22. Ben
22
BEN
Stoneheart is testy tonight. It’s not like he’s usually sunshine and daisies, but the way he’d glared down the man who’d tried to strike up a conversation with me puts him much closer to broken glass and feral dogs than his usual storm clouds and thunder.
Which doesn’t bode well for me.
Stella easily agrees to be led out of the overcrowded room. I move to follow them on instinct but halt. There’s no reason for me, Stella’s “bodyguard,” to go with them. The farce of my position became apparent with the addition of Connors as a bodyguard, but we’ve been too busy troubleshooting the fae issue for me to be offended.
Stoneheart’s gaze narrows as if daring me to stay back, and I find my feet moving with them.
My ears burn as whispers rumble from the surrounding people. I can’t imagine what they are saying, that’s incorrect, the more salacious of them are wondering about my inclusion with the couple. Is my presence for Stoneheart or Stella? A few will guess for both.
I don’t know how to feel about how open he’s being about the arrangement. The ability to not leave my scent or take on either of theirs has been an unexpected boon. I can only imagine how awkward it would be to walk around a room of shifters with his scent stamped over me like Stella does.
Where the scent mark on her is a relief to them, it would be scandalous on me.
Stoneheart doesn’t lead Stella outside and instead moves down the cheery hallways of Ariel’s home. The house is a grand place passed down through the generations. It had been where her parents had lived before their deaths.
The décor is traditional and stately with a few framed portraits that Stella would be surprised to discover are her ancestors.
I don’t quite understand Ariel Leonid’s motivations enough to trust her implicitly. There are gaps in my knowledge of what occurred with Stella’s birth that draw more questions. For how helpful Ariel is being now and how sincere she was when meeting Stella, she served the territory under her brother for years.
The hallway opens up into a larger space. The conservatory is mostly glass with plants around to dampen the reflections of sound and create a pretty scene of fairy lights and dark greenery mixed with white and pink flowers.
There are forward facing chairs set up for a performance. The diamond of the curated room is the baby grand piano, and for a moment, it pulls my attention away from the couple who turn my need for calm on its head.
“Are we supposed to be in here yet?” Stella looks around for the staff that set up the room, but the three of us are alone.
The gargoyle leads Stella to the front of the room. I follow them, my attention split between them and the piano.
“The musical performance will take place after drinks. We have time yet. Ariel made sure to let me know that if we needed a moment, to take advantage of the space, and there would be no interruptions.” Stoneheart’s words are light but suggestive.
Stella groans, dropping her hand from his elbow to explore the space. “That woman is obsessed with our sex life.”
“She’s obsessed with creating stability,” I add, my hand hovering over the keys of the piano to tease myself. The anticipation of the surface of the cool keys that would yield warm notes of music is a foolish thing to let affect me when I need to be focused on the maneuvering of these two. “It makes sense. Every aspect of the territory runs smoother when there is a belief that there isn’t going to be a war.”
“Or that people aren’t disappearing from their beds,” Stella says.
I make a sound in agreement. Lorenzo was operating on borrowed time, but he benefited in the instinct of a population to move with the herd. If a calf goes missing, it doesn’t affect the overall feeling of safety. Everyone is aware of the dangers of our world, the proverbial wolves on the edges. It makes them ignorant of when the predators surround them.
There’s no sheet music. The pianist is no doubt mingling with the rest of the guests. Hopefully their talent is more authentic than the wincing smiles of the rest of the people in the territory. Even I sense the uneasiness of people, and I can’t scent emotions like Stoneheart undoubtedly can.
I’m not as convinced as Stella is that she will be able to make wards that are effective against fae magic and, even if she can, if that will be enough to stop the stampede if something sets people off.
“Do you play?” Stella asks, interrupting my musings, her eyes bright in curiosity as she leans on the side of the instrument.
“I enjoy it.” I shrug, ignoring the imposing gargoyle coming up behind me like a circling shark.
“I think it’s more than that,” Stoneheart murmurs. His pale gaze peers into my soul and sees the truth there. He’s standing too close for me to hide anything from him. His tail slides against my calf, beseeching me to speak.
“It’s orderly,” I admit. The gargoyle’s expression doesn’t change as his tail entwines around my leg, the tip stroking my sensitive inner thigh pulling more words from me. “The study of it following rules cultivated through the centuries, but it’s also swayed by the soul.” I can barely breathe. “And chaos.”
His lips curve in satisfaction, and there’s the barest brush of his tail against my cock before he pulls away. “Play for us.”
I bite my lips. Nerves patter an odd rhythm in my chest. After expecting the axe to come down since agreeing to take Stella to a crime scene, it seems that Stoneheart has selected his method of payback.
I promised myself that I’d give him what he’d request because I do owe him. He entrusted me with Stella. I followed the words of the directive and not the meaning, and it caused him worry.
Because Stoneheart cares much more for Stella than he allows himself to show.
“I don’t—” I break off, not even knowing how to voice the sentiment.
I do owe him, but not this.
As with many things with Stoneheart, he doesn’t need my words to read me.
He tuts. “You don’t want to play for us.”
My shoulders ease at the simple statement, and I nod.
Of course he doesn’t stop there. That would be too painless. Stoneheart continues. “This is a part of your heart, and you think that by not sharing it with us, that it won’t be tainted after you leave?”
Stella ducks her head but not before I see the flash of hurt there, and it strikes me as surely as an arrow. The toxic shame of causing her to pain doesn’t stop what he says from being true though.
“Yes,” I say softly, my exhale shakes.
Stoneheart leans toward me, his face near mine.
“I’m sorry to inform you that nothing in your life will escape what’s happening between the three of us. Tell me that the next time you sit before ivory keys you won’t think of this moment and how you denied us.” His breath brushes over my lips. “Tell me that you won’t regret that more.”
His words are scratches against glass. A melancholy memory of future regrets and a path I don’t want to trek but yearn for all the same.
It’s not Stella’s rosy nipples and pussy that pulls me in this time. There’s no denying that the moment I break, it’s for Remy Stoneheart and his taunting.
“You don’t sound very sorry,” I say, and when he grins, I kiss him, surprising the both of us.
Instead of freezing in the moment like I do, he takes my shaky melody and builds on it, adding teeth and texture and the chill of the metal in his lip. He tastes like midnight promises, future hurt, but not an ounce of regret.
He pulls me away from the piano keys even as my fingers itch to share another part of my soul with these two. I break the kiss to say that I’ve changed my mind, but there’s a hunger in the air that halts the words in my throat.
“If you won’t play, then perhaps it’s time for your punishment,” Stoneheart says, his claws tickling the back of my neck before he takes my hair in an unforgiving grip and pulls the piano key cover down. The sound a soft slam to punctuate the statement.
“Punishment?” Stella asks, her voice sounds a little raw, but her cheeks are flushed.
“Yes, sweet wife. He put you in danger.”
“Stoneheart—” She cuts off on his glare, but I can hardly track the interaction.
The grip on my hair hurts . My heart races, and the mix of reactions in my body are intense and disorienting.
But the sensation also distills inconvenient facts.
Stoneheart is right. I won’t be leaving this relationship with any part of myself unscathed.
And I need what he’s offering.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Please.”
Stoneheart’s face shifts, taking on an avid light, but when he speaks, the words are soft, and he strokes my cheek with the sharp edge of his talon. “Beautiful demon who needs to shatter, I’ll take care with you.”
He turns toward Stella. “You were left wanting in the car. I have a present.”
The hand not in my hair slides down my body, pressing against my cock. The appendage only grows harder as he increases the pull on my scalp. His eyes snap back to me, and I know he’s noticed.
I swallow at the beat of silence. Stoneheart increases the tension of my hair to a level of pain that is just before damage, and I gasp, my cock jerking at our position.
“Were you aware that you enjoy pain?” His voice is serious now. He eases his grip and assumes the role of directing us. It’s the same role he claimed with the seduction in the library too. Inviting, but calculated. Treating this experience as something that requires care and exacting actions.
Giving over the responsibility of my actions is as intoxicating as the pleasures he offers.
He waits for me to formulate my answer. My cheeks burn.
“A little when I’m stressed. Never with someone else.”
Stoneheart stills. “Ever outside of a sexual context?”
I struggle to answer because it’s not something someone admits to. Working out until pain takes away the constant buzzing in my mind, snapping a rubber band on my wrist, holding my breath underwater until my lungs scream at me.
I have the systems in place in my life to keep me from getting to the point of craving something more destructive than that.
“Ben,” Stoneheart growls when I don’t answer, and the rumble of the sound moves through my body. Stella gasps, obviously as affected as I am.
“Sometimes,” I confess. “But nothing damaging.”
“You will come to me for pain,” he decrees as if it’s an order that I’ll be following for the rest of my life rather than until this ill-planned arrangement ends.
I can’t give him that promise.
“You said you had a present for me,” Stella says when I don’t immediately agree to Stoneheart’s demand. Even as her words are sassy, her eyes are soft with understanding.
Stoneheart gives me a look that says the topic isn’t settled but welcomes Stella into the fray.
“I’m feeling kind tonight and do so enjoy giving you gifts,” he says. Something passes between them as Stoneheart leisurely strokes my hardness through my pants. His grip is soft for all his forceful personality and the delicious pain he’s giving me.
Stella’s eyes narrow, and Stoneheart’s grin is sharp.
He continues, “You really haven’t yielded the benefits of being with two men yet. The library was a delight, but wouldn’t you rather be fucked properly?”
Stella’s lips part, but her surprise doesn’t stop her from gravitating toward us.
“Wouldn’t you rather be filled by your lover’s cock?” Stoneheart purrs, and I curse when he tightens his grip around me.
“That’s a generous gift.” She glances through her lashes at the two of us, and I’m mesmerized. “I’m sure it would serve your purpose for us to be caught in the act here. And even if you’re fond of displaying me naked to the territory, it’s riskier for Ben.”
Risky…it’s hard to remember or care about that right now, but there’s a hardness to her tone that brings me back to reality. Stoneheart shifts some as if also arriving at the present, but he doesn’t stop stroking my cock, doesn’t let the bitter note in Stella’s words derail his plans on gifting me to his mate.
“Serves our purpose, and that’s not my plan here.” Stoneheart shrugs. “The scent we leave will do enough for that. I will not expose you further.”
Even with how casual his statement is, the air holds a flavor of regret that Stella seems to finally believe. My heart beats painfully against my ribcage at being between these two. Having them talk about me as if I’m merely a plaything is a hot lash of desire inside me.
“This is for your pleasure.” His lips twitch. “ Our pleasure.”
Stella’s reticence melts into curiosity, and she presses close enough that her tangy scent has my mouth watering already even if I’m confused. I’m missing something crucial here.
“How is this a punishment?” I ask, feeling faint.
Stella kisses me softly, not waiting for Stoneheart’s permission and distracting me from the gargoyle who has me in such a firm grasp.
The moment our lips touch reaches to the depths of my soul and grabs hold. It’s a chaste brushing of lips but deepens almost without intention. Stoneheart releases my hair, and I’m lost to her.
I’ve tasted the very core of this witch, but this intimacy is different, tentative and pining. The heart has no time limit. It doesn’t know the difference whether it yearns for months or years, but the revelation that her heart mirrors my own changes the cadence. It aligns us, reciprocating our needs and wishes back and forth, never ending.
The kiss with Stoneheart was about power and intrigue. This moment between Stella and me is binding, leveling. It’s a question with a resounding answer.
She would’ve deemed me worthy of her.
She’d have kept me.
The certainty is a stab to the chest. We would have ended up mated if not for the political need for her marriage. I dodge the grief of that by deepening the kiss, diving into the air of lust to embrace reality.
My hands skim up her thighs to grab her hips, pulling her forward to grind on where Stoneheart’s fist keeps me from moving. The action widens my senses again to include the maestro of the moment.
Stoneheart growls and moves us so that Stella’s ass presses against the piano cover. His body surrounds me, his hardness burning against my backside causes me to gasp into his wife’s lips.
He stops his methodical strokes to release me from my pants. The first feel of his callused hand against the sensitive skin there has me groaning. I forget about things like getting caught, punishments, and regrets. All that I can focus on now is Stella in front of me and the gargoyle behind me orchestrating this.
My hands travel over Stella’s body, pushing her dress up before boosting her to sit on the piano key cover. Her nails dig into my shoulders, and our kiss goes from gentle to hungry.
In my rush, I nearly miss Stoneheart’s words.
“Because you won’t be coming.”
I break the kiss and turn my head toward him, startled. The glint in his eyes has a greater pressure building in my spine.
Stoneheart’s grin is vicious.
“Still want to fuck my wife?”