Season Content Notes: violence, sex (fade to black), knife play (implied), blood play

Nastasia

Marcus and Leyla had just finished explaining why we couldn’t trust anyone. Why even Luna Clan might be a threat to me.

I needed to spend more time talking with them. We had plans to make — how we’d handle a threat from Luna, our next steps tracking down Vant and Pyll, bringing an end to this feud…

Right then, I needed a break. A /real/ break, not a few hours of nightmare-filled sleep, half listening for the next attack.

If I was lucky, I good get one — and my much delayed ‘wedding night’ — down the hall.

“Alright,” I said. “Later, I’ll want your advice on setting up a meeting with Vasile. For now, we’re safe here, and I need some time.”

“That’s fine,” Marcus said. “We all need a day or two to recoup, and we should be able to get it. We’ll get a grocery delivery later today or tomorrow and make a quick shopping run. Everything else can wait a bit.”

I just nodded and stood up. The kitchen chair scraped the floor, oddly reminding me of the first night I had met my sotii. Of their suspicion but willingness to list. Their decision to trust me. The lust we had shared for a brief time before pushing it aside because they weren’t willing to deal with it.

Before I could second guess myself, I walked around the table and pulled Marcus into a kiss. It was quick and rough, but when he opened his mouth, I leaned into it, nipping his lip until I caught the fainted taste of blood. He groaned against me, and next to us I felt Leyla tense.

I stepped back and smiled at her. “I think… you hide it well, both of you, but I think you two should have a chance to talk.”

Then I headed down the hall.

Karen and Victor had quieted down a bit but were still together. I knocked on the door and wasn’t surprised when Karen called for me to come in.

Poking my head in, I saw them curled up on the bed. The knife I had given Karen was on the bedside table. Karen grinned at me, the expression making her face even more compelling, and held out her hand. Victor looked beautiful: tousled and sleepy-eyed. But not happy to see me.

They don’t understand, I reminded myself. Then corrected myself as Karen wiggled her fingers at me — most of them didn’t understand. Karen might.

I walked over and took her hand, sat on the floor next to the bed so I wouldn’t intrude on Victor’s space.

Karen rolled half off the edge of the bed to kiss me. It was deep and glorious. Soft and challenging. All the contradictions that made up Karen and our bond boiled down to a single sacred touch.

Then she bit my lip hard enough to draw blood. With the blood flowing between us, I felt her arousal, her pulsing need, and my blood sang in answer. It drove me higher, higher, each taste and touch, each soft brush of fingers or shared bit of skin, my own core pulsing in time with Karen’s. She pulled my lip into her mouth, sucking on it, and my body shook as I came.

There was a deep groan and a rustle of sheets from the other side of the bed. We broke apart, and I looked at Victor. He was licking his lips and staring hard at me. But all he said was, “I should give y’all some space.”

The bonds between my sotii and I were growing slowly, but my bond with Karen was strongest. I could feel her thoughts on Victor leaving — much the same as my own.

“Only if you want to,” I said.

He blinked and wrapped an arm around Karen. I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to let go. “If you’re sure…” he said.

“Victor,” I stood up, and leaned over Karen to kiss him. “I promise I will not push you. I am looking forward to you sweeping me off my feet and romancing me. But you are also my sot, and you are always welcome in my bed — whether or not we do anything in it.

“And if you want to help me make Karen scream–” she squeaked and buried her head in my boobs, still clutching Victor’s arm “–I’d really enjoy that.”

A very quiet. “Oh please,” came from the direction of my boobs.

Victor chuckled. “I think I can help with that, Miss Nastasia.”

He leaned down to kiss Karen, and when he pulled away, both their lips glistened with her blood.

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Marcus

Leyla looked at Marcus with surprise, and Marcus looked away.

“Marcus?”

“We said we’d forget it. That it never happened,” he said gruffly. He never had managed to forget it, just stopped thinking about it all the time, even though he knew —

“How long has it been?”

“Ten years, eight months.” He stopped, swallowed; knew he was giving far too much away. “14 days.”

The look in her eyes was one he hadn’t seen in over a decade. “Marcus.”

“I wasn’t going to forget one of the best nights of my life, no matter what we promised.” He said when he could get his voice to work. “But we agreed the job came first, and I wasn’t going to fuck that up. For either of us.”

He could still taste the blood on his lips, feel the arousal singing through him. But if she didn’t…

“Nastasia… doesn’t bother you?” she asked quietly.

“You’ve had a lot of playmates over the last decade, Leyla. I learned to look the other way. But no, Nastasia doesn’t bother me.” He breathed and forced himself to speak the full truth. “Well, not much. Sometimes I wish I could join in. But I can’t. Not yet, maybe not ever.”

“I never knew.”

“Like she said, I got very good at hiding it.”

Leyla started fiddling with her phone. Marcus couldn’t tell what she was thinking. All her tells were off. Before he could start to worry, she stood up from her chair and offered him her hand. “After ten years, I don’t think we need to be in a rush. But would you dance with me, Marcus?”

The phone started playing the song they’d danced to in Rio that night.

Marcus smiled and took her hand. It seemed they had both remembered. “I’d love to.”

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