbie: Mattel, Inc. Lifetime: Lifetime Entertainment Services, LLC. Serta: Serta Inc.

Tawny Taylor

They are ancient. Masters of Sin. Fourteen men blessed by the goddess. And cursed. During the Time of Darkness—the period mankind calls the Dark Ages—fourteen brave and honorable men willingly surrendered their souls to save humanity, accepting a portion of a spirit of sin within them so that humankind could finally break free from the shackles of evil. With the dark spirits contained, the good spirits reigned. Man was able to step out of the shadows at last—all men but the fourteen Masters of Sin, who struggle with the darkness every minute of every day, as they wait to receive their reward.

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Prologue Harder. Deeper. More! the dark spirit within Troi demanded. Nearly crippled by his need, Troi cupped his hand around the back of a man’s head and pulled, claiming his lips. Their tongues stabbed, stroked, twined and battled, the spirit’s deep voice resonating in his head with every thump of his heart. More. Moremoremore! A stranger. Again. Two. Three. They would slake the spirit’s hunger, but for how long? Hands, four pairs, glided over Troi’s unclothed body, caressing, exploring. In response, his nerves tingled, skin sizzled. He released the man he had been kissing, drawing up heavy lids to find his handsome face flushed, delicious lips kiss-swollen. This one was prettier than Troi normally liked, with fine, well-balanced features and a perfectly formed body. Smooth, freshly shaven skin stretched taut over lean muscle. A dancer’s body. Graceful. Troi’s gaze dropped to the man’s thick cock, ruddy and plump, the tip glistening with pre-cum. His mouth watered, yet, instead of tasting the man like Troi wanted, the dark spirit forced him to push the man’s head down, forcing him onto his back. Troi dropped onto all fours, the tip of his engorged rod pressing against the mouth he had only moments before tasted. He met Amun’s dark gaze and thrust his hips forward. Such was the curse they shared. The spirit of lust would never allow Troi or Amun to give pleasure, only take. And take. And take. Still, within hours of release, the monster would wake and demand more. Their life, their hell, was a cycle of brief satisfaction followed by selfish, endless fucking. Like now. Two women and two men were caressing Troi, kissing him. While he fucked the dancer’s mouth, another man’s cock begged entrance to his anus. One woman’s tits bounced before his eyes as she knelt before him, legs straddling the other woman’s head. Nearby, Amun knelt, head thrown back, two women sucking his cock, his fists clutching handfuls of hair. Bodies twisted and twined together, woven by outstretched arms and bent legs. The air was thick with the smell of sex, and the moans and cries of desire punctuated the softer sounds of heavy breathing and whimpers of need. How Troi ached to kiss those beautiful breasts before him, to suckle the tight nipples the color of carnations, drawing hard on them until the woman before him shook and trembled with release. Or plunge his fingers into the other’s sweet, shaven pussy. Her lips glistened with her honey. He could practically taste her, just by inhaling deeply. But the monster denied him. 7

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His anus burned as a thick cock slipped inside. As if he could feel it, Amun lifted his head, his gaze snapping to Troi’s. They shared a smile of satisfaction, even as the spirit growled, pleased by the hot pleasure rippling through their bodies. Fingers curled into the flesh of Troi’s ass, pulling his cheeks apart. Someone else dragged sharp fingernails down his back, producing a wave of searing pleasure-pain. He let his heavy eyelids fall closed. Moremoremore! A set of teeth pierced the skin of his shoulder. Moremoremore! On all fours, he curled his fingers into the dancer’s silky hair and slammed his hips forward and back. His cock slid down the dancer’s throat with each forward thrust. More pain. More pleasure. More heat. “Yes,” Troi murmured, his voice echoing the monster’s utterings. “Yes,” Amun repeated. Beneath Troi, the dancer moaned, throat tightening around his invading cock. Behind him the man fucking his ass surged deeper, burying his thick shaft to the hilt. “Fuck me hard,” Troi demanded. In the next breath, he found a set of female lips, soft and sweet, pressed against his. He ravaged her delicious mouth, tongue assaulting hers in a lust-driven battle. Intoxicating. She tasted of sex and man and woman. Moremoremore! The door creaked open. Footsteps approached. More hands. More mouths. More cocks and pussies and tits. Sounds of skin slapping skin. Moans and cries of ecstasy. Desperate need hummed along every nerve in Troi’s body. Muscles trembled. The dancer’s mouth was replaced by a woman’s tight, wet pussy. Faster, he drove into her, fingers curled into fists on either side of her shoulders. His blood pounded through his veins, heart slamming against his breastbone. Close. He was close. The spirit’s growls of pleasure grew louder, drowning out the pleasant murmurs and moans of the lovers around him, taking away what little pleasure he truly enjoyed in the act. Warm skin pressed against his back, silky smooth. Soft puffs of air caressed his shoulder and neck. His ear. Teeth rasped his earlobe. He shuddered. More heat blazed through his body. The monster’s growls grew louder still. Mechanically he thrust in and out of the woman’s hungry pussy. Pleasure he took, yet it was empty, carnal. Unfulfilling. Deep within, tension coiled through him. Once again he exchanged a look with Amun. This time Amun’s eyes were filled with desperation and despair. Only a few more seconds. Release was a mere handful of thrusts away. “Just a little more,” he said to Amun.

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He was hot. So hot. Closer to orgasm, even more importantly to glorious peace. And so he squeezed his eyes closed and took, took, took. For himself and for Amun. His cock gliding in and out of a stranger’s body, her soft, slick canal rippling around him, the smell of her skin wafting over his nose. Around him the sounds of decadent pleasure grew louder, as if the individuals worked together as one, their release drawing closer. One thrust, two, three, and he was there, breathless and shaking, at the pinnacle. A flare of heat exploded deep inside him, a keening cry shattered the quiet. His voice. A second cry. Amun’s. In his head the monster screeched and then grew silent as the first burst of seed raced up the length of his cock and spilled into the condom sheathing his cock. Relief. Peace. So beautiful. He drew in a deep breath, sighed and kissed the woman’s sweat-dampened cheek. Tranquil. Still. Silent. If only it would last. He glanced around the dungeon, meeting the understanding looks of Amun, Delius and Rane scattered around the room, slaking the beast within them as best they could. Even from a distance, he could tell Amun was struggling to hold on to the tiny sliver of humanity he still possessed. They were losing the battle. And he was having a harder and harder time holding on too. None of them could go on like this for much longer. As he pulled away from the woman, he sent up a silent prayer, Goddess, please deliver us all.

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Chapter One Watching Generals Ulysses S. Grant and Stonewall Jackson take tea before inspecting their respective troops, Oriel Bergeron held the trembling woman, a stranger, sobbing so hard Oriel felt the pain in her own chest. What could she do to help? In the middle of a rustic campsite, lacking the most basic necessities—heat, electricity, a phone—she was as out of her element as an oriole would be at the bottom of the Pacific. Little had she known how one impulsive act would change her life when she’d agreed to go on this little foray into the nation’s past. Now, a mere two days later, she would never take some things for granted again—her queen Serta, for one. A floor made out of anything but packed dirt, for another. And a bathtub. “They forced me,” the pretty woman choked out between sobs. “I didn’t want to.” “Should you go to the police? A hospital? Are you hurt?” The woman shook her head and wiped her face with the ribbon from her bonnet. “No, I’m not hurt. At least not physically. But even if I was, I couldn’t go to the police. It would be too humiliating. I couldn’t tell anyone what…what they did to me.” She shuddered. Oriel gently stroked the woman’s back, trying to push aside the fact that such an intimacy with a stranger was way beyond normal for her. She lived like most people she knew—walked among a sea of strange souls, keeping to herself, fearing all sorts of consequences if she dared let anyone know too much about her. She had her father to thank for her social isolation, but she couldn’t lay all the blame at his feet. He had always warned her about the dangers of trusting people she shouldn’t, but she’d seen the consequences paid by others, on television, in the movies. Children or spouses stolen, bank accounts emptied, lives ended or changed forever. She’d even swallowed a bitter pill or two herself, thanks to foolishly trusting people she shouldn’t. It simply wasn’t worth the risk. But even if she couldn’t deny being overly cautious, she wasn’t heartless. No, quite the opposite. Her heart broke every time she heard such a story as the one this woman had just told her. Just once, she would have liked to do something to right a wrong. Only once. The woman straightened up, rubbed her blotchy face. “I think I’ll be okay now. Thanks for listening. You won’t tell anyone, will you?” At Oriel’s shake of the head, the woman motioned toward the canvas tent standing next to the one Oriel had been hired to work in, about fifty yards away on the sutler’s row. “I need to get set up for tomorrow. The campground opens to the public at nine, and I don’t have a single table set up yet.”

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“All right then.” Remembering that she had a lot of work to do too, Oriel stood and, trying her damndest to avoid the deepest mud ruts, made her way to her employer’s tent to start work, wondering how she’d accomplish much of anything in the restrictive clothes she’d been given to wear. It seemed Civil War reenactors were, at least in her opinion, waaaay too obsessive about historical accuracy, taking much of the fun out of it. This came as a bit of a surprise. When the whole thing had first been presented to her, she’d found it intriguing, dressing up in pretty clothes and playing the role of a shopkeeper. But all too soon reality set in. The minute her employer parked the camper in the lot, Oriel learned the truth. First, they would not be sleeping in the camper—which seemed like a complete waste. Second, it wasn’t enough that she would wear old-fashioned clothes on the weekend, when the campgrounds were open to the public and she was soliciting customers for her share of the money in their pockets. She had to wear the uncomfortable clothes every hour of the day, no matter what she was doing. Even when she was sleeping. And, as if that wasn’t enough to turn her off to this living history stuff forever, everything she touched, used and ate had to be historically accurate too. She wasn’t allowed even a single small luxury, like a quick trip to the local 7-Eleven for a Diet Coke and bag of Doritos. In many ways, it was hell on earth. Again she questioned why her father had asked her to do this so-called little favor for him. Again she silently cursed herself for being stupid enough to buy his sales pitch. And again she reminded herself that after today, there would only be four more days of hell, assuming the person she’d been hired to replace would be well enough to take over for the next event, a three-hour car ride south, in Ohio. Vicky, her boss, didn’t have the friendliest greeting for her as she entered the tent, but she didn’t look angry either. “It’s about time you showed up, lazy butt.” She winked. “I can’t move these tables into position without you.” Running to help Vicky with the first of a half-dozen ridiculously heavy wooden tables, Oriel explained, “I’m sorry I’m late. There was a bit of a problem with the girl who works in the tent next door.” Vicky looked alarmed. “Oh? What kind of problem?” Together, they lifted one of the tables and shuffled toward the back of the tent. “She said she was attacked by two men.” Vicky’s eyes widened. Her face went white. “No! Really? Here? On the campgrounds?” After giving a nod of satisfaction at the placement of the table, Vicky headed toward the front of the tent to get the next one. Oriel followed her. “She didn’t say.”

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“That’s terrible.” Vicky hurried around one end of a table and, once Oriel had a grip on the opposite end, lifted and started shuffling toward the rear of the tent again. “You’re talking about the younger girl, right? The one with the blonde hair? That’s Ed’s daughter, Laura. Nice girl. We’ve all practically watched her grow up. I should tell Ed what’s happened. He’s the commander of the Second Maryland Infantry Company H. Probably running the men through their drills right now, but I can talk to him later.” “I don’t know. I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. She asked me not to say anything, and I doubt she’d want to talk to her father about what happened. But if you think it’s best…” Vicky paused after they set down the table, blew a wisp of hair that had fallen loose from the low bun she’d wrapped it in. As always, it came drifting back down again, landing on the center of her nose. She tucked it behind her ear. “Then again, Laura trusted you. I don’t want to discourage her from talking to you. She has so few friends her own age.” After a beat, Vicky nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on her, but I won’t say anything yet. I know what her father will do, and I’d hate to see him go to jail again.” She motioned toward the other tables. “Once we get all those in place, we’ll need to arrange the boxes on top. Hats to the left, shoes to the right.” “Sure.” “Just promise me one thing.” “What’s that?” “I want you to find out who the men were. I want to make sure I keep an eye on them too if they’re reenactors. If there’s any way, I’ll have their asses in hot water so deep, they’ll be praying for snow.” “I’ll try. I don’t want to push her to tell me any details. She was very upset, after all.” “I have a feeling you won’t have to drag it out of her.” Vicky swung around, took one look at the stacked boxes and tables still needing to be placed. “Why don’t you go help Laura for an hour or two? She’s all by herself.” “Are you sure?” “Positive.” “Okay, then.” Vicky checked her pocket watch. “It’s early yet. How about you come back for some lunch at eleven and then we’ll get to work?” “Are you certain?” “Absolutely. If I run into a problem, I know where to find you.” “True enough.” Dusting her hands on her apron, Oriel hurried to the neighboring tent. She found Laura struggling to drag a large box across the length of the tent. She didn’t wait for Laura to acknowledge her before she rushed in to help.

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Laura smiled. “Thanks.” Together they hauled it roughly twenty feet and set it down. Only then did Laura ask, looking puzzled, “Didn’t Vicky have anything for you to do?” “She thought you might need my help more than she did.” Laura’s smile returned. “Thank God for Vicky.”

***** Amun Bakhoum’s dick was limp. It was a miracle. How many years had he suffered the unrelenting, never-ending hard-on? He couldn’t say anymore. He’d lost count after a thousand. Such relief, so welcome, even now—especially now—as he knelt over the nude, writhing blonde, his hips wedged between her bent knees, her pussy’s heat burning against his unresponsive rod. For once, he wouldn’t have to take, take, take. He could stand up and walk away. Overjoyed, he leaned back on his heels, caught the hand of a guy with a hard, thick cock and pulled him toward the waiting woman. Somewhere close by, his blessing waited. She was the woman who would free him from the curse that had left him burning in an unquenchable carnal fire so long he couldn’t remember what it was like thinking of anything but his need to fuck. Where was she? Who was she? Fastening his pants, he scanned the room once again full to capacity with men and women giving and taking erotic pleasure of all kinds. Plain, old-fashioned fucking. Erotic bondage. Oral sex. Twosomes. Threesomes. Foursomes. Normally his blood would be boiling. The sounds of this place. The scents. The sights. A beautifully round ass over there. A pair of perfectly formed tits over there. Tight little nipples. Softly rounded stomach. Lips pursed in a sexy pout. Rippling muscle as a man he’d fucked last night surged forward in a hard thrust, driving his cock into a wet pussy. But not now. Praise the goddess, not now. He could stand here, watch, listen, smell, and not lose himself. The beast within him was silent. “Amun!” The voice was familiar. Troi. Where? He spun around, finding Troi, the man who had suffered at his side all this time, fully dressed and smiling. Within them lived a dark spirit, the sin of Lust. Each of them carried a part, sharing almost equally in the burden, the agony too much for one man to bear. It was almost too much for two. Many days Amun had believed it was. But not now. The goddess who had delivered the spirit into them had finally given them the blessing she had promised so long ago. Amun was too overcome with relief and joy to even speak as Troi rushed toward him, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

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They embraced, now completely oblivious to the people around them. They kissed as if they had never kissed before. With gentle, sweet affection. And once Amun’s throat was finally clear, he whispered, “She’s here somewhere. We have to find her.” “Yes.” Troi nodded. “Now that I’ve had a taste of this paradise, I don’t ever want to slip back into that hell.” “The exit.” Amun motioned toward the single door through which everyone had entered, and through which everyone would eventually leave. “Wait there for her.” “How will I know her?” “You probably won’t. But the spirit will tell us. It’ll tell us when she’s left.” Amun started toward the door. “I’ll wait outside, and you can call me on my cell the moment the spirit’s voice starts calling to you again.” “What if she leaves with another person? Or several?” “We’ll stop them all, single them out, speak to them each in a room, alone. Whatever it takes. We must know who she is.” Amun motioned toward the room he was about to leave. “Somewhere among the souls exorcising their darkest desires in this room is our salvation.” A woman standing off to one side, dressed in a skirt and tank top, looked his way. When their eyes met, her brows furrowed. Her lips thinned. He guessed she might be someone he’d fucked. He wasn’t sure. What he could tell for certain was that she had a reason to dislike him. She and thousands of others. To be fair, he told every woman and man before he so much as laid a hand on them he could offer no affection, no gentle touches or sweet emotions. All he would do was take his pleasure. Still, not all of them believed him. In general, the beast’s demands were too loud in his ear for him to be more than vaguely aware of what pain he was causing others. In a way, the clarity he enjoyed now made it that much harder to face his wretched acts and the consequences of them. He couldn’t keep living the way he had. Now there was no reason he should have to. Once again he vowed he would not let their blessing leave tonight without them knowing who she was. He wouldn’t have to look into eyes like those—dark with anger, distrust—again after the beast was silent. The woman who had been glaring at him was gone, he realized. No doubt she’d wandered off somewhere while he’d lost himself in his dark thoughts. He shook his head to clear it and headed into the hall. “Excuse me.” Amun twisted, finding the woman in the skirt and tank top scowling at him once again. “Yes?” At a distance he had found her attractive, but up close he found her intoxicating. She possessed a rare beauty, the kind that needed no enhancement—clean and natural and true. Her dark hair framed her face and fell over her shoulders in a

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tumble of messy waves. Her eyes, green as emeralds, tilted up at the outer corners and were framed in thick, long lashes. Her cheeks were shaded with a soft, natural pink blush—no need for makeup—and similarly, her full lips were the shade of a ripe cherry and just as tempting. And yet, even though he was mesmerized by this glorious woman, the beast didn’t mutter a single word. He was in heaven, standing at the foot of an angel. “Is there any chance we can speak in private?” the angel asked. “Sure.” Just as he was about to escort her away from the door, his cell phone rang. “Excuse me.” He shoved his hand in his pocket. “Sure.” Her lips thinned. Highly amused at her reaction, he glanced down as he pulled his phone out. It was Troi. He checked the door. Nobody else had left the room. Troi couldn’t be calling about anything else…unless… The angel mumbled something that was far from angelic. “Please. I’m sorry. If I could have just a minute?” He turned his back on the annoyed brunette and answered with a brief, “Yeah, Troi?” “She’s gotta be out there with you.” Troi sounded breathless and weak, as if he’d just run full speed up the side of Mt. Everest. Amun glanced over his shoulder, knowing without a doubt they’d found her, their salvation. Wrapped in a pretty package, with a lovely face, and ripe, full breasts… “Amun? Did you hear me? Dammit. Dammit!” Amun’s head spun. Her soft ass… Gone! Where? He dropped to his knees as a crippling surge of erotic need charged through his system. Fuck someone. Fuck anyone, the beast demanded. His previously limp cock surged to an excruciating erection. He didn’t know if it was the calm he’d enjoyed for that short time that made the beast’s voice seem so loud now, or if the dark spirit had strengthened, but he had two choices—either try to find their angel right now or go back inside, find the first willing body, and fuck it until the voice in his head was quieted. Fuck. Take. His phone slipped from his fingertips, clattering on the floor. Relief. Give me satisfaction. He staggered toward the building’s main exit, trembling with every step. The hall was lengthening, it seemed, stretching longer, impossibly long. He’d never make it.

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Unable to stand the agony another second, he turned around and charged back into the orgy.

***** Oriel had plenty of reasons to hate herself, but not today. Sure, she’d failed to talk to that handsome bastard, but thanks to this little road trip, she not only knew his name, but also the identity of his accomplice. Amun and Troi. She also knew what one of them looked like. And ohmygod, the company they kept. Made her wonder what her new friend had been thinking when she’d attended the party last night. It seemed pretty clear the minute she’d stepped inside the fancy house-turned-sexpalace that everyone there was expecting one thing. The shock had nearly blown her eyeballs out of her sockets when she’d slipped into the orgy room, floor padded and covered in cushions wrapped in crisp white covers. It wasn’t so much the fact that there were dozens of people in that room, or even what they were doing with each other, but how oblivious they seemed to be to the many other people around them. How could anyone become so lost in desire that they didn’t care who was there with them or what was going on? Not even during her rebellious phase, in which she’d done some things she’d later come to regret, had she ever been that wrapped up in erotic need. She had been so relieved when she’d heard someone mention Amun’s name, first and last, and motioned to him. And she’d been even more relieved when she’d had the chance to talk to him while he was dressed. But then, when he’d turned around to take that phone call, something inside her snapped and she’d started second and third-guessing what she was doing there. Another quick look around left her doubting her new friend’s story. It sure didn’t look as if anyone in that room was there against his or her will. And if anyone was, would all those people ignore pleas for help if someone called out? Even if they were slightly…distracted…surely they wouldn’t be able to tune out a woman who was yelling “Stop, please don’t,” as Laura had claimed. No way. But then, just as she’d convinced herself Laura had been lying, she heard it, a woman’s voice. A cry for help. Ready to come to the woman’s rescue, Oriel swung around and rushed back down the hall. She stopped outside the door where the orgy was and listened. But she didn’t hear any screams of anguish. Had she imagined the voice? Not yet willing to believe she had, she waited, silent, her nerves prickly and heartbeat drumming against her breastbone.

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“Nooooo!” someone shouted somewhere. Where? Not in there. Oriel whirled around. “You bastard!” the woman screamed. The hairs on Oriel’s neck stood on end. Her body stiffened and goose bumps coated her arms, back, chest. Her heart in her throat, Oriel hurried down the hall, going deeper into the building, almost certain the sound had come from that direction. “I said no!” the woman hollered. There. Behind that door. Hands trembling, Oriel turned the knob, expecting it would be locked. It wasn’t. But she saw why it didn’t need to be the instant she had the door cracked open wide enough to get a peek into the room. The woman whose voice had lured her down the hall was standing nude, facing the wall, arms bound at the wrist and stretched wide apart. Her legs were tied at the ankles. Dark red welts marked her back and buttocks. A man lifted his arm then dropped it. The whip he’d been holding fell with a dull thump to the floor. He spun around and looked right at Oriel. Not sure what she had just walked into, Oriel followed her instincts and hurried as fast as she could toward the exit, vowing she’d stop at the first restaurant, gas station or store she found and call the police. Footsteps pounded behind her. If, that was, she got away before he stopped her. Someone shouted, “Wait!” What if… What if that man decided he needed to string her up and beat her too? Absolutely petrified now, Oriel pushed harder, breaking into a run, forcing her legs to move as fast as they could. At the main exit, she slammed full-force into the door, scrambled to open it, and just as her pursuer grabbed her arm, swung it open and jerked her arm free. She half ran, half tripped down the stone steps leading to the sidewalk below. He caught her again, this time around the waist, and squirm as she might, she couldn’t break free. Everything was a blur, his face, their surroundings. She screamed, kicking and writhing, now desperate to break free. “Please, stop,” he said softly, calmly. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk to you.” Unable to believe him but having no other choice at the moment, she halted her frenzied, unproductive fighting and let him coax her around to face him, releasing her waist to hold her wrists instead. It was Amun, not the man with the whip. She realized instantly he was just as mesmerizing as he’d been before, maybe even more so. His face was all sharp angles, cheekbones, jaw, nose. Fierce. Dangerous.

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Terrible. And yet there was something in his eyes, a shadow of anguish or vulnerability she couldn’t name but was driven to understand. His lips were perfectly formed, not too thin or too thick, and when her gaze wasn’t locked on his eyes, it tended to linger there for some reason. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he said. He stared into her eyes and, thank God, gradually loosened his hold on her arms. “You have this odd habit of finding me and then running away.” “I guess I do.” She felt her cheeks heating from embarrassment. How silly she must have looked, and yet who would blame her for being terrified after what she’d heard and seen? “Why? Why did you leave earlier? And why did you return?” “It’s kind of a long story.” “I have plenty of time to hear it. Will you tell me?” “I don’t know.” It was so hard to stay objective when she was staring into those eyes. A large, strong man stood before her, his body honed into lean muscle and tight sinew. She felt his presence deep inside, as if a fever were burning in her blood. The heat was both soothing and disturbing, a sting that didn’t quite hurt but distracted her mind from what she wanted to think about, needed to think about. “A woman. Inside. She was crying out for help.” “She was, but she didn’t mean it really. It was part of the scene, their play.” “How would you know if she meant it or not?” His fingers unfurled, completely releasing her wrists. “I know the Dom. Very well. If she had truly wanted him to stop, she would have used her safe word, and he would’ve respected her limit.” “A safe word. Of course.” Once more, Oriel found herself questioning the validity of Laura’s story. This was all so confusing, disturbing and strange. “Troi won’t scene with a new submissive without a safe word,” Amun explained. “That was Troi?” Something flashed across his face. Fear, maybe? “Yes.” Amun tipped his head. “Do you know Troi?” “No.” She shuffled back a little, putting more distance between them. “I’ve never met him. But…somebody I know said something about him. Something bad.” “That’s why you came back? You thought the woman was being hurt? Is that what your friend said happened to her?” “Yes.” She took another step away. “And then you ran because…?” “I thought I’d better call the police. I didn’t think I could stop him.”

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Amun’s brows lifted. He didn’t respond for a beat or two. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a nonverbal exchange between them. There was, without a doubt, something happening, here, on the sidewalk, in between the awkward passes of dialogue, that had her shifting her weight back and forth and nervously toying with the thread that had pulled out of the hem of her skirt. How could a man be so alluring and yet so intimidating at the same time? She’d never reacted to a man like this. “Would you like to speak to the woman to make sure she’s okay?” he offered. “No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” She took another step backward, putting some much needed distance between them. Oddly, a part of her felt drawn forward, toward him. “Then you trust I’m telling the truth?” Did she? No. But she didn’t want to go back inside that building, not with him, or without him. Not for any reason. “I need to get back to work. I’ve been gone too long.” Once again he moved closer to her. “You won’t tell me your story?” “Sorry, I can’t.” She glanced behind her to make sure she wasn’t about to back herself off the sidewalk and stumble. “How about I buy you dinner after work?” “No, I don’t think so. But thank you. It was a kind offer.” After an awkward moment when neither said anything, she turned away and stepped off the sidewalk and onto the drive that led to the parking lot around the bend. She didn’t get far. “Your name? Will you tell me that?” “Oriel,” she said. “An unusual name.” “My mother was a unique person, or so I’ve been told.” She kept going, refusing to turn around and look at him. He was still following her. It was creepy. Stalkerish. What should she do? Keep going, risking him attacking her while she was alone, vulnerable, or should she dash back inside? There was, to some degree, safety in numbers. She briefly considered running back into the building but quickly nixed that idea. Odd behavior or not, something inside her believed this unusual man would not hurt her. She stopped before she reached the truck she’d borrowed from Laura, spun around and glared at him. Dammit, he was such a beautiful man. A little scary, but absolutely arresting. Why did he have to be so odd? “In case you didn’t know, women tend to get a little panicky when a man follows them into a secluded parking lot uninvited.” “Yes, of course they do.” He took two steps back. She lifted her chin, determined to let him know she wasn’t going to let him scare her. “I should also warn you I carry a weapon.” “Warning heeded. It’s just that…” He gave his head a single nod. “I’ll stop.”

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“Thank you.” She gave him one final glance and then, assuming he would keep his word, continued on, trying hard not to look as nervous as she really was. She climbed into the driver’s seat and locked the doors. What a bizarre, unsettling but also weirdly sensual energy she’d felt with that man. What now? It was then that Oriel decided to let the whole thing drop. Laura hadn’t asked her to go track down her attackers. Quite the opposite—when Laura had finally spilled and told Oriel everything, she’d begged Oriel not to do anything. Perhaps Laura had taken some liberties with the description of what had been done to her. Maybe it was her way of dealing with guilt. But Oriel had to admit a couple of things—Laura hadn’t exaggerated when it came to describing that place. Every detail was exactly as she’d said, right down to the smell. Nor had she misrepresented Amun, at least in respect to his looks. He was as incredibly gorgeous as Laura had said. And from the brief glance she’d stolen of Troi, he was just as she’d described him too. Sitting in the pickup she’d borrowed—for a trip into town to supposedly buy some bottled water—Oriel cranked the key, starting the vehicle. This wasn’t her battle to fight. It was time to head back to work and forget all this nonsense. If she could. It seemed her brain was working very hard to hang on to one memory—the image of Amun standing in the hallway, looking so darkly handsome, dangerous and mysterious.

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Chapter Two “What are you thinking?” Troi dropped the file on Amun’s desk, wondering what the hell had gotten into his friend’s head. The two of them usually shared one mind in all things, but especially work. “Hm?” Amun’s lukewarm acknowledgement, gaze locked on his laptop’s screen, only made Troi angrier. “We agreed a long time ago what kinds of cases we would work.” “Sure, challenging cases that would appease Lust’s appetites, for one.” “Yes, Lust likes money.” Amun finally looked up. It was about time. “Lust likes a lot of things, including a chance at whupping some serious political ass.” “It’s a charity case,” Troi said, trying not to grit his teeth. Amun flipped open the file. “Did you even read the complaint?” “Yes, of course I did. That’s what has me stumped. We’re defense attorneys. Why are we taking a family law case?” “These people lost their kids. For no reason.” “I know. But—” “The assholes at Family Services decided their kids would be better off in a group home because their parents live an ‘unconventional lifestyle’. That’s bullshit. Someone needs to take this case—” “I’m not saying it isn’t a noble cause. It’s just not a good fit for us.” “They’re poly. It’s not a crime as long as they don’t all marry. Yet some yahoo decided it’s bad enough to take their kids.” Amun’s brows furrowed. “Have you thought about our future? Someday—soon, I hope—we may find ourselves in their shoes, fighting to keep our children.” Those two sentences put everything into perspective in a heartbeat. “No, I hadn’t.” “We’ve met our blessing.” “But do we know where to find her?” “I’m working on that. I’ve called in some favors. The truck’s license plate should do it for us. I’m expecting a call anytime now.” “It can’t come soon enough.” Troi let the weight of the beast’s unrelenting screams show in his sagging posture and pained expression. “It’s worse now. The beast. Ten times. A hundred times.” Amun sighed. “For me too.”

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“I’ve tried to bury myself in the work, but it isn’t working.” “I know.” “We need to find her.” Troi couldn’t help leaning forward, catching Amun’s jacket lapels and pulling him to his feet. “Just a minute. Sixty measly seconds of relief. That would help.” Amun stared into his eyes and Troi could think of nothing but Amun’s mouth, the spicy flavor and sensual thrill of their tongues stroking, taking, battling. He tilted his head and closed the distance between them, grateful for the brief satisfaction the dark spirit received as their mouths joined. His hands clenched material, then curled into fists around silken strands of hair, mapped the lines of thick shoulders and arms. The air filled with the sound of their heavy breaths. The scent of desire swelling, burning. The voice quieted. The phone rang. “Dammit!” Amun jerked away, snatched the phone, pressed it to his ear and barked, “Yes?” Still relishing the flavor of the kiss, Troi dropped back, landing on the chair behind him, arms hanging over the padded armrests and legs sprawled in front of him. He listened, hoping they had somehow accomplished the impossible, found the mysterious Oriel. Amun wrote something on a piece of paper, thanked the caller and hung up. He visibly relaxed. “Nothing’s for certain, but I think we’ve found her.” “Where?” Troi leapt to his feet, fully prepared to dash to his car the minute Amun told him where their blessing lived. He didn’t care what he would have to do or say to convince her to let him remain near her. He would do anything, absolutely anything. Amun caught his arm before he’d taken more than one step. “There’s one problem. We have to wait a couple of days.”

***** There were few places on earth that fueled the beast’s demands more than this. Everywhere Troi looked, as far as the eye could see, beautiful women were knotted into tight corsets, their breasts plumped high, waists cinched, round hips swaying under layered skirts. The scent of roasted meat and gunpowder drifted upon a gentle breeze. The sound of cannon fire echoed off distant hills and trees. Lust fed from all his senses, its voice growing louder with every step Troi took. He was in hell. Turning, he could see that Amun was in no better shape. The shoulders his lover normally carried high were dropped, the chin lifted proudly, lowered, the eyes glittering with life, darkened with anguish, desperation.

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Where was she? Praying Amun’s source was correct, that their blessing was in this living history encampment somewhere, among the throng of reenactors, sutlers, and attendees, he pushed forward. His weak legs felt as if they might buckle at any moment. “There. That’s the tent the truck’s owner is supposed to be working at. Her name’s Laura. We have to hope Oriel is nearby, but as I said, there’s no guarantee.” “It’s all we have.” Burning inside and wishing he could douse the fire, Troi stumbled, using a tree’s thick trunk to steady himself. “If she isn’t…” Look there, that one, the beast taunted. Look at those tits. “Troi!” Amun shook him, pulling him out of the beast’s clutches. Oh yes. Easy access. Just lift the skirt. Troi curled his fingers in his hair and pulled. “Dammit. If only the voice would shut up for one second.” “We’re almost there.” Amun pulled on his arm, leading him forward, past women who looked so lush and ripe and smelled so good, he was desperate for one taste, one touch. “Oh shit.” “What?” A young man in a blue and gray soldier’s uniform walked by, giving him an assessing glance. He would do just fine, and it looked as if he’d be plenty willing. Yes, him. “Now I know why Oriel came looking for us.” “Huh?” Troi turned around, catching the soldier giving him a second look. There it was, a sexy smile, an invitation. His feet feeling as if they were encased in concrete boots, Troi lurched toward him. “Where are you going?” Amun grumbled. Troi pointed. “No, not now.” Amun gave him another shake, and with his face no more than two inches from his own, Amun whispered, “Goddammit, this is as painful for me as it is for you. We can’t let the bastard win now. I think it knows. It senses she’s nearby. It doesn’t want us to find her.” “But look around us.” Troi motioned with a swing of his arm. “Couldn’t the goddess have coaxed her into a safer place than this? Like a convent?” “Perhaps it’s a test? To make sure we’re worthy,” Amun said, practically dragging Troi toward a line of white tents lining a narrow creek. “You mean the thousand years of suffering wasn’t enough of a test?” Troi sidestepped a pile of horse manure. “You would think.” Amun grimaced, hesitating. “Oh hell. The test is about to get worse.” 23

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A familiar woman came sauntering toward them, lips curled into a sardonic smile. “Well, hello there. I didn’t know you two had an interest in Civil War reenacting. You didn’t say anything the last time we met, but then again, why would you?” “We aren’t interested in Civil War reenacting,” Troi grumbled, too distracted by memories of what he’d been doing the last time he’d seen that face to even attempt to remember her name. The woman’s smile brightened. “Well then, I can get someone to watch my tent if you’d like to take a walk down in the woods.” Troi was all for that, and the lump in the front of Amun’s trousers suggested he was too. “No, thanks,” Amun said. Troi silently cussed. The woman’s expression changed instantly. “Oh.” Her brows furrowed. “Um, okay.” She crossed her arms over her chest, the feather on her bonnet drooping over the brim. She motioned toward the nearby tents. “I should get going, then. I need to eat lunch before it gets too busy. I guess I’ll see you later. Enjoy.” She turned around and hurried away. Troi couldn’t help watching her and appreciating the way the wind caught her long skirts, molding them to her ass. What a fine ass that woman had. It looked particularly nice pinked up from a spanking. Damn, his cock was so hard, he had to grit his teeth. “There she is!” Amun said. Relief laced his voice. “Thank the goddess we’ve found her.” Troi, walking as best as he could with a cock so hard it could chip granite, followed Amun toward the tent about twenty long strides away. Every single step was agonizing. And he met with temptation along the way, in numerous forms. The beast made sure to let its thoughts known about each one. As they closed the distance between themselves and their blessing, the beast’s cries grew louder, more powerful, until Troi couldn’t see, couldn’t think, couldn’t walk. There! That one. See how she looks at you. You want her. Now. Take her. Or there. The brunette. You could have both. Two. Or three. Yes, three. More. Moremoremore. And then, just as Troi thought he might die, the agony was so unbearable, the voice cut off. Silence. Blessed, sweet relief. Their blessing was facing away from them now, didn’t yet realize they had found her. Amun had warned him they would have to be careful. She was wary and suspicious.

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“It’s ironic she’d sent her friend to locate us, only to have that friend turn out to be our chosen, our blessing,” Amun jabbered in a hushed voice. “What are you talking about?” Troi’s gaze locked on Oriel’s body. Amun nudged him. “The girl in the tent next to this one, the girl who’d invited us for a ‘walk’. Didn’t you recognize her?” “No. Yes. Maybe,” he said, straining to see Oriel. She’d moved deeper into the tent. Heavy shadows cloaked her, frustrating him. He wanted to see her, all of her, every glorious inch. “It wasn’t that long ago. She was the one who asked for our phone numbers and when we refused, she fell apart.” “Oh yes. I remember everything now.” With clarity of mind he hadn’t enjoyed in hundreds of years came clarity of the spirit as well, and with that, a rather fierce load of guilt for the many selfish acts he’d committed at the demand of the beast. How cruel the goddess had been to lay such a burden upon his shoulders, a man who had once, so long ago, committed his life to charity and kindness. His only comfort was in knowing he would soon be free from that burden, thanks to the lovely Oriel. “I’m guessing her friend has painted us both in a very unflattering light. It’s no wonder she looks at us as if she expects us to ravish her.” Amun nudged his arm, directing him to circle around the side of the tent where she wouldn’t see them. Troi nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. The scene she walked into probably didn’t help much. If she doesn’t know anything about Dom-sub she could easily misread that situation.” “Exactly. Which is why we must approach her with care.” “Yes, with care,” Troi echoed, stepping around the side to sneak one last peek at her. As she stepped into view, reaching up to take down a hat for a customer, he realized lovely was an inadequate description She was so much more than that. Breathtakingly beautiful in an earthy, natural sort of way. Her eyes shone with a rare kind of light, and he could see, even from a distance, how others reacted to her presence. It was almost as if she were an otherworldly creature of some kind. Delicate but also powerful. He felt an urge to both protect her and worship her. “Do you think she’s seen us?” Amun asked. “I don’t know. Tell me we don’t have to leave. I’m not ready to go back to hell yet.” “No, we can stay close if we can look busy.” Amun twisted around, moving toward another tent. He shoved something into Troi’s hands. “You’re a terrible actor. Stop staring.” “It’s too late. She’s suspicious already. Better if we greet her now.” Amun gave a single nod. “Very well. But we agree we’ll claim we didn’t know she’d be here.” “Agreed. It’s the truth, anyway, if you get technical.” 25

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“Good point.” Troi took the lead as they walked up to the tent-turned-store in which she was working. Inside they found a large crowd of garbed patrons poring over hats of all shapes and sizes, Civil War uniforms, gowns, bonnets and sewing patterns. In jeans and pullover shirts, Troi and Amun stood out from the crowd. How easy it would be to find an excuse to spend at least a half hour in the shop, if not longer. It might cost them a few hundred dollars, but that was an expense gladly paid. “Hello,” Oriel greeted them with undisguised wariness in her eyes. She glanced at the woman standing beside her before asking, “Can I help you?” “Yes, you can,” Troi answered, hoping she didn’t hear the eagerness he heard in his own voice. He motioned toward Amun. “We were told you have the best prices on uniforms,” he lied. “We’ve just signed up with a reenactment group, so we need everything. Shirt, hat, shoes, pants.” He pointed at the canteens hanging next to the entry. “One of those too.” “Is that so?” She didn’t look convinced. When he nodded, she slid the other woman a sidelong glance, shot one reluctant glare Amun’s way and then, evidently deciding she couldn’t afford to pass on a sale, she motioned toward the rack in the back on which blue and gray wool coats hung. “This way, gentlemen.” “Thank you,” they said in unison, following her. “Confederate or Union?” she asked. “Confederate,” Amun answered. “Union,” said Troi, staring at her back. She had her hair up, exposing her nape. He could imagine nuzzling her there, nibbling softly. “We were surprised to see you here,” Amun said, moving closer. “Hmmm.” Oriel lifted one brow. “What size coat do you wear?” “How do they run? I have a fifty-five-inch chest.” Troi ran his hands down a sleeve. Wool. They were going to cook in those things. “Hmmm.” Oriel’s pretty eyes widened slightly. “I don’t think I’m going to have anything that large…” She leafed through the hung jackets, checking the sizes on the tags. “The best I can do is a 3X. But that’s supposed to fit a fifty-two inch chest.” She lifted the garment, still on the hanger, and studied him. “They’re cut fairly generously. It might fit. Would you like to try it on?” “Sure.” He knew damn well it wasn’t going to fit, but if it meant he could stay in the tent a little longer with this precious woman, then he was more than happy to look like an ass. He tried to shove one arm into a sleeve, but it was too snug to pull all the way up to his shoulder. “Uh-oh. Not happening.” She gently eased the garment off while he silently relished the feel of her nearness, the scent of her skin and hair, the heat of her body. “Looks like you’re even bigger,” she said to Amun. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have

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to find someone to custom sew your jackets and shirts. We might have more luck with the pants.” “Thirty-two waist, thirty-four inseam,” Troi offered. “Do you sew?” Amun asked. “Me? No. I mean, I have a sewing machine. Somewhere, collecting dust, no doubt. But I’ve never made anything more complicated than a pillowcase with it.” She handed Troi a pair of light blue wool trousers and pointed toward a curtained area at the opposite end of the tent. “The fitting room is back there.” “I don’t need to try them on. I’ll just take them.” “Are you sure? You’re…” Oriel’s gaze dropped to about mid-thigh level. “You’re not exactly built like the average guy. The pants are cut fairly baggy, but I can’t guarantee they’ll fit, and we don’t accept returns.” Amun gave him a look. “Okay.” Reluctantly he headed for the fitting room, leaving Amun time to talk to her alone. Lucky bastard. This could not be dumb luck. Oriel sent Vicky another weighted look then turned what she hoped was a convincing smile toward Amun, who was proving to be more of a stalker than she’d suspected. First, he’d followed her out of the orgy, and now this. What did he want from her? It didn’t matter. Once she’d finished up with their purchase, she would make it clear she didn’t welcome his attention, and any further accidental meetings he might be planning would be met with hostility—and maybe a call to the police. It was one thing for a man to pursue a woman with sincere interest if his feelings were reciprocated. It was another to hunt her down after she’d made it clear she had no interest in him whatsoever. She had made that clear, hadn’t she? Having doubts, but prepared to clear them up right now, she sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. How she detested confrontation. “I appreciate the business, but I want to make sure you understand if you continue to follow me around and accidentally,” she made quotations in the air with her fingers, “bump into me again, I’ll file a police report.” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him her best squinty-eyed mean face. “So, rather than be all sneaky, why don’t you just come out with it? What do you want from me? You’re no more a reenactor than I am the tooth fairy.” Amun’s face took on a very telling shade of deep red. “Nothing.” “You’re a liar.” She shoved a blue hat into his hands and moved to the next table. “Does this have to do with Laura?” 27

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“Laura?” She pushed a gray hat into his hands, along with two pairs of wool socks. How could he stand there and act as if he didn’t know who she was talking about? “Please don’t pretend you don’t know who I’m talking about. I’m not stupid.” “I know you’re not.” His face became even redder. “I just… It has nothing to do with Laura.” “Uh huh.” She whirled around to face him, instantly aware of how close they were in the crowded tent. His chest, all fifty-some-odd inches of broad, hard muscle covered in thin cotton, was right there, close enough for her to…to lick if she dared. His arms, thick and powerful, were crossed over his stomach, the items she’d been handing him cradled against his body. She tilted her head back to look him in the eye and tried to pretend her cheeks weren’t warming. “There is an it, then?” “Huh?” He tipped his head to one side. “An it?” With great difficulty, she forced herself to turn around. “Yes, you said it had nothing to do with Laura. So what does it have to do with?” “Is it so hard for you to believe a man might pursue you for the simple pleasure of spending time with you?” In the process of reaching for a belt, she froze in place for one, two, three heartbeats. “I guess not. But here’s the thing.” She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure I’m not your type.” She felt something warm her back. Her neck prickled. A shiver raced down her spine. “Would you give me the chance to figure that out for myself?” he asked softly, so close his breath tickled the little hairs on her nape. “Umm.” “I know you feel the connection between us.” “I—I…” She was going to shiver, she could tell. She didn’t want to, because that would prove he was right. “What is it? Are you afraid, Oriel?” “I don’t know.” She wanted to move but she couldn’t. A part of her was melting from the electricity arcing between their bodies right now. She’d never felt this way about a man, and it was magical. She didn’t want it to end. The nerves from her ankles to the top of her scalp were sizzling and zapping and her heart was racing so fast she had to pull in little gasps to feed her lungs. But she couldn’t stop thinking about Laura, about what she’d said. And about what she’d seen with her own eyes. “How about dinner? In public. Wherever you wish,” he offered. “Okay,” she heard herself say. “I get off work at six.”

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Chapter Three Oriel couldn’t remember ever dreading the end of a workday. But she was today. Even now, hours after Amun and Troi had left, loaded down with enough reenactment gear to start their own sutlery, her face was burning up and a few parts of her anatomy were more than a little tingly and tight. Those were the pleasant lingering sensations. The not so great ones included a huge lump in her throat the size of a cannonball, a racing heartbeat that would make a hummingbird’s seem downright sluggish, and palms slimier than a snail. In particular, the last one made for some challenges as she was handling the customers’ money, particularly the coins. As the last patron left the tent, she found herself rushing after him, asking if there was anything else, absolutely anything, she could help him with. He responded with a puzzled stare and, after an awkward moment or two, a thinlipped smile. “Thanks, but no.” His eyes said he thought she was nuttier than squirrel poo. “Wow,” Vicky said cheerfully as she stuffed a thick wad of dollar bills in an envelope. “What a great day! Thanks for the help. Those friends of yours did me a big favor.” She checked her pocket watch. “You’re officially off the clock now. Will you be going to the big ball tonight?” “Oh, I don’t think so. I don’t have a fancy dress, and—” “No problem! I can hook you up,” Vicky said, discarding her Victorian persona for a moment. “I brought something that should fit you, just in case. It’s back in the camper.” “Please don’t go to any trouble—” “It’s no trouble at all.” Passing Oriel, Vicky handed her what looked like a foldedover ten-dollar bill and walked out of the tent. “I’ll take the dress back to the campsite. Meet you there?” “Um, maybe later.” Unfolding the money, Oriel watched her employer trot down the grassy hill toward the encampment. “Okay.” Seconds later, she realized there wasn’t one ten but ten of them. She had earned a whopping one hundred dollars in commissions today. Pretty good for a part-time gig. With two more days of this muster left, she could potentially walk away with three hundred dollars by the end of the weekend. Not a bad take at all. Tucking her cash into the little pouch she’d tied to her belt, she turned toward Laura’s tent, thinking she might need some help closing up her shop. The two entry 29

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flaps of the large wall tent were still open, so she wandered inside. She found Laura standing at the counter, in front of the cash register. She waved at Laura. “Thought I’d check and see if you needed any help closing up.” Laura didn’t look up. “No, thanks.” Her words were clipped, cold. “Bad day?” “You could say that.” Laura crammed some cash into an envelope and, still not looking her way, shoved the cash register drawer shut and jerked the key to lock it. What was wrong with her? Oriel hung back, most of her body outside the tent. “I’m sorry to hear things didn’t go well for you today.” “Hmph.” Hmph? “Do you have something you want to say to me?” At last, Laura looked at her with dark, cold eyes full of something unpleasant. “No, not really.” “Okay, then.” Slightly bewildered, Oriel left Laura’s shop. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear Laura was angry with her. Why? She’d done nothing to deserve the kind of chilly reception she’d just been given. She shook away the little bit of disappointment tugging at her and glared back at Laura’s tent, sliding easily into the role of antisocial Oriel, the self-reliant girl who needed nobody. What did she care if Laura hated her? After a couple more days, this place and all the people in it would be ancient history and she would be heading back to her comfortable life with electricity, frozen dinners and reality television. She checked her pocket watch. Amun and Troi were going to meet her in a half hour at the food vendor’s tent. She didn’t trust them well enough to get in a car with them, and with Laura hating her now, she wasn’t going to be able to borrow a car and drive anywhere. So their dinner was going to have to be here. Barbecue chicken, ribs or sausages were their choices. Thanks to her dilly-dallying, she had precious little time to primp. That was probably for the better, anyway. And at least remaining here, where she’d be surrounded by people—the kind who wouldn’t ignore a woman’s screams—she’d be in no danger of being hauled off to some bizarre sex party against her will. A little shudder swept through her body. It wasn’t a shiver of dread, but one of sensual awareness, as the memory of that thrilling moment between her and Amun flashed through her mind. It was both strangely difficult but also oddly easy to picture both Amun and Troi at one of those bondage parties. They were both fiercely handsome, but not in a pretty-boy Hollywood type of way. Their allure was part mesmerizing, part terrifying, the beauty of their faces and bodies stirring two very different kinds of reactions in her body.

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She wondered, as she hurried toward her temporary home, if they were watching her. No, she knew they were, and she was both uneasy and flattered. Where were they? What did they want from her? She had such a hard time believing they simply wanted to talk. Their attention toward her was too intense, every look, word and movement a seduction. She should blow them off. Should. But, she realized as she ducked inside her tent, finding the gorgeous gown Vicky had hung next to her cot, she didn’t want to. A stranger inside her, a part of her she’d never known before, wanted to give them a little taste of what they’d given her. Playing with fire, that was what it was. Incredibly irrational. Completely out of character. Impulsive and dangerous as hell. And wearing that gown, with the bodice that dipped low, giving them a glimpse of her breasts, would only add fuel to fire. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She shouldn’t. Oh hell. She wiggled into it, getting some help with the back lacing from the woman in the next tent. Once she had been stuffed and knotted into the dress, she made quick work of fixing her hair and applying a little makeup. Finally she checked herself in the fulllength mirror propped against the tent’s back wall. Now that was some sight. She had to admit she looked good. Better than good. After checking the clock, she hurried out of the tent. As she walked she reminded herself of what little she knew about these men and how foolish it would be to get too carried away. A pity, because for some reason, she was in the mood for some harmless flirtation, maybe even a little more than that. But with these men, she didn’t dare crank on the charm too high. There were too many unanswered questions lingering to trust them at all. When she rounded the bend, she caught sight of them. They were all decked out in dress uniforms they hadn’t been wearing earlier. Either they’d found another sutler who carried larger sizes or they’d misled her earlier and owned uniforms already. She wanted to ponder the significance of both alternatives, but she couldn’t concentrate. They looked so good, she hadn’t realized she’d stopped walking until one of them started coming her way. Her face was almost blistering hot by the time Troi took her hand to gently coax her toward a table set up under the heavy shade of a tree. “Thank you,” she murmured. He smiled, lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the back, and she had to remind herself to exhale. “We’re thrilled you agreed to join us.” He reached around her, placing

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a hand on the small of her back and turning, walked her to Amun, standing behind a chair, his hands resting on the back. When Amun pulled it out for her, she sat, twisting to thank him over her shoulder. He leaned low and said in a husky voice, “You’re welcome.” She swallowed a giggle. If they were trying to be over-the-top sexy, it was almost backfiring. Almost. Mostly, it was working. Very well. She pulled in a deep breath as she watched the two of them take their seats on either side of her. She ran her flattened hands over the tablecloth that made what was probably a slab of plywood sitting on top of a couple of sawhorses look like a nice table. The floral centerpiece, china dishes and flickering candles helped a lot too. “This is cozy. You didn’t do all this just for me, did you?” Troi shrugged. “We feel a lady should be treated like one.” Amun, who’d been distracted for a moment or two, turned his attention toward her and she couldn’t help blushing as those dark eyes of his swept over her face. He didn’t say anything. She thought he might, when his lips parted slightly and his chest lifted. But he didn’t. “Your uniforms.” She pointed at Amun. “Were you two trying to pull a fast one on me earlier, telling me you’ve never been to a reenactment?” “No. We got lucky, found another vendor who had some jackets that fit us.” Amun motioned toward sutler’s row. “Divine providence,” Troi added. “They’re nice.” She almost ran her hand down Amun’s sleeve, but she stopped herself. She traced the edge of her plate with an index finger instead. “I’m assuming you ride, since they are cavalry uniforms?” Amun nodded. “We do.” “Perhaps you’ll find a unit and participate in future musters?” “Perhaps.” So they hadn’t joined one like they’d claimed. Liars! A woman carrying a small iron kettle of something that smelled very good approached them, followed by several others carrying platters and baskets. The women behind her stepped around either side of her to place their items on the table, and in the meantime, she ladled some soup into the bowl sitting in front of Oriel. “Such service,” Oriel said, giving the woman a grateful smile. “And the soup smells delicious.” With a sweep of her arm, she motioned at the table, now loaded with a basket of bread and several platters of meat and vegetables. “This is nothing like what I was expecting.” Both men looked pleased. “We just want you to enjoy yourself tonight.” Troi lifted his spoon.

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She tasted the soup. It was as delicious as she expected, full of rich flavor, thanks to many hours of simmering over a fire. “I am enjoying myself.” After a beat she added, “I hope you’ll tell me more about yourselves.” “What would you like to know?” Amun picked up the breadbasket and held it toward her. “I knew you were going to ask that.” She helped herself to a slice and set it on her bread plate. Troi had the butter dish in front of her before she had to ask. “Thanks.” With a seminervous chuckle, she admitted, “I’m not sure if I could ever get used to this.” “What?” Amun asked. “Such…” She searched for the right word, for any word, to describe the way they seemed to look at her, watch her, anticipate her every wish and need. “Concentrated attention. It’s nice, but also a little uncomfortable.” Troi grimaced. “If there’s anything we don’t want you to be, it’s uncomfortable.” He exchanged a dark look with Amun. “You’re right.” Amun set down his spoon and shifted in his seat, swinging one arm over the back of his chair. “You don’t know anything about us, so of course you’re uncomfortable. So let’s take care of that right now. We’re both trial attorneys. We share an office not far from here. We work hard for our clients, long hours.” Troi added, “And when we have free time, which isn’t often, we play hard too.” He tipped his head toward Amun. “Amun has a pilot’s license. Both helo and jet. When we can, we like to get away. Go somewhere warm and sunny in January, or fly out to Colorado for skiing in April. If they weren’t exaggerating, which she had a gut feeling they weren’t, their lifestyle was beyond her imagining. She didn’t know what to say or how to respond. After taking a few bites of soup and bread, she said, “I’ve never skied, but the beach in January sounds divine.” Something flashed in Amun’s eyes. “We’re not here to seduce you with empty promises or flattery.” What did he mean by that? “Okay. What are you here to do, then?” “Amun doesn’t like to boast,” Troi explained. Amun took a drink of water then set down his glass. “I prefer to let people make their own judgments about me based upon what I do, rather than what I say.” “Thus the table, the food, the service?” Her gaze swept over the table again, noticing a couple of details she’d missed before, the faint pattern in the tablecloth, the etched lines in the stemware. He answered with a slight tip to the corners of his mouth. No words were necessary. Such an interesting man. So closed off and yet seeming to want to reach out to her. She guessed he didn’t know how, or if he did, he was hiding a fear. Of what? Rejection?

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While they finished their meal, what had begun as a strained conversation turned more natural. Whether it was because Oriel gradually grew accustomed to having two men hang on her every word and movement, or because of some other reason, something beyond her understanding, she didn’t know. The stretches of uncomfortable silence shortened. Bursts of laughter lengthened. The guys told her how they had filled the hours between leaving her tent and dinner, including a couple of amusing misunderstandings with some of the reenactors. By the time she was finished eating, Oriel was ninety-nine percent convinced that Laura had either outright lied about what happened between them or had taken liberties with the truth and added a flourish or two for the sake of stirring up some drama and getting some attention. The notes of a waltz drifted to her ears on a sweet-scented breeze. “There’s a dance tonight,” she said, remembering for the first time since leaving her temporary home earlier. Troi rose to his feet and extended a hand. “We would be honored to accompany you.” Cheeks warming, she shook her head. “Oh, I’m not much for dancing. I mean, I watched last night. The dances are complicated. I don’t know the steps.” Troi ambled around the table, his movements neither lazy nor rushed. “That doesn’t matter. We can have our own private dance right here.” Before she could protest, he gently tugged on her hand, coaxing her to her feet. And before she could come up with a reasonable excuse for not dancing with him, he pulled her into his arms. Now that was a thrilling place to be, so close to such a beautiful man, one strong arm coiled around her body, the other extended, her hand gently cradled in his. Somehow she followed his movements with ease, the heartbeat of the music throbbing gently through her body and drumming out the tempo of her steps. Right-left -right, left-right-left, they whirled about the makeshift dance floor carpeted in soft grass, as the sun kissed the evening sky with shades of purple and salmon. As the song’s final chord echoed in her ears, she tipped her head to look up at her partner’s face. She couldn’t say she’d ever seen a man more breathtakingly handsome. Not on television or in a movie or in a photograph. “Thank you,” he said with a husky voice that made her think of forbidden pleasures. He was going to kiss her and ohmygod she wanted him to, even with Amun standing close by, even with Laura out there somewhere, furious with her, even with the dozens of unanswered questions bouncing through her head like dropped pingpong balls. Kiss me, please. A barely perceptible stream of warm, sweet air tickled her lips and instinctively she licked them while she curled her fist around a handful of Troi’s wool coat and waited, waited. It was pure, delectable torture. 34

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Finally his lips brushed over hers in a tender, sensual caress and it felt as if the ground were teetering beneath her feet. Sure she was about to plummet into some darkly erotic chasm, she threw her other arm over his shoulder and looped it around his neck. If she was falling, he was going with her. Against her back, she felt more heat. Pulsing warmth, full of life, smelling of man and leather and desire. Her breath hitched in her throat and she pulled, aching now for Troi to possess her mouth fully. Again, his lips touched hers. Briefly. And all too soon, less than one stuttering heartbeat later, they were gone again. “Please,” she whispered. “Mmmm,” he returned. “You’re sweeter than peaches in cream.” His lips hovered over hers as he spoke, each word producing a little puff of scented air that teased her tingling lips and pulled her tautly strung nerves even tighter. This man had barely kissed her, those minute grazing meetings between their mouths hardly qualifying as kisses, and yet her entire body was simmering, her heart thumping heavily against her breastbone, a warm thrumming sensation building between her legs. Never had so little produced so much heat, so much need in her. Granted, a part of it had to be Amun. His hands were now resting on her shoulders, his thumbs stroking her nape, the intimate touch producing little waves of quaking thrill. It was no wonder Laura had fallen under the spell of these two. What woman wouldn’t? Their every movement intrigued her. Their every word mesmerized her. Their every touch captivated her. One of her hands slipped down over the hard swell of Troi’s shoulder, gliding along muscle and sinew covered in wool. Such power he possessed. His body was shaped for battle, for conquering and subduing. “Oriel.” Amun looped a thick arm around her waist and she practically melted. “What is it you want from us?” “I—I don’t know.” That was partly true, but mostly not. What she wanted, she couldn’t admit. Not even to herself. Troi cupped her chin. His thumb swept across her lower lip. “You do know. Are you afraid to tell us?” “No, I’m not afraid to tell you anything.” That was one bold-faced lie, but she couldn’t stomach being called afraid. She was cautious. Levelheaded. Responsible. Sensible. And tempted to drag both Amun and Troi to the nearest hotel and fuck them until they all three lacked the strength to move even a pinkie finger. Oh God, did she want to cast aside all her shouldn’ts and wouldn’ts and just let go for once. It had been a long time since she’d dared even think about doing such a thing. No. You know what happened the last time. Troi’s gaze sharpened. “You’re so closed up. Why? I want to know what secrets you’re hiding.”

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Feeling slightly invaded, she dropped her gaze. “You don’t find out those things on the first date.” “Then that settles it. We must have a second date,” Amun murmured, easing away from her. “Tomorrow night.” “Tomorrow? I don’t know.” Fingers of cool air walked down her neck and over her shoulders, instantly making her wish he’d wrap her body in his heat once more. When Troi mirrored Amun’s movement, stepping away from her as well, she wrapped her arms around herself and fought the urge to shiver. The cold wasn’t the only thing she suddenly became aware of. Distant laughter. The frolicking melody of a tune. And nearby, hushed voices talking. Following the sound of the voices, she turned. Laura was standing about fifteen feet away. Shooting daggers from her eyes. “We’ll pick you up at seven,” Amun said, lifting her hand and setting it in the crook of his elbow. “We’d better walk you back to your campsite now.” “Oh, that’s okay. Really.” Unable to look away from Laura, Oriel tried to tug her hand free, but Amun wouldn’t let her. “It’s perfectly safe. I can walk back on my own.” “Absolutely not.” Troi stepped up on her opposite side and took her other hand, placing it on his arm. “What kind of gentlemen would we be to send you off without an escort home?” It was such an old-fashioned notion, but a part of her appreciated the protective gesture. What kind of gentlemen, indeed? Maybe that was why these two stirred so many unexpected longings in her? They played the part of the noble gentlemen so well, it was almost believable they had lived in the middle of the nineteenth century. Their manners and speech fit perfectly into the imaginary world the reenactors had created in the wooded campground. And being a girl with silly romantic fantasies, Oriel was finding herself being swept away. She only wished it all was real.

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Chapter Four Agony struck Amun hard—a skull-shattering, rib-crushing blow—the second Oriel was out of his sight. It took every ounce of strength he possessed not to turn around and race back to her, fold his arms around her and hold her forever. What would stop this hell? His vision blurred, he turned a full one-eighty, searching for Troi. They had to get the hell out of here. Now. Before it was too late. Before they’d done something they would someday regret, just for a moment’s relief. There he was. Under the tree, exorcising the demon the only way they could right now, by unleashing its fury on some willing partner who didn’t necessarily know what he or she had coming. Already Troi had him or her on the ground, his body poised over top. “Troi, no.” With the beast’s demands nearly shattering his eardrums, Amun shoved Troi off the man or woman he’d trapped beneath him. Troi, in the full grip of the beast, did what came natural, jumped to his feet and stumbled into Amun’s arms. They kissed, unleashing the lust burning within them on each other. Tongues lashed in angry thrusts, in and out, while their groins pressed hungrily against each other. Troi groaned, the echoing sound only infuriating the beast more. Its demands grew ever darker, ever louder. Not here. Somewhere the tiny shred of the humanity that remained with Amun whispered. He broke the kiss, finding a few bystanders pretending, poorly, that they didn’t see what they were doing. At least get to the car. The woods. Somewhere out of sight. There are children nearby. Families. His body a raging inferno, his muscles pulled to near snapping point, Amun tugged on Troi’s arm. “This way.” His voice was breathless and strained. Troi lurched, took one step and sagged against a tree. “Goddess help me, I can’t walk.” Amun fisted Troi’s jacket collar and stared into his eyes. “You can. You must.” Half dragging him, Amun took a step toward the dense forest, now blanketed in heavy shadow. There was no way they’d make it to the car. He just hoped no children would be playing there now, with the last remaining glow of sunlight long faded and the campgrounds enveloped in the inky black of a moonless night. They took another faltering step, and another, while the dark spirit inside screamed its demands in their ears. Every step they traveled, Amun was sure he had taken the

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last he could. His legs trembled with the effort. His lungs, starved of air, burned as if he’d inhaled acid. And his head spun, making his sloppy steps all the more unsteady. The darkness of the forest loomed closer, closer. By the time they reached the outer fringes with low scrub and thick brush, he couldn’t see, a wall of tears blending everything around him into a mass of gray and black. His hands became his eyes, helping him find his way deeper into the soothing chill. Behind him, the snap of twigs and crunch of leaves signaled Troi’s progress. He stopped, unable to go any farther, blindly reached out, captured Troi’s arms and jerked him into a rough embrace. Take him, the spirit demanded. He pushed Troi’s coat off his shoulders with one hand and reached down to Troi’s crotch with the other, cupping the rigid bulge. The husky groan of a male in the grip of lust echoed in the darkness. As lost as he was, Amun didn’t know if he had made the sound or Troi. He didn’t care at the moment. They didn’t bother undressing fully, just moved the garments out of their way. Fingers curled around throbbing cocks and started gliding up and down their lengths, and desperate heat coursed through their veins with each swipe, growing more searing than before. Amun touched Troi, but not in the loving way he hoped he would someday. He took Troi’s hand and placed it on his rod and then, when Troi gave it a rough caress, he dropped his head back and relinquished himself to the torrent overtaking him. More, the dark spirit demanded, moremoremore. Amun ached to be fucked. Hard and fast. A thick cock filling his ass, gliding in and out. “Dammit, take me, Troi.” He knew what Troi wanted, needed, but he was too entrenched in the demon’s dark world to be the lover Troi deserved. “Dammit.” Troi pushed on Amun’s back, forcing him onto his hands and knees. His cock pushed at Amun’s anus and the ring of muscles opened. With a single stroke, Troi pushed Amun to the verge of climax. Sweat streamed down both sides of his face. Amun rocked backward, taking Troi as deeply as possible. The sounds of labored breathing filled the air, the scent of sex and earth teasing his nostrils as he filled his lungs. More. Moremoremore, the dark spirit shouted. Amun slammed back, his buttocks smacking against Troi’s pelvis. Ah, there was no better sensation. Forward he moved, then back again, welcoming Troi’s rough invasion. Each inward stroke sent him careening closer to the edge, closer to bliss. It couldn’t be too soon. He moved faster now, his motions jerky and tight. The beast gave one final growl.

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A stream of cum surged up Amun’s cock. Silence. Peace. Tranquility. Relief. They’d stopped. Almost as breathless as the two men she’d just spied on, Oriel took a staggering step backward while steadying herself by holding on to a low tree branch. She’d never seen anything like that before. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it, or about them. That was the kind of fucking Laura had described. Fierce and frenzied. Not at all tender or loving. Had all that gentlemen stuff earlier been an act? The dinner. The dance. The touches. That kiss. If so, who could blame her for falling for it? They’d seemed so genuine. She gathered her skirts into her arms, deciding she had no idea yet what she would do about their plans tomorrow. It was going to take some thinking for sure. But then, she couldn’t resist, she turned to look over her shoulder. Big mistake. She couldn’t have been more certain who was joining Amun and Troi’s cozy little soiree if the lady’s name had been announced on a loudspeaker. The flash of pink silk. The titter of a giggle. The gleam of a blonde curl in the moonlight. Laura. Frozen in place, Oriel watched Laura flatten herself up against Troi, loop an arm around his neck and kiss him like he belonged to her. So much for the claim that they’d sodomized her. Evidently, just as Oriel had suspected, that story had been concocted to gain attention. It was strange how much it hurt to see Laura kissing the man she’d kissed such a short time ago. She had no claim on him, and yet some part of her seemed to be telling her she did. Some very stupid part of her. She picked her way back out into the clearing. As she walked across the grass, making her way back to the campsite, her mind remained in that dark place full of carnal secrets and animal hungers. Vicky met her at the tent, cheeks flushed, the color and soft lantern light making her appear decades younger than her true age. “I didn’t see you at the dance.” “No, I decided to meet up with some friends for a while. I’m very sorry I missed it.”

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Vicky, giving her one of those slanting, what’s-going-on looks, nodded her head thoughtfully. “Yes, I imagine you are.” “You bet I won’t miss tomorrow night’s.” Oriel reached around her back, trying to unlace her bodice. She’d managed to get herself into the darn thing by herself—mostly. Why was it so difficult getting herself out of it? “Here, let me help you with that.” Vicky motioned for her to turn around, and once she did, started unfastening the lace. “Looks like it’s knotted.” “So that’s why I couldn’t get it.” “Actually, considering how lovely you looked tonight, being knotted into your gown is a good thing. I’m sure you would have turned a lot of heads. I don’t want to worry you. Most of the men here are true gentlemen. I’ve known them for years. In some cases I knew their fathers too. But there are a few I wouldn’t trust.” She gave the lace one final yank and the dress back pulled apart. “There you go.” “Thank you.” Holding the dress up with one hand pressed to her breast, she turned and gave Vicky a meaningful look. Her stomach hurt. She couldn’t breathe. And all kinds of thoughts about people she didn’t want to waste another minute dwelling upon kept whirling around in her head, making her dizzy. “For everything.” She shoved those thoughts aside. Forget them. They aren’t worth it. “You are very welcome, my dear.” A soft whistle outside the tent had Vicky scurrying toward the exit. “That’s the teakettle. Would you like some hot chocolate?” “Yes, I would love some.” As Vicky headed out to take the kettle off the fire, Oriel eased herself out of the borrowed gown and then went to work on the laces of her corset. Gradually, as she pulled the lacing out, her rib cage expanded. Such relief. She’d almost forgotten how it felt to breathe freely. Only a couple more days of this torture and it would be over. Never again would she wear one of those awful things. It was no wonder women abandoned corsets so long ago. Miserable contraptions. Whoever had invented them had to have been sadistic. Or a man. Or a sadistic man. She pulled the cotton shift she wore as a nightgown over her head then shrugged into a warm wool robelike gown Vicky called a bed jacket. Even inside the tent, the air was crisp, scented of pine needles and campfires, necessitating the need to button the gown. She’d fastened the last one and had started to rummage through her things when Vicky ducked into the tent holding two steaming mugs. Oriel hurried to take one from her and settled onto a wooden chair. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had hot cocoa. Like almost everything she’d eaten or drunk since coming to this encampment, it smelled wonderful. But, she quickly realized, it was much too hot to taste yet. Vicky placed her mug on the small table set against one wall of the tent and picked up the embroidery she was constantly working on when she wasn’t busy cooking or cleaning or helping customers select merchandise in the store. Before beginning to

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work, she perched a pair of historically accurate wire-rimmed glasses on her nose. “Are you enjoying your first time camping?” “Honestly?” “Of course.” “I don’t think this living history stuff is for me, although there are parts that are nice. I’m getting a sense of the community feeling the reenactors share. You know each other. And the overall pace of life seems slower somehow, even though we’re busy all the time. When the work is done, people sit and talk to each other rather than close themselves up in their tents and escape into a television show or the internet.” Looking down at her needlework, Vicky smiled. “Yes, very true.” “It’s truly as if we’ve all stepped out of the world and traveled back in time. Especially at night, with the glow of campfires and lanterns casting wavering light over everything. It’s very…different from the way I’ve always lived, always thought I wanted to live.” “What parts don’t you like?” “The corset, for one.” And a couple of jerks, for another. Vicky chuckled. “Your body grows used to it over time.” “And I still miss my Diet Coke. It took a few days to get over the caffeine withdrawal.” Vicky chuckled again. “To me it sounds as if the good parts eclipse the bad.” If only you knew. “Only if you’ve never been a caffeine addict,” Oriel joked, trying to hide her hurt and anger. She tested the cocoa and, finding it was finally cool enough to taste, took a tentative sip. As she had come to expect, it was delicious. “I have some news,” Vicky said casually. “I just heard from Audrey. She won’t be coming back. If you want the job for the rest of the season, it’s yours.” That was not the kind of news Oriel wanted to hear. Vicky added, “We can go over the schedule tomorrow. I’m booked through the third week in November.” Take her. The beast’s voice wasn’t at an eardrum-shattering decibel yet, but it would be soon. And then, Troi knew, he would have no choice but to do its bidding. “No.” Troi shoved the soft, willing woman away. But no sooner was he free from the torment of that warm flesh pressed against his than she was back, molding herself to his traitorous body. Take her. “No,” Troi repeated, once again putting her at arm’s length. “I won’t.” “Why not?” Laura dragged her hand down his stomach, stopping it just above the gaping waist of his trousers. It would take so little effort for her to reach the bit of his

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anatomy that was already pulsing with carnal heat again. And damn if it wouldn’t feel good to have her hand wrapped around it. Or those lush lips sliding up and down its length. “Please tell me you aren’t saving yourself for her.” Amun, having pulled his clothes into place, stepped behind Laura and caught her arms behind her back. Troi could read the spark of hunger she’d ignited in Amun’s eyes and he knew they needed to leave now, before they made another mistake with this woman. Already she was thinking things she shouldn’t. If they succumbed to temptation again, she’d be hurt even worse. How the beast enjoyed to watch them struggle with the burden of guilt their actions heaped upon their shoulders. Take her. Now. “She isn’t for you.” Amun pushed her away from them both. “You need a woman who likes to submit, who craves the sweet kiss of the lash, the delicious scrape of a rope—” “You don’t know what I need.” Troi exchanged a desperate glance with Amun, recognizing the need reflecting in his eyes. “Dammit,” Amun muttered. Take her! Laura’s plump lips curved into a sardonic smile. “You’re wrong. I know what you need, Master.” She slowly sauntered his way, her hips swaying temptingly. She stopped directly in front of him, her breasts no more than a deep sigh from touching his body, and gradually sank to her knees. Her head tipped back so he could see her face, she slid her hand into his pants and closed her slender fingers around his thickening rod. “With your permission, I’d like to prove it. Master, may I suck your cock?”

***** Eight twenty-nine. It had to be safe by now. Feeling like the pathetic coward she was, Oriel peered through the narrow gap between the tent’s front flaps, half expecting to find Amun or Troi skulking outside. If she hadn’t gone to the trouble of finding someone else’s tent to hide in, she was sure they would have located her by now, and she would have had to stammer out some explanation about why she wasn’t interested in seeing them any longer. She glared at her reflection in the mirror propped on a tabletop. She was the biggest chickenshit on earth. A mature woman with a spine would have been honest and told those two men something rather than take the cowardly lion’s approach and hide, hoping they’d get the message. She normally acted like a mature woman. But not tonight, some twentyfour hours after catching them fucking each other in the woods. Those two…bothered her too much, stirred too many emotions, good and bad. She simply wanted them gone,

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out of her life, forgotten forever. Granted, that last part was going to take some time, even if she never saw them again. She shook her head and her reflection delivered an accusatory glare that made her feel even guiltier. How many times had she been stood up? Several. It sucked. She knew it did. Which is why she’d vowed a long time ago to never do anything so immature. After shoving a wisp of hair that had fallen from the tight knot pinned to the back of her head, she pushed through the exit, making a beeline for her temporary home. It was done. She had officially blown them off and there was nothing she could do about it now. No matter how much she wished she could apologize, she couldn’t. She had no idea how to reach either Amun or Troi. They hadn’t given her a phone number, which had, she admitted, contributed to her decision to cut things off with them. There was always the possibility that they were married. Married men were secretive. They only shared as much information about themselves as they had to. Home phone numbers, addresses, those kinds of things, tended to be guarded. Wouldn’t want Mrs. Amun or Mrs. Troi to find out their husbands were getting a little something on the side. Little something? What a joke. It looked as if they were getting a lot of something. From anyone who was willing. Now that made her feel better. A little. Her footsteps a tad lighter, she rounded a corner, strolling past a large wall tent packed full of teen girls dolled up in shimmering gowns of satin and silk dripping with lace. Tonight’s ball was the final hurrah at this muster, and even in the dark, she could see the anticipation dancing over every one of their rouged faces. To be so innocent and full of hope and life and joy. And so gullible. She continued forward, her gaze sweeping over the chattering bunch, trying to pretend she wasn’t staring. Wasn’t a little envious. Wasn’t feeling a tiny bit isolated. But then she ran smack-dab into a wall. A wall that moved. That had arms. That had a face that looked exactly like Amun’s. Oh God! “Well, hello there.” The most wicked expression she’d ever seen passed over his face, inspiring Oriel to take several steps backward. She gulped. “Hello. Um…” He lifted two perfectly arched eyebrows. “In a hurry to get somewhere? Perhaps you’re meeting somebody?” “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. But you know that.” He gave her a look of such dark disdain, Mr. Darcy’s cold glare in Pride and Prejudice seemed downright friendly in comparison. Her hackles rose. How dare he judge her!

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She glared right back at him. “Look, I’m sorry to say it like this, but I’m not interested in seeing either you or Troi again. Maybe I was taking the wussy way out by trying to avoid telling this to you directly, but I’m not now. So I hope you’ll respect my honesty and go on your merry way. I know there are other fish in your sea.” He visibly stiffened and something akin to mortification passed over his face. He twisted to look over his shoulder, and Oriel quickly discovered why. Wherever Amun was, Troi was sure to be too. She was through trying to figure these two out. Ready to move on, despite the odd sensation in her gut and the little sizzle simmering through her veins, she started forward, intending to take a wide berth around him. Fortunately, he didn’t move to stop her. Regardless of the distance between them, she still had to suppress a little tremor as she passed him. It irked her how her body responded to Troi and Amun both. They were trouble. Major heartbreak waiting to happen. She supposed it shouldn’t surprise her that she practically melted whenever they came near. She had the world’s worst judgment when it came to men. Bad boys had been, and clearly were still, her Achilles’ Heel. Would she ever break the pattern? At least she managed to walk past both Amun and Troi without making an idiot of herself. And no longer did she need to feel like an ass. She’d told them the truth. Just before she entered her tent, she hazarded one last look where Amun and Troi had been standing. They were nowhere in sight. Gone. At last. Finally. So, why did she feel worse? “You look like you need to take a road trip.” Vicky, dolled up in a frothy concoction of peach silk and ivory Chantilly lace, gave her shoulder a squeeze as Oriel slumped into a chair. “Put a little distance between yourself and those boys.” “Maybe you’re right.” Oriel scrubbed her face with her hands. “I don’t think I can trust myself to stay away from them.”

***** Amun’s legs were burning, but he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. The spirit’s voice was shrill, its demands searing his insides. He was in hell. Plain and simple. He hated the goddess more than ever now. How cruel she was to finally reveal such ecstasy, such peace, only to snatch it away. The beast was more powerful now than it had been only moments before, its strength increasing every time he was separated from Oriel. She hated him. Hated Troi too. All she saw was the beast.

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Almost at the car now, he fell to his knees, clapped his hands over his face and screamed into them. The muffled sound cut through the dark night, sounding more like the call of a wild animal than a human’s voice. When Troi fell to the ground beside him, he hauled himself to his feet. “Not here,” Amun mumbled. Together they struggled to make it the rest of the way to the car. Like two wounded soldiers staggering, injured in battle, they clung to each other and searched for inner strength they didn’t know if they possessed. They took one faltering step at a time, their feet heavier than concrete blocks, their bodies enveloped in agony. Nerves blazing. Vision narrowed to a point. A prayer slipped between Amun’s lips as he spied a dark form rushing toward them. At least they’d had the sense to have a driver today. Neither of them was in any condition to operate a television remote, let alone a vehicle. And this driver would be prepared to handle anything. He not only drove them occasionally, but also Delius and Rane. He knew how crippling their pain could be, how weak and vulnerable it would make them. “Home,” Amun murmured just before collapsing. On his knees, he looked up, catching Troi’s eyes. “We’ve lost her. I know it.” “If we did it’s because we weren’t true to ourselves. We let our fear, our weakness, get in the way. It’s still controlling us. The beast. Even when its voice is silent. We don’t know how to love, how to give up everything.” With the driver supporting him, Troi slowly dropped down beside him. “What if it’s too late? What if the spirit has been a part of us too long and we can’t escape its control anymore? What if it’s destroyed our souls?” “I guess we continue. Like this.” Troi dropped his face into his hands. “I’d rather burn in hell.” Amun waved at the driver, signaling him to help Troi to the car first. “If we’re lucky, we’ll get that chance.”

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Chapter Five The rest of the season had Oriel motor-homing to Illinois, Texas, California, Indiana, Kentucky, Virginia, Mississippi, back to Texas, Arizona…and finally down to North Carolina. The weeks passed by in the same hazy blur as the miles. But every minute of every day, Oriel thought about Amun and Troi. She saw them, or thought she did, at every encampment. Troi leaning against a tree, his head tipped up, eyes closed. Amun bent over, helping a child who had tripped over a fallen branch and scraped her knee. Every time she thought she saw them, her heart started racing, her hands trembling, fingers curling into tight fists. And she succumbed to the temptation, racing toward them, only to stop the instant she realized her eyes had played a nasty trick on her again. And then there were the dreams. Oh God, the dreams. She was being haunted. By the ghosts of men who were still alive, out there somewhere. She’d expected the distance would help her head clear. It made no sense. How many moments had she spent with Amun and Troi? So few. A couple of hours, total. And yet, each minute had been so important, so meaningful, she felt as if they meant more than months, years. Not that she was foolish enough to trick herself into believing they’d all been good. As much as Amun and Troi made her feel alive and special, they also made her feel confused and vulnerable. As Vicky pulled the camper up in front of Oriel’s apartment building at last, thousands of miles behind them, Oriel turned toward the woman who’d become a good friend and smiled. “I never expected to enjoy working with you as much as I did. Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” Vicky opened her mouth as if to say something else but snapped it shut. After a short beat, she motioned toward the back. “I’ll help you with your things.” “I don’t have much.” Oriel stood while Vicky shifted the vehicle into park and shut off the engine. “I don’t mind.” Vicky grinned. “Besides, I’d like to use your bathroom. If you don’t mind.” “Oh, absolutely.” After retrieving her large bag from the back, where she’d stowed it, Oriel handed the smaller one to Vicky. “Just please disregard the dust bunnies. I’m

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sure they’ve reproduced while I was gone.” She clomped down the camper’s metal steps and onto the sidewalk leading up to the building. “You think that’s a big deal? I’m gone months at a time. My place usually looks as if it’s been abandoned for years by the end of the season. I promise, I won’t hold it against you.” “Thank you.” Once inside the building, Oriel ushered her to her unit’s door and unlocked it. She twisted the knob, using her body to push the door open, then stepped to the side to let Vicky in. The apartment’s air smelled musty, stale, and right away she noticed the thick coating of dust covering her coffee table, the bookshelves. As the door swung closed behind them, she remembered she’d left her hair dryer in the camper’s bathroom. It had been too hot after using it this morning to put it in her suitcase. “The bathroom’s the first door on the right.” She pointed down the narrow hall at the rear of her living room. “I need to run back to the camper to get my blow dryer.” “Okay. Thank you.” Vicky hurried toward the bathroom. Oriel headed in the opposite direction, outside. In the camper she found her hair dryer exactly where she remembered leaving it. In a bit of a rush, she grabbed it quickly, not realizing the cord had become tangled around Vicky’s makeup bag. As she turned around, the cord jerked, knocking the bag off the counter. The contents spilled out. Bottles and tubes, brushes and pencils. And a small, faded snapshot, protected by one of those clear plastic key-ring photo covers. The picture had been taken at Christmas time. Many, many years ago. The child was grinning, a dark gap where her front teeth would someday be, clutching a brandnew Barbie doll. She knew this picture. She knew the child. What was Vicky doing with a thirty-year-old picture…of her? Not sure if she wanted to know the answer, Oriel scrambled to gather all Vicky’s things and stuffed them back in the bag, the picture too. And then, mildly numb, she left the camper, shutting the door behind her. Vicky gave her an odd look when they met midway between the apartment building and the vehicle. “Couldn’t you find the hair dryer?” Oriel glanced down at her empty hands. “Oh! Silly me, I left it inside.” Knowing she was acting strangely, but not ready to confront Vicky, she dashed back into the vehicle, grabbed the appliance, and gave her boss an awkward hug. “Goodbye. Have a safe trip home.” Vicky nodded. “Thank you for all your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” A couple of minutes later, Vicky was gone and Oriel was alone.

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The silence was too heavy. And yet, the noise on television grated on her nerves more. The air was too still. Too stale. The isolation was unsettling where it had once been soothing, a safe comfort. She didn’t feel at home here. Not even after she’d taken a long, hot shower. Or after she’d filled her refrigerator and cupboards with food. Or after she’d slept for the first time in over two months in her big, comfortable bed. The next day, she turned to the internet for a distraction but found none. Thoughts whirled round and round in her head, thrown about like a maelstrom. Where were Amun and Troi? What were they doing? And why did Vicky have that old picture of her? She figured she might get an answer to that last one from her father. Her gut knotted, she dialed her dad’s number and waited for him to answer. His voice as he greeted her with a cheery “Hello, Oriel” gave her the first bit of comfort she’d enjoyed since coming home. He wasn’t the kind of man who wore his heart on his sleeve. In truth, he showed very little emotion, ever. But she could always count on his consistency, predictability, and for that she was grateful. “Hi, Dad. How are you?” “Same as always. How does it feel to be home?” Lounged on the couch, an open book lying across her lap, facedown, Oriel took a glance around her living room. It was the same place, same furniture, and yet it felt no more like home than a hotel room. “I guess okay. I think I kind of got used to the traveling, the camping. It’s so quiet here now. Closed up and still.” “Hmmm.” “I wanted to ask you something.” “Okay.” “I was wondering how you know Vicky.” “I told you, she was a good friend of your mother’s.” For some reason, she had the feeling he wasn’t telling her the whole story. “How did they meet? Do you know?” She flipped through the pages of her book. “I know they went to high school together. A private school. I couldn’t say whether they knew each other before that. Why?” “I don’t know. I just…sensed something.” She put the book down and went to the kitchen. “They were very close, like sisters,” he explained. Maybe that was enough of a reason for a woman to keep an old photograph of another woman’s child. Maybe it wasn’t. Oriel wasn’t sure she wanted to know if there was another reason. He added, “Vicky never had any children of her own, never married.”

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She tucked the phone between her shoulder and ear and poured herself a glass of Diet Coke. “You never told me, how did it all come about, her hiring me to replace her assistant?” Glass in hand, she went back to the couch. “We ran into each other at the grocery store, believe it or not. She asked about you and then told me about her employee being out sick. I don’t know what made me think to tell you about the job, but I did. And you know the rest of the story.” “Yes, yes I do.” She stared at the book’s cover, a romance novel with a pretty woman, her gown falling off her shoulders, arms wrapped around the leg of a buff man. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll let you go now.” “All right.” “Bye, Dad. I love you.” “Love you too, kiddo. Bye.” Deciding she was probably making way more out of the little mystery than it deserved, she shoved aside the questions still lingering in the back of her mind and picked up the book, hoping but not expecting to be swept away by a rogue pirate into a world where love conquered all and endings were always happy.

***** “It’s been six months of hell for them. I’m thinking I’m glad we haven’t met our blessing yet. Seems to be more of a curse than a gift.” Amun’s teeth grated. Even before he’d overheard what Delius had said, he’d known what the others were saying. He could live with another man’s hate. Indifference. Prejudice. But not pity. Never. His jaw locked, he surged to his feet and left the room, heading straight to the gym they’d recently added to the house they were sharing with Delius and Rane. He’d learned the last few months there might be only one way to silence the beast inside him, but there were other ways to quiet it to a tolerable level, and not all of them included fucking. To hell with them all, especially Cyr and Magus. They had their blessing. Everything had gone perfectly for them. Big fucking deal. There was no need to look at him that way, as if he was too weak and vulnerable to handle having lost his blessing. He wasn’t. He was just fine. Better than fine. He lay back on an inclined bench and started pressing a loaded barbell. Fast reps. Light weight. He would work his muscles until they were too weak to contract, too exhausted to burn with desire. “Hey.” Troi stepped around the end of the bench. “What’s up?” “Nothing.” Staring blindly at the ceiling, Amun breathed through five more reps then set the barbell on the stand and sat up. “Not a goddamn thing anyone can change. So it’s not worth talking about.” 49

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“Mmmm.” Looking like he wanted to say something, Troi nodded. Amun shot him a look before reclining again. He lifted the barbell and started another set. The pain searing in his arms and chest was a balm, its scorching heat soothing the beast slightly. Another hour of this and he’d be ready to head to work. “I found her,” Troi said. Amun’s arms practically gave, and the barbell swung to one side. Troi caught it before the shifting weight propelled it to the floor and set it on the stand. Amun jerked upright. “Don’t.” Troi’s eyes narrowed. “We deserve—” “No. As it is, she thinks we’re a pair of psychopaths. If she thinks we hunted her down, she’ll file for a PPO.” Troi crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “I wasn’t going to just show up on her front doorstep like a fucking stalker. Give me more credit than that.” “So what were you going to do?” “I haven’t decided yet.” Amun reclined again, curled his fingers around the metal bar and closed his eyes to focus on his breathing. Already they were suffering. Why make it worse? Why risk losing the battle with the beast? As it was, they’d both struggled to hold on to what minuscule shreds of humanity they had left, so fragile they unraveled at the softest tug. He completed the set he’d started and, arms feeling pretty damn shaky, hefted the barbell onto the rack. “We’re too needy when we’re with her. That’s the problem. That’s why she’s afraid to trust us. Hell, I don’t blame her. I’d react the same way if things were reversed.” Sitting up, a foot flat on the floor on either side of the bench, he shoved his fingers through his hair. “I hate how little control we have over it, over the beast.” “That’s what it is, isn’t it?” Troi sat on the bench next to Amun and met his gaze. “It’s the loss of control.” “No, not really. I can deal with that.” “Then what’s the problem?” What was Troi trying to get at? Why was he prodding and poking? Amun walked to a rack loaded with dumbbells, standing in front of a floor-toceiling mirror, planted his feet shoulder width apart and started a set of shoulder presses. “Nothing’s the problem. I just don’t think it’s worth it, that’s all. We both know what happens when we leave her. We’re barely holding it together as it is. If we tried again with Oriel and she sent us packing, then the beast will become even more powerful and it’ll be ten times worse than it is now. I can’t…” Amun shoved his fingers through his hair. “Look, I’m fine. Doing what I can to keep the fucking beast’s voice down to a dull roar. That’s all we can do now.” He met Troi’s gaze in the mirror. “That’s the best we can do. Don’t be a fool.” He knew Troi understood his meaning, but he didn’t trust him to listen. “Please. Don’t. For me.”

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“Dammit, Amun.” It was Troi’s turn to look defeated and lost. As much as Amun hated throwing that kind of pressure on Troi’s shoulders, he knew it was best. Troi didn’t have to tell him how close he was to losing the battle with the beast. It was etched in every line on his face. And in the deep shadows in his eyes. That was why they couldn’t try again. He was trying to protect Troi, save them both. He couldn’t blame Troi for being tempted to go to her. There’d been no sweeter moments in his long and mostly miserable life than those they’d spent with Oriel, not only because they were free of the shackles that had bound them for so long, but because they were some of the most precious moments of his life. She brought light to their lives, and they were able to do the same for her, for once. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her, reliving every one of those minutes over and over and over, thousands of times during the past six months. He would gladly give up his life for just one minute more. Only one. But he wouldn’t risk Troi’s. “Promise me you won’t go to her.” When Troi didn’t speak, Amun set down the barbells and turned around. “Okay, goddammit.” Troi’s jaw visibly clenched. “I…promise.”

***** Troi knew he was doing the right thing, even if he was breaking a promise. Sitting in the car, staring at the front of the building, he gave himself a few minutes to prepare himself. He knew the spirit was going to sense when she was near, and just before succumbing to silence, it was going to put him through hell. And that would be nothing compared to what he would face after he left her. Remember, don’t look desperate. Be cool. He inhaled. Exhaled. Cut off the car engine and pocketed the keys. As he took each step across the full parking lot, the dark spirit grew more agitated. What had been snarling suggestions, mildly annoying but tolerable, were quickly becoming howling demands, almost impossible to ignore. When he stepped into the store, his system was overcome by the scent of expensive perfume, spicy and sexy as hell. A gorgeous brunette was standing at a glass makeup counter, a temptation that he didn’t need but didn’t want to pass up. The beast wasn’t happy when he walked on. He’d heard he would find Oriel in the housewares department, and he didn’t need a map to know which direction to go. The beast screeched one final command and fell silent. Glorious silence.

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Troi turned to the nearest fixture, a large wall of cubes holding bedding, and pretended to shop. He knew, somehow, the instant she saw him. Her gaze was like a soft caress. Struggling to subdue the urge to turn around, take her in his arms and crush her against him, he continued to stare at the packages of colorful comforters in front of him. He felt a soft touch on his shoulder. She wasn’t going to back away. Inside he was shouting with joy. Outside he produced an expression he hoped would pass for pleasant surprise and turned around. “Troi, we really must stop meeting like this.” Her smile was genuine, but Troi couldn’t help noticing a touch of wariness in her eyes. “Oriel.” “Yep, it’s me, back from a whirlwind tour of at least half of our fifty states. How have you been?” “Very well, thank you.” Keep it casual, brief. “And Amun?” “Good.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her tongue slipped between her lips, swept along her plump lower lip and disappeared into the luscious depth of her mouth. “Well, um, can I help you find something?” “No, just looking. Thanks.” He pulled a package from the rack and inspected it. This was hard, damn hard. The last thing he cared about was the fiber content of the fucking comforter in his hands. He wanted to taste her, run his tongue down the slender column of her neck and watch the goose bumps pucker her skin. She checked her watch. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help you? Because it’s the end of my shift.” “Nope. I’m okay. Thanks.” Ask her out for coffee. Dinner. Anything. “All right.” She shifted back a little but didn’t leave. He did his damndest to hide how pleased he was by how reluctant she seemed to be to say goodbye. That couldn’t be his imagination. Maybe Amun was wrong, maybe they hadn’t blown it with her. “I’ve got to get going.” This time she did take a step away, and he felt the distance expand between them like a draft of icy air. “It was good seeing you again.” “You too.” There could be no hell darker than the one he was in now, as he stood mute and watched her walk away. He counted the seconds in heartbeats, one, two, three… The beast awoke before she was out of sight and unleashed its fury with no mercy. His mind and soul were being battered as he fought a war within himself. The darkness was winning, the final ribbons of light snapping, one at a time. His body, in

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response, went hard and tight. Muscles pulled. Nerves sizzled. Senses intensified until every smell, sight and sound blended into an ambrosia he couldn’t get enough of. He dropped his head and, leaning against a store fixture, silently put up a white flag of surrender. He wasn’t going to make it out of the building, and still he wasn’t sorry for the risk he’d taken—as long as Amun might somehow benefit. His only fear was of the unknown. If he perished, fell to the enemy they held within their spirits, what would happen to Amun? Would the beast overtake him, having no partnering spirit to contain half of it? The thought of Amun suffering was enough to give him the strength to fight. Focusing straight ahead, Troi lurched down an aisle. There was a beautiful woman on his left, pushing a stroller, her hips swaying to the same heavy thump of his pulse. How easy would it be to seduce her, he wondered? No. He turned, even though the path would take him in another direction, away from the main exit. With the beast controlling his impulses, he couldn’t trust himself to walk past her without at least trying. The beast’s powers of seduction were too potent. But all too soon, it found another target, and Troi’s mind was pummeled with erotic thoughts and images. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to block them. Tried but failed. And then silence. She was nearby. “Are you okay?” Oriel’s voice was small and thick with concern. “I’m… Would you think less of me if I told you I have problems with crowds?” Her lovely face brightened, her sweet features expressing such a pleasant mien he was sure she was an angel. “Not at all. Truth is, I don’t do so well in certain settings either, packed stores being one of them.” She motioned back toward the aisle he’d abandoned earlier. “The exit is back this way. I’ll walk you out.” “Thank you.” “When I first took this job, I couldn’t tell you how many times I felt as if I were going to pass out. I’ve never had a problem before, so all I can think of is that I got used to working outside last fall when I was traveling with the sutler.” She visibly inhaled when they stepped out into the early evening chill and wrapped her arms around herself. She grimaced at the muddy puddles stretching across the lane, pointing at a heap of snow that was pocked from splashes and stained by dirt. “Spring’s taking its time getting here this year, isn’t it?” “It sure is.” She hesitated and then, when Troi was sure she was going to say goodbye to him again, she turned to face him directly. “Would you like to grab some coffee somewhere?”

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He tried not to look like a guy who’d just been told he was about to be swept up into heaven. He covered his profound joy with a lazy shrug. “Sure.” “Is the coffee shop in the library okay?” “Perfect.” “Excellent, I’ll meet you there. You know where it is, don’t you?” He forced a smile. “Yep.” It was going to be more excruciating than walking down a mile of burning coals, driving the short distance from the store to the library, but he was hoping, praying he could handle it. There was no saying how furious the beast would be when she left his side this time. He was about to find out. “Great. See you in a few.” “Okay. Um, I’ll be along in a bit. I need to make one quick stop first.” “Oh gosh.” She fiddled with the zipper on her purse. “If this is a bad time—” “No, no. It’s a perfect time.” She didn’t look one hundred percent convinced, but her smile was warm and her pretty eyes clear as she gave him a nod. This time he didn’t wait for the beast to waken, hoping he’d make it to the car before it really got going. He ran across the parking lot. He didn’t quite get there, but at least he avoided any interaction with a potential target by getting a little head start. His so-called quick stop ended up being a short drive to a secluded corner of an abandoned strip mall across the street, where he could take care of his agonizing hardon and partially appease the surly demon that produced it, with a quick hand job. Once his head was clear enough to drive safely, he made the trip to the library and hurried inside, his mind and spirit battered but at least somewhat fortified. He found her sitting at a table in a semi-secluded corner of the coffee shop, her head tipped as she read a book, the fingers of one hand curled around a paper cup. She lifted her head to acknowledge him before he’d spoken a word. She closed the book and set it, cover down, on the table. This was it, the chance he’d hoped for. The one he’d waited six long, excruciating months to have. He couldn’t afford to blow it. No pressure there. He sat. After a charged moment, she asked, “Coffee?” “No, thanks. But I’d be glad to buy you one.” She lifted her cup. “I have my tea. Thanks.” Another moment of tense silence. It seemed they both had things to say but didn’t know how to say them. “So, here we are.” She smoothed a crease in the book’s back cover. “Yes, here we are.” She chuckled. “You and Amun are men of few words, aren’t you?” 54

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He nodded. “Sometimes.” She laughed and he found the sound absolutely delightful, like the scent of lilacs drifting on a light summer breeze, or the smooth caress of water in a brook over his feet. “Have you gone to any more Civil War reenactments?” “No. I know you figured out that was a first for us.” “Yeah.” She paused, studying him for a second or two. “What brought you there, to the muster?” He wanted to say “you” but he didn’t dare. “Curiosity, I guess.” “Me too. And I was doing a favor for a friend of the family.” They exchanged smiles. She sipped her tea, looking over her cup through a fan of thick, dark lashes. “When I started, I pretty much hated it. The heat. The uncomfortable costumes. The lack of conveniences. But as time passed, I started to like it more. And so I stayed on, traveled with my boss for a few months. It’s strange, but now I’m having a hard time adjusting to the real world. It’s surprising how quickly I adapted to the slower pace of life, the clothing, cooking, lifestyle.” “Will you be going back this summer?” “I’m not sure yet.” Something told him there was more to that answer, but she was holding back. He had no idea how to make her open up, to trust him. The fact that he wanted her to so badly only made it harder. “You sound…uncertain,” he said. “I am.” After a pause she asked, “So what did you think? It was your first time. Will you go to another?” “It’s possible. There were parts of that night I enjoyed very much.” He couldn’t help giving her a little devil-made-me-do-it grin. “And there were other parts I didn’t care for.” Before his eyes, her cheeks pinked. Her lips curled into a Mona Lisa smile that made the air in the room feel as thin as the air on the moon. “I have a feeling I can guess what part of the night you liked best.” Now, this was more like it, a tiny hint of playful flirtation, nothing too heavy. “So…” She chewed her lower lip for a full second before continuing. “I’m going to be honest with you because I’m not good at playing games.” “Okay.” “Here’s the deal—that night, I left you and Amun feeling like a princess. The table and food and dancing. You two had spoiled me, and maybe I was expecting something I shouldn’t have, but I thought we had an understanding.” She dropped her head. “God, this sounded so much better in my head than it does spoken aloud.” He traced the line of her chin with his index finger before gently coaxing her to lift her head. “Don’t stop now. I’ve waited a long time to hear this.” Her eyes brightened. “You have?”

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“Yes.” “I saw you. In the woods. Having sex. And then Laura…and it hadn’t been long after we had… I was so confused.” She dropped her gaze, and this time, at least for the moment, he let her hide from him. “It hurt.” Shit! Shitshitshit! No wonder she’d acted the way she had. “I understand, Oriel. Believe me, I do.” She chewed on her lower lip and played with the plastic top of her cup. “I’ve thought about that night. A lot.” “Me too.” Their gazes tangled and the air between them became charged. His skin tingled. “I had no right to feel the way I did, and I was an idiot to think that running away from it, from you, would make me forget.” He shifted forward in his chair. “Forget what?” “Forget this.” She motioned between them. Her lips parted slightly but she didn’t speak for a fraction of a second. The pause only made her meaning more clear. Then she sighed, deeply enough for him to see her shoulders sink as she exhaled. “You two are going to break my heart, aren’t you?” “No.” She searched his eyes for a moment, a lifetime, he didn’t know. Time had no meaning when he was with her, and the world around them was nothing more than a murky mist, dulled scents and sounds and sights that didn’t quite reach his nose, ears, eyes. She lifted a hand to her mouth and fingered her lips. Her hand trembled. Her lips quivered ever so slightly. Her gaze shifted down again, lingered there and then slowly climbed back up to his face. “Why do you do it?” “Do what?” “The sex. The kink.” The hurt in her eyes hit him with the force of a cannonball in the gut. He had to answer. She deserved some kind of explanation. “It’s hard to understand.” She blinked. Once, twice, three times. The hand that had been tracing those gorgeous, perfect lips settled on the table. “If you can’t explain and I can’t understand, there’s no hope. Is there?” He reached for her, letting his fingertips just barely touch hers. “I think there’s hope. But only if you can find some way to trust me. I might not be able to tell you why, but I think I can show you.” She chuckled, but it wasn’t the bright, happy sound he wished it would be. She pulled her hand away, hiding it in her lap. “That’s no easy thing to do, trust someone I don’t really understand.”

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“I know.” “Still, that’s all you can suggest? You can’t tell me to read a certain book or watch a specific film or talk to someone who does understand…?” “No, Oriel. I don’t think anyone gets a true, in-the-gut grasp of Dom/sub relationships by reading about them, watching a movie, or even talking to a seasoned Mistress or Dom. I think they can only get that by experience, by searching their soul and facing the mirror.” Her eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened. “Are you suggesting I might want…that? Whips and chains and…and gags?” “Maybe. My experience as a Dom makes me a little more perceptive to a person’s body language, how he or she communicates.” She tipped her head. “And you see what?” “I see a woman who is afraid to surrender but craves it anyway.” Her lips curled up but she didn’t smile. “Surrender to what?” “Surrender to the darkest part of herself.” Her eyes narrowed even more. “What does that mean, darkest part of me?” “Do you really want to know?” he asked, sure she’d tell him she didn’t. “Yeah.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a card and set it on the table in front of her. “If you really mean it, come to the club this Friday. With an open mind. You’ll have your answers.” There was nothing more to say, nothing that would make her feel any less conflicted or unsure. “I should head out now. I have a meeting with a client this afternoon.” She stood, and, hugging the paperback she’d been reading to her chest, she looked him in the eye for the first time in a while. “It was good seeing you again, Troi.” “You too.” Those words said, he turned and walked away, back into the embrace of the beast he despised. When Troi left her sitting in that coffee shop, Oriel was more confused than she’d been when he’d arrived. How had their conversation veered off on such an odd tangent, and what had made him think that she was a repressed submissive, afraid to explore what she wanted, needed? She knew absolutely nothing about bondage, domination and submission, whatever it was called, other than what she’d seen in porn, on the internet or read in books. She glanced down at the novel she held like a life preserver. It was an erotic romance, about a woman who was experiencing her first moments as a sex slave. She

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was actually a little surprised she’d found it in the library, and she couldn’t say for sure why she’d checked it out. She’d only read one chapter so far, but already there were a lot of questions bouncing around in her head. She couldn’t quite believe that the woman enjoyed pain as much as the author wanted her to believe. And she also found it all but impossible to buy into the whole orgasm-on-command thing. How many women failed to come with direct stimulation to their genitals? Thousands? Millions? And this author wanted her to believe a woman could somehow make herself come with absolutely no help? Come on! And yet, despite those shortcomings, she wanted to find out what was going to happen next, what that wicked Dom was going to do to her next. She could almost imagine Troi or Amun in his place, and herself slipping into the heroine’s stiletto boots. But instead of feeling aroused like the heroine as she stripped naked in front of a crowd of people, she felt uncomfortable and unsure. And instead of ecstasy at the searing pain, shock and anger. This woman was letting a man beat her, put her in all kinds of uncomfortable positions and situations. She couldn’t be healthy, that kind of relationship couldn’t be loving, nurturing. Could it? What kind of outcome was this woman looking for, and what kind of outcome was she looking for by even considering meeting Troi at the club? If nothing else, maybe it’ll clear things up and let me move on. Before she left the coffee shop, Oriel had made up her mind. She would meet with Troi. Once. Hopefully that would be all it would take to finally break whatever spell he had over her. Nothing else had worked. This was, it seemed, her only hope.

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Chapter Six “You fucking bastard.” Amun’s voice as he muttered those three words reminded Troi of a dog’s growl. It was low, feral and full of unleashed fury. “I had to.” Troi’s cock, erect after he jacked off twice before driving home, strained against the front of his trousers. His chest constricted as a wave of overwhelming need charged through his body. Somehow he managed to remain cool, in control, as he shut the door and turned to face Amun. “No, you didn’t have to.” Their gazes met for a fraction of a second. The air thickened. Surges of electricity seemed to leap between their bodies. Troi’s skin tingled. “We talked about this, Troi.” Amun slammed into him, pinning him to the wall. “What the hell are you trying to do, destroy us both?” Before Troi had a chance to say a word, Amun’s mouth crushed his. Amun’s tongue pushed past his lips, filling his mouth with his intoxicating flavor. Man. Lust. Need. A groan rumbled in Troi’s chest. He hooked his fingers and clawed at Amun’s back, even as he slid his feet apart. Finding the hem of Amun’s shirt, he yanked it up, uncovering the smooth, satin skin of Amun’s back. Amun cupped Troi’s aching balls in his hand, squeezed just hard enough to make Troi grit his teeth. It felt like his blood had turned to acid and flames licked at his skin, searing it from his scalp to the soles of his feet. His fingernails cut into Amun’s skin at the swell of his shoulder, but the pain seemed to stir Amun’s lust rather than ease it. Troi rocked his hips, grinding his cock against Amun’s hip. He needed relief. More than his next breath. So did Amun. This was his fault. But he didn’t regret what he’d done. Troi shoved at Amun’s chest, propelling himself forward. Amun staggered back a couple of steps before getting his feet and coming at him again. Fuck him, the beast roared. Fuck him hard. Troi’s vision narrowed. He caught Amun’s shirt in his fist and jerked, tearing it from Amun’s body. Amun lunged for him, clamping his fingers around Troi’s wrist. With the other hand, Amun grabbed Troi’s face. Amun slanted his head and kissed him again. This kiss was just as wild and full of desperate need as the first one. Every stab and stroke of Amun’s tongue ignited another blaze in Troi’s body until he was sure he was consumed by flame. Fuck him. Take him. Now. He wanted to. He needed to. No.

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Troi broke the kiss, caught Amun’s hair in his fist and jerked Amun’s head to one side. His teeth grazed the column of Amun’s neck, and the scent of Amun’s skin filled his nostrils. He inhaled deeply. Amun, driven by the beast’s crippling demands, tore away Troi’s shirt. They grappled, wrestled with each other, stumbling, bouncing against one wall then another, moving deeper into the house. At the end of the hall, they fell to the floor, naked, bruised, blind with lust. Their limbs were tangled. Their hands grabbing, groping, grasping. Troi bent over, spit in his hand, moistened his anus and pleaded, “Fuck me.” Amun added more saliva before answering Troi’s plea. The first thrust sent him careening toward a fast, hard orgasm. The second and third had him trembling all over and burning up. He spit into his palm again, grabbed his cock and stroked it, matching the pace of Amun’s thrusts. Yes, the beast shrieked. Yes, yes, yes! “Harder!” Troi demanded. Amun rammed into him, faster, harder. “Yes,” Troi shouted, echoing the beast. His cock jumped in his hand. His stomach clenched and what felt like a fall of flames exploded in his belly. Amun’s fingers dug into Troi’s ass. He cried out as he came, thrust his hips forward one last time and filled Troi’s ass. The beast’s voice went silent. Gently, Amun pulled out. He slid down, sitting with his long legs sprawled in front of him, his back resting against the wall. “I’m not trying to destroy us. I’m trying to save us. To save you.” Dragging in the first deep breath he’d taken since walking in the house, Troi leaned over and gently wiped a tear from Amun’s cheek. “I did it because…because I love you. I can’t watch you live like this any longer. I can’t.” This time it was his tear he wiped away. “I know.” Amun nodded. He set a hand on Troi’s knee. “I don’t think we can survive this. I’m afraid either way, we’re doomed. I can’t hold on.” “You have to. I can’t lose you.”

***** As Oriel pulled into the club’s parking lot and discovered not only Troi had come to meet her, but also Amun, she got the feeling that this was the first of many surprises she would experience that evening. But at least, to her relief, their clothing didn’t shock her. No, actually, it did. Contrary to what she’d imagined the past few days as she’d waited, anticipated, and second-guessed her decision about tonight, they looked like they were about to head into a football game, a sports bar or a grocery store. Long, thick legs were sheathed in denim, broad shoulders in stretch jersey knit.

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She chuckled at herself as she grabbed her purse. What had made her think they’d be wearing leather from head to toe? They greeted her with brilliant, stunning smiles as they strolled up to her car door. She hit the window button with a shaking finger, lowering it. Troi leaned down, putting his face in full view. “Glad you decided to come.” He motioned to Amun, standing behind him. “I hope you don’t mind. We didn’t talk about Amun, but there’s a good reason he’s here with us.” She waved a hand. “What the hell? I’ve already launched myself miles outside of my comfort zone by going this far. What difference will it make if there are two of you?” Troi’s smile faded, his expression turning more thoughtful and gentle. He nodded and pointed at her key, still in the ignition. “Are you going to cut off the engine, or are you still contemplating a hasty retreat?” “Would you think any worse of me if I admitted the latter?” “Not at all.” He squatted lower, putting his eyes directly in line with hers. She appreciated the gesture for what it was—his attempt to make her feel less threatened. “I remember my first visit to a dungeon. It isn’t always a comfortable feeling, the first time.” She closed her fingers around the key ring dangling from the ignition, but she didn’t turn the key. “Having two strong, powerful men—who could easily throw me over their shoulders and take me anywhere they want—greet me in the parking lot isn’t making me feel any more sure about this.” “I promise we won’t force you to do anything you aren’t ready for.” That was all fine and dandy, but could she trust a promise from two men she knew so little about? As if he anticipated her objections, he explained, “The rooms are equipped with cameras and are monitored at all times by a discreet security team. If we were to get out of control, which we wouldn’t—never have—the scene would be stopped immediately and we would be facing serious consequences, including revocation of our membership and, if warranted, possible legal action.” “That makes me feel both a little better and worse,” she admitted. She pulled her gaze away from his face, focusing on the key ring still dangling from the vehicle’s ignition. It would be easy to start the car, put it into gear and drive away. She was petrified. She had no idea what to expect. And it was always easier to run away from something scary than to face it. But she knew for a fact that she would regret it if she did. If not later that day or even tomorrow, eventually. Soon. The truth was, these two men captivated her so profoundly she hadn’t been able to forget them for months. She had absolutely no idea why. From the outside, they seemed so wrong for her, the opposite in all ways but one— their obvious, stop-her-dead-in-her-tracks good looks—from her vision of the perfect

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man. After all, they fucked other women, each other, probably anyone they could get their hands on. She valued, above just about anything else, fidelity, trustworthiness, and security. She didn’t belong here. “I need more time,” she muttered. Her hand dropped to the gearshift, her palm cupping the padded knob. “Oriel.” Amun’s voice was a soft, gentle caress. He squatted next to Troi. His fingers curled over the base of the window opening, discouraging her from rolling up the glass and shutting him, and everything he represented, out. “Please don’t leave yet. We can go somewhere quiet and talk.” “Inside there?” “There are rooms just for that, for talking. Nobody has to see you, and you don’t have to see anything you don’t want to.” Amun touched her arm. “If Troi didn’t believe you belonged here, didn’t believe you would find something here you’ve been searching for, he wouldn’t have invited you.” How could he know that? She never once said anything about wanting to try bondage, not with either of them. “I realize you don’t know either of us well and there’s no reason for you to trust us, especially with the brief history we’ve shared. So I’m not going to ask you to come inside for me. I’m not going to challenge you to trust me either. I never should’ve done that. I’m going to offer you the chance to do something you couldn’t experience otherwise. Without our invitation, you can’t get in this place.” Now she was irritated. Little prickles stung her nape and shoulders. “Ah, so you’re doing me a favor. That’s the way you two see this?” “Yes, we do,” Troi answered, looking thoroughly convinced. This time she gripped the ignition key in her fingers, prepared to turn it. “By chaining me up and fucking me like you did to Laura? That’s all for my benefit, not yours?” Neither man was backing down. If anything, they looked more determined than ever to talk her into going into that building. Troi said, “If Laura told you she didn’t want everything we did with her, she was lying. And consequently, that night in the woods, you didn’t see what I think you believe you saw. We didn’t fuck her. She wanted us to, more or less begged us to, but we refused.” For some insane reason, she wanted to believe that. But she couldn’t. Why would any hot-blooded man refuse a willing partner, especially one they’d fucked in the past? “You refused her? Why? If you’d had her before—a fact I don’t think either of you are disputing—why would you turn her away later?” That was it. It was time to go. She cranked the key, starting the engine. “Look, clearly you two have a very different attitude toward sex than I do. You’re swingers. Is that what it’s called? I reserve sex for committed, monogamous relationships. I’m not saying your lifestyle is wrong and mine’s right for everybody. Mine is right for me. I’m simply stating an obvious fact, 62

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pointing out a basic difference we can’t ignore. You make certain choices for your life and I do for mine.” Troi shifted positions slightly but he didn’t back away. Neither did Amun. This time it was Amun’s turn to try to change her mind. “We need to sit down and talk about this. Now I am going to ask, for my sake—I’m going to be a little selfish here—give me a chance to explain some things before you start slapping labels on us or deciding we’re different from you.” She’d touched a raw nerve, it seemed. Although she still felt their differences were going to make it impossible for them to make a long-term relationship work, she was mature enough and open-minded enough to give them a chance to explain whatever they felt they must. She was sure it wouldn’t make a difference, but she was willing to give them that much. She turned the key, shutting off the car’s motor. “Fair enough. Talking only, though.” “Yes. Of course.” Troi opened her car door, offered a hand as she stepped out. She accepted, giving first him and then Amun what was no doubt a tense smile. Still very nervous, she walked into the building, flanked on either side by Troi and Amun. Once inside, she followed Troi’s lead across a tidy, comfortable-looking reception area to a small room that could be a lounge if it had been in any other building, or perhaps a den if it had been in a private home. A couple of brown leather sofas beckoned her to sit. A polished glass-and-steel table was positioned between them. And two chairs were set at the far end of the rectangular room, creating a cozy seating arrangement. The walls were covered in deep red wallpaper, the hue making the room feel intimate. Oriel took a chair. Troi sat on the couch, and Amun took the chair next to her. “Something to drink?” Amun asked. “No, thanks.” She crossed her knees, folded her hands in her lap and gave Troi an I’m-waiting look. Troi cleared his throat. “I think most people know that sometimes things aren’t what they seem, and would you agree that old adage can apply to people as well as situations?” “Sure,” she answered. “So, are you saying you brought me here to tell me you’re not swingers?” “We’re definitely not swingers,” Amun stated. She shifted in the chair, feeling a smidge uncomfortable. “Did I use the wrong term, then? You’re very casual about sex, in my opinion. Am I wrong? I mean, you have sex with each other. And with other people too, right?” Troi shifted his weight forward, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning toward her. “The answer to your question is yes. I don’t blame you for thinking what you do. What we have always wanted, and what we have been able to find, are two very different things.” He used his hands as he talked, much like Oriel found herself doing

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so often. Moving them this way and that, pointing, motioning. Oriel kept looking down at them. Long tapered fingers, neatly trimmed nails. They were nice hands, very much fitting the attractive, well-groomed man who possessed them. “So you’re saying you want to be in a committed relationship?” She glanced at Amun. Amun nodded. “We do.” “I want to make something clear,” Troi added. “We wouldn’t be talking about this right now if it didn’t mean so much to you. You hardly know us. You don’t trust us. And I think you’d agree it’s very early to be talking about a commitment.” “What he’s trying to say is, we don’t want you to feel pressured,” Amun added. “There’s something to be said for letting things take their natural course. Especially when it comes to issues between men and women.” Troi agreed with a nod. “We’re being honest here. We think we came on a little too strong earlier, and that scared you off. Were we right?” “Yeah, maybe.” She glanced at her hands and realized they were clenched tightly together. She stared down at them as she spoke, trying to search her mind, to figure out exactly what she was trying to say. “I guess I want a man who wants me, and only me. But I don’t want him to make it too obvious. I want a bit of that does-he-like-me-ordoesn’t-he angst.” She lifted her eyes, glancing at Amun first then Troi. They looked as confused as she felt. “Maybe I’m not making any sense, but for some reason, if a man comes on too strong, then I wonder what’s wrong with him, why he has to push so hard. Something must be wrong if he has to force it, right?” “Bottom line.” Troi nodded. “You want to feel safe.” “Yes. Safe. I don’t want to wonder if the man I’m interested in is a serial murderer—unlikely, I know—or much more realistically, an abusive, controlling, manipulative asshole.” Realizing suddenly that she’d clenched her hands tightly once again, she unfurled her fingers. “Maybe it’s unfair for me to have so many suspicions about you two, but because I know you’re into this…into bondage, I’m leery.” At her statement, Troi leaned back and crossed one knee over the other. After a heavy, charged moment in which the two men exchanged looks, he asked, “What do you know about Dom/sub relationships?” “Only enough to make me want to walk away from here and never look back. Some of what I’ve seen and read is borderline abuse. Or, at the very least, manipulative head games.” “And yet you met us here,” Amun pointed out. “Yes.” She added, “I’m thinking—being honest too—I came tonight looking for a solid reason to write you two off forever.” That was the truth, and it startled her, actually hearing herself saying it. She hadn’t fully accepted until this moment the real reason why she’d met them tonight. At Troi’s raised eyebrows, she laughed. “I haven’t found a solid reason to walk away yet. You’re being very patient, understanding and real.” That confession earned her a couple of genuine smiles. 64

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Troi rested his elbow on the couch’s armrest and set his chin on his fist. “We’re not going to defend every man or woman who has posted pictures on the internet or published blogs, films or books, but we would like the chance to show you that a Dom/sub relationship can be so much more than what you think, or what you might have expected or hoped for.” Troi’s statement actually made her laugh. She shook her head. “Now, that sounds more like the rhetoric I was expecting from you, a sales pitch full of promises of excitement, thrilling adventure, mixed with a splash of you-don’t-know-what-youwant-so-let-me-show-you derisive bullshit.” Chewing on his lower lip, but expression otherwise blank, Troi locked his gaze with hers. “Huh. I was wrong about you. I’m such an idiot for not seeing. You aren’t a sexual submissive any more than I am. You’re a Domme.” Sitting, silent, Amun watched the exchange between Oriel and Troi with nerves pulled as taut as overtightened piano wires. No toys had been brought into play. No clothes removed. No touches exchanged, and yet the air in the room was sizzling with sensual electricity. Never before had he watched a scene that was more charged or closer to all-out explosive than this one. He had a feeling neither Troi nor Oriel realized yet what they had unleashed. They were both sexual dominants. Things were about to get very interesting, both for them and for him. Unlike Troi, Amun had read the signs and had come to the right conclusion about their sweet Oriel. She was delicate and small but inside she was as fierce as any Amazon war-tribe priestess. The submissive in him had recognized it immediately. Now that the truth had been revealed, he ached to kneel at her feet, to serve her every need until she was lying at his mercy, her body trembling with the aftershocks of the orgasm he had given her. The goddess had blessed him with the Domme of his dreams—beautiful, soft and yet hard when needed. He knew her touch would be gentle at first, turning hard, biting, as she became lost in pleasure. He was about to begin a journey, one he’d never had the pleasure of taking before. He would help a new Domme strip away her inhibitions and unleash her inner dominant. He suppressed a quiver of hot, hard anticipation blended with a hint of apprehension. He wouldn’t take it easy on her, couldn’t. As much as it pleased him to give his Mistress sexual pleasure, he wasn’t the easiest submissive to tame and he wasn’t about to change who he was. Not for anyone. No, he would train her his way. He would kneel before her. Strip off her clothes one piece at a time, kissing every inch of her body as it was revealed. With his touches,

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kisses, nips and licks, he would please her until she could think of nothing but his body, his tongue, his hands. And then, after she gave him permission, he would fuck her. Slowly. Taking hours to bring her to the cusp of release and then backing off until she was begging. Only then, when she was completely at his mercy, would he send her over the edge. How much longer would he have to wait? The goddess clearly had a sense of humor to bring this little spitfire of a woman into his life. Of course, even though Amun’s sexual leanings left him on the submissive side of the fence, Troi had still assumed their blessing would be a submissive woman, a pet they could pamper and please and spoil. Instead they’d received a Domme who lacked the insight into her soul to recognize who—and what—she was by nature. This wasn’t going to be an easy journey. Troi stood and, aware of her eyes tracking his movements, walked to the minibar in the corner. Inside the refrigerated compartment, he found bottled water, sports drinks and chilled teas and coffees. He helped himself to a water, turning to offer it to Oriel first, and waited for her to accept or decline before opening it. She declined, eyes still shining brightly from the laughter that had slowly died down. She’d found his statement quite amusing. She truly was blind to what they saw in her. Not for long. The plastic crackled as he held the bottle and unscrewed the top. The liquid bathed his dry throat as he swallowed greedy mouthfuls. “What makes you think I’m dominant today when you were so sure I was submissive before?” she asked. He bristled ever so slightly at the challenge he heard in her voice. He’d never trained another dominant, never scened with one either. That wasn’t to say he hadn’t played with his share of alpha submissives, the kind who fought his control from the start. This was going to be different. How would they establish their relationship, find their footing as they climbed the rocky wall of a new partnership? He dropped the empty bottle into the trash can. “You’re different today. I guess you feel more free to express yourself here, now, than you did before.” She looked every bit as surprised as she sounded. “I am?” “I see it too,” Amun said, giving him a look that told him he’d never mistaken Oriel for a submissive. He despised the fact that he’d been so fucking blind. Amun continued, “This is what I think. When people are interacting in a sensual or sexual way, they assume a role. It doesn’t matter if they like the most vanilla sex known to man or the wildest kink. The average person who is inclined to mostly vanilla sex 66

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may have no idea what role they take. But they still fall into one. It’s done on a subconscious level. Those of us who are more interested in exploring those roles and how they impact our sexuality are just more trained to be aware of what our subconscious is seeking.” She tipped her head. “And being dominant means…?” Troi answered, “It means you’ll find sexual and psychological pleasure in exerting your will over a submissive.” She grimaced. “Truly? Sexual pleasure?” Amun nodded. “You won’t know until you try it.” Troi could see the inner battle playing across Oriel’s face, her lips pulling taut, brows furrowing. She pulled her lower lip into her mouth and began nibbling on it. “Still doubtful, I see,” Troi said. “No. Okay, yeah, maybe.” Her shoulders sagged. “I don’t know. This is all so much to take in at once. I came here absolutely certain this was not where I belonged, not with you, not with anybody. None of it was for me.” “And now…?” Amun asked. “I’d say I’m about fifty-fifty.” She held her flattened hand out, tipping it from side to side. “Half of me thinks it would be better if I turned around and walked away, putting you and all this behind me. Because I have a feeling it’s going to be a painful journey, no matter what end of the whip I’m on. Yet another side of me is wondering if the pain will be worth it in the end. If there is something here that I’ve been missing in my life. And someone.” She crossed her arms over her chest, embracing herself, subconsciously trying to comfort herself. Troi recognized that position for what it was, but couldn’t offer any words of comfort, knowing they’d be misinterpreted. A Domme needed to accept who and what she was on her own, and only then would she be open to learning, experimenting and growing. He knew this because he was so much like her, their Oriel. He remembered the first time he’d talked to another Dom about D/s. He’d been uncertain and confused, almost unwilling to listen to the other man’s words. It took some soul searching before he’d been willing to go back to that man and ask him to be his mentor. Maybe two weeks. Could have been longer. He wondered how long it would take Oriel. He went to the bookshelf in the corner, knowing there were a few resources there for members to loan out. He pulled The Loving Dominant and Screw the Roses, Give Me the Thorns off the shelf and slid his business card into one of them. “When you’re ready, you may find some answers in these. Feel free to call me anytime if you have questions.” “Thank you.” She met his gaze and he instantly lost himself in her eyes, reading all the conflicted emotions churning in their depths. The impulse to pull her into his arms overwhelmed him and he had no choice but to act on it. She stiffened slightly at first,

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but within seconds softened, sinking into his embrace, pressing a cheek against his chest and sliding her hands around his body, looping her arms tightly around his waist. She might have the soul of a Domme, but he realized as she snuggled against him that she wouldn’t be all hard steel, inflexible and rigid and sharp. Perhaps it was his job as future mentor, as lover, as friend and partner, to help temper her, to build both her strength and her flexibility. Amun stepped up to the two of them and rested one hand on Oriel’s shoulder and one on Troi’s. He said nothing, just stood there supporting them, the soft touch a small reminder that he was with them and would travel the journey by their side, every step of the way. It was the kind of magical moment Troi had longed for over the centuries. A quiet connection of bodies and hearts. Giving, not taking. He couldn’t wait until the day when the dark spirit was silent at last and they could live like this forever. Soon, he told himself. It will be soon.

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Chapter Seven Welcome to a land of fantasy in the midst of reality. Here, perhaps more than in any other aspect of your life, you are free to choose your own route to ecstasy. Oriel blinked bleary eyes at the clock. It was after midnight already? She’d been reading that long? She closed The Loving Dominant and set it on her nightstand, flipped off the light and closed her eyes, letting her mind wander as heavy drowsiness slowly wound around her like a warm, silken cocoon. Inside that safe place, a blink away from sleep, she was free to explore without fear, to face the realities tucked safely in the recesses of her mind and unwrap every secret like a loved, treasured artifact stored in a museum. The words of those books had resonated within her like the ripple across the surface of a still pond at the first droplet of rain, giving new clarity to things she’d thought she understood about herself but now realized she hadn’t. Although she was comfortable, she knew she wouldn’t sleep deeply tonight. Warmth. Physical comfort. They wouldn’t be enough for her to shut off her brain and let go of the world. An hour later she knew she needed to talk to someone. She sat up, flipped the light back on and picked up the book, flipping open to the page she’d just read. The business card she had been using as a bookmark was already showing signs of wear—the curling of the corners and an edge that wasn’t as crisp and straight as it had once been. She flipped it over and read the handwritten phone number on the back. She checked the clock. It was so late. She shouldn’t. She turned the card over and stared at the name. Troi’s card. When he’d handed it to her last night, he’d told her she could call him anytime if she had questions. He’d even emphasized the word “anytime.” It was rude to call anyone at this hour if the call could wait. That was why she had never called anyone, not even her father, after ten. This could wait. It wasn’t an emergency. Far from it. She tucked the card back in its place, closed the book and set it back on the table. Her mind was too fried to read more, her emotions too scattered and disheveled to absorb the words. She didn’t want to make things worse. Maybe a movie would help settle her? She donned her robe and padded barefoot out to her living room, turned on the television and started channel surfing, skipping past one infomercial after another until she settled upon a Lifetime movie that had 69

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started about twenty minutes ago. After watching for five minutes, though, she gave up on it. She couldn’t concentrate, or the movie was poorly written. She didn’t know which. All she knew was she couldn’t figure out what was going on, and she really didn’t care. She returned to her bedroom and went for the card again. Troi would probably let the call go to voice mail, and then she’d hang up without leaving a message. He’d still know she’d called if his phone was turned on. Cell phones always displayed received calls. He would call her back in the morning. Expecting no answer, she dialed the number and waited as it rang once, twice, three times. “Hello?” It was him. Oh God, he’d picked up. “Um, hi,” she stammered. “I didn’t think you’d answer. Did I wake you?” “No, you didn’t. What’s up?” She grabbed a pillow, hugged it against her chest and crossed her legs. “I’ve done some reading.” “Good.” “It’s got me thinking.” She ran her flattened hand up and down the pillow’s length. “Yes?” Staring down at her comforter, she tried to focus. It was so hard. Her thoughts were too jumbled. And it wasn’t helping that she was exhausted. “Sorry, I guess I’m having a hard time articulating my thoughts.” “Maybe you shouldn’t try.” “Maybe.” After a beat she added, “But then what?” “You let your thoughts remain where they are for now.” Letting her head fall forward, she shoved her fingers through her mussed hair. “That would be fine but how am I going to sleep tonight?” “Sleep? What’s that got to do with anything?” “I can’t get my brain to shut up.” Even over the phone line, his throaty chuckle made her feel warm and shivery at the same time, much like she felt when a feather was dragged down her spine. “And so you called me. How can I help you shut up your brain?” “I don’t know.” She heard herself sigh. “It was stupid and selfish of me to call you so late, and now I don’t even know what to say, other than I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. Would you like me to come over?” She took a look at herself in the large mirror standing over her dresser and instantly the color drained from her face. “Oh no. You don’t have to do that.” “I’d be happy to pay you a visit. I just happen to know a way or two to calm an outof-control mind like yours.”

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It was her turn to chuckle now, though hers wasn’t as low and sexy as his, and certainly not even remotely close to as charming. “I’m sure you do.” “Actually, you’d be doing me a favor. And Amun too. We’ve all got a touch of insomnia tonight.” There was a temptation to say yes, scramble to make herself presentable and then welcome them into her home, but she resisted with some effort. “Maybe I should try drinking some warm milk instead?” “Okay.” If Troi was disappointed, he kept it from his voice. “Should you change your mind, don’t hesitate to call me back.” “Will do.” “I’m assuming you still need to talk. Would you like to meet somewhere tomorrow?” “Yes. But we’d better make it late. I have a feeling I’ll be sleeping in, once that warm milk kicks in.” “Fair enough. The club or neutral territory?” “The club,” she said, forcing the words out before she talked herself out of it. She couldn’t say why she’d decided she needed to go back there, but for some reason, she did. “How about four o’clock? Afterward, we can grab dinner.” “Perfect. See you then.” She took the first deep breath in who knew how long. “Good night, Troi. Thanks for being so understanding.” “Sweet dreams, Oriel.” To her surprise, she had no trouble falling asleep after that. Despite the excruciating hard-on threatening to split his groin in two, Troi smiled. “It won’t be long now.” Beside him, Amun’s hard, hot body shifted. He lifted his head, supporting it on a fist, arm bent at the elbow. “I can’t stop thinking about her.” “Me either.” Troi leaned over and kissed Amun, savoring the blend of intoxicating flavors lingering on his lips. Wine and man. The dark spirit inside gave a loud growl and Troi’s senses intensified. He cupped the back of Amun’s head, pulling his lover closer, silken tendrils curling around his fingers. One more time. The beast wasn’t going to let them sleep until he came once more. He was so weary of its hollow, selfish demands and the never-ending burning and tightness, but he lacked the strength to fight it. Amun, swept up in the tide of their building passion, crawled on top of Troi to press his full length against him. Their hearts thumped against each others’ rib cages as their mouths and hands released the beast’s fury. Tongues lashed and plundered. Hands grasped, pinched, possessed. The torrent swept over them and they surrendered

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to it, knowing there was nothing they could do but let it take them to the same dark, empty place it always did. They took pleasure from each other. Fucked each other with open greed. And when they were through and the beast had finally been sated, they looked into each others’ eyes, making a silent promise that one day soon they would never be forced to use each other like that again.

***** When she’d left the club, Oriel hadn’t thought, not for one moment, that she’d be coming back so soon. Something about the place made her uncomfortable. An odd itchy, twitchy sensation prickled under her skin. And she hadn’t even seen much of the place yet. Strangely, she’d been more comfortable heading into that bondage party that first night when she’d been on a mission, out to track down a couple of assholes who didn’t know the meaning of the word no, than she was today. The things she’d seen that night hadn’t bothered her nearly as much as she might have expected, but now…she knew it was going to be different. She’d like to think it was her anxiety about Troi and Amun that was making her so jittery, but she knew better. It wasn’t. It seemed facing an asshole, even a potentially dangerous one, wasn’t as intimidating as facing herself. Hands shaking ever so slightly—or so she hoped—she shifted her car into park and cut off the engine. All the while, she stared at the front of the building and focused on breathing. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Little surges of energy buzzed up and down her spine as she got out of the car and walked toward the building’s entrance. Expectation and anticipation were tying her insides into knots and making it difficult for her to move with her usual fluid ease. She stubbed her toe on the step leading up to the front door, and she sort of lurched through the entry like the bride of Frankenstein. She was more than a little relieved to see there was nobody in the lobby to witness her less than graceful entry, except the receptionist, who was sitting at the front desk, looking at a computer screen and talking into a telephone headset. No Troi. No Amun. Where were they? “Hello,” the receptionist said after ending the call. The attractive young woman smiled as she lifted a clipboard and handed it to Oriel. “Please fill out these forms.” Oriel glanced down, read the word Application on the top of the first sheet and tried to hand the clipboard back. “Um, I don’t know if that’s necessary at this point. I’m just here to talk to someone.” The woman shook her head. “Master Troi asked me to have you fill them out. He’ll be available shortly.”

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“Really?” The woman nodded, her smile still in place. “Please understand, your privacy will be respected. Nothing you share on that application will be sold or given to any third parties. Ever.” “Okay, then.” Feeling so out of her element that she couldn’t have been more uncomfortable being in a dentist’s chair—with a blind dentist—she took the nearest seat and began reading the questions on the printed application. This was no simple form. There were several pages, and the questions were far from generic. Some were about medical background, chronic illnesses or injuries. Some were about previous BDSM experiences. And some were about interests and limits. Troi really expected her to fill this thing out, just so they could have a little conversation? She started at the top, with the easy stuff. Name, age, that sort of thing. The medical stuff was pretty easy. She had no physical limitations that she knew of. She was in good physical condition and saw a doctor every year for an annual checkup. The previous BDSM experiences part wasn’t so bad either. A simple “None” took care of that. She completely skipped the question asking if she considered herself Dominant or submissive. But the last part was tough. Some of the things on the list were no-brainers. Blood play? Absolutely not. Enemas? No thank you! Electro play? Hell no! But some of the others she couldn’t rule out so readily. “Oriel.” She was glad when Troi entered the room, giving her an excuse to set the application aside. She stood, so glad to see him, she thought she might be beaming. “Hi.” She lifted the clipboard, waving the not quite completed application at him. “Didn’t know I was registering today. I’m not finished. That thing’s pretty darn thorough.” He took the clipboard from her and handed it to the receptionist without reading it. “Don’t worry about it. The club likes to get at least the basics before a visitor enters the property. This club in particular does a thorough background check to make sure none of the members have any criminal backgrounds that would put other members in danger.” “That’s good to know.” He placed a hand at the small of her back and motioned to a door off to one side. It wasn’t going to take them to the room they’d talked in last time. “Amun’s waiting for us.” She hesitated. “Is there anything I should know, any protocol I need to follow before…?”

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“We’ll be walking through the public play area. There are a couple basic rules you should remember. First, don’t touch another Dom’s submissive without permission. And don’t interrupt a scene.” “Okay. I think I can remember that.” “Ready?” She nodded, took a couple of breaths and, very aware of his hand on her back, stepped through the door when he opened it. Inside she discovered the dungeon was fairly quiet except for the occasional snap of leather, clank of metal or human cry. The room’s walls were painted a cool gray color. The floor in the center, where the pieces of bondage equipment were positioned, was tile. Along the perimeter of the room, the floor was covered in a carpet the same color as the walls. Some of the bondage furniture was being used, and around those participants a handful of spectators had gathered, watching quietly on the carpeted areas. Oriel briefly glanced at a couple of the scenes as she passed, but didn’t stop to watch for any length of time. To one side of the dungeon, a hallway branched off. Troi motioned toward the hallway. “This is the way to the private rooms. We reserved one today, thinking you might be more comfortable this first time in a more intimate, private setting.” “Yes, I think I will be. Though I can’t say I’ll be much more comfortable. I thought we were going to be talking, not…doing anything.” “We’re prepared either way.” Troi stepped in front of her, turning to face her fully, and in the small, dark space of the corridor, she was suddenly conscious of how big he was, tall and strong. And how intensely he looked into her eyes. “This is all very new to you. I wouldn’t expect you to waltz in here without some reservations. I’m here to help, to answer questions, whatever you need.” “O-okay.” “And if you decide this isn’t for you, that’s okay too.” He reached to one side and opened a door. Oriel stepped through, finding Amun kneeling in the center of a small room, his back to them. He was wearing a simple white button-down shirt and black pants. His shirt, however, was pushed down, off his shoulders, gathered in a tangled, rumpled bunch around his elbows. He didn’t move, didn’t lift his lowered head, didn’t pull that shirt up to hide those beautiful shoulders and arms, didn’t say a word. She had no clue what to do, what was expected. But she did know what she wanted to do. She wanted to touch him, to see if that smooth skin was as satiny and warm as it looked. So she followed her instinct, approaching Amun’s still form quietly. She reached out with her right hand to trace the graceful curve of one shoulder. His skin was dark, the olive hue of an Asian, Asian Indian or Middle Eastern man. It was smooth and velvet, pulled taut over muscles as hard as concrete. At her touch, a coat of goose bumps raised over his arm and upper back. And yet, he remained as still as a statue. 74

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This was so foreign to her, a man who patiently knelt, allowing her to look at him as long as she wanted, touch him, stroke him. So different from the self-serving grabbing and groping that every one of her previous lovers had done. He was certainly strong enough to overpower her, to take his pleasure and leave her to find hers, like her previous lovers had. But he wasn’t going to do that. What a delightful surprise, a reversal of roles. And still she was aware of the latent power of his body, the strength that emanated from those thickly muscled arms and legs, the broad shoulders. She saw him as no less masculine than Troi, still standing beside her, arms crossed, gaze intense. “His pleasure is to serve you, however that might be,” Troi told her. “He’s so beautiful.” She walked around Amun to admire the view from the other side—of chiseled pecs, small, hard nipples, and cut abdominals. A narrow band of dark hair arrowed from his bellybutton down, to disappear beneath the waistband of his pants. She wanted to see what was behind that fabric. Troi stepped up beside her. He curled his fingers in Amun’s hair and tugged ever so slightly, forcing Amun to tip his head back. “Dominance isn’t defined by what you do. It’s the communication of why you do it, your intention.” She kind of understood what Troi was saying, that she wasn’t submissive just because she wasn’t paddling Amun, marking that glorious back with harsh red stripes or wrapping his testicles with ropes. She was dominant because she was telling him by her actions that she was in control and he could take no pleasure from her unless she let him. This was thrilling. It was like little flickers of light were flipping on in her brain and the jumbled-up words—the ones she’d read last night but hadn’t really comprehended—were all starting to fall into meaningful sentences. She knelt directly in front of Amun and, needing to feel his desire for her, to see it, she whispered, “Look at me, Amun.” His gaze snapped to her face, and what she saw—hard, desperate male need— made a wild rush of heat blaze through her body. He could easily jerk free of that flimsy fabric, yank her into his arms and kiss her to the stars and back. And she’d be all too happy to let him. The soft, feminine side of her longed for that kind of raw, primal expression. But she wondered what might happen, for both of them, if she made them wait, if she pushed them both to the edge of control, denied what would be a quick and pleasant rise to pleasure and instead, somehow, found the discipline to draw it out. Did she have the strength, the willpower? Troi had moved. He was standing against the wall now, arms crossed over his chest, expression as dark and tormented as Amun’s. A rush of hot blood simmered through her body.

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She had barely touched either of these men, and yet, this was the most sensually charged moment of her life. Her pussy was thrumming, a steady pulse beating between her legs, moisture gathering, slicking her passage. She wanted to feel a hard cock slip inside, fill her. It would be so easy to strip off her clothes and lie on the thick pad over there, on her back, legs spread. She would so readily slide into the role she’d always been forced to assume with her other lovers, that of willing but less than active participant. No, not this time. Accept what’s been offered. She didn’t know yet what dominance was going to mean for her, how she would express it, or what it might lead to, but she was intrigued enough to fight her reflexes, refuse to rush through the experience and deprive herself of this chance at a different level of pleasure. How could she frustrate herself? What would make her so wet, so desperate for relief that she would eventually lose control? And how could she use these men to get her there? The possibilities, she realized, were endless.

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Chapter Eight Troi had watched his share of scenes between Dom and sub. Raw newbie Doms and experienced ones, new submissives and well-trained, obedient ones. Never had he witnessed anything more perfect, more beautiful than this moment. Oriel was unsure, timid, and yet she was still more the Domme than he had expected. With time, practice, training, she would break down the most stubborn submissives. She would break through Amun’s walls, something he’d tried to do and failed more times than he cared to count. Long ago they’d agreed to keep that side of their sexuality apart, accepting the fact that Troi was no more the Dom for Amun than Amun was the submissive for Troi. But still, as Troi stood by, watching Oriel explore a side of herself she had been too fearful to look at, he wondered where he would fit in the new life they were about to carve out for themselves. When Cyr and Magus had received their blessing, they had continued to live together, the three of them. Their relationship was working. But Troi had a feeling things weren’t going to mesh as smoothly for them. He was a Dom. Oriel was also a Domme, and not just any Domme, but the one for Amun. That left him out, the third wheel on a cart, facing the wrong direction. For this reason, not only was this experience a wonderful, uplifting one, but also bittersweet and sad. Once they were free from the dark spirit, Troi wondered if he would have to say goodbye to Amun and Oriel. To see the end of a relationship that had lasted for centuries rising on the horizon was no easy thing to embrace. Amun’s nerves were jangling, his heart thumping heavily, his cock so hard he was gritting his teeth against the pain. Oriel was as raw as they came, his new Mistress, and yet, even her first efforts at domination were doing things to him. Crazy, unexpected things. He had no doubt their journey would be a wonderful one, full of glorious surprises. She was kneeling before him now, her sweet breath a soft caress over his face, her fingers lightly exploring his shoulders, arms, chest. She touched a nipple, the contact hardly qualifying as a touch at all, and a blade of heavy wanting sliced through his being. Eager for more, he kept still, welcoming her examination of his body. It would be hers. All she needed to do was lay claim to it. But she had to find that out for herself. The cotton material holding his arms back rested in soft folds at the base of his spine. He longed to shake it away and reach for her, pull her against him and kiss her

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hard. But he didn’t. He resisted, knowing his reward would be so much sweeter than a kiss, even if he had to wait for it. Because he had to wait for it. “Remove the rest of your clothes.” Her order was made with a slightly wavering voice, another small reminder of how new and unsure she was. “Yes, Mistress.” Keeping his head bowed as a sign of respect, he shook his arms, freeing them from the shirt. “May I stand up?” “Yes, of course.” He stood, watching as she rose to her full height as well. He unbuttoned the waistband of his pants and worked them over his hips, down his legs and off his feet. At the sound of her gasp, he fought a smile. So many Mistresses before her had reacted the same way to his cock. It wasn’t the biggest he’d seen, but it was larger than average, thick and long and—of course—perpetually hard. But that wasn’t what mattered right now. At the moment there was a beautiful woman standing within reach, a woman who had given him a precious gift, and all he could think about was showing her how grateful he was. “Please let me serve you, Mistress.” She tipped her head slightly and looked up at him, the difference in their height making her look small and sweet, her eyes wide and guileless. “How would you like to serve me, Amun?” “It would please me to do anything—to touch you, kiss you, hold you. What would bring you pleasure?” He hoped she wouldn’t torment him too long like this. She nibbled on her lower lip as she considered her response. “What if it would bring me pleasure to watch you masturbate?” Not that. “Then I would do it. But wouldn’t it be better if I brought you to orgasm? I could use my hands, my mouth, whatever you desire.” “No.” What a cruel Mistress she was already, and she was so new and inexperienced. To deny him the sweet glory of giving, after he’d spent centuries taking, it was almost excruciatingly brutal. She glanced at Troi. Her eyes narrowed slightly, a subtle sign of her determination. There’d be no changing her mind. “Do it, Amun. Touch your cock. Stroke it. Slowly.” Biting back a roar of hard male frustration, he closed his fingers around his throbbing rod and started sliding his fist up and down. “Yes, Mistress.” “Yes, that’s it.” She sounded pleased, which should have made him happy, but it didn’t. In defiance he locked gazes with her, letting her witness the frustration, the desperation in his eyes. She licked her lips and his body warmed even more. She fiddled with the delicate bracelet circling her wrist. She glanced at Troi again. “You’re doing what I ask, and yet, you’ve raised your eyes to mine.” She looked at Troi once more. Nibbled on her lower lip. “Not only that, but your eyes are full of defiance.” He wouldn’t deny it. “Yes, Mistress.” “Would you do that to any other Mistress or Master?” 78

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“No, Mistress.” He gave his cock a slow caress from the base to the tip. “Then why are you acting this way with me?” “Because I need to please you. I’ve been waiting…” A tremble swept through his body. This time she didn’t look to Troi for support. “You are pleasing me. By touching yourself. By not using me for your pleasure.” She stepped close enough for him to smell her skin, to wrap an arm around her waist and haul her against him. “What would you do if I told you to make yourself come?” “I would…do it.” He stroked his cock faster, the friction and the electric currents charging the air between their bodies sending wave upon wave of hot need burning through his veins. “But wouldn’t you rather I make you come first?” “No.” His heart lurched. She had no idea how long he’d suffered, how many centuries he’d endured the sting of lust and its unrelenting demands for satisfaction. To not be able to give pleasure for once was just about killing him. Especially to give pleasure to a woman who seemed to have only known what it was like to give, not to receive. He wouldn’t, couldn’t stand there and jerk off. No way. Submissive he may be, but from this point on, he was going to be the kind of submissive that only gave pleasure instead of taking it. He removed his hand from his cock and hooked it behind her neck, pulling her toward him. His mouth found hers, his lips lightly grazing hers until they parted slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders as his tongue slipped into her sweet depth to take a taste. Ahhhh, this was heaven. Not because she tasted like the ripest, most succulent fruit he had ever consumed, or because his body was thrumming with sensual heat, but because he could feel her responding to his kiss. Her breath was filling his lungs—short, shallow gasps that he was drinking in. The scent of her arousal was filling his nose and making the blood in his body simmer hotter. And her sharp fingernails were dragging down his arms, leaving a tingling path behind. “Ohhhh, Amun,” she whispered. He took her muttered words as a surrender and lifted one hand to cup her breast. His reward was a heavy shudder and sigh. He barely noticed the touch on his buttocks, but he did stiffen when a finger tested his entrance. That finger was followed by a hard vibrator. He jerked his mouth away from her the second the toy was switched on and the first vibration buzzed through his body, sending him rocketing toward orgasm. Damn Troi! He knew what he was doing. A wild rush of heat blasted into Amun’s chest. Another coursed down his legs. Amun’s knees went instantly soft. He released Oriel as he dropped to the ground, 79

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roaring, “Nooooo,” as he landed on all fours. The vibrating butt plug, jostled by his sudden movement, hummed more intensely, sending one wave after another of tingling pleasure ripping through his body. Amun wanted it to stop, was desperate to reach around, pull that goddamn toy out and go back to what he’d been doing. But he was already too far-gone, too lost in his own pleasure now to do it. Orgasm was only a handful of seconds away. He could feel the tightness gathering, churning deep inside. Heartbeat racing, muscles quivering. “You want to play that way, you’re going to be punished,” Troi said in even, measured words. His voice was stripped of all emotion, but Amun knew, even as the haze of desperate need wrapped around him—threatening to smother him—that Troi was feeling far from detached or objective. “Your Mistress told you to come, and that’s what you’re going to do.” Amun gritted his teeth and glared up at Troi, fully aware that his disobedience would earn him even more discipline. “Not without giving my Mistress pleasure first.” “That, you cannot do. Not without her permission.” Oriel was blinking, trying desperately to clear her head. Something had happened. She had no clue what, but one moment she’d been lost in Amun’s kiss, and the next she’d been left standing alone, confused and frustrated. Fortunately it didn’t take long for her brain to start functioning again, and she was able to sort out what had taken place while she’d been lost in bliss. Amun was on his hands and knees, trying hard not to give into release while Troi stood over him, looking every bit as dominant and sexy as he could, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. Good God, she was about to come too. As if the sight of Amun’s hard, nude body, his skin coated in a glistening sheen of sweat and muscles rippling, wasn’t enough to send her body temperature spiking, the emotionally charged but silent exchange—feral and raw and as untamed as two wild animals glaring, ready to attack—was making it that much harder to just stand by and watch. This was not what she’d expected when she’d come here tonight. It wasn’t what she’d expected after she’d read those books. She supposed nothing could have prepared her for an exchange so honest and sensual and unrehearsed as this. Nobody, not she, not Troi and certainly not Amun, was role-playing. There were real emotions in play. She could see it. In their eyes. Amun was desperately fighting, but his face was a deep scarlet, his jaw so tight, she could clearly count every blood vessel in his neck. His arms, supporting his upper body for the time being, were trembling, despite their strength. His round, firm ass muscles and back were clenched so tightly, every band of muscle was visible beneath his skin. She knew why Troi had stopped Amun and she was grateful. Not only because he’d stepped in, but because of the scene she was privileged to witness now.

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Two powerful men locked in a battle. Instantly the image of a soft, acquiescent, feminine submissive man was shoved out of her mind. Amun might accept the role of a submissive. He might call himself submissive. But he was not a pushover. He was as masculine, as sexy and as feral as Troi. And although she never wanted that aspect of him to change, she also wondered why he was being so defiant now. Was he trying to hide something? Protect himself? If so, why? Driven by instinct, she went for the toy, switched it off and removed it. Amun quaked and jerked then gave a long, deep shudder. She glanced at Troi, measuring his reaction. Part of her was thankful he’d stepped in. But in another way, what he’d done made her feel inadequate, as if he’d decided she wasn’t doing things right and so he’d had to move in to fix it. His expression gave away nothing. How was this going to work? With Troi being dominant too? Troi took a single step back. Oriel took that as his way of saying he wouldn’t interfere again. Later, she’d talk to him about it. For now, Oriel turned her focus on Amun, who was still on all fours on the floor. His skin glistened with sweat, and the muscles of his arms and shoulders twitched under his silken skin. He was in a very vulnerable place right now. A voice inside her head told her that was what he needed. She gently pulled on a shoulder, coaxing him to kneel upright so she could see his face better. “Why did you do that, Amun? Why would you rather kiss me than masturbate? Don’t you like to come?” “I do.” He slowly lifted his chin. His eyes followed, his gaze gradually climbing up her body until it met hers. “But I can do that anytime. Anywhere. What I can’t have is what you give me, the chance to focus on your needs, your pleasure.” His mouth opened as if he wanted to say more, but nothing came. She could see by the flicker of need in his eye that he meant every word he’d said. He did want to please her. That would be his reward. A little tremor buzzed through her body. She squeezed her legs together as a throbbing warmth began pounding between her legs again. “You will have your chance. But not yet. Not until you’ve earned it.” He straightened a little taller. His expression shifted from one of almost desperation to eager hope. “Yes, Oriel. Thank you.” She noticed his cock had grown even thicker, his testicles drawn tighter against his body. Those hints told her she was moving in the right direction. “Do what I asked. Make yourself come. Only then will I allow you to touch me.” Amun didn’t groan or complain, but his shoulders slid south ever so slightly. She stole a glance at Troi, noticed he was watching their exchange with a ghost of a smile. She took a full, deep breath, realizing it was the first she’d taken in a while. This domination and submission thing was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. It was so much more than pretending, playing games or assuming roles. And it was about

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more than sex too. She’d read as much in those books, but now, as she stumbled her way through what she supposed would be her first scene, she could fully appreciate what she’d read. For the first time in her life, she was asserting herself with a man. For a moment there, she might’ve let herself fall into old habits, letting him take over. It was so easy, and in some ways much safer. But Troi had politely stopped her from completely relinquishing everything. She knew already, as she watched Amun reluctantly begin masturbating again, that if she’d given in, she would have made a terrible mistake. She glanced around, looking for some lube. Mouthed the word to Troi. He went to a duffel bag sitting on a chair and pulled out a tube, handed it to her. She knelt in front of Amun, squeezed some out onto her hand and, after setting down the tube, used her other hand to pull his away. She closed her fingers around his cock, one at a time. His skin was hot to the touch. She tightened her grip and, moving at the speed he had been, slid her hand up and down its length, pressing her thumb on the vein running underneath. He visibly trembled. Something flashed in his eyes, she couldn’t tell what. His jaw tightened until she could see deep grooves carved into his neck. His chest gradually reddened. His neck. His cheeks. The flared ridge circling his cock’s head widened. He was one, maybe two seconds from coming. She let go, grabbed the towel Troi handed her. “Finish it. Now.” He grabbed his cock, gave it one, two swift pumps, tossed his head back and growled. She caught his cum as it burst from his body. Her body’s temperature flared with every racing beat of her heart. She’d never watched a man have an orgasm, not like this. She’d seen a man ejaculate before. But she’d never focused on it. It was… She couldn’t even begin to describe it. Because she hadn’t been distracted, she’d noticed every nuance. The scent of his skin, the sheen and stain of red. The way his muscles everywhere pulled taut. The expression on his face the fraction of a second before he’d finally come. Ecstasy beyond words. She was ready now, ready to trust him as he’d trusted her. “Amun.” She stood up, tall, proud, and unfastened the buttons on her top, one at a time. “That pleased me. Very much.” “Oriel.” Still on his knees, Amun opened his eyes, focusing them on her face. His gaze didn’t shift, not an inch. Even when she took off her top, her bra, her pants, panties. She wasn’t used to this, to a man being so focused on her face that he didn’t look elsewhere. His gaze was so intimate, it was a little unsettling, and she realized then why.

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She closed her eyes when she made love. She hid in the dark, shutting herself away during the most intimate exchange she could share with another human being. She’d never thought about it, until now. Despite the fact that she wanted to tell him to look at her hard nipples, her stomach, clenched tight from nerves, her wet pussy, anywhere but her eyes, she didn’t. After all, Amun had given her what she’d asked. As long as he wished to look into her eyes, she would let him. But she couldn’t stand there like this. Not for another moment. When she started bending her knees, Amun took her hands in his. Troi moved around her, supporting her from behind as she lowered herself to the floor in front of Amun. She was keenly aware of Troi’s presence as she reached forward to trace the deep groove cutting down the center of Amun’s chest and stomach with a fingertip. It was hard to believe this was really happening, that she’d somehow found the courage to let it happen. It was because of Amun, she realized, and his willingness to be vulnerable first. He’d already had an orgasm. He’d received what the average guy wanted from a woman, right? Now he’d just want to roll over and fall asleep. That’s how it always went. He placed his hand over hers and gazed into her eyes. What did she see in their depth? Wanting? Not like before. No, it was more…awe, wonder. “Tell me, Oriel. What pleases you?” “This,” she answered. “The way you look at me, touch me, as if I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.” When he opened his mouth to say something, she pressed an index finger to his lips. “Please, don’t cheapen this moment by lying to me. I know I’m no Heidi Klum.” “I wouldn’t do that, cheapen anything with lies.” He curled his fingers around her hand and eased it away from him, lifting it to his mouth and kissing the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. “But I happen to believe you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever set eyes upon.” There was such conviction in his voice, she couldn’t argue with him. Not without it coming off as fake, syrupy humility. So instead she accepted his compliment with a simple thank-you as he released her hand. Behind her, Troi’s body still warmed her back and shoulders, like the heat of a summer’s sun. He wasn’t touching her. Neither was Amun. They didn’t have to. Nor did they have to drag hungry gazes up and down her body for her to sense their appreciation. She felt more desirable than she had ever before. In one sense she ached for one of them to snap, to lose control and haul her against him, crushing her in his arms and kissing away every thought in her head. But in another she enjoyed this very new and different experience. She was totally naked, kneeling between two powerful men who could easily convince her to lie on the floor and welcome them aboard. And

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yet, they hadn’t made a move. It was as if they were thankful to just be in the room with her, without having to do anything but show her respect and reverence. She could get used to this. Seriously. What woman was treated this way anymore? “I want to touch you,” she said, reaching for Amun again. “You’re so beautiful. Both of you.” She glanced over her shoulder at Troi, who looked as captivated, mesmerized, as Amun. She dragged her fingertips down Amun’s torso, letting them dip into every line and furrow etched between his muscles. She wanted to get closer, needed to be closer. She walked forward on her knees, until her nipples almost…if she took a deep breath…grazed his chest. Troi reached around her, took one of her hands, and with his arm extended outside of hers, his chest pressed against her back, his heat seeping into her skin, gently moved her hand up and down, as if she were finger-painting on Amun’s body. Amun’s skin puckered, goose bumps making what had been smooth bumpy. His nipples became hard little points she hungered to taste. Amun shifted forward, lifted her hair and kissed the swell of her shoulder, producing goose bumps on her chest and arms too. She smiled, shivered and settled back on her bottom, letting Troi support her from behind. She knew what she wanted now, and she wasn’t afraid to ask for it. “Amun, make me come. With your mouth.” Just saying the words sent a rush of pulsing heat through her body. The smile curving his lips as he nodded sent another one, even hotter than the first. “It would be my pleasure.” He coaxed her to spread her knees and stroked her nether lips with a fingertip. He groaned. Her gaze dropped to his groin, lingered there for a second or two—of course,his cock was as hard and thick as ever—then slowly climbed north. But when he bent over her pussy to take his first taste, her eyelids dropped, enclosing her in that dark place she so rarely visited anymore. With her eyes shut, she could concentrate on all her other senses. The scent of man and spicy cologne. The sound of lips softly smacking, skin gliding over skin, her own soft moans and sighs. And the taste of his kiss still lingering on her mouth. With every flick of his tongue, Amun ignited a small spark of need in her body. And with every caress of their hands on her stomach, neck, breasts and thighs, the two men together stirred those sparks, making them burn hotter, brighter. This was how a man should make love to a woman. With no regard for his own needs, only hers. “Oh God,” she murmured, arching her back to push her breasts up into Troi’s very capable hands. He knew exactly how to touch her, how to roll her nipples between his fingers so that they tingled and the sensation buzzed along nerves deep inside her body, down to her pussy. She felt her body tightening, her stomach, her vagina, her thighs. Her heartbeat thumped against her breastbone. And while Troi tormented her breasts and sweetly kissed her hair, Amun flicked his tongue over her clit with just the right amount of pressure, the pace of each stroke 84

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timed to perfection. He slid two fingers inside her and she bit back a cry of absolute ecstasy. That was what she’d needed, a touch inside, there. Yes there. Amun made some kind of throaty growly noise and the vibration hummed over her clit, shoving her even closer to orgasm. His tongue danced over the sensitive nub now, wildly, his fingers gliding in and out, his fingertips grazing that very special spot inside. Troi pinched her nipples. She held her breath as she tumbled over the edge, falling into the churning storm of a powerful orgasm. Her pussy clamped around his fingers in sharp spasms. What felt like a bolt of electricity buzzed through her whole body and then she was plunged into a pulsing world of heat. So heavenly. So perfect. She heard herself whisper, “Ahhhh…” Amun kissed her thighs and slowly fucked her with those wonderful fingers of his, and Troi caressed her all over, their efforts leaving her feeling so satisfied and cherished and safe, she didn’t want it to ever end. But gradually the tingles stopped. Her burning skin cooled. She found herself sandwiched between two of the most accomplished lovers that had to exist on the planet. And one thought popped into her head. It’s no wonder Laura begged them.

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Chapter Nine “What are you thinking?” The question had come from Troi, sitting on her right side. She knew why he was asking that. She hadn’t said more than a word here and there since leaving the dungeon. Not during the ride to the restaurant, and not when the three of them had taken their seats at the table, set back in a cozy corner. The surrounding tables were all empty. The waiter had taken their drink orders and left, and now they were alone. Of course Amun and Troi wanted to talk about what had happened. She glanced down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. “I’m thinking…” She shrugged, at a total loss for words. “I don’t know what I’m thinking. That’s just it. How do I put into words all the jumbled-up thoughts bouncing around in my head? I haven’t sorted them out yet.” “It’s okay.” Amun, on her left, leaned toward her, setting one of his hands on the table, palm up. She accepted his invitation, setting her left hand in his and appreciating the gentle, reassuring squeeze he gave it. She stared at their joined hands, hers so small and pale, his so strong and dark-skinned. A tiny tingle swept up her arm. Her heart did a little thump-thump thing in her chest. She lifted her gaze to his face. It did a zigzag from his strong chin and perfect mouth, to his angled cheekbones and finally up to his dark eyes. He was just so gorgeous, impossibly perfect. Could all of this be real? Troi moved his chair closer, propped one elbow on the table and, twisting to face her, rested the other arm on the back of her chair. When she turned to look at him, he swept a lock of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. “If you can forget about what you think you should feel, what you think we’re expecting to hear, it’ll all fall into place.” She pulled her lower lip into her mouth and chewed on it. “I feel like Alice. You know, from Alice in Wonderland?” He nodded and she continued. “I’ve stepped out of the world I know and tumbled into a new one, with rules I don’t understand, people that are strange and yet fascinating. I’m not sure if I should be excited or scared or what.” Troi nodded again, reached for his glass of wine and took a drink. “That’s perfectly understandable.” He offered his glass to her, and she accepted it, taking a small taste. The wine was smooth and rich and delicious. She’d never tasted any like it before. “While we were at the dungeon, how did you feel? Again, don’t worry about saying the wrong thing. We want you to be honest.” “At first, after the receptionist gave me that application form to fill out, I was pretty uncomfortable. I didn’t know what I was walking into. And I had no idea what to do.” 86

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She took another sip of the wine, gave each man a strained smile. “But when we got into that room and I saw Amun…” This time she gave his hand a little squeeze. He returned it. “I started to forget about where we were and just followed my instinct.” “That’s good,” Amun said. She exchanged a smile with him, and this one came easier. “Okay. But aren’t there rules to this stuff? Troi, at one point you stepped in and interrupted. That’s because I made a mistake, right?” “No.” Troi reached for his glass. His fingertips lightly grazed hers as he took it from her to drink. After he swallowed, he set the glass between them. “There was never any reason to feel Amun’s safety or well-being was in jeopardy, and at this point, that’s the only rule that cannot be broken. Nothing else has been established between us. Whether it’s Amun, you or even me, when we’re involved in any kind of power exchange, we must make sure the others are safe.” “That’s both reassuring and a little scary.” She took another swig of the wine. Every swallow was going down easier and easier. And it seemed the words were coming easier too. “What if I do something unintentionally that hurts someone?” “You won’t have the chance, not with me there to help you learn. That is,” he pointed at her chest, “if you feel in your heart you need to pursue Dom-sub. There’s no reason you have to.” “But…” She started to say something, but the waiter chose that moment to hurry in with appetizers. Once he’d placed them on the table and left, she continued. “I thought that’s the whole reason why you came to find me. If you’re not looking for a long-term partner for the dungeon, a mistress for Amun, what are you looking for?” She watched as the two men exchanged looks. All three sampled their appetizers, some kind of pretty shrimp dish, the food presented in the fancy way chefs at restaurants like this one did. It was tasty and light. The perfect little something to whet her appetite for the main course. Even though she appreciated how good the food tasted, she was distracted by the tense silence that had fallen over them. Amun was the first to set his fork down. “It’s not easy to answer your question right now. We’re just getting to know each other. I guess you could say that’s all we want from you—the chance to spend time with you, get to know you better. See where this goes.” “Both of you?” Her gaze jumped back and forth, from one gorgeous face to the other. “It’s not about bondage, then? It’s about…what, sex?” “Friendship. Companionship,” Troi offered. “Those too.” Okay, she didn’t know what to say now. Could these two men confuse her more? First, they made it sound as if they wanted her to join their D/s play. Their first actual get-in-a-car-and-go-somewhere outing had been to the dungeon. Why, if they didn’t necessarily need her for the D/s, had they encouraged her to join them there?

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Wouldn’t—if they were looking for a girlfriend—it be better to get to know her first and then throw the D/s at her after they knew if they even liked her? And now they were suggesting they wanted to date her together, both of them at the same time. Why? This wasn’t like any dating situation she’d ever been in. She wasn’t sure she wanted all the complication that seemed to go along with these men. And yet she couldn’t deny how attracted she was to them on a physical level. Both of them. Because she didn’t understand them on a deeper level, she couldn’t say much about the potential for an emotional attachment. Since she’d first heard their names, she’d been protecting herself, guarding her heart. As much as she’d thought she’d given in a little and trusted them, she hadn’t really. Not on a significant level. She’d gotten into a vehicle with them. She’d let them touch her body. But she hadn’t let them in her heart. Not even close. It was a good thing too. She waved her hand back and forth, motioning between them. “Do you two always date the same women?” They looked at each other. “Actually,” Amun said, “we haven’t ‘dated’ a woman since we met.” He made quotes in the air with his fingers. “We’ve had sex. That’s it.” “But you want more with me?” “Yes, we do,” Amun said. “You’re sure about that, Amun?” “Absolutely.” Not absolutely certain he was telling the truth, she glanced at each of them. “I don’t understand. If you two have been living this lifestyle—whatever you want to label it— for a long time, why would you want to settle down now? Why with the same woman? Why share if you don’t have to? Am I missing something?” “I can see how this could be confusing to you.” Troi took her hand in his and laid his other hand over it, trapping it between. “You see us as bachelors, living some kind of wild, fuck-whomever-we-can lifestyle, no emotional ties. But as we’ve tried to explain before, we’ve never wanted to live that way, lacking a deeper emotional connection. We’ve wanted this for a very long time. And while you may not understand it yet, we both know, without any doubt, that you’re the right woman for us. Both of us.” “How can you be so sure? I’m certainly not. And shouldn’t I be if you are?” Troi shook his head. “No, of course not. You’ve lived your life, experienced the ups and downs that are unique to only you. Those experiences, both the good and the bad, have shaped the way you see everything around you. The same is true for us. We can’t look at anything from your perspective, any more than you can from ours. This is why I have never assumed you’d throw yourself into our arms and declare you’ve fallen in

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love with us after such a short time. Quite the opposite, I worried about contacting you again, thinking you wouldn’t want to see us.” Amun added, “We know you’ve been uncomfortable and unsure about us since the first day we met.” Gently Oriel pulled her hand free. “You realize I don’t date two men at once. I don’t have sex with strangers. I’m not sure the whole bondage thing is for me, though I did like some aspects of what happened at the dungeon today.” “What didn’t feel right?” Amun tipped his head slightly. He looked curious, not at all disappointed or upset. “I don’t know.” She stared down at her now empty appetizer plate. The waiter came in, took it away and replaced it with another, larger dish. On that plate was a small bit of meat arranged with some other stuff around it. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to gourmet restaurants and their ridiculous ways of presenting little bits of food with swirls and flourishes to make them look special. “We already talked about what I thought. Do we need to rehash it already?” “No.” Amun leaned back in his chair and studied her for a moment with those dark eyes of his. “Maybe I should put it this way—would you feel more comfortable if I told you we’d never bring you to a dungeon again?” “Yes,” she blurted, without having to put one second’s thought into her response. She chuckled as she poked at her meat. “Well, that wasn’t too obvious, was it?” “It’s okay,” Troi said. “We want you to be honest.” “That, I have been. Right from the start.” In the span of a blink, she remembered the first time she’d ever seen Amun, how he’d made her feel. Hot and tense and fully alive, just like now. “And we appreciate it.” After giving her a very sincere smile, Amun poked at the food on his plate. She took a little nibble of the meat. Okay, it was unbelievably good tasting, even if there was so little a child would leave the table hungry. She’d lived in a super-sized world all her life. Minute portions sold for an absurd sum just seemed so unfair to her. Until now. “So, does this mean we won’t be doing any more bondage stuff?” She was still trying to figure out exactly where this thing was going between them. She left the even weightier question unasked—if they didn’t do it with her, would they go back to doing it with other people? She kind of didn’t want to think about that right now. Just as Amun opened his mouth to answer, she interrupted. “No, don’t tell me. Why don’t you tell me instead how you met? You practice law together, right? Did you go to school together?” “We did.” Troi nodded. “But we knew each other long before then.” “Since childhood?” she asked, taking another bite of the yummy beef. It had a tangy sauce on it that did wonderful things on her tongue. “Just about.” Amun turned those beautiful eyes to Troi.

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“Hm, I wish I could say I was still friends with the girls I knew as a kid. I’m not. I didn’t have a lot of friends back then. I don’t really have any now. But I do have my dad,” she added, fearing she sounded like a friendless wreck. “He’s always been there for me. And I expect someday to have the chance to take care of him. When he’s ready to slow down and retire. If he’s ever ready to slow down and retire.” “That’s something neither of us has.” Troi motioned to Amun. “Both of our parents passed a long time ago.” “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay.” Amun gave Troi a fond look, the kind that reflected the many years of friendship they must have shared. “We have each other.” “Everybody needs someone.” She nodded. “That’s what my dad always said to me. He was the youngest in his family by over a decade. His parents are long gone, his brothers and sisters too. So I’m all he has anymore.” Troi washed down a mouthful of food with a gulp of wine, motioned toward her with a tip of his glass. “He’s a very lucky man to have a daughter who loves him so much.” “I do. Love him very much. He was the one who convinced me to do the livinghistory thing with Vicky this past summer. I don’t know how it all happened, but I’m kind of glad I did it. It was an experience I’ll never forget.” And not just because of that night, when we’d eaten dinner under the moonlight, danced under the stars. She looked down at her plate, thinking she’d take another bite of the delicious meal, and realized she’d eaten it all. It was gone. She pushed her plate away and leaned back in her chair, watching as both Troi and Amun did the same thing. “That was delicious. Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” Troi’s smile was a stunning sight, as always. “Are you up for dessert?” “I would never turn down something sweet.” She twisted in her seat, catching some movement out of the corner of her eye. It was the waiter. While he took their dinner dishes away and replaced them with small plates of dessert, she confessed, “In fact, I’ll admit it here and now, I would do just about anything for chocolate. Especially something that looks this decadent.” She dipped her fingertip into what looked like chocolate syrup, dribbled on the dish in a flourish. As expected, it was sinful. “Good to know.” Amun winked. Troi chuckled. “Yep, that may come in handy someday.” At Troi’s unspoken encouragement, she went ahead and spooned up a mouthful of heaven, waving the full spoon at him. “Ah, I see how you two operate now. Find a girl’s weak spot and take advantage of it.” She returned Amun’s wink and added a little giggle. “Fair’s fair. You need to tell me a weakness.” In went the spoon, into her mouth. Her eyes practically rolled back in her head. It was like every taste bud on her tongue was having a mini orgasm. “Ohmygod! This is beyond words. Delicious doesn’t come close to describing it.”

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“Glad you like it.” Amun crossed his arms over his chest and thought for a moment. “Now, my weakness. I’m a peacekeeper. Always trying to solve everyone else’s problems and conflicts. And I always feel I need to fight for the underdog.” “Isn’t that the truth?” Troi thumbed at Amun. “This guy would take every charity case that comes our way if I let him. But as I’ve tried to explain, if we don’t take a few paying cases, we can’t afford to do any pro bono ones. We have payroll to make, rent, those kinds of things.” “Yeah, yeah. Troi’s always the voice of reason. I’m the dreamer.” Amun shot Troi a grin that made Oriel’s heart do a little flip-flop. Now, this was more like it, more her speed. Some good food, good conversation, nothing too intense. Even more importantly, she was getting a glimpse of who these men really were, without all that extra stuff getting in the way. By the time she’d finished her dessert, she was fairly certain they were the kind of men she could be friends with, as well as lust after. Contrary to everything she’d thought early on, they weren’t a pair of heartless creatures, blown this way and that by carnal need. They were intelligent men with an admirable sense of loyalty and morality, ambitious but not to the point of being cold and calculating. And genuinely delightful to be around. On the way home, she sat between them, holding hands with both of them. Gradually she was getting used to the notion of dating both of them at once, splitting her attention between them. As the limo turned onto her street, she wondered, if she’d been told she’d have to choose between them, how she’d pick only one. They were, in so many ways, two halves of one perfect whole. Complements of each other, so that each made up for the other’s weakness. The vehicle stopped a distance from the building. The driver opened the little partition. “I can’t get any closer. Looks like there’s a fire. The road’s blocked.” “Really?” Oriel pointed at the right side window. “Troi, would you mind opening the window?” Troi hit the button. “Sure.” As she waited for the glass to lower, she said, “I wonder if it’s the old house across from my apartment building. They’ve had problems there before. Old wiring. A gas leak. I feel bad for the woman who lives there. She’s very old, lives in that big old place alone. Sometimes when I cook, I take food over to her. She exists on TV dinners and canned soups.” She had to lean closer to Troi—not a bad thing at all—and shift back to see the house. It was an old brick home, built sometime around the turn of the century, back when the surrounding area was all farmland and the apartment buildings, convenience stores and pizza restaurants weren’t even a spark in the eye of some developer who hadn’t been born yet. Despite the huge fire truck parked in front, it seemed there wasn’t anything going on in the old house. She hoped it was a false alarm. And then she realized where the firemen were carrying the hose and swiveled around to look out the window on the opposite side of the limo.

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A huge cloud of black smoke was billowing out the front windows of her building. Her building! “Ohmygod!” She slapped her hands over her mouth. “What’s wrong?” Amun set his hands on her shoulders. When she didn’t speak, just pointed, he twisted to look out the window behind him. “Oh.” She was too focused on what was going on outside to notice what was happening in the vehicle. She felt hands on her shoulders and back, heard voices but didn’t comprehend the words. She pushed past Amun, opened the door and stepped outside. The air stunk with the reek of burning wood and plastic. It was so bad, her eyes teared. Her nose stung. Her throat tightened. She held her hands over her mouth and staggered toward a group of bystanders watching the melee. Firemen were spraying water into the second-floor windows, where the darkest smoke was rolling out in great thick balls and drifting up, up, up. “Oriel. Come, get back into the car.” Who was that? What car? She pointed. “That’s my apartment, downstairs. Maybe it won’t be too bad…” She shrugged away a set of hands trying to pull on her shoulders, trying to turn her away. “No, I have to stay and see if everything’s okay.” “Oriel, you can’t go in there. Not even after they’ve put out the fire. Please.” Ignoring the man tailing her, she hurried closer, stopping only when she couldn’t go any farther. A police officer stopped her with an outstretched hand. His head was turned and he was talking into a radio clipped to his shirt. “I live here.” She pointed at her apartment. “I’m sorry, Miss. You or your insurance agent can call the leasing office tomorrow to get all the details for your claim.” “But…” She didn’t know what else to say. He’d turned and was talking to someone else. He had a job to do. The firemen had a job to do. She had…nothing. “Oriel.” Another touch to her shoulder. This time she turned. Amun. “Please, we’ll take you wherever you want. Do you have someplace to stay?” “I…” She stole one last glance over her shoulder and sighed. “My dad’s place isn’t too far.” Barely able to believe that everything she owned might be gone forever, really gone, she let Amun coax her back to the parked limo. She slipped inside and stared out the window as the vehicle pulled away. This wasn’t the way she’d pictured her date ending.

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Finding out your home was burning to the ground wasn’t the most pleasant way to wrap up a night on the town. It wasn’t one of the most pleasant ways to wrap up anything. But by the time the limo had stopped in front of her dad’s house, she was glad she’d had Amun and Troi there with her tonight. And she was doubly glad she hadn’t been home when the fire had started. They held her as she sat, in shock, her body quaking for some reason she didn’t quite understand. They offered to help her contact her insurance agent, replenish the basic necessities, and offered to drive her car over to her dad’s so she could get around, buy some clothes for work, some underwear, bras, the things she couldn’t picture them buying for her. They walked her up to the front door, waited patiently as she knocked. Her dad looked very surprised when he answered. “Oriel, what a… What’s wrong?” He glanced over her shoulder at the two men behind her. His expression went dark. Very, very dark. Oriel waved toward the objects of his distrust. “Dad, this is Amun and Troi. They’re okay. Helped me. There was a fire. My apartment.” She didn’t say anything more, couldn’t say anything more. She’d had no idea how much that stupid apartment had meant to her, and all the stuff in it. It was so dumb. She didn’t have anything valuable in there, not really. A few antiques she’d inherited from her grandmother, but none of them worth anything. Anything but a few tears. Sniffling and trying to hold it together while her father shot questions at her, interrogation-style, she went to Amun first, hugged him. She closed her eyes as his big, hard body enveloped hers, and the scent of him, clean and fresh filled her nose. She felt safe with him now. And she really liked the way he cupped her head and whispered reassurances in her ear. With great effort, she forced herself to let him go. But her effort was rewarded by Troi. His hug was just as comforting. She didn’t want them to leave, but she had to let them go. “Are you sure there isn’t anything we can get you?” Troi asked, cupping her chin and lifting it so she’d look him in the eye. “We don’t mind at all.” “No, I keep a spare toothbrush here, and some clothes. You’re doing me a huge enough favor by bringing my car later. Though I could’ve driven—” Troi’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Absolutely not. We couldn’t let you drive after the shock you’ve had.” “Besides, the lot was blocked off by the fire trucks,” Amun added. Oriel’s dad gave them both another look, this one not quite so hostile. She loved her dad. He thought he was all protective and stuff. If she hadn’t been in such awful shape, she might have laughed at his reaction. Troi stepped back, shoved his hands into his pockets. “Okay. We should get going. We’ll have your car here by morning at the latest.” “Thanks again.”

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Amun extended a hand to her father. “It was nice meeting you, sir.” Her dad shook his hand but didn’t return the compliment. “Hopefully next time we see each other, it’ll be under more pleasant circumstances.” That, her father did respond to. “I hope so.” He then escorted Troi and Amun out the front door. Oriel stood at his side, waved farewell before they climbed back in the limo then went inside and headed straight for the stairs, figuring a long, hot bath would help her feel like a human. By the time she hit the second stair, she had two things on her to-do list. She didn’t get any farther. “Who are those men?” her dad demanded, his voice heavy with concern. She couldn’t possibly tell him the truth. He’d blow a blood vessel and collapse from a stroke. “Friends, Daddy.” He squinted, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and gave her a don’t-lieto-your-father glare. “Friends don’t look at each other like that.” “Like how?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Like they’d rather be escorting you to the nearest hotel than your father’s house.” “Give them some credit. If they wanted to take me to a hotel, they didn’t. And didn’t they have the perfect excuse?” She kissed her father’s cheek. “I appreciate the fact that you want to protect me, but I’ve had a rough night and I’d like to just go soak in a tub for a while and forget all about the fact that everything I own is either waterlogged or burned to ashes. Okay?” Her father nodded. “Okay, honey. If you’re hungry after your bath, I have some fresh sliced turkey and ham. Make yourself a sandwich.” “I just ate dinner, but thanks.” She set her hand on his, resting on the railing. She realized, as her gaze wandered up and down his body, that he looked different. His stomach was flat, his face a little gaunt. “Dad, you’ve lost weight.” “Yes.” Leaning against the wall, he patted his stomach. “Just a little. If you stick around long enough, I’m sure you’ll fatten me up.” “Absolutely.” She sighed. “It’s good to be home.” She gave him a quick hug. “What would I do without you?” Something flashed in his eyes. “You’d be just fine.”

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Chapter Ten The next morning, Oriel woke to find her car sitting in her father’s driveway. In the back, filling the entire back seat and floor, were a bunch of bags of what appeared to be brand-new clothes and shoes. She lifted a shirt out of the package closest to the door. It was her size. Designer. Much nicer than anything she’d ever bought for herself, anything she’d ever been able to afford to buy for herself. Troi and Amun had bought her new clothes? Was that freaking nice or what? Nobody had ever done anything like that for her before. On top of a bag on the floor, she found an envelope. Anxious to see what was inside it, she hauled everything upstairs and dumped it in her room. The first thing she did was open the envelope. Inside was one of those friendship greeting cards, this one simple but not plain. Classic and timeless and tasteful. Inside, a single sentence was printed in script, Friendship begins with sharing. And below that, in semi-legible handwriting, Troi or Amun had written the words, Please don’t hesitate to call for anything. Both Troi and Amun had signed the card. Smiling, she set the card on her dresser, standing it up so she could look at it whenever she wanted. And that she did, many times, as she slowly unpacked the bags, discovering one gorgeous garment after another. By the time she had everything hung up or folded and tucked into the old dresser she’d used since she was an infant, she was nearly in tears. At the bottom of the last bag, she found a Coach purse, and inside it a credit card wrapped in a piece of paper. On the paper Amun had written, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way. We just want to help. An insurance claim can take a while to process. She slid the credit card back into the purse, ran her hand over the handbag. She’d never felt such soft leather. The rest of the day, she couldn’t stop thinking about Troi and Amun. Memories flashed through her mind while she was eating breakfast. Later, when she was at work, stacking wrapped sheets on shelves and in cubes. And that evening, as she drove back to her apartment complex to check in with the rental office. Her building looked lifeless, the brick outside stained black from smoke, and there were fresh planks of plywood nailed up where there’d once been windows and doors. She parked her car in the lot and walked around the back. It was far worse than she’d thought. The back wall of the entire second floor had caved in. She wouldn’t be moving back into her apartment. Resigned to the fact that everything in the building was ruined, she went to the office. Inside, the agent who had leased the unit to her gave her an apologetic look,

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handed her a card with a case number for insurance purposes and asked if she wished to be relocated to another unit. Whether it was intentional sidestepping or a case of lack of information, she wouldn’t tell Oriel what had caused the fire. Oriel told her she was undecided and would get back to her in a few days and headed back outside into the warm evening. The air was scented just slightly with the smell of burnt wood. Undecided about taking another apartment in the complex, Oriel turned to look at the charred shell that had once been home. Maybe it was time for a change. As the miles between her former home and her father’s rolled by, she became more convinced she needed to move closer to him. In the last year or so, they’d grown apart a little. She supposed some of that was normal. She couldn’t be Daddy’s Little Girl forever. But she felt time was slipping by, and she was becoming more and more wrapped up in her world, one that didn’t revolve around her dad, as it once did. In one way, the fire had done her a favor, by bringing her back here. When she got home, she called out, “Dad?” as she let herself in. He always parked his car in the garage, and the door was shut, so she had no idea if he was home or not. He should be. He’d always been the kind to come straight home from work. The house was eerily quiet. And dark. She flipped on the light in the hallway, kicked off her shoes and padded barefoot back to the kitchen, her arm wrapped around her stomach. The heavy silence made her grumbling stomach sound embarrassingly loud. First thing first, she made herself a sandwich, took it and a can of cola and headed to the den to watch some TV while she ate. Her father was lying on the couch, cocooned in a throw. She set her plate and soda on the coffee table and hit the power button on the television remote. The time displayed. A few minutes after seven. She couldn’t remember her father ever falling asleep so early, but she couldn’t deny the fact that he was getting older. She glanced at him as she pulled the tab on her cola can. The shades were drawn, so the only illumination in the room came from the dim, unsteady light of the television screen. It emphasized the lines creasing his face, making them look deeper and aging him as much as fifteen years beyond his youthful fifty-two. Her cell phone rang and she jogged into the kitchen to check it. Amun. She answered with a cheery but hushed, “Hello?” She wanted to take a little nibble of her sandwich but she didn’t want to wake up her snoozing dad as she talked, so she opened the refrigerator and grabbed a handful of carrots to munch on until she was done talking. “Hi. How are you?” He sounded concerned, tense. “I’m okay.” That was the truth. “It was a bit of a shock to lose everything, but at the same time, I’m not too upset about having to stay with my dad for a week or two. We

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haven’t seen a lot of each other lately.” She crunched on a carrot. “I apologize if my crunching is deafening you.” “It’s fine. I won’t keep you long. I wanted to let you know we were in touch with your apartment’s leasing office, and the insurance claim has been made. We gave your agent your father’s address and your cell phone number, and he’ll be in touch with you shortly.” “Thank you.” She paused to emphasize. “For everything. You and Troi have done so much. Too much.” “We’re glad to help.” “But, Amun—” “But what? We’re very fortunate, both make a good living, and there are only so many cars we can buy for ourselves. It’s nice to spoil someone else for a change.” She wasn’t used to this, wasn’t sure exactly how to respond. She worked in retail, barely making enough to pay rent on a one-bedroom apartment. There was no way she’d ever be able to pay back the money they’d spent. “Don’t even think about trying to pay us back,” he said as if he could read her mind. “It’s very generous.” She wanted to see him again, to see them both, to touch them, hug them. But he wasn’t asking. He wasn’t saying anything. “Are you still there?” “Yes, I am.” He sounded a little breathless. “Are you working out?” “Um, yeah.” “I have tomorrow off. Maybe we can do something in the evening? After you’re done working, of course.” “My day’s light. Troi’s too. We can pick you up in the afternoon, make a day of it.” “Sounds great.” “Good. We’ll be there at three.” “Three it is, then.” “Good night, Oriel.” “Good night, Amun.” She smiled as she ended the call. Turning, she practically ran smack-dab into her father. “Oh! Daddy. Sorry, did I wake you?” “No.” He looked at her through bleary, bloodshot eyes and mumbled, “Excuse me.” He patted her on the shoulder and headed toward the stairs without looking back. She followed him, stopping at the foot of the steps. “Going to bed so early?” “Yeah.” He didn’t stop, just kept plodding up the steps, his footfalls uncharacteristically heavy. He smacked a hip against the wall, staggered slightly, and Oriel scampered up, her breath caught in her throat. She could see him in her mind’s eye, arms windmilling, teetering on the edge of the step, fighting to regain his balance, losing and tumbling down the staircase. 97

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Luckily she could no more see his future than her own. He clamped a fist around the railing and, mumbling something she couldn’t hear, continued up. He was on the landing before she’d caught up to him. Completely oblivious to her following, he stumbled down the hall to his room and shut the door. That was weird. Very, very strange. Maybe to anyone else, it might have been no big deal. Her father lived alone, didn’t have any friends. Isolation, paired with some deep regrets, set a guy up for some things, alcohol use one of them. But his father, her grandfather, had been a lifelong alcoholic, the kind who became mean when he drank. And her father, as long as she could remember, had refused to touch the stuff. He didn’t even drink at his own wedding. Here he was, staggering drunk now? What had happened in the past couple of months? Worried, she headed up to her room.

***** Amun and Troi arrived at three on the dot. Oriel had to give it to them, they were prompt. And courteous. And generous. And…a lot of very good things, outside of the obvious. Slowly, gradually, she was getting used to the idea of dating them together. She had a lifetime of shouldn’ts to hold her back. But their many kind acts had made it a little easier to shove those old notions aside. After all, the whole point of being faithful to one man was respecting his feelings. In this case, Troi and Amun wanted to share. Happy and excited to see them, she opened the front door. She wouldn’t let her concern for her father dampen their day. The air smelled sweet, like grass and green things and flowers. It was a little chilly but the sun was shining brightly, and the world was a vibrant spectacle of life. The tree in the front yard was dripping with white blossoms, the grass coated with a white carpet of petals that were even now drifting to the ground. It was quite a sight, but no less breathtaking than the one in the driveway. Troi and Amun stood on either side of a silver SUV, smiling at her. Her heart hopped in her chest. “Hello,” she said, her voice singsongy as she practically skipped down the front walk toward them. The spring dress she wore, a lively print on silk, caressed her thighs as a breeze picked it up and ruffled it around her legs. She smoothed her hands down her thighs to spare Mr. Adams next door a view of her satin panties. Troi motioned her toward the passenger side, pulling open the door for her. “You look gorgeous.”

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“Thanks.” Her hair, which was getting tossed around as much as her dress, chose that moment to whip across her face. A piece stuck to her glossed lips. She pulled it away just as he reached out to pluck it away for her. She beamed a smile at him as she sank into the seat. When the guys settled in, she asked, “So, what’s on the agenda today?” “Is there anything special you’d like to do?” “Oh, I don’t know.” She glanced at the car’s dashboard to see if the air-conditioning was on. It wasn’t, so she hit the button to open a window. The car filled with the smell of fresh-cut grass. “Maybe we can go somewhere outside? It’s such a pretty day, and I so rarely get out.” “Outside? Hmmm…” Amun glanced in the rearview mirror. “I have the perfect spot in mind.” “Maybe we could pick up something to eat?” she suggested. “Have a picnic?” Amun started the SUV and backed the vehicle down the driveway. “Sounds good.” Oriel watched the landscape outside the vehicle for a while, as a comfortable silence enveloped them. Their suburban surroundings, strip malls, clogged streets, identical houses packed side-by-side down narrow streets gave way to meandering roads banked on either side by freshly tilled farm fields. Then, farmlands turned to heavier wooded lands. Amun pulled up in front of a small grocery-slash-tackle-slash-bait-store-slash-gasstation, and the three of them went inside. They picked up some meats and cheeses from the deli, freshly baked bread, plates, napkins, forks, containers of salads and drinks. The two guys carried their haul out to the truck, packed in a cooler, along with some ice. Oriel carried the plaid woolen blanket they’d bought to use as a tablecloth. A few minutes later, the vehicle was bouncing to a stop in a clearing at the end of a private dirt road. After Troi opened her door and offered her a hand down, the two guys unloaded the vehicle and led her up a path to the most amazing spot in the middle of nowhere. It was an open area, surrounded on all sides by trees, up on a low hill. It didn’t get any prettier. Or any more private. “What do you think?” Amun set the cooler on the grass. “It’s beautiful.” A butterfly flitted by her head and she smiled as she watched it. “You couldn’t have a more perfect picnic spot. But it’s way back here. Do I want to know how you found it?” Troi took one end of the blanket and helped her shake it out flat and lay it on the ground. “We own this property.” “Oh really?” Shading her eyes with a hand, she took another look around. She saw trees, trees, more trees…and trees. “Where’s the house? Hidden?” “It isn’t built yet.” Amun invited her to sit with a wave of his hand. “Something to drink? It’s a little warm out here. Are you okay?”

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“I’m fine. I’ll take a can of cola, thanks.” She accepted the can he handed her and flipped the little ring to open it. Troi scooped out a can and plopped down next to her. “We just signed off on the final plans. Construction begins next week.” “How exciting.” “Yes.” Amun, a can of cola in one hand, flipped the cooler’s top down and sat beside her. “There are a lot of good things in the works.” Oriel couldn’t help noticing his eyes were glittering. He looked so happy. She wondered if that happiness was all because of the house or if maybe she had something to do with those sparkles too. “What good things?” She took a drink then set her can down, placing her hand behind her back, flattened to prop her up. Amun’s fingertips grazed hers. It was the tiniest touch, but it sent a little rivulet of heat trickling through her body. “Oh, just a lot of things.” Amun’s smile was full of mystery, playfulness. She threw a tell-me look at Troi but he shrugged. “Well, aren’t you two full of secrets and mystery?” “That, we are.” Troi took another drink, set his can next to Oriel’s and stood, turning to offer her his hands. “How about a walk?” He glanced at her sandal-clad feet. “Are you okay in those?” “Sure. They’re more comfortable than you’d think.” She accepted his help up, leaving one hand in his. Amun stepped up to her other side, so she offered him the other. Why not? Flanked on either side by the two hottest men she’d ever laid eyes upon, she headed into the woods. One thought crossed her mind as they stepped onto the cedar-chipped path—she’d never done anything with a man in the woods before. She tried to forget that Amun and Troi had. With someone she knew. “What’s wrong?” Amun asked, hesitating. He couldn’t read her mind, but damn if it seemed he could. “Nothing. It’s just…the cool air feels good. I didn’t realize how warm I was getting.” The path narrowed and the two guys pressed in closer, and she became very aware of how big they were. She felt her skin slicking with sweat. Insects chirred, birds chattered, little beasties of all kinds frolicked in the tall scrub, hidden from view. They were alone and yet not, and suddenly the thought of doing anything, with all those little eyes watching, didn’t sound so great. But then the path curved around a rock, and they were standing above a small pool fed by a creek. “How pretty,” she said. “The water’s a little chilly but clean. And the bottom isn’t mucky.” Troi gave her a what-do-you-think look. She pressed a hand to her chest. “Are you suggesting we swim?” 100

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“Nobody’s going to see us.” Amun kicked off his shoes and then stripped off his shirt, revealing those glorious shoulders, that amazing chest and the picture-perfect abs beneath. “Swimming will work up your appetite.” Who said she needed any help there? Troi released her other hand and, following Amun’s lead, began peeling away his clothes, one piece at a time. Oriel watched, shamelessly drinking in the sight of their beautiful bodies until they stood before her completely nude. Both of them had an erection, which only made her cheeks burn hotter. Troi arched an eyebrow, but she shook her head, refusing his invitation to join them. In they went, with a splash that almost but not quite drenched her. She shuffled back before the worst reached her. The water was deep enough to hide everything below their nipples, something of a shame. But the gleaming droplets caught the sunlight, blinking and sparkling like diamonds. Rivulets cascaded down from their shoulders over bulging pecs to trickle into the pool again. Troi swam to the shore, climbed up and, eyes full of mischief, padded to her. “Come on, Oriel. Join us. It’s safe. Nobody will see.” “That’s not what I’m worried about,” she said, trying not to react to his nakedness. It was impossible, of course. It would be for any woman, even a nun. “Then what’s stopping you?” “I’d rather not say.” He leaned closer, not what she wanted him to do. “Is it your monthly time?” Her cheeks instantly flared red-hot. “Oh God. No.” “Are you concerned about getting your clothes wet?” “No. Although the dress is very pretty.” Looking down, she smoothed her hands over the skirt. “And I’m guessing it was expensive.” Before she could react, he scooped her into his arms and raced toward Amun, standing in waist-deep water at the pond’s edge. Fully expecting him to stop before they got to the water, she put on a show of resistance, her laughter giving lack of conviction away. But then she realized too late that he wasn’t going to stop. She plugged her nose and in the next heartbeat, murky water was closing in around her, the sound of the splash muffled by the fluid encasing her. For just the briefest of moments, she panicked, confused and not knowing which way was up. But then she felt hands grasping her waist. Her foot struck the sandy bottom. Her head broke through the surface and she gulped in a lungful of air. Both Amun and Troi were right there, at her side. They weren’t going to let anything happen to her. Amun pulled her to him, and she slid her hands over the rounded bulge of his shoulders then wrapped her legs around his waist. He kissed her then, and she was surprised the water in the pool didn’t start boiling. It started out steamy enough to curl her toes and only got better from there. First his 101

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lips claimed hers, then his tongue. She clung to him and kissed him back, until she was so breathless and dizzy she had to break the kiss to drag in a mouthful of much-needed air. If she’d thought she’d been starved for oxygen after taking the plunge in the water, that was nothing compared to this. She combed her hair out of her face with her fingers and blinked to try to clear her foggy vision. “I have been wanting to do that since I saw you.” Amun dragged his thumb across her lower lip. “Well, I wasn’t expecting this.” Laughter made her voice light. “The kiss?” “No, the swim.” She slapped the water, sending the spray into his face. “Ah.” Amun’s smile went wicked. It made her squirm a little, which made the warm bits between her legs grind against his body. “I warn you now, we have more surprises in store for you.” “Thanks for the warning.” She stiffened as she felt another set of hands tugging her away from Amun. She twisted around and took exactly the same position with Troi, legs locked around his waist, arms draped over his shoulders. Now it was Troi’s turn to kiss her to oblivion. About three stuttering heartbeats into the kiss, he added a little something, a hand pressed over her breast. She leaned into his hold, suddenly desperate to feel his touch on her burning skin. “Dress,” she mumbled into their joined mouths. “Off.” She fumbled with it, trying to unfasten the back zipper. Someone’s hands brushed hers away. Down went the zipper, and the material slowly drifted off her body. She shook herself out of the haze her growing need had enveloped her in, suddenly worried she’d have nothing to wear home. Amun lifted the sodden material, reassuring her she wouldn’t be riding home in her underwear. “I’ll just take this and hang it up to dry on that tree over there.” “Thanks,” she called. Troi helped her out of her bra and panties, saving them from drowning and lobbing them at Amun, one piece at a time. Nude. In a sparkling pool. With Troi…and now Amun too. Amun was within reach in less than a handful of heartbeats, standing by her, hands gliding up her side. Troi kissed her again and she relaxed, letting the water and Troi and Amun support her. She felt weightless, the water caressing her everywhere, little sparks sizzling down every nerve in her body. One hand closed over her breast, warming it, pinching her nipple between finger and thumb. Another slipped over her buttocks, moving lower, lower, finding her center. She shuddered and moaned into Troi’s mouth as a finger breached her entry, slipping inside. 102

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Her inside muscles contracted, her pussy clamping around the invading digit. Instantly she craved more. A thick, hard cock. Deep inside. She clamped her legs together, and with eyes closed, dragged her fingernails down Troi’s arms. He answered with a growl, grabbed her wrists and forced them down and back. Something tight clamped around them, pinning them together. She couldn’t move them. Her heartbeat raced. She dragged in a ragged breath and arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest. She twisted her arms, struggling to break free and jerked her head to the side, breaking the kiss. Clearly a girl didn’t have to go to a dungeon to be dominated by Troi. That was okay. She could handle him. Amun had found her weakness when they’d been at the dungeon. All she had to do now was find Troi’s. That could be fun. If, that was, she could concentrate with a hand between her legs doing such wonderful, wicked things to her. She nuzzled his neck, dragged in a deep breath, savoring the scent of fresh air and man and earth. She grazed his collarbone with her teeth and was rewarded by a deep groan. She bit him. Not hard, just enough to get his attention, and he shuddered. Amun thrust two fingers inside her, and she dropped her head back, for a moment overcome by need. “Ohmygod, Amun. You are a very evil man.” “Evil?” His chuckle gave her goose bumps. “Is that what you call a man whose only goal is to please you?” “Yes.” She let her weight shift backward until he was supporting her and reached down to place her hand over his. She pulled until his fingers slid out of her pussy, moving them forward to her clit. And with her index finger positioned on top, showed him exactly how to touch her. She saw stars. Somehow, while Amun tormented her clit, the two men carried her out of the water, back to the blanket. The brilliant sunlight burned through her closed eyelids, casting her world in bright scarlet, but she didn’t mind. All that mattered now was how Troi was kissing her and how Amun’s tongue was now dancing over her sensitive clit. Troi’s tongue and lips and hands possessed her mouth, her breasts, neck, shoulder. Amun worshiped her legs, ass, pussy. Two very different ways of loving, two very different men. Her body responded to both. Her blood pounded through her body in a heavy, hard beat that drummed in her ears. Her skin tingled, prickled. Shivers and quakes shimmied up and down her spine, making her gasp. Lost in absolute bliss, she stroked supple skin, mapped the planes and bulges of muscles, and kissed Troi until she thought she might pass out from lack of oxygen. She couldn’t take any more of this torment. She needed more. A hard, thick cock inside her, stroking her to orgasm. This first time, she wanted it to be Troi. “Hold me, Amun.” She struggled to sit up, grasped a handful of Amun’s glossy hair—his head

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was between her thighs—and pulled. He met her gaze, smiled, and she nearly melted. “Come here.” The muscles in his arms and shoulders rippled, such a beautiful sight, as he pushed to his feet. He sat behind her and eased her back against him, his body supporting hers. After putting on a condom, Troi took Amun’s place in front of her, tested her pussy with three fingers—the burn was absolutely delicious—then parted her legs and thrust into her. With Amun’s hands skimming up and down her body, pinching and caressing and squeezing her breasts, and Troi’s thick cock thrusting in and out of her hungry pussy, she couldn’t fight it. Every part of her, from her scalp to the soles of her feet, pulled tight. Wave after wave of carnal heat surged out from her center, each one bigger than the last, until there was no break between them and she was trembling, her hands flattened over Amun’s, air sawing in and out of her lungs. As the first spasm gripped her body, she heard Troi’s groan as he too climaxed. They remained that way, arms and legs tangled, Oriel’s body tucked between Amun’s and Troi’s for several minutes. On top, Troi’s hard, sweat-slicked form gradually cooled, relaxed. His breathing became deeper and more even. His heartbeat, which Oriel could feel pounding against her chest, eventually slowed. His cock slipped from her body as he rocked back onto his knees, his body upright. Oriel opened her eyes to smile at his handsome face, the rays of sunlight appearing like a halo behind his head. Giddy, she started to lean forward, but Amun looped an arm around her waist. “No, please. Don’t move. Not yet.” “But it’s your turn now.” She had big plans for him. Didn’t he want an orgasm? “No. It isn’t necessary.” Twisting, she glanced over her shoulder. “Oh—ohhhh.” On the blanket, and on her back, was the evidence. She giggled. “Well, I guess it isn’t necessary, then.” He reclined back, pulling her with him, and she rolled onto her side, relishing the feel of his body pressed up to hers, the kiss of the sun on her skin, and the little zaps and tingles still skittering through her body. Troi, after disposing of his condom, flopped down on her other side and flung an arm over her. She lay there for a while, content to be silent. To just be. But then she wanted to share with them, something that happened long ago. It was the right time. “If it seems like I’ve been sort of hot and cold, there’s a reason for it.” She hesitated, not because she was afraid to tell them, but because she wasn’t sure what words to use. She had never told anyone about the mistake she’d made so long ago. It wasn’t something she was proud of. “I had a child. Years ago. I gave her up for adoption.” Amun set a hand on her shoulder. “Oriel, you don’t have to explain.” “I want to tell you. I…trust you.” She pulled his hand, tugging until his arm rested across her stomach, creating a big X with Troi’s. “I was young, stupid, gullible, and I trusted the wrong man. Actually, he was a boy. A child. Mentally, emotionally, not 104

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physically. Anyway, that mistake and the consequences made me very leery of men in general, but especially men like—” “Like us,” Troi finished for her. “Like I thought you were,” she corrected. “I know you now. And even though it was hard, I’ve come to trust you.” She didn’t know what else to say. What she’d needed to tell them had been told, and that was that. “So.” She chewed her lip and stared up at a fluffy cloud drifting overhead. “I thought it was important for you to know.” “Thank you.” Troi kissed her. It was a sweet kiss. Gentle. Kind. Just like he was. “I promise we won’t ever do anything to make you regret trusting us,” Amun said, sounding sincere. “Please don’t make a promise that’s impossible to keep.” “That one isn’t impossible.” Amun pulled her chin until she was looking at him. His dark eyes were piercing, full of emotion. “I’ll do whatever it takes to show you can believe me. That’s another promise I won’t ever break.” She had no doubt he was telling her the truth.

***** Her father was drunk again when she got home, and Oriel started worrying all over again. She had to talk to him, but not now, not when he was practically bouncing back and forth between one wall and another. Her heart in her throat, she watched him stagger and stumble his way upstairs. Once he was in bed, she checked her voice mail. There was one message. From Vicky, offering her a job for the upcoming season. It was out of the question. She couldn’t leave her father, not when he was like this, when he needed her more than he realized. She checked the clock. It was late, too late to return Vicky’s call. She’d do it tomorrow, before she headed to the store. She dragged through her getting-ready-for-bed routine, her mind busy trying to figure out how she was going to help her dad dig himself out of the whole he’d fallen into. Then, still no closer to finding a solution than before, she flopped into bed. She knew she wasn’t going to fall asleep right away, so she tried reading a book, hoping it might distract her. Didn’t work. She set the book aside, turned off the light and squeezed her eyes closed. She flopped onto her stomach. She rolled onto her back. She fluffed her pillows. More than once. It was no use.

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She glanced at the clock. Two hours had crawled by, and she was no closer to being asleep than she had been when she’d first gone to bed. Tea. That might help. She headed down to the kitchen, filled a cup with water and put it in the microwave. Next, she went digging in the cupboard, looking for some chamomile tea. Someone was coming. Her dad. She found the tea just as he shuffled into the kitchen. Turning, she said, “I’m making some tea. Want some?” God, he looked awful. She wondered what he was doing awake. From the glassy look of his eyes, she would have thought he’d be out cold. “Sure.” Her father dragged a chair out from its place, shoved up against the table and slumped into it. He dropped his face into his hands. “Are you okay?” She set her hand on his shoulder. “Yeah. Fine as I’d expect, I suppose.” At least he wasn’t too far gone to realize he was doing something harmful to himself. The microwave’s timer chirped, and she cautiously removed the cup of hot water, unwrapped a tea bag and dropped it in before setting the cup in front of her father. “If there’s anything I can do to help, Dad, let me know.” She had far too much respect for him to try to tell him what to do. She hoped he’d accept her offer, let her help him get the drinking under control. She knew from experience addicts had to quit for themselves, nobody else. “Thanks, honey.” He started to stand, she guessed to get a spoon. “I’ll get it. What do you need?” He settled back in his chair. “Sugar, creamer and a spoon.” “Okay.” She gathered the things he asked for and set them on the table before filling her cup and putting it in the microwave to warm. Listening to the tink-tink-tink of his spoon striking the cup as he stirred, she watched the timer count out a minute on the appliance’s display screen. When it beeped and cut off, she took her cup, the wrapped tea bag and sat next to her dad. Maybe it was a good thing she hadn’t been able to sleep tonight. Her father studied her over the lip of his cup as he sipped. He set the cup down. “I worry about you.” “Me? Why?” She unwrapped the tea bag and dropped it into her cup. “Because…” He sighed. “I raised you to be too dependent upon me. I didn’t do you any favors there.” “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.” A little chill crept up her spine. Was this the alcohol talking? Had to be. “Maybe I should make you some coffee instead.” She shifted forward, preparing to get up.

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“No.” Her father set his hand on hers, stopping her from standing. “I’m not drunk.” Sure, he’s not. “I’m not judging you, Dad, if that’s what you’re worried about.” “I know you aren’t.” He slid one hand under hers now, cradling it. His fingers were cold, his skin dry. “I guess I can’t hide it any longer. I knew this time would come.” “Hide what?” Sure her dad was about to admit he had a drinking problem, Oriel leaned forward and tried to look encouraging. “You can tell me anything, Dad.” “I’m sick.” Addiction was a sickness, she supposed. “Okay.” “No.” He shook his head. “I don’t think you understand. I’m sick. I have cancer. Of the liver.” What? Her heart stopped. She didn’t just hear… “I’ve known for about a year,” he added. “A year?” she mumbled, still thinking she was misunderstanding. A year ago. When was that? Last spring? “I…I don’t know what to say.” “My doctor caught it early. At least, that’s what he told me. While you were gone, I had some chemo—” She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. “Why didn’t you tell me?” This wasn’t happening. No. Couldn’t be. Her father? Sick? Liver cancer? Was that one of the bad ones? “I wanted you to go with Vicky.” “Why?” “Because it was important for you to get to know her.” “Huh?” She wasn’t following his logic, but it was probably to be expected. “Why would it be more important for me to get to know some strange woman than stay here with you and help you?” “Because…” He tipped his head. His eyes dropped to their hands, still on the table, his holding hers. “When I’m gone, she’s all you’ll have.” “Please don’t talk about going anywhere.” “It’s inevitable now. The cancer’s spread. I’m not taking any more chemo. No radiation. I’m tired.” Now it all made sense. His weight loss. The dark circles under his eyes. “You haven’t been getting drunk, then.” “No, I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in decades. And wouldn’t you know it, I’m dying of liver cancer.” His laugh was hollow. “The drugs are controlling the pain to some degree. But it’s getting worse. That’s why I need to tell you now, before it’s too late. About your mother.”

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“My mother? What about her? She’s never called, never written, never sent so much as an email.” “She has.” More surprises? Could she handle any more? “No. Or did you lie?” “Vicky’s your mother.” “But you said—” “I know what I said. I wasn’t ready to tell you yet. I hope you can forgive me.” An image flashed through Oriel’s mind. The photograph she’d found in Vicky’s camper. She’d wondered at the time why Vicky would have a picture of her as a child. He’d told her it was because her mother and Vicky had been close friends. Now she had the truth. She opened her mouth to say something but snapped it shut. What was there to say? Vicky was her biological mother, the woman who gave birth to her twenty-six years ago. So what? They’d spent a few months together? That didn’t make up for all the years she’d stayed away. “I told her to keep away from you. It’s my fault.” Her father started sobbing, hiding his face behind his hands. “Dad, why?” “She wanted to be a part of your life, but I refused to let her. I thought I was doing it for your sake, protecting you. But I was wrong. I was being selfish, thinking of myself, not you.” “Selfish?” Oriel gently lifted his fingers away from his face. “I don’t believe that for one minute, Dad. You’ve never put yourself first. Like you said, you were protecting me―” “It would be so easy for me to let you keep believing that, but I won’t. I’d rather die with you being angry with me, hurt, than letting you keep believing a lie.” “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about. You’d rather die with me being angry? When you have so little time left. That’s not selfish.” “Listen to me.” He cupped her face, making her meet his gaze. “What I did was wrong. I realized that a year ago, when I found out I was sick, and I did what I could to give you a chance to at least begin to know your mother before I’m gone. Before you’re alone. I should’ve done it sooner, but death, the threat of it, changes everything. What was important doesn’t matter at all anymore. And what you’ve taken for granted becomes the most precious thing in the world.” “Dad.” Oriel flattened her hands over his. “You have to keep fighting. Don’t give up. Please.” “I don’t have anything left. No hope. No strength. No will.” He took her hands in his, pulling them from her face. “But you have everything, including a mother who has waited a long time for the chance to be there for you.”

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Oriel blinked, realizing she was crying. Hot tears were dripping from her chin, her nose. She sniffled and swallowed, struggling to keep it together, to hide her frustration, confusion, fear. How could she go on without him? He was her rock. But then she looked into his eyes, really looked. And she saw the pain, the weariness, the need to just let go and be at peace. She loved him too much to ask him to spend another minute in pain, let alone a day or week or month. “I think a summer away will be good for both of you,” he said at last, his voice uneven. There were no tears in his eyes, but Oriel couldn’t miss the sadness etched into his features. “It’s my dying wish. Repair your relationship with your mother. She’s all you have left.” How could he expect her to go now, when he was sick? What if he died while she was gone? “No, Dad. Not now. I won’t leave―” “I insist. Do it.” “Please.” “Go.” Oriel nodded. She dragged her hand across her eyes and swallowed a sob. “I’ll call her in the morning.” “Good.”

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Chapter Eleven Exactly four weeks after she’d made the call to Vicky, Oriel was standing in the foyer, a couple of suitcases full of Victorian skirts, corsets and bodices standing next to the door. She was not convinced at all that this was the right thing for her, for Troi and Amun, or her father either, but she’d made a commitment to Vicky and she couldn’t let her down now, no matter how much she wanted to. How would she deal with not seeing her dad? Not knowing if he was eating, taking his medications? How would she deal with not seeing Amun and Troi every day? Sharing a moment or two of peace, happiness, encased in their arms? What would she say to Vicky when they were face-to-face? The phone call had been a little uncomfortable. There was no mention of anything but the upcoming schedule of reenactments, the date of departure and return, and her pay. It seemed neither of them could find the words to bring up the one subject they would need to tackle sooner or later. She expected it might be today. The camper bounced into the driveway, and Oriel’s heart started hammering. “She’s here, Dad.” “Okay,” her father responded from somewhere in the rear of the house. Oriel didn’t wait for Vicky to knock. She opened the door, gave a friendly wave, raised a finger to indicate she’d be a moment then went to say goodbye to her father. He had made it as far as hallway, but he looked as if he’d collapse any moment. His condition had deteriorated severely over the last four weeks. “Dad, I said I’d come find you to say goodbye. Where are you going?” He waved toward the door, his mouth set. “To see you off properly.” She stepped into his path. “You can see me off right here.” He looked as if he might argue with her, even gave her a set of squinty eyes. But then he sighed and nodded. “If it’ll make you uncomfortable, having me and Vicky see each other, I’ll say goodbye here.” “Oh yes. Most definitely.” That wasn’t what she was thinking at all, but it gave him an excuse—without cost to his pride—to go no farther. She swung her arms around her father’s neck, kissed him on the cheek and hugged him tightly, hoping this wouldn’t be the last time she’d see him. She swallowed a little sob. He patted her cheek. His hand shook. “You have been my light for twenty-six years. It’s time I shared you.”

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“Dad—” “I love you, honey,” he interrupted. “I love you too.” He shooed her away. “Okay. Don’t leave Vicky waiting. You have a long drive ahead of you.” “We’ll only be a few hours away. If you need anything—” “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” He shooed her away a second time. “Go on now.” She hesitated. “Dad, I’m gonna miss you.” “Nonsense. Those two friends of yours are much better company than I am. You said they’ll be visiting you every weekend.” “Yeah, but they are not my dad.” He smiled then, and she saw a little glimmer of life, a spark, ignite in his eye, and for just a fraction of a moment, he was the man she remembered, the one full of love and energy and vitality, stubborn and dedicated, honorable and mischievous. Her heart swelled. A tear burned in her eye. But just like an ember shot from a campfire on a cool late-summer night, the light faded. “Don’t make a fuss, Oriel.” “Okay.” She gave him one last kiss, turned, walked up to the door, grabbed her suitcases and without another look back, headed out to the camper. One very agonizing moment was over. One more to go. Vicky greeted Oriel with an awkward smile and promptly reached for one of Oriel’s suitcases. “Hello, Oriel. Let me help you with those.” Their fingers grazed as Vicky closed hers around the bag’s handle. Oriel jerked her hand away. “Thanks.” Still somewhat choked up about saying what could be a final farewell to her father, Oriel returned Vicky’s smile with what was—no doubt—a wilted half-smile. Vicky was kind enough not to ask a lot of questions. She was polite and a little chatty for the first hour and a half of the drive. Finally, Oriel was ready to bring up the huge white elephant sitting on their shoulders, playing tunes with his trunk. “Why didn’t you fight? For me?” A long stretch of time passed before Vicky responded. “I wanted to. Very badly. There wasn’t a day that passed that I didn’t want to hold you in my arms, to kiss you and tell you I loved you. I wanted to hear your voice. I missed everything…” She blinked several times, and Oriel could tell she was on the verge of tears. “But…” Oriel wrapped her fingers around her seat belt, clutching it to her chest. “If I was told I couldn’t see my child for twenty years, I don’t know what I would do.” “You’d carry around an old faded photograph and tell yourself every day that you were doing the right thing by staying away, even if you had doubts.” “You weren’t sure?” Oriel’s grip on the seat belt loosened slightly.

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“No. But your father was, and I respected him.” “That’s fine, but how many divorces end up in bitter child custody battles because neither parent wants to give up their rights? Neither should have to in many of those cases. You didn’t try. You couldn’t have wanted it too badly.” “You’re wrong.” The vehicle stopped at a red light and Vicky turned watery eyes Oriel’s way. “My mother and father fought each other bitterly until they were both bankrupt, depressed and hopeless. Within two years I was an orphan, forced to go live with an aunt who had so many kids of her own to feed, she had no time, no money and most certainly no love left for me.” “I’m sorry.” Oriel now understood—a little—why her mother had relinquished. “But there was no guarantee the same thing would happen to you and dad or to me.” “That may be true, but I wasn’t going to take the risk. I’d rather you be with your father, living in the home you had known since birth, going to school with the same kids every year, than dragging you away from all that stability so I could selfishly keep you to myself for a while. You see what my lifestyle is like. Kids shouldn’t be living on the road, traveling like little gypsies. They need school. Friends. Dance classes and graduation ceremonies, and…all those things I couldn’t provide.” “Couldn’t you find some other work?” The light turned green and Vicky hit the gas. The camper rolled to a smooth start. “What work? Where?” “I don’t know. As a waitress? Answering phones in an office, anything.” “There are so many things you don’t know about me yet. With time, I hope you’ll see why those jobs wouldn’t have worked for me.” Vicky glanced into the rearview mirror, changing lanes. “For now, all I’ll say is that I tried getting other work but I failed. Reenacting is what I did. It has provided so much more to me than a job.” “Like what?” “Like…family.” Despite the turmoil still churning inside, Oriel felt a little touch of sadness at Vicky’s response. Here was a woman who had left her husband and child, had spent a childhood neglected or worse, and she’d turned to strangers for support and comfort. Love. “Why did you leave Dad?” Oriel asked. “Because I made him miserable. I was young when we married. I had no idea what real love was. I had no idea what a real family should be like. I only knew what I’d been shown—jealousy, manipulation, anger, vengeance, selfishness and hatred. It took a long time for me to unlearn all of that.” Oriel nodded. She might not have shared her mother’s upbringing, but she understood about being young and making mistakes.

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Perhaps she’d never fully comprehend what her mother had experienced as a child, what had shaped her, leading to her decision to walk away from her husband and child. Maybe she didn’t need to. Taking Vicky at face value, getting to know her as she was now and just letting things develop as they might was all she could do now. Just as she had with Troi and Amun. The past was in the past. She looked at Amun and Troi and saw the men they had proven to be over the last few months, not the ones she thought she knew almost a year ago. If she’d done it for them, she could do the same for Vicky.

***** A week later, Oriel learned about her father’s death. Troi and Amun were with her, and she couldn’t have been more grateful. The day had started out absolutely gorgeous. It was a Friday. Sunny, warm but not too hot. She was helping Vicky set up camp at the second event of the season, only a two-hour drive from home. Because she hadn’t expected Troi and Amun until later that evening, she knew the instant she saw them that something had happened. She wasn’t sure who was holding her as she crumpled boneless into their embrace. She cried until there were no more tears left in her. For the next God-only-knows-howlong, she just sat in the shade of a maple tree, quaking, Amun and Troi both holding her, stroking her face, hair, shoulders. They didn’t say anything after the initial, “We’re sorry.” Words were worthless. She’d known this was coming for weeks. She’d watched her father waste away, the life slowly fading from his eyes. The hospice nurse who came every day had warned her the end was near. She’d said her goodbye and he’d said his, and they’d both known it would be the last time they’d see each other. Still, she hadn’t been fully prepared to lose him. He was gone. Forever. She couldn’t pick up the phone and call him. She’d go to his house and it would be empty. She’d never again hug him or tell him she loved him, and ohmygod, how would she go on? And how could she stay in that house? She scrabbled to her feet and started hiking back up the hill to the tent. Troi called her name. When she didn’t answer, they both jogged up to her, flanking her. “Are you okay?” “I just need to…keep busy right now. I don’t want to think.” “We’ll help.” The minute they were inside the merchant’s tent, Amun asked, “What do you need us to do?” “Thank you.” After giving them each a hug that she had to work hard to break out of, she went back outside to take a look and get some fresh air. There were boxes

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everywhere, disassembled tables stacked outside, racks that needed to be put together. Oriel pointed at the tables. “Those need to be screwed together and put in place. They’re heavy.” “Done.” Troi headed toward one end of the tabletop lying on the grass. Amun went toward the other, and together they screwed on the legs, hauled it inside and put it in place. While they kept busy doing all the heavy lifting and building, Oriel emptied boxes and filled the newly assembled tables with merchandise. She hadn’t realized Vicky was nearby until she heard Vicky telling the guys where to set up a wood rack for shoes. Oriel figured she should say something to Vicky, thanking her for giving her some time that morning to get herself together, but she couldn’t. She knew if she said anything about her dad, she’d start crying again. Maybe later. Gradually the shop took shape. Before she realized it, everything was done. Vicky set her hand on Oriel’s shoulder. “You look like you could use something to eat.” Oriel shrugged away from Vicky’s touch. “I’m fine.” She felt bad immediately for pulling away, but she didn’t know what to say. Right now wasn’t the time. “We’ll make sure she gets some dinner.” It was Troi, looking as if he would take no argument from her. “I leave you in good hands, then.” Vicky dusted her hands off with her apron and ducked out of the tent, leaving Oriel alone with Troi and Amun. “What’re you in the mood for?” Amun asked, looking dapper in a Union kepi he’d borrowed from the rack. She tapped the hat’s brim, desperate to keep things light. She didn’t want to fall apart again. “You wear it, you buy it.” “Gladly.” He shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out a money clip full of bills. He peeled off a twenty, added a ten and said, “Keep the change,” as he thrust it at her. She waved him off, a fake smile plastered on her face. “I was just kidding.” He didn’t put the money back. “Well, I’m not. I need the hat. I let someone borrow my old one and I never got it back.” “Fine.” She put the cash in her pocket, figuring she’d give it to Vicky later. “Dinner?” Troi, standing next to the tent’s exit, unfastened the flap on top, preparing to close it. She rubbed her stomach, her fingertips mapping the lines between every bone sewn into her corset. “I’m not very hungry.” “That’s okay. You still need to eat something.” Amun escorted her out of the tent.

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She turned to face them, waiting until Troi had the tent all closed up before saying, “Thank you. For coming out here early. For being here…” She couldn’t finish. A sob was stuck in her throat, blocking the words. “It wasn’t a problem.” Amun rubbed her shoulder, looped an arm around her waist and pulled her up against his side. Troi flung an arm over her opposite shoulder, and together the three of them headed toward the parking lot. Oriel tightened up a tiny bit as they passed the tent Laura had worked in last year. She saw someone inside. Someone who was very clearly not Laura. She breathed a little easier. “You don’t mind if we take you off site, do you?” Troi asked, hesitating slightly as they reached the parking lot. She shrugged, glancing over her shoulder toward the campground before turning back around. “No, I guess not. Although people might stare, with me wearing this getup.” “Would you like to change first?” Troi offered. “No, that’s okay. Who cares if people stare, right?” “There’s something we’d like to talk about.” Troi gave Amun a look over her head. “We thought you’d like some privacy. A nice, casual, stress-free meal.” “Stress-free sounds good. Really good.”

***** Amun took a few deep breaths as he drove Troi and Oriel to the restaurant. The entire ride, he second-guessed himself. Was this the right time? No, of course it wasn’t. But the problem was, neither he nor Troi could take another moment’s separation from Oriel. As much as he hated it, he had to tell her now, about the curse, about everything. They’d waited these past few weeks, struggled every minute, every hour, every day they weren’t with Oriel. Suffered the agony of Lust’s demands. Last night had been the worst. He’d nearly lost Troi. He’d nearly lost his own soul too. But he couldn’t care less about himself. If it wasn’t for Troi, he would have given up a long time ago. And he certainly wouldn’t put Oriel on the spot now either. They’d agreed to wait, to give Oriel time to grieve. But that was before last night. He loved Troi too much to watch him be destroyed. All three of them were quiet the entire drive. They said very little as they got out of the car and walked into the restaurant. They placed orders for drinks and appetizers. And then, after the waitress had scurried off to get their drinks, Oriel looked at him. “Okay, so, you said you needed to talk to me about something?” “Yes.” He exchanged a tense look with Troi. As they’d driven out to tell Oriel the bad news earlier, they’d agreed he would do the majority of the talking. Just to keep 115

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things simple for Oriel’s sake. They both figured she’d be very vulnerable now, distracted, in shock and therefore might easily become confused. “We need to discuss a few things, your father’s will for one.” “Oh. Yes. Of course.” She snatched her napkin off the table and started wringing it. “Did you know he contacted us shortly after your fire and asked us to help him draft his will?” “No, he didn’t tell me that. He went to you? Didn’t you say your specialty was criminal defense?” Amun leaned back in his chair, draping an arm over its back. “He wanted to check us out, I think. It was the perfect excuse to call us.” “I didn’t even realize he knew your last names.” Amun lifted his water glass to his mouth, swallowed a few gulps and set it down. His mouth felt dry, his throat tight. “He knew a great deal more than you realize.” A deep scarlet stain spread over her cheeks. “Oh.” She pressed her napkin to her mouth. “Um, so did you want to read the will now? Here?” “No. That can wait until you’re ready, although I’m sure you want to take care of it soon, as well as make arrangements for him.” Her gaze dropped to her lap. “Yes, of course. I have no idea what goes into arranging a funeral. Can you help me?” Amun took another drink of water. His hand was shaking, he noticed. He hoped Oriel couldn’t tell. “We will, if that’s what you’d like. His wishes were to have no funeral. He wanted to be cremated.” “O-okay.” “He’s not here any longer.” Amun set his hand on hers. “If you need a funeral, you should have one.” “No, I don’t. I’d rather remember him as he was, not lying in a casket.” She turned her hand over and wove her fingers between his. “Will you make arrangements for the cremation?” “Yes, of course.” Finally she looked at him. “Thank you.” “You don’t have to thank us. We care about you. We want to help. We want to…” He swallowed. How could he say what was coming next? She was clearly swamped in grief. Dammit. He looked at Troi, saw the pain shadowing his eyes. “What is it, Amun?” she asked. Still holding her hand, he leaned forward in his seat. “Oriel, I wish I didn’t have to do this now, but things are complicated and…the bottom line is, I can’t live another minute without you in my life. I love you.” Her eyes widened. Her lips parted then pressed together, and her shoulders slowly sank.

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He’d expected her to respond this way. It came as no surprise. But he’d had no choice. Tonight, when they left her, Troi would succumb to Lust. What little remained of Troi’s soul would be destroyed, and then the dark spirit would do the same to him. They wouldn’t survive to see another sunrise. And he had a feeling Oriel would be hurt. Loss piled on top of loss. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a bad time, but Oriel—” Oriel pressed a hand to his mouth. “No. Wait.” She took his other hand in hers. His heart was hammering against his breastbone so hard, he’d swear it was getting bruised. She’d stopped him from asking the one question he’d waited to ask so many years, decades, centuries. Would he at least get the chance to say the words? “You and Troi have become so important to me. You’re my friends first. My companions. My lovers. My teachers. If anything, my father’s death has taught me to waste no time, to take nobody for granted.” What was she saying? Would she…could she…be trying to tell him she loved him too? Loved them both? He couldn’t inhale. Couldn’t speak. “Amun.” She glanced at Troi, sitting silent, his eyes full of anxious energy. “Troi. I need you. Both of you. I…love you.” Some strange sound slipped from Amun’s mouth. Laughter? A sob? A combination of both? “Will you marry me?” “Yes.” He cradled the back of her head in his palm and kissed her, telling her with his mouth, his tongue, what he hadn’t been able to say with his words. And she said plenty in return, with her hands, her lips, her tongue, her whole body. The kiss ended when he felt Troi move in closer. Amun leaned back, allowing Oriel to turn to Troi. “Troi?” Her voice was so soft he could barely hear her. “How will this work out, the three of us? I need you too, but legally I can’t marry you and Amun. So where does that leave us? You…?” Troi took her hand in his. “You’re right. You can only marry one of us. But that doesn’t mean anything has to change. We can share a home, our lives, our future children. But I do want you to understand, we may face some challenges.” “What kind?” Oriel asked, glancing down at their joined hands. “Shortly after we met you,” Troi explained, “we took a pro bono case for a family who had lost custody of their children to a maternal grandparent. They were poly. Polyamorous. Two men living with one woman. The woman’s mother used her daughter’s lifestyle to gain custody of her children, claiming child neglect. We won our case, and the children were returned to the mother, but there are still many issues to face, because the relationships are complicated.” “Like…the fact that you’re a Dom. Can you live with things as they are? With me being dominant too?” “It’s okay.” Troi palmed her cheek. “Do you remember how we were when we first met?”

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She nibbled her bottom lip. “Sure.” “There’s a reason why we did the things we did then. It wasn’t because we enjoyed it. In fact, it was exactly the opposite. We couldn’t enjoy anything. We weren’t capable of giving anything to anyone. Not kindness, not affection, not friendship. And especially not love. But then we found you, or, rather, you found us. And everything changed.” “I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?” Amun’s heart slid to his toes. This was it. The moment he and Troi had both been dreading. Amun took over again. “There’s something we want to explain to you. Do you believe in the supernatural, Oriel?” “Like…ghosts? Vampires? Werewolves? Zombies?” “Like dark spirits. Demons. Angels.” Her eyebrows furrowed and a little crease appeared between them. “I don’t know if I can answer that.” When he didn’t press for an answer, she added, “I guess I do. Kind of. But I’m not certain whether angels and demons are actual creatures or symbols of the light and dark parts of humanity.” After a pause, she chuckled. “I wish I knew where this is going, because this is the last thing I expected to be talking about today.” None of them spoke for a few moments and Amun wondered if they were making a mistake by telling Oriel the truth right now. Was it necessary? Or would it only complicate things? She’d come to some kind of peace about what kind of men they were then. Did she need to understand why they had been that way? Amun shook his head. “Troi.” Oriel’s eyes narrowed. “What are you two hiding?” Amun took a deep breath but it felt as if his lungs couldn’t inflate. “We’re not hiding anything. You’ve seen us at our worst and our best.” That was the truth. “Does it matter to you why we did those things?” “I guess that depends.” “On…?” he asked. “If there’s any chance you could go back to being the way you were before.” She went back to wringing her napkin in her hands. “You’ve changed. I’ve never seen such a complete metamorphosis. And at first, I thought it was probably just an act. But you kept giving and giving and giving, and I felt guilty for judging you the way I had.” Amun’s grip on his water glass tightened. His face was burning, his heart thumping in his ears. He couldn’t lie. Wouldn’t. Not after everything she’d told them, shared with them. “There’s no simple answer to that question.” Oriel looked worried and Amun ached to tell her she had absolutely no reason to be concerned. But the truth was, although they knew without any doubt that she was their blessing—the one woman who could silence the beast within them forever—he had no idea how it worked. So far, the beast was only temporarily quieted, when they were 118

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with her, in her presence. Once they were separated from her, the beast returned, and he was stronger. So far, the magic hadn’t worked yet. Thanks to Cyr and Magus’ sketchy explanation, he knew it wouldn’t until something happened within Oriel. Until she felt something or decided something. It had nothing to do with them, their actions, their wishes, their needs. The bitter truth was, he was worried too. Who knew when Oriel might feel whatever it was she needed to, in order for them to be released? Or if she would? Amun sighed. They needed to tell her everything. He cleared his throat. “The reason why we can’t tell you for certain that we’ve changed is because the behavior we are so ashamed of was provoked by an entity, a dark spirit, that we volunteered to take upon ourselves a long time ago.” Oriel grimaced. “What?” “You’ve heard of the seven deadly sins?” Troi asked. Oriel blinked once, twice, three times. “Sure.” Her gaze ping-ponged back and forth between Amun and Troi several times. Amun cleared his throat. “One of them, Lust, is trapped within us. A goddess put it there to protect mankind.” Oriel opened her mouth as if to speak but then closed it without saying a word. Amun continued, “Your spirit silences the beast, allowing us to make the choices we want to make—to give, to serve, to love. Without you, we are driven to take. Lust demands it. And the dark spirit has become so powerful, we can do nothing but feed its desires.” She pressed trembling fingers to her lips. “You’re…possessed?” “Yes, you could say that.” Amun held his breath, waiting to see what she would say next. Oriel stood, snatched up her handbag as Troi and Amun scrambled to their feet. “I need to go to the ladies room.” She didn’t wait for them to respond. She hurried toward the front entry, remembering she’d seen the signs for the bathrooms there. Possessed. Possessed? What the hell? She didn’t actually need to go, as in go, to the bathroom. More, she needed a minute to try to wrap her head around what she’d just heard. It made no sense. And yet, it kind of did. Right away, her head went back to that first day, when she’d met Laura. Laura had said so many things about Amun and Troi, very unflattering, downright ugly things. All along, Oriel had assumed Laura had been lying about what had happened, because

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she’d gone back for more later. If they’d really treated her as badly as she’d said, she never would have done what she had a night or two later. And speaking of that night, Amun and Troi had gone on a date with her, and then the minute she left them, they were fucking in the woods. Why would they do that? The two men she knew, the Troi and Amun she’d spent so many hours with over the past couple of months, wouldn’t be that way. Like Troi had said, they had focused on giving, both in the bedroom—or dungeon, as the case may be—and out. They were kind, gentle, patient men, not the grasping, taking, hungry, desperate men she’d seen that night in the woods. The pieces fit. There was only one problem—she didn’t believe people could be possessed. They could be sick. They could be addicted. They could be looking for some kind of justification for bad choices. But they couldn’t be driven to do something against their will by some kind of demon. What now? She’d just told Troi and Amun she loved them. And they loved her. And now…? Her head hurt. Her heart hurt. It was too much, too confusing. She stared at her reflection. What she saw wasn’t pretty. Deep purple shadows hung under her eyes and her skin was ghostly white, even her lips. She couldn’t handle this. Not now. Dammit, why were they doing this to her now? She stepped out into the restaurant’s lobby and headed for the exit. She’d figure out a way to get back to the campsite. She could call Vicky and walk to the strip mall to wait for her. She didn’t even get a toe out the door before she stopped. How could she even think of leaving? Those two men, troubled, confused, beautiful men, were a part of her now, and there was nothing outside of ripping her soul apart that she could do about it. It was as if their essences had been woven with hers. As if they each were a thread wound together into a tapestry. Each thread was imperfect, fragile. But when combined together, they formed something beautiful and strong and rare. When a young couple, walking hand-in-hand, strolled up to the door, Oriel stepped back inside to let them pass. She followed them as far as the hostess’ check-in podium then hurried on, back to the table where she’d left Troi and Amun waiting. And probably worrying. They both shot to their feet the instant they saw her. She couldn’t help noticing their strained expressions, masks of concern, stress, fear. “Sorry it took so long,” she said.

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“We’d better get you back.” Troi sounded winded, as if he’d just sprinted a mile at top speed. He closed the distance between them before she’d taken more than one or two steps, and she did a one-eighty, in the direction of the exit. Amun was right behind her. The hostess bid them farewell with a cheery, “Have a nice night.” Oriel heard Amun mutter, “Thanks, you too.” They took their seats in the car, none of them saying a word. Amun in the driver’s side rear. Troi in the driver’s seat. Oriel next to him. It wasn’t that Troi and Amun looked angry or even disappointed. They just looked…resolved, as if they had accepted some very bad news and knew there wasn’t anything they could do about it. Troi started the engine, but before he shifted the vehicle into gear, Oriel caught his arm, stopping him. She blurted, “I said—” Troi muttered, “We shouldn’t—” “Go ahead,” they said simultaneously. “Please.” Troi motioned to her. She took a second to compose her thoughts. “I almost left the restaurant.” She looked to him for a reaction. He didn’t show any hint of surprise. In fact, by the way he held his head, the set of his mouth, she guessed he’d pretty much figured that out already. “I didn’t, though. Because just the thought of walking away from you and Amun…” She glanced at Amun. “Made me feel so torn apart. I just couldn’t…” She sniffled, dragged her hand across her eyes. “I don’t understand about the demon thing. I’m scared. I don’t know what to expect.” She hugged herself, feeling her body start to tremble. “If I were to find you in the woods, having sex with someone else now, I don’t know what I’d do.” A hot tear dribbled down her cheek and she smeared it. “But you love us. You’re certain?” Troi asked. “If you aren’t, then please don’t think twice about it. Say goodbye. If you can’t, we’ll say it for you.” “That’s just it. I am sure. I’m absolutely positive. I couldn’t leave. You’re too much a part of me now to live without you. Without both of you. I. Truly. Wholeheartedly. Love. You.” She enunciated each word, her heart filling with both unbelievable happiness and utter terror at the same time. “I have no idea whether you two will drag me to the depths of hell or sweep me up to the heights of paradise, but either way, I can’t say goodbye.” Troi enfolded her in his arms and she buried her face in his chest and cried. Everything poured out of her. The sadness of losing the most important person in her life, fear about the unknown journey she was facing with Amun and Troi, relief to have finally accepted the truth. She loved these men. Even if they were possessed. Insane. Tormented. Whatever. They had her heart, her soul, no matter what.

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She tipped her head and pulled on Troi’s neck until his mouth found hers. She snapped her eyes shut and lost herself in his kiss. This was right. Good. Perfect. When the kiss ended, she whispered, only because she was breathless, “Let’s go somewhere quiet. I want to stay with you and Amun tonight.” “I know the perfect place.” Troi gave her a little kiss that had her practically begging for another then released her. He pulled the seat belt across her lap while she straightened herself in her seat. “I saw it when we drove in.” “Good.” She smiled at Troi, at Amun, then sat quietly, watching the scenery roll by. The town was very charming, with one absolutely gorgeous Victorian home after another lining both sides of the shaded Main Street that cut through its heart. Troi pulled into a narrow driveway running alongside one of the most beautiful homes she had ever seen, the picture of Victorian architecture at its best. Absolutely stunning. A large front porch wrapped around one side. White-painted gingerbread trim seemed to drip from one post to another, creating lovely arches. Her gaze climbed up, to find more gingerbread adorning the second floor balcony above the porch, and up even higher to the tower standing on top. Most of the wood siding was painted a golden beige that made Oriel think of a sandy beach. But under the peaked roofs, the siding was painted a deep burgundy. “This place is amazing.” When Troi cut off the car’s engine, she stepped out onto the small paved parking lot. She noticed it was pretty full. “Are you sure they’ll have a room available?” “Nice place. I didn’t notice it before.” Amun slid an arm around her waist and started toward the door. She fell into step with him. “No, but it’s worth checking.” Troi reached the entry first, opened the door for her and Amun then slipped inside behind them. They all stepped up to the front desk. The clerk, a woman who looked as if she might have been a child when the house was built, gave them a smile. “Hello, may I help you?” Troi pulled his wallet from his pocket. “We were wondering if you have any rooms available for tonight.” “Just one?” The woman’s smile faded a little, and the groove between her eyebrows deepened. Oriel swallowed a chuckle. “Yes, just one.” She was holding Amun’s hand and was tempted to yank Troi up against her opposite side and wrap a possessive arm around his waist, but she didn’t. She wanted a room, and she doubted the woman would give them one if the obvious was made any more plain. “I see.” The woman poked at her computer keyboard with an arthritic finger. “Yes, I do. But only our bridal suite.” “That’ll be fine.” Troi pulled out a credit card and smacked it on the polished wood counter. “Thank you.” The woman avoided eye contact while she took care of the registration, ran the credit card and finally handed Troi the key. “It’s at the top of the stairs, third floor.”

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Oriel couldn’t help waving as they walked away. “Thanks. Have a great night.” She didn’t add, I will, as much as she was tempted.

***** Oriel had expected the bridal suite to be pretty. And, of course, romantic. But this… It was beyond her wildest imagination. They entered in a cozy sitting room, featuring comfortable, elegant furnishings and soft gold walls. Candles flickered on the fireplace mantel, painted a soft ivory. Oriel couldn’t help tracing the curling lines of the ornate carving with a fingertip as she— gape-mouthed—wandered deeper into the suite. Behind one door, she found a bathroom with a claw-footed tub. She couldn’t wait to soak in it. And behind the other, she found the bedroom. If the sitting room could be called elegant, the bedroom was spectacular. The bed, a four-poster made of a blonde wood, was dressed in soft gold. A dressing table with a fancy-shaped mirror sat opposite it. She plopped onto the little padded bench and looked up, up, up. That ceiling. Ohmygod. From the four corners of the room, the ceiling angled up to a square-shaped center opening. She could look up, through the opening, into the tower she’d seen outside. Tons of sunlight filtered through the tower’s many windows and poured down upon her. “Did you know it would be like this?” Oriel looked at Troi, standing next to the window with Amun, taking in the view. “Not a clue.” “It’s beautiful. Perfect.” She rushed to them and wrapped one arm around each of them, offering Troi a kiss and then Amun. They kissed her back and somehow—she couldn’t recall—she ended up on the bed, unclothed, writhing with two beautiful nude men lying on either side of her. Troi, being the dominant man she knew and loved, pulled her onto her side so she was facing him. He slid a thickly muscled thigh between her legs, pressing it against her warm pussy, and skimmed a hand up the outside of her leg, from knee to hip. As much as she loved the way Amun touched her, she couldn’t help enjoying Troi’s masculine possession. Amun made her feel cherished, worshipped. On the other hand, Troi made her feel, safe, protected, claimed. They each, in his own way, satisfied a very different need in her. She couldn’t imagine having one in her life without the other. Troi hooked his hand around the back of her head, and while Amun sprinkled her shoulders, neck and back with soft kisses that almost felt like gentle raindrops, Troi claimed her mouth with his lips, tongue and teeth. She sighed. She moaned. She shuddered. Her hands traveled over smooth, warm skin stretched taut over thick muscle. Arms. Shoulders. Chest.

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She let all the emotions still swirling within her tumble out of her body. Her sorrow, her anger, her confusion, she unleashed on Troi, lashing her tongue into his mouth, crushing his lips beneath hers, curling her fingers until her nails dug into his flesh. Tension wound through her body, each miniscule knot pulling a little tighter with every thump of her heartbeat. Soon she wasn’t sure who was touching her where, who was kissing her, whose fingers were dipping between her ass cheeks, testing her anus. She was a mass of jumbled emotion, need, desperate longing and fear, and the touches, the strokes and pinches and nips only drove her deeper, deeper into herself. She felt her leg being lifted, something gliding into her ass. One finger. Two. Fullness. Glorious. Gone. Not enough. More. “Amun. Troi,” she murmured. “I need you both. I don’t want it to be like last time.” She reached behind her and grabbed something. Amun’s hand? She pulled it down, forced it between her legs, to her burning pussy. “Can you make love to me at the same time?” Amun’s fingertip flicked her clit. “Let me get some lube. Condoms.” “Okay.” She hated it when she felt him leave her, clung to Troi and told herself he’d be back. He returned and handed a wrapped condom to Troi. By the time she’d rolled it on him, Amun had his in place too. “How?” she asked. “Like this.” Amun, now on his back, pulled her onto him so she was lying on her stomach on top of him. He kissed her sweetly while Troi stroked her clit, her pussy, her ass with lubed fingertips. She shivered as a blade of heat shot through her body. That one quake was followed by a deep tremor. With every stroke of the tongue and fingertip, she tumbled deeper into a churning morass of erotic pleasure. Every sensation added to the simmering burn pulsing through her veins. The sound of Amun’s kiss. A muffled sigh. The scuff of their bodies against the sheets. The taste of Amun on her tongue. The scent of man and need teasing her nostrils. It was all too much and yet not enough. Her body wanted, needed completion. “Amun. Please,” she whispered. “Yes, now.” Amun’s cock slipped into her hungry body, one fraction of an inch at a time, and she felt every minute movement. It was glorious. It was perfect. It was everything she needed. Almost. She curled her fingers, clawing at Amun’s thick shoulders. “Troi? Now. Please?” She pulled her legs as far apart as she could, arching her back. Her thighs burned with the stretch, and yet she couldn’t draw them closer. Not now. Not when she was so close to climaxing.

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Troi, bless him, didn’t make her beg more. He knelt behind her, somehow managing to place his groin at just the right height. He gently parted her ass cheeks. His cock eased into her anus, the slight burn of the stretch only adding to her pleasure. He gradually worked his way deeper, and ohmygod, the fullness… Just as Troi’s cock was as deep as it could go, Amun began slowly thrusting in and out of her clenching pussy. She ran her hands all over his body, mapping every glorious inch with her fingers, memorizing every bulge and plane. “Yes,” she murmured as she tumbled head over heels into a hard, beautiful orgasm. “Yes!” Her pussy and ass milked their thick cocks as a flare of pleasure swirled through her center then shot up her chest and down to her toes. Beneath her, Amun’s body hardened, sweat slicking his stomach and chest, making their skin slide against each other like satin. Either he or Troi caught her hips in his hands, holding them in place. Two cocks moved in and out of her tingling tissues, moving as one. When they thickened the second before they found release, Oriel’s body responded, hurtling her over the precipice into a second climax. Now three had become one. In body. In spirit. It was more than sex. It was some kind of magical connection Oriel could feel deep in her bones. She heard herself sob as she lay trembling and twitching between them. She whispered, over and over, “I love you. Iloveyou. Iloveyou. Iloveyou.” Troi withdrew first, disposed of the used condom and laid beside her. Amun did the same. These two men, imperfect but utterly wonderful, had done what she had always thought was impossible. They had taught her to take a risk with her heart, to trust, to love and to accept herself. She would spend the rest of her life showing them how grateful she was for the many gifts they’d given her. With a smile, dampened by tears of joy, Oriel slowly drifted to sleep between them.

***** Cloaked in invisibility, the goddess smiled. Her work was almost done. Just as she had with the spirit of Wrath, she could now contain the spirit of Lust. Troi and Amun would no longer suffer. She cupped her hands in front of her chest, palms facing up, and closed her eyes. Slowly, she pulled the energy released by Troi, Amun and Oriel to her. This energy, a product of the most powerful force in the universe, love, would contain the dark spirit for all eternity. Troi and Amun would never be taunted by its voice again, never be driven by its dark demands. They could finally live in peace. As she gathered the energy to her, she molded it into two brilliant spheres, which hovered over her hands, crackling and hissing. Just as she had before, she whispered, “Be happy” and propelled the spheres toward the resting men. The glowing orbs drifted on the current toward their targets, hovered over them for a brief moment then suddenly plunged into their bodies. 125

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Now it was time for Oriel’s gift. The goddess formed a third sphere, this one from her own energy, and filled it with her divine breath. “Be blessed.” The goddess propelled the sphere toward Oriel. It drifted toward the sleeping woman and sank into her chest, filling her with the breath of the goddess. The mortal was now immortal. Cyr and Magus had been redeemed. And now, so had Troi and Amun. The love they shared with their blessings had provided the vessel that now contained the dark spirits they shared. They were finally free to share an eternity of blessings—love, happiness, peace. Four down, ten to go. Who should be next to receive his reward? Which sin would be defeated next? Envy, greed, gluttony, despair or pride? Smiling to herself, the goddess donned her disguise. With fingers bent with arthritis, she smoothed her snowy hair back from her face, etched with deep lines, and shuffled down the stairs, across the lobby and out into the still evening. The End

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About the Author Nothing exciting happens in Tawny Taylor’s life, unless you count giving the cat a flea dip—a cat can make some fascinating sounds when immersed chin-deep in insecticide—or chasing after a houseful of upchucking kids during flu season. She doesn’t travel the world or employ a staff of personal servants. She’s not even built like a runway model. She’s just your run-of-the-mill, pleasantly plump Detroit suburban mom and wife. That’s why she writes, for the sheer joy of it. She doesn’t need to escape, mind you. Despite being run-of-the-mill, her life is wonderful. She just likes to add some…zip. Her heroines might resemble herself or her next door neighbor (sorry Sue), but they are sure to be memorable (she hopes!). And her heroes—inspired by movie stars, her favorite television actors or her husband—are fully capable of delivering one hot happily-ever-after after another. Combined, the characters and plots she weaves bring countless hours of enjoyment to Tawny…and she hopes to readers too! In the end, that’s all the matters to Tawny, bringing a little bit of zip to someone else’s life. Tawny welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

Tell Us What You Think We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email us at [email protected].

Also by Tawny Taylor Asteroid 6969: Siren’s Dance Blackmailed Body & Soul 1: Pesky Paranormals Body & Soul 2: Phantasmic Fantasies Double Take Ellora’s Cavemen: Tales from the Temple IV anthology Immortal Secrets 1: Dragons and Dungeons Immortal Secrets 2: Light My Fire Immortal Secrets 3: Spells and Seduction Lessons in Lust Major Mark of the Beast Masters of Illusion Passion and a Pear Tree Private Games Sexual Healing Stolen Goddess Tempting Fate Touch of the Beast Twilight’s Possession 1: Burning Hunger Twilight’s Possession 2: Carnal Hunger Twilight’s Possession 3: Everlasting Hunger Twilight’s Possession 4: Torrid Hunger Wet and Wilde Wrath’s Embrace

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer ebooks or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

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