Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

R uth's need pushed upon Merc. He knew what she wanted, and she'd fired the arrow as if she could see the center target of what he himself wanted. He still wanted to kill the two vampires in the most painful way possible. He was feeling possessive and strongly protective of her. Vulnerable to her desires.

He hadn't been feeding the way he should. He was supposed to take measured, evenly spaced amounts from what local prey was available, to manage his hunger and protect their lives.

However, he'd learned that projecting the demeanor that made others fear him, then pushing enough incubus vibes their way to get an airborne mix of sex-fear energy, resulted in an approximation of nourishment that patched him through. Snacks, so to speak. Sometimes he preferred that to the fight for self-restraint he had to call upon when actually feeding.

Yes, Ruth. I do get tired, too.

He wasn't in the mood to pull on the focusing effort to put that in her head, like he'd described, but he thought she could read it from him. It was probably why she asked the questions she did, as if they knew one another more intimately than they did. Technically.

With a normal incubus, the struggle to restrain oneself eventually reached a point where the incubus lost. The need to kill and feed, kill and feed, never stop, won out. And they were executed.

However, he wasn't a normal incubus. Perhaps because of that angel blood, his hunger war could conceivably stretch into infinity.

No, it wouldn't. He wasn't at that fatalistic decision yet, but one day, he would be. He could already foresee that his rebellion against having anything dictate terms to him, even his own body, would start to seem like a pointless exercise. His interest in the world wouldn't disappear, but the endlessness of the struggle, the way it kept him from trusting or making any meaningful connections with others, would take its toll.

There were days he thought he'd been better off as a feral child, who didn't have time to think or feel those kinds of things.

The hunger was both worse and more manageable around her. She was challenging his restraint. She wanted him to let go. Feed fully. Sate himself. For a few blessed moments, she wanted him not to feel hungry.

It was a trap, the wrong move. Even if it didn't go badly, it would have to be a one-time thing. And in the short term, the hunger would be far worse, because he'd have to rein it back in and teach himself to do without satiation again. He'd had that experience too recently, with the Trad's green smoke.

But would it be the same? Somehow, it felt like maybe it wouldn't.

Before she'd put on his shirt, she'd put it to her face, rubbed her cheek against it, stirring him. Now, she took it off again and set it aside before facing him. She was going to push the issue, because that was what she did, his disobedient, willful, beautiful vampire.

The possessive told him how close he was to losing the battle to her.

Her breasts quivered in the hold of her bloodstained bra, her dark hair rippling over her bare shoulders, the jeans sitting below her hip bones. Her dark eyes were upon him. Challenging, no fear. Wanting.

He saw her wounds were healing, faster than her normal rate. Because of his blood. He understood why she was reluctant to take it, even when he insisted. But if he were her Master, he'd want her to do so. Would require it of her, to let him care for her.

She was upset about the attack, feeling out of control of things, daring the world to knock her down. Would he let her take the risk, just to help her feel more in control? A foolish, foolish decision, but one he understood too well.

He had an unreadable face to most, but there were those who'd spent enough time around him, like Yvette and Marcellus, who could read some of the hidden pages of the book.

She shouldn't have that ability. As she came closer, she shed the shoes and jeans, and stood before him in her bra and panties. Thin garments that showed curves and points, intimate crevices. Her toes curled against the ground. She kept her hands at her sides, not reaching for him.

She was offering herself as a submissive would. Waiting on his decision. She didn't lower her eyes, though, letting him see the need, the desire, the belief that this would soothe the ache, the storm inside her. Inside them both.

She submitted and challenged him at once, a rare combination. An alpha female in certain circumstances, a submissive in others. Both for him, at least in this instance.

He knew how to read mindless desire, knew if the woman he faced was beyond sensible inhibition. Ruth was, and yet her sharp intelligence hadn't abandoned her. She'd brought this up before, the offer to feed him fully. Since then, she'd been pondering it. It wasn't a passing impulse.

He'd been pondering it, too.

He put a hand on her shoulder, thumb caressing her collar bone. He knew she could hear the rush of blood in his arteries. Did she know that sexual energy had a similar pulse? Even at rest, he could call it forth from any female within his range. She wouldn't be able to resist its pull. She'd cling to him, beg him for more as he drank from her, until life slipped away, leaving the physical scent of her desires in his nose, the evidence of it bathing his cock.

Her hard, final shudder would find an echo inside him, rippling through his blood, muscles and something deeper. A soul-deep reaction to her giving him everything.

Hadn't Ruth suggested the true drug might not be her death, but the female's full surrender to him? An incubus delighted in taking every drop of life energy, the kill. But was Merc seeking something deeper?

He didn't have to use compulsion with Ruth. He could feed until he was sated while she stayed fully conscious of how deeply he was drinking. She wouldn't fear it. Which would prove if fear really was the drug it had once been to him.

The homeless man's blood, as well as his own, was restoring her. She hadn't lied about that. Her trauma wouldn't make her weaker than normal. Sensing it, feeling the strength of her heartbeat, seeing the color in her skin, the determination in her eyes, peeled away his final resistance.

He removed his jeans. Her eyes were lowered, and her lips pressed together as he revealed his erection.

"Lift your chin."

As she did, he felt her gaze on the shift of muscle across his upper torso. He leaned in, putting his mouth to her throat. The skin was tender and pink, but able to receive his ministrations. He tasted the blood that had stained her skin, and felt her reaction.

From her, he'd learned how sensitive the area was to vampires. He explored that, tracing the veins and soft female flesh with his tongue, the edge of his teeth. Whenever he scraped her, she shuddered, but she held still, fighting back the obvious desire to sway toward him.

"Try to get away from me, Ruth. Do your best to fight me."

He wove the magic around her, drawing out her arousal. A woman's body was a sexual instrument from head to toe, and he'd played every note, explored every melody and arrangement. When he'd had to learn to feed without killing, he'd forced himself to focus on the same tedious pattern, so the lure of something new and wondrous didn't pull him in and risk his food's life.

He'd stopped looking for a new song to hear, but this vampire female was offering one. Hadn't she played her own music for him, through the earbuds? Sharing it with him.

Ruth broke away and made it several steps. He grabbed her around the waist, and she turned in his grip, sinuous as a snake. Her feet found his thigh, kicked the corded muscle, shoved off. She landed on her back with a thud, and he let her scramble up and take a fighting stance again. He circled her, dove in, spun her around, took her punches, her kicks, slid away from them, caressing her body as he did it. Testing her strength, how restored she actually was. Not as much as she claimed, of course. But enough.

He brought her to the ground, putting her on her knees, his body pressed behind her.

"Spread your thighs for me."

When she resisted, he knocked them apart and took her all the way to the ground, pinning her down, his wings spread over them. "Fight me," he said harshly. "Don't accept."

She did fight. Not as tactically well as she normally would have, but she made up for it in persistence. She fought and fought, until tears were on her face and breath sobbed in her throat. It did things to him, seeing those tears, feeling that pain.

He leaned in, put his mouth to her cheek, sliding along to her ear, her neck. Then down, between her shoulder blades, where her wings would be, if she was like him. He pressed his cock against her ass, played in the seam, reached under her and found her damp cunt. She whimpered as he slid his fingers into her, caressing her perineum with a thumb, an easy stroke that had her struggling even more, the sensations rolling over her.

"You can't get away from me, can you?"

She shook her head.

"I'm completely in control. Aren't I?"

A pause. Then slowly, a nod.

"That's something they couldn't do, those two vampires. For them to be completely in control, you had to want them to be. Even if they overpowered you, put you in chains, what you are giving me…it is a giving. It can't be taken. Lift your hips. Rub yourself against me."

She complied, her fingers curled into the earth on either side of her. She still had anger. But he had an outlet for that.

"Push yourself down on me. You'll have to work for your pleasure. For your request. You serve me. I don't serve you."

The force behind the words, the message it sent, had a powerful effect. He felt it through her trembling torso and thighs as she positioned the mouth of her sex on his cock. He angled it for her with a hand curled around the base, and then she was pushing down on him, those lovely buttocks flexing, quivering, as she made it to the hilt. She had a gorgeous ass, smooth, tight, with the right sweetheart shape. She paused, gasping, shuddering.

His voice was thick. "I didn't tell you to stop. Fuck me, Ruth. Earn your pleasure. You get no free passes from me."

That little whimper in her throat again, a curl of her lip, an intriguing half snarl. Then she was moving again. Up, down, up, down. The bliss of it worked through him. It was time. No more hesitation.

Either he was being unbelievably stupid, or they were doing something meant to be.

He opened himself to it, the sexual energy spiraling from her, that had spiked as he commanded her. The first touch of it was indescribable, the unique, pure uncompelled taste of the woman he was using for nourishment.

Who was offering herself for his nourishment. He gathered it in, watching her spine arch, her buttocks tuck in, lift, her breasts pushed against the forest floor, fingers still seeking purchase. Putting his hands on her waist, he took over, bringing her down on him, lifting her up the length of his cock and bringing her down again. Increasing speed and force, once again showing her just how helpless she was against his strength. The right kind of helpless. She'd offered, wanting that, and he'd taken. Given.

As he expected, the lesson increased her sexual arousal, her desire to serve. He wanted a full, fucking Thanksgiving feast, as other Circus members celebrated it, while he stood on the periphery, his hungers never abating. Never full.

"Tell me what I am, Ruth. What do you want me to be?"

A pause. This was a stumbling block, so he said what also needed to be said.

"If you could trust me, if you could have what you wanted, if I could be what you wanted, what would I be?"

He leaned over her, bringing her up against his chest with an arm banded over her breasts as he thrust into her. Pushing against her slim thighs, he spread them wider, taking her deeper, higher. Her energy was feeding him through his very pores, and when she spoke, it was dessert and the main entrée in the same shot, the best possible wine accompanying them.

"Master."

"Whose Master?"

"M-mine."

"Yours. I would own you, Ruth. Every thought and feeling mine to know. Every beat of your heart."

Every moment of her life his to enjoy. Honor. Protect.

He didn't say it out loud, but just like him making her say the words that increased her sexual energy to that feast level he sought, him thinking the words increased his intent to feed from her very soul.

He was in new territory, and he wasn't sensible enough not to drown himself in it. In her.

"Yes," she whispered, and tears were trickling over his knuckles, her curtain of hair brushing them.

He took her back to the ground, pressing her there while pushing himself deeper. He was causing discomfort, but drawing pain from her in service to his pleasure motivated her. She could handle pain. She'd proven it for the wrong reasons. He'd have her prove it for the right ones.

"Take, my lord," she whispered. "Take everything you need. Take…it all. Please don't stop. Please."

She'd added the please. Remembering she couldn't command him.

He could feel her body drawing on deeper reserves. Physical reserves to serve his hunger, and his hunger was spreading out, growing, taking every grain from the field, every apple from the tree, everything he'd denied himself for far too long.

The normal alarm bells went off, but instead of reining them in, he took the risk and ignored them, pushed past. Brought her up close to climax, again and again, not letting her go over, feeding on that energy as it grew richer, denser. When he finally tipped up the glass and found the bottom, she was still with him. Her cries weak, her body limp in his grasp.

But she was alive.

He let himself release, clasping her against his body, taking them into the air and pumping into her with the use of his wings. She'd seemed to love that before, and as she rested in his arms, her head dropped back against his. "Please…" she begged in a near whisper.

"Please what?"

"Please…Master."

He put his hand on her clitoris, and gave it the heated, electric energy that made the massage even more intense. Her tissues were drenched under his manipulation.

"Oh God…I can't."

"You are mine," he told her. "You will. Come for me."

Her climax exploded in her at last, and her scream vibrated through the forest, spooking several roosting birds to fly in a confused spin around them. With shaky fingers, she reached out to brush their wings, the way she liked to touch his.

She liked to fly. He wished he could give her a set of wings of her own, but he'd give her the next best thing. He'd take her flying whenever she wished.

For the first time in a very, very long time, he was not…as hungry. Being in her company, feeling that way, only made what they'd just experienced together more potent.

The climax was still coming through her in waves, but she had no more strength to cry out. He treasured the whimpers as much. Only when he was certain she'd experienced every last spasm of the release did he bring them back to earth.

Easing out of her, he sat them down against a tree, holding her between his legs. He lifted her face to see her condition, and found she was pale, her cheeks drawn, eyes dazed. But there was a vague smile on her lips.

He stroked her, traced her mouth and throat. His possessiveness had a new level, more complicated. More…permanent.

Committed.

The significance had him pausing, because it connected to something he'd downplayed, denied. Scoffed at. He suspected he was being delusional, caught up in the euphoria of the moment. Making more of it than it was.

He could speak to Marcellus about it if he was willing to be more…open, than he usually was with the angel. It would take some thinking about.

First, he had to tend to her. Because several minutes later, they found she couldn't stand.

At all.

"So I guess beyond the utter stupidity of the risk you took with her, you didn't think that we have a show tomorrow night and she's a member of the security team and Clara's protection detail? Dollar will be minus a team member."

"I'll be fine by then." Ruth was sitting in a chair in Yvette's tent, where Merc had placed her. His hand rested on the top of the chair next to her shoulder. "I'm healing faster than it looks like I am."

Lady Yvette gave her a censorious look. "Be quiet. That's an order. Do you understand?"

Ruth's lips tightened, but she did respond appropriately. "Yes, my lady."

Merc spoke before Yvette could continue to tear into him. "I made a decision, based on Ruth's request and a measured evaluation of the situation. She may appear physically worse for wear, but she's correct. She'll heal. It's something we won't do regularly."

The look he shot at Ruth held the same warning Yvette's had. She pressed her lips together, with enough rebellion in the expression to intrigue him, but he turned back to his current priority.

Marcellus was standing a few paces away. The angel had so far remained silent.

"She's a smart female and convinced me of the acceptable risks," Merc continued. "If I have someone I can feed upon, to ease my hungers, without causing irreparable harm…" He locked gazes with Yvette. "If you'd had to endure blood hunger for centuries, how would that have impacted what you have learned and accomplished?"

A muscle twitched in her jaw. She looked toward Marcellus. "Are you going to weigh in on this, or are you playing statue?"

His eyes glinted with a warning of his own, but the Legion captain lifted a shoulder. "I will speak to Merc alone." He tilted his head toward the yurt opening. "We will be back."

As he moved past Yvette, Marcellus stopped and spoke to her. He was using sound interference, because even with his sharpened senses, Merc couldn't hear the low volume exchange. Surprise flitted through Yvette's eyes. Then the angel exited.

Merc drew Ruth's gaze to him. "Rest and do what Yvette and Charlie tell you to do. I have things I want to discuss with Marcellus as well."

The healer had been waiting outside, but when Marcellus left, she stepped inside, her attention going to Ruth.

"I would stick my tongue out at you," Ruth said to Merc, "but I'm too tired to argue. I'll punch you in the face later."

As he gripped her arm, her fingers curled into a fist. He put his hand over it. "You won't raise a hand to me without suffering the consequences."

"Or enjoying them," she said unrepentantly. She tried to lift her other hand and put it to his face. It didn't work. She was too weak. He helped her do it. She stroked his face, an almost tender gesture. Before her, it had been easy to count up the number of times a woman had touched him that way.

Zero.

"I'm all right," she said. "You know that, right? It was amazing."

He was aware of Yvette and Charlie's attention, but in this moment, all that mattered was the truth between them. "Yes. I do. Thank you, Ruth. I'm grateful."

She blinked at the formal response. He squeezed her hand, returning it to her lap, and looked toward Yvette, his gaze moving between her and Charlie. "Care for her." Then he pivoted and followed Marcellus.

"Did that little bastard just order me to do something?" Yvette noted, her brow arching.

"He's not that little," Ruth muttered.

The healer suppressed a smile as Yvette shot Ruth another reproving look. Ruth closed her eyes, dipping her head. "Sorry, my lady."

"Hmm." Yvette snorted.

"So I'm okay, but I'm thinking it will make Lady Yvette feel better if she hears you say it, Charlie."

Charlie gazed at her with that intent, focused look that seemed at odds with her physical blindness. "She was severely weakened," she told her Mistress, "but with more blood and a prolonged sleep, she'll be restored. He did her no permanent damage."

"Look at me, Ruth."

Ruth wanted to ooze to the floor and embrace her post-dawn coma a couple hours early. However, at the Circus Mistress's sharp command, her eyes snapped open and her spine straightened.

"It seems your experience with the Georgia territory vampires earlier in the evening didn't make an impression. So let me point out what should be all the more obvious. Being as vulnerable as you are right now, even for a short time, could be catastrophic around other vampires."

Ruth pressed her lips together. "It was an in-the-moment thing, as risks like this sometimes have to be. Now that we know the results, we can plan better. And when I'm with him, I'm as safe as I could possibly be. What did Marcellus say to you?" she asked, an attempt to change the subject.

The Circus Mistress gave her a neutral look. "If he'd wanted you to know that, he would have addressed all of us. I'll leave you in Charlie's hands. While I take issue with Merc's delivery, I don't disagree with the order. Follow her direction and restore your strength. We don't employ shirkers around here."

She marched out of the tent.

This time Charlie didn't hide a smile. "You should see the face you just made in auric form."

Ruth sighed. "It sucks to be the youngest immortal in the room."

She wondered what Marcellus wanted to talk to Merc about. And vice versa. But she didn't feel like she had to worry about him. The others might think Merc's behavior today was a big change, but Ruth was beginning to believe that shift had happened well before today. In his rare moment of vulnerability, Merc had as much as said so. Today was the day that change became manifest to the world around him. And she was a part of it. She had to believe that.

Even if she was falling for an immortal whose mind and plans were still mostly a mystery to her.

Marcellus took flight when Merc emerged from the tent. Merc had to maintain a swift but not insane pace to keep up with him, but they were still moving faster than a mortal eye could track.

He'd always assumed Marcellus, being pure angel, could move faster than him, since Merc stubbornly asserted he wasn't much of an angel at all. But that didn't feel as true today, not with the revelations he was having simmering in his mind.

He needed to stop calling them that. Revelation was too dramatic. Too biblical. Jumble of thoughts . That was better.

When they kept ascending, far past the clouds, Merc realized where they were going. When Merc banked, uncertain, Marcellus paused and gestured him forward until they hovered together, looking toward their destination.

The silver and ivory spires of the Citadel pierced the seven layers of heaven. It was headquarters for the Legion angels, the warrior class who fought the enemies of the Goddess. Right now, they were in third heaven, Machanon, which overlooked the Garden of Eden. At this distance it was a green valley cut by a glittering river, the two trees of lore arched over it, branches intertwined like lovers.

While battle strategy and other Legion work was done in Shamain, the level closest to Earth, Machanon was an oasis of sorts, a place for the angels who regularly had to fight the Dark Ones to take their ease.

Merc had had to accompany Marcellus here in the past, but he'd taken up a post on one of the available turrets, keeping his distance from the other occupants.

Fortunately, Marcellus turned them toward Eden. Merc followed him to the bank of the river. Marcellus crouched by the gurgling water, his dark green glossy wings unfurled as he dipped in a hand. A small school of fish leaped out, sliding across his forearm, and continuing with the current.

Merc stayed standing. "This has never felt like home. Nothing has ever felt like home."

"You have never set foot in the Citadel. Perching in the spires like a wary vulture does not count."

"You think putting my feet on the flagstones would make it feel like home to me?"

"I think when you are born without one, home is what you build throughout your life. Even when you are born with one, a soul may find it has to move and find another home, better suited to what life and experience bring."

"Why did you bring me here?"

"It felt right for whatever words, whatever truth, you wish to speak to me." Marcellus glanced at him. Waiting.

"You said you had something to discuss with me first."

Marcellus raised a brow. "Do you want to play games with me today, Merc? Your vampire would feel better having you near while she recovers."

Merc pressed his lips together. "What you call games, I view differently."

"Yes." Marcellus gazed at him. "Survival behavior. But for a while now, there's been something going on behind it. Do you trust me enough to show it to me? Come down here. You are giving me a crick in my neck."

"You could always stand back up." But Merc dropped to his heels next to him and, emulating Marcellus, he dipped his hands into the water. It wasn't every day one touched the waters in the Garden of Eden. It tingled over his skin, telegraphing its healing and regenerative properties. Maybe that helped him say the words that had been inside him a while. A wary act of trust.

"For years you have championed me, not just with others, but against myself, when I only wanted to embrace the darkest part of my incubus nature. In the first years, I hoped to do something that would force your hand, make you kill me."

"That was a difficult time. You almost accomplished it."

"No," Merc said. "I don't think you ever lost sight of who I was. Who I could be. You gave me responsibilities. Opportunities. Lately, you've been giving me more of them, things that rely on my angel blood to fulfill them."

He paused, made himself say it. "The blood no one else thought mattered inside me, because I myself rejected it."

Marcellus's gaze flickered. "Demon blood will always try to reject angel blood."

Merc stiffened, but he knew Marcellus wasn't insulting that side of him, just acknowledging the dichotomy within Merc. But when he'd fed on Ruth without killing her, responding to her trust and following that path to its natural conclusion, he'd realized he was master of both parts of himself. Something he'd sensed but not really known, not to the level needed. Angel blood, incubus blood, they were all him. He held the upper hand on both. The choices were his.

Maybe they hadn't always been, but the things Marcellus had cultivated in him, the things Merc had explored himself, had brought him to this moment.

"Why did you agree to be responsible for me, Marcellus?"

Because of his age and power, Marcellus might answer a question or he might not. This time, however, he did.

"Because of Mina, the seawitch, but not for the reasons you think."

Witch seemed a very limited term for what Mina was. Bonded to an angel herself, her power seemed more demi-goddess in scope. When she'd evaluated Merc in Hell, determining his Fate after he was dragged back there, her bi- colored eyes, one dark blue, one crimson red, saw every shadow in his soul. Under that gaze, he could hear the helpless cries of everyone he'd fed upon as their life was pulled from them. He'd had to see her a couple times since then, but he always hoped it would be the last, no matter that her assessment was why he hadn't been summarily executed.

If he owed her a thanks, which he grudgingly assumed he did, he'd send her a fruit basket.

Marcellus's expression was touched with grim humor. "She is not easy to be around. Once, I wanted her dead. She is half Dark Spawn, and the Legion has fought their kind for centuries, seeing nothing redeeming in them, creatures of pure evil. Yet she saved this world, and likely others, not in spite of that blood, but because of the way her own will blended her mermaid blood with it.

"We are far more than our birth. To consider our origins a mistake, rather than accepting them as part of us…we limit our path."

He gazed at Merc. "Things that come from darkness, they often see and know things that we need, and what they need is someone in their corner. I believe the universe sent me to you for a reason, after I learned my lesson about Mina. But I had to wait to see if you would see it yourself, because accepting that truth is up to you."

Merc could feel his heart beating in his ears. "I can speak it, Marcellus, but I would ask a favor. That you say what you believe."

He needed to hear it said by a male…he respected.

Merc saw he had surprised the older angel. They rose to their feet together, and Marcellus faced him with gravity, giving him the rare straight answer. "I believe the angel blood is stronger than your incubus blood. Far stronger. I think it is your core. And would have been from the beginning, if you had not been so shamefully abandoned."

As Merc stared at him, Marcellus continued. "When you were young, I think the more you gave yourself to the incubus abilities, the less obvious the angel ones were. Angels automatically protect the universe from unbalanced demon influence. Your angel side went dormant because it would not hand your incubus side the arsenal that being an angel would give you."

"I don't want to deny my incubus side. It isn't evil."

"No, it is not. No more than humans are evil. But it is believed whatever created them came from darkness. It was the Goddess who had compassion and gave humankind Her spark of creation, the fighting chance against the darkness."

Marcellus's eyes were even more unfathomable than usual. "When there is time and opportunity for it to make itself known, the will can decide, Merc. And I think, like Mina, time and circumstances have given you that opportunity to determine your full potential and however the Goddess means you to serve. She has been there, too, has she not? Her influence inside you. You can feel the connection to Her."

When he was alone in one of his perches, listening to the forest, watching the stars in the sky, all the elements pressing against him…yes, he had felt Her. A whisper in his mind, in his heart and soul. At first, it had frightened him, but lately, not so much. When he was with Ruth, tapping into the deep feelings between them… She was there, too.

"The incubus has to have room to be, too," he said, rather than answering.

Marcellus lifted a shoulder. "As it should. That side of you will always be there, making those sensitive to those energies wary, but as they get to know you, they will realize how much control you have over it. Much as Mina has proven. You respect it, but refuse to let it dictate to you. It is a battle that has been won. You desire the full freedom to choose your path. That is what you wanted to say to me today. Correct?"

Because Merc had to be contrary when Marcellus was being a know-it-all, he scowled. "You know how to spoil the punch line of a joke."

Marcellus didn't smile. "You are not a joke, Merc."

He sat back down, and Merc sat next to him. For a while they didn't speak. Their wings were adjusted so they didn't touch, but they were close enough Merc felt the heat and energy in Marcellus's. Merc put his bare feet in the water and watched the fish jump over them.

"You had things to say to me, too."

"It seems we covered them. There is no need to discuss the matter about Ruth. I have my concerns, but I will ponder it. Along with what we have discussed here. There is something else, though. Yes?"

It was more personal. Yet Marcellus's encouragement made the desire to talk about it unsettlingly strong. Merc didn't confide in others.

But he thought of the angel's gentleness with Clara, his fierce protectiveness. Marcellus was more than an angel. He was a male who loved a female.

"I saw Ruth watching the acrobats." In brief terms, Merc described the exchange between Nikolai, Karl and Sarita, particularly the way that the two men called an emotional response from Sarita as part of their Mastery. A vital enhancement for it.

"Ruth was as drawn into and aroused by that, as she was the physical part. My experience in controlling a woman, her pleasure, is with the sexual side."

When he'd imposed compulsion upon his prey, the physical had flooded the emotional, keeping it at a distance, where he didn't have to deal with it. "I have no experience in that. I don't know what it feels like."

"Bullshit." Marcellus arched a brow at Merc's surprised look. "Yes, I do know how to curse. Selectively, for maximum impact. Asking about her emotional wellbeing suggests you do. It is just new terrain. You want to give her something, and not because it provides measurable benefit to you. How she feels, what she wants, matters."

Merc pressed his lips together. "Is that how you feel about Clara?"

Marcellus didn't talk about that with anyone, though those closest to him, like Jonah, his Commander, knew. But he could see Merc struggling with this, and Marcellus wouldn't deny him the knowledge he needed. Particularly after stating he believed Merc was more angel than anything else. And an angel was a brother.

Even one still trying to figure out what being an angel meant to him.

"There is nothing I would not do to see her happy. And protect her. I am proud of her strength, her will, to help us identify threats against this world and others."

"Even as you see it killing her," Merc said bluntly. "Maddock has a solution. Why don't you make her do it?"

Marcellus wanted more than anything to follow that path, and that impulse had overcome him several times. Fortunately, Jonah had talked him off that perilous ledge. Still, hearing Merc say it aloud, evidence of how new the younger male was to the relationship quagmire, had Marcellus biting back a grim smile. "You do not like it when choices are taken from you, when we control your path."

"I do not." Merc's eyes flashed, but he added, "Though I acknowledge I have more justification for that reaction now, than when you first found me."

Marcellus nodded. "Taking choice away from anyone, just because you have the power to do so, is as serious a decision, and as much a potential crime, as taking a life. It should always be considered carefully, particularly your motives. To take that choice from Clara, overriding her desire to help, would destroy her spirit. I would be taking away her right to be who she is."

Marcellus met Merc's gaze, the odd mix of dark red and black, those always intriguing hints of silver. "Protecting who she is might require the sacrifice of her physical wellbeing."

"That's a shit choice."

"Yes. It is. I do not always succeed at it, and I make her angry when I fail." His lips twitched. "So if I am going to incur her wrath, I make sure it is for good reason. If you care about Ruth, make sure whatever you demand of her is what you both wish. What brings you both pleasure."

Marcellus met Merc's gaze. "Clara and I have what is between us and have not given it names. However, with vampires, it manifests itself more as it does in the Circus world, so I'll use those terms.

"A Master can be demanding, strict. He can impose pain and punishment. But he does so knowing that is what his submissive truly desires and needs from him. And he watches her carefully to be sure it doesn't cross a line where it no longer is good for her or what she needs."

"So if a male is acting as he should, he is serving her, as much as she is serving him. Even if he is Master."

Marcellus had given Merc as much stroking as he felt was wise for one day, but pride surged in him at the younger male's intelligent conclusion. "Yes. Moreover, that is one of the definitions of love."

Merc's startled expression, bordering on terror, made throwing the comment out entirely worth it. Marcellus hid his grin, swiftly changing the subject.

"I would go to Machanon for a few minutes to speak to some friends. I want you to accompany me."

"I'm not prepared for that."

"You have a place here, Merc," Marcellus said seriously. "It will be different, because you are different. But it does not make it any less true. We can continue to develop that connection, if you wish it."

"I think I do, but I'm not sure if I'm ready now."

"It is not an official visit. I won at cards, and am going to collect the debt. The debt is small; the joy is in ribbing Bartolomew about the win. We will be there only a few minutes." Marcellus put a hand on Merc's shoulder. Merc wasn't used to physical contact from another male that wasn't a threat, so Marcellus didn't keep his hand there long.

"If I have earned a measure of your trust, let me provide a bridge to a place you might one day feel more comfortable calling home." A slight smile touched his lips. "In addition to the one you might find in the arms of your vampire."

Merc considered, his gaze resting on the hand Marcellus had returned to brace on his own thigh. "You said you thought as long as the incubus held the upper hand, that my angel abilities held themselves outside my reach, to ensure balance. But you told me of a time when Jonah was taken over by darkness, and it almost destroyed everything."

"Yes. But there were other forces at work then, and he was emotionally compromised when it happened. He missed the warning signs."

"Have you ever worried an angel will turn rogue from within? No sorcery involved?" Merc asked.

"No. That connection to the Goddess you feel growing as you accept your angel side? It is a constant for all of us. Deep within you is a love for your Mother. For creation. For female energy. For its strengths and vulnerabilities. It is what draws you to Ruth."

Marcellus paused. "There were times, early on, when Yvette would make you submit to her in key ways, to learn obedience and control. Though you resisted and it is not your core nature, there were moments of yearning where you recognized what you are feeling now. When your heart is right, your mind, it all makes a great deal of sense, even as it is the most profound of mysteries. Like love itself."

Merc's eyes narrowed. "You're trying to freak me out by bringing up love again."

Marcellus smiled, neither confirming nor denying. Merc snorted. "Fine. But tell me the truth. I'm not going to wake up one morning and forget how to use contractions, am I?"

"Wiseass." Marcellus spread his wings, batting Merc smartly as he prepared to head for Machanon. With satisfaction, he could tell Merc was going to follow him. No matter how uncertain he felt about it.

Merc exploring his feelings with Ruth was opening up key pathways that had reached the right time to be traveled. The Goddess made herself known in such ways.

And truth? Over the past few years, Marcellus had transitioned from championing Merc as the debt owed for his earlier behavior toward Mina, and moved into territory he was sure would unsettle the male even more.

Marcellus had begun to care for him, protect him as he did his younger brethren in the Legion. If Merc allowed himself to become part of their world, he would find he had the family he should always have had. Then his journey forward would expand into places he never thought possible.

Just like letting Ruth into his heart and soul would do.

Which meant it was time to broach the other idea percolating in Marcellus's mind. And really "freak out" his angel incubus companion.

He needed to meet with Yvette and Adan.