The Bird Wants, More, More, More

Morning Gorgeous,

Had to get to work and didn't want to wake you. I'll find you later.

Last night was…. amazing. No, fantastic. No, mind-blowing. No. Life changing, beautiful, hot, wonderful, sexy as fuck ... nice.

Bugger that.

I don't care if I sound like a prat.

It was bloody incredible. I'm hard again thinking about you marking me as your own and I won't deny it.

I love you.

Dragging myself away sucks, and not in the good way. Think of me, kitty, because I sodding know I'll be thinking about you.

Taurus

After reading his note this morning, I cleaned up the mess we left before heading home. I only spent a few moments there—enough to get clean and grab a snack before I popped back to the secret place via his magic app thingy. Rather than exploring any of the doorways, I sat down with my book and promptly fell asleep.

Being up all night several nights in a row will make anyone exhausted.

When I wake up, I stretch my limbs and arch my back until I hear the vertebrae pop. Wrinkling my nose, I grumble when I feel the crease of my book left on my cheek. A familiar scent catches my nose and a grin curls my lips.

He thinks he's being sneaky, but I'll teach him.

I pretend to not notice his presence, adjusting the blanket and settling in with my book. A disappointed harrumph sounds from behind me. I hear him walk past the door again, as if he's waiting for me to notice him. Feeling his annoyance makes it so hard not to giggle. He finally strides into the room and I close my eyes, singsonging, "I can smell you."

Taurus peeps over the back of the couch. "You need to stop bloody doing that."

I giggle, my expression mischievous as I make no promises. "How was I supposed to know that you didn't sense that I was lying in wait?"

He rolls his eyes and huffs. "Did you get the letter I left for you, love?"

Giving him a soft smile, I nod. "I did. You were right: it was incredible, amazing, and indescribable."

His chest puffs, and he struts around the couch. "Glad I satisfied."

I drape my legs over the back of the couch, reclining against the arm. "How was your morning?"

He flexes his neck, stretching out tense muscles. "Busy. But I couldn't stop myself from coming to see you. I hoped you'd be here."

I hold my hands out. "I'm glad you did. Do want me to help get that tension out?"

Taking my hand, he flips it over to kiss the underside of my wrist. "Nah, kitty, I'm good. I just had a couple of negotiations flare up. I'll be alright."

"You look all tense and stuff, so I offered."

"I am tense, but shockingly, not in a foul mood." He grins, the heat in his eyes unmistakable. "I doubt much could stomp on my parade today, love." Dropping onto the couch next to me, he leans back into the cushions and pulls me close. "That's the reason I wanted to speak to you."

Seriously, he has to cut it out with the heart stopping pronouncements.

He acts like he's the one with the bad ticker. Every damned time we do this ‘let's talk' dance, I expect to get kicked in the teeth. It feels like a piece of my soul dies each time.

Have I simply moved from one prison to another?

I don't say any of those things, though. I look up and smile, keeping my fear cloaked. "What's on your mind, baby?"

"I don't want you to take heat because I'm sniffing around you, kitty."

"I won't be able to avoid that, but I'm not worried because I don't care what everyone thinks." I tilt my head, not sure how to reassure him without lying my ass off. He's right to worry and it will be a problem on many levels, but he doesn't need to know that. I can take care of myself—probably. "Rhea is the only person who might throw a public fit. Things have been so bad with her lately, though, that I don't care if she does. But if the rest fall in line, she'll follow the crowd. "

"It's an interesting geometric shape we've got going on. You and the gnome are mates, yet you hate Belle. She's tight with the gnome, and I hate the gnome. I love you and you love me, but the gnome is tight with you. Oh, and everyone is confused about what Blondie's doing. Yet, you're all supposed to be family. It boggles the mind."

I sigh. He doesn't even know the half of it. "I have a lot of difficult baggage; that's true."

"In all fairness, I should warn you that if you get hurt, I'm not sure I can be cavalier about it. Even if the small witted Belle tries to take you on—despite knowing you can handle it—I won't be able to take it lying down. I get evil when one of mine is threatened."

Oh, boy. What's going to happen when Wilde gets bored with torturing my primary for a few days and I end up bearing the brunt?

Most of the time, I can heal myself, but not if my emotional state gets too bad. When that happens, I lose the ability to multi-focus and bad things come to light. "I appreciate you wanting to protect me. Sometimes that will be a struggle and you might have to rein in your fury if I ask."

"Actually, I usually just kill the opposition. Rules be damned." He grumbles, "I can't help it, minx. My bloody heart is all involved and shit."

Touched beyond my ability to express, I lean up and press a kiss to his jaw. Reaching around to stroke my fingers over his earring, I say softly, "I know, and I love your involved, yet weak ticker."

Suddenly, he curses and smacks his forehead. "Me and my big bloody mouth. Now, if something happens, you won't tell me because I might go all rampage. Bloody buggering hell."

"Not necessarily. I suck at hiding things when I'm really upset."

That's the truth. I'm good at hiding problems when they don't directly connect to the situation at hand, like with Wilde. When I'm with Taurus, it's separate in this weird wormhole we're calling home. That makes it easier to disconnect from the problems connected to my other home. The fear gets in sometimes, but only if I face a trigger or a threat to this brief escape.

Pointing his finger at me, he gives me a stern look. "You better not, missy."

"Even if I pretend, it eventually gets dragged out of me. It's not always worth the effort." That's only partly true. I've made the boys go through some obnoxious machinations to get my problems out of me in the past. But I don't know that he needs to worry about that yet.

Rubbing his earring, he murmurs, "Don't feel you have to hold back on me if something is upsetting you."

Crap. Now I'll have to lie or?—

"I vow that I'll always think before plunging my hand into someone's chest and ripping out their rotten, shriveled little heart." He gives me an angelic grin, and I snort.

"How very romantic of you."

"You knew what you were getting into when you hailed me, love. I'm not exactly house broken." He tilts his head, looking curious. "My dark side doesn't bother you, does it?" His expression is concerned, though he's asking a bit late in the game. When I don't answer right away, his eyes slide down to the feather on my chest. "I suppose if it did, you'd not be wearing that."

His smug grin is contagious, and I nod as if he's completed a hard task well.

"See? I can learn."

"I knew you could." I give him a crooked grin. "Your darkness isn't an issue. We've talked about it, and it didn't seem to bother me, did it?"

"You about repetitive positive reinforcement, right?" I nod and he continues, "You have to remember something when you get annoyed at my occasional lapse in confidence. The only other person—outside my primary—that I've ever liked just chased me down for all my nasty, dark habits while cursing me behind my back for them."

"Baby, I'm not annoyed. It makes me want to coddle and reassure you."

His brows furrow as he frowns. "You know, I think you like when I'm a little unsure. Not because I'm unsure, but I because you enjoy being squishy with me."

I scowl. "I do not."

"Oh, no? What if I tell you I've got an enormous hole in my chest from the hurt others have showed off on me and only your purrs make it feel better? Do you think you'd climb up on my lap and give me some puss?"

Shit. He called my bluff. Do I move because he might tell the truth or stay out because I'm being obstinate? Dammit, there's no upside. I scoot onto his lap, positively glowering now. "That's cheating."

He wraps his arms around me and rubs his cheek on mine. "Well, yeah. Dark side."

"You are a bad, rude man, but you're my bad, rude man. That makes it okay." I sigh as if it's the most trying thing in the world.

Leaning into my ear, he whispers, "In case I haven't told you today, I love you."

The scowl fades and I feel a warmth spread through me. "I love you, too, baby."

He looks pensive. "Not to change the subject, but I never talked to you about those blogs posts you pointed out to me after my Rio trip. You know, the ones you said I should read to see your mate and his male mates interact? I thank you ever so for it because the goddess thought it was hot."

I blink. He turns on a dime sometimes. "It's a brave another world since you've been in seclusion. Love is love, you know?"

Giving me a sideways glance, he nods. "Some of it was right illuminating."

I arch a brow, waiting for him to elaborate. Was that a euphemism for hot as fucking hell? I don't expect him to say that because he got weirded out by the clones having relationships with one another. I wonder if he's changed his tune, now that he's seen that it's not about the face, but the person behind it.

That's remarkably interesting.

"When you've never given much thought to something, and it's dropped in your lap, it's hard to get your mind around it. But when you see the effect it has on your mate—which was violently pleasant—you're bound to get bonked by the light bulb. But some stories were better than others."

Uh-huh. "Really?"

"Writing style lends more to the story than voice. I still don't grasp the love your male mates seem to have for each other, but the physical? I can appreciate that. I told Talia that I'd keep her updated on new chapters in the boys' forays. If you'd give me a heads up, I'd appreciate it."

I chuckle. He definitely does not understand if that's what he wants. With Alistair off limits and Wilde off the deep end, Rafe won't be having any fun escapades. Losing Alistair hurts the worst for him because it's not Alistair's fault that his woman has wronged us. It's also not like he's putting a stop to it, either. It's a terrible choice and an unfair situation.

Wilde, however, is a whole other melon to smash.

He shifts under me, looking uncomfortable. "Not that it affected me, mind you. It's not for me."

I don't know what's going through his head, but involving Rafe with anyone else is not a good plan. He's so broken that I can feel it reverberating through our bond. Rafe does casual fine, so that's not the issue. History has shown that no one who's been with him can allow it to stay that way. He's so easy to fall for, so easy to be with, that you can't help but love him. I don't even think the Big Bad could withstand it; Rafe could melt a glacier.

"Of course not, dear."

"Right." He nods, as if reassuring himself, and I suppress the urge to chuckle.

"Tell me about style. Rafe's a talented writer, but art is his most comfortable tool for expression. Wilde thinks he's a Pulitzer winner, and he's only so-so. Alistair is…well, writing is less his gift than talking. More than likely, you're reading something one of the guys has transcribed to their mates except for the two-bit Tolstoy."

"The way you write about your mate and his partner is opposite of the way the gnome writes about them. It's so dissimilar that it seems like Rafe's a different person. I find it hard to get a bead on the git, to be honest, because I feel like he's got a split personality."

I snort. "Yeah, I get that a lot. Rafe is many things and adapts to what the person he's with needs. He's hard to pigeon-hole because of that. However, Sari tends to…"

"... not comprehend the full capacity of the English language?" He winces, looking sheepish. "Sorry."

"No, it's not that. She gets finite ideas of who people are in her head. It doesn't matter if they reflect on what that person is actually like. You wouldn't be the first person to say when she's blogging about the guys' escapades that her characterization of my mate—or Alistair or me—is skewed."

"Sod her. When you describe Alistair and Rafe, it's not bad. When he's with Wilde, I want to bloody heave."

"Because it's Wilde, or because it's so emotional?" I'm digging deep, but honestly, who doesn't want someone impartial talking to them about their writing? I'm no professional blogger like Wilde fancies himself to be, but I like to write. My chronicling of our families has been a labor of love. It's interesting to hear a contrasting point of view.

Plus, it's distracting him from topics that make me squirm.

"It was the overabundance of flowery and pedantic emoting from Rafe that boggled the mind. He didn't act that way with my—with Alistair."

I snort softly. Guess it was hard to digest the end of that sentence being ‘my brother.' It's a misnomer, but it makes me giggle that he almost said it. "Alistair and Rafe's love is more primal. Things with Wilde are on the squishy side. because Rafe likes to make his mates happy. He's softer with Wilde because he likes it that way."

What Wilde likes now is pain. Inflicting it, to be specific. Emotionally, physically, spiritually—whatever he can do to twist the knife via his demon. He acts as if the rest of us don't have something dark lurking inside us we learn to control.

"I don't fully understand the love because I don't see myself falling for a man the way I've fallen for a couple of stubborn, irritating females. I understand wanting to give people you love what they want, though. The physical, however, is hot as fuck."

He doesn't know the half of it; he hasn't been there live. "You don't fall for a man; you lust over someone, and you get physical. Eventually, you spend time together. Maybe bad things happen and you support one another. Boom—you've fallen for someone you didn't intend to and hey, looky there, it's not a lady."

Taurus gives me a look that says my explanation of how people figure out they might have other desires is insulting. "I read those stories with Talia. For the first time, I had the thought that there might be drawbacks to being me."

Gasping dramatically, I put a hand to my chest. "Drawbacks to being you? Never."

"No sass from you, missy, or I'll eat you!"

"Oh, no, please don't!"

I know where this is going, and it's a welcome distraction from weighty thoughts. Ignoring those things has definitely worked out for me in the past, right?

I'll never learn, but at least I'll die satisfied.