“That is not up to me, ma petite, ” Jean-Claude said. “Are we going to fight, Richard?”
That hot, hot wind eased out from his body again. A line of heat to trail like something solid and reaching across my skin. It was like fingers, fingers made of heat climbing up my skin, touching places Richard had very deliberately avoided. When that seeking heat caressed between my legs, I gasped, and managed to say, “Stop it, whatever it is, stop it.” The heat climbed higher, using my body like a fleshy ladder.
“Does it hurt?” Richard asked, but he was looking at Jean-Claude, not me.
“No,” and the power caressed my breasts as if some great monster had breathed their breath hot across them. I shuddered under that touch, eyes closing, neck bowing.
I opened my eyes staring up into Jean-Claude’s face. His face was still pleasant, unreadable, hidden. “Are you well, ma petite? ”
I nodded. I might have said something else, but Richard’s power caressed my throat, flowed over my lips, so that my mouth felt hot, as if some hot, thick liquid lay on my tongue. I looked up into Jean-Claude’s midnight blue eyes, and whispered, “Richard.”
Jean-Claude lowered his face over mine, more of his weight pressing in his hands, against my wrists, so even as he came closer, I was held more tightly. I opened my mouth for him, but he paused just short of a kiss. He licked the air above my mouth. I thought at first he’d missed, but he raised up enough to look down my body to Richard.
“What game is this?”
“You and she aren’t the only ones who gained power when she bound herself to Damian and Nathaniel.” His voice wasn’t happy when he said it, in fact the anger was back. The anger fed directly into his power so that a line of scalding heat flashed up my body and tore a scream from my throat.
Jean-Claude put his mouth to mine, and his power was in his kiss.
A blessed coolness to glide over my tongue, down my throat, to spill in a chilling line through my body and quiet all that heat. And as if Richard’s power had been waiting for that very thing, it surged forward, and I was suddenly covered in their power. It was as if my body was the wick for Richard’s candle and the spout for Jean-Claude’s cool water to flow down. But you can’t be both flame and water. You can’t burn and drown, not at the same time. My body tried, it tried to be cold and hot, flame and water, life and death. But wait, that last, that last we understood, my power and me. Life and death, especially death.
My power didn’t simply rise, it burst my shields, like a dam smashed, and the power of that torrent, so long contained, poured over us all. It swept us not away, but together. We were on our knees on the bed with Richard pressed to the front of me, and Jean-Claude against my back. They say there is no light without dark, no good without evil, no male without female, no right without wrong. That nothing can exist if its direct opposite does not also exist. I don’t know if that’s true, but in that moment I understood that though each opposite needs the other, they also can’t exist simultaneously. They are two sides to a coin, but what of the coin? What is the coin that separates good from evil, light from dark, what is it that binds them together, yet keeps them eternally apart? Good and evil, light and dark, I don’t know, but with Richard and Jean-Claude, it was me.
I was the metal that both separated them and bound them together.
I was their coin, and they were my different sides. Always apart, always together, different, but all of one piece. Richard pressed to the front of my body, and it was as if he burned, as if his body was so hot, it should have burst into flames, as if the sun itself lay within his skin. Jean-Claude pressed at my back like water, cool, cold water, that had risen from the very depths of the sea, where it runs cold and black, and slow, and strange things glide there. If you look at the sun too long you go blind; if you swim too deep into the sea you drown.
I screamed, screamed because I didn’t know what to do with the power. I was their coin, but I didn’t know how to forge us into one piece. It was like trying to fit three people into one body. How do you start? Who gets shoved in where?
But I wasn’t master here, it wasn’t my job to find a way to fit three such huge pieces into one. Jean-Claude’s cool power flowed over me, soothed the burning, touched the edge of Richard’s power, and brought us all back up to the surface of our metaphysical sea. He said almost exactly what I was thinking, “I can only hold it back for a moment, when next we drown, we must not fight it. We must embrace it, and each other.”
“Define embrace,” Richard said, and his voice was thick with effort, as if he were holding back his side of some huge weight, and maybe he was.
“You into Anita’s body, and I will feed upon yours.”
We didn’t have time to say yes or no or anything. The power was just suddenly back, as if we’d opened a door and found the building falling down around us. We were out of time. We either rode the power, or it would bury us. Bury us along with everyone we loved, everyone we’d vowed to protect. Distantly, I had the thought, if we would but take the fourth mark, it would be easier to ride, but the thought vanished under the press of Richard’s body. His body was ripe and thick and ready, and he’d made certain that Jean-Claude’s wouldn’t be.
There might have been other ways to bind us, but Richard had taken some of Jean-Claude’s choices, and mine, by simply not allowing the other man to feed. Funny how you try to avoid one evil, and fall headlong into another.
Richard pushed himself inside me. I was tight, and he was thick, but the moment he began to push inside me, the terrible weight of power eased. It was as if Richard’s body broke the plane of some barrier, as if my body were a door, and we’d pushed inside.
Richard’s voice came strained, “Tight, so tight. I don’t want to hurt you.” He was above me in a sort of push-up, and the view between our bodies was perfect. Perfect for watching him push his way inside me.
I grabbed his arms, and said, “Don’t stop, God, don’t stop.”
“You’re too tight.”
“Not for long,” I said.
“Is she wet?” Jean-Claude asked.
Richard gave him a look, and it wasn’t friendly. “Yes.”
“Then you will not hurt her.”
“You said it yourself, Jean-Claude, you aren’t this well-endowed, you don’t know how you can hurt a woman without meaning to.”
I slapped Richard’s shoulder, because I couldn’t reach his face.
He looked down at me, anger so ready in his eyes. “I am not Clair. I want you, Richard. I want you inside me, please, Richard, please.
Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”
He looked down at me, and the look on his face was very male, and very Richard all at the same time. I watched him, felt how much he wanted to shove himself inside me, but that part of him that was still Richard, still thinking so hard, was afraid. Not afraid that he’d hurt me, but afraid to see the same look on my face he’d seen on Clair’s. I tasted the fear of that on my own tongue. Felt the pulse in my neck speed, not with lust, but fear. Fear that Clair was right. That he was an animal. If I could have slapped her around in that moment, I might have. The last thing Richard needed was more emotional shit to shovel.
“If you will not do it, mon ami, then let me feed, so that we may finish this.”
“I am not your friend,” Richard said, and his anger spread like hot oil on my skin. It didn’t hurt like earlier, and I knew that was Jean-Claude’s doing. He was dulling the edge of Richard’s power, or rather turning it from burning pain, to something more fun. Heated oil rolling down my skin instead of biting bits of fire; how could I argue?
“Be my enemy then,” Jean-Claude said, “but one of us must do this.
If you will not, then you must help me do it.”
I sat up, and he wasn’t far enough in for it, so that he slipped back out. That pressure came crashing back. Jean-Claude grabbed a handful of my hair, pulled my head back, and kissed me. Hard, deep, tongue searching my mouth. I melted into that kiss, gave my mouth to his, my face to his hand, my head to the hand still wrapped in my hair. His other hand slid from my face down my neck, my shoulder, to caress the front of my breast. He bent me back against his body, and I understood. As we’d discussed, his power lay in seduction. He was literally building a deeper binding on the foundation of sex. Each touch, each caress, each penetration, another stone to keep us safe.