Hidden Depths (10 page)
The pain-pleasure turned to heaven as Ty sucked down every drop.
When the earth settled back into place, Ty leaned his golden brow against James’s belly. Slowly, James forced his fingers to relax in Ty’s hair. Ty was probably lucky he hadn’t yanked him bald. He didn’t know what to say.
Thank
you
seemed as inappropriate as
What the hell was that
?
He knew what it had been: the hardest orgasm ever, a release he felt like he’d been craving for ten lifetimes. As dearly as he loved Olivia, and as incredible as sex between them was, she’d never wrung him out like that.
The peculiar thing was, thinking about her brought his exhausted cock to stirring life again.
I’ve gone mad
, he thought.
Stark raving sex-crazed mad
.
This wasn’t something he’d expected to do at forty-five.
Perhaps shock caused his hand to fall to Ty’s bowed shoulder. The gentle touch caused the other man to jerk back.
Ty rose stiffly, so much wariness in his eyes James couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. In his experience, people with eyes like that hadn’t been loved enough as children.
“We need to go,” Ty said coolly. “Nico and Mark will have reached the palace by now.”
There seemed no purpose in objecting. James was pretty sure he’d just taken Stockholm Syndrome to a whole new level.
CHAPTER SEVEN
KING
Anso had a private entrance into his palace, located in a gorgeous aquarium garden. Olivia might have admired the colorful fishes more if she hadn’t been changing over from breathing water to breathing air. Suffice to say, the changeover was uncomfortable but quick. When she’d finished hacking out her lungs on her hands and knees in his depressurizing tube, Anso helped her up.
He handed her a small silver cup to drink.
“Sip this,” he said, steadying her shaking hand with his. “You don’t want it to go down the wrong way.”
No kidding
, Olivia thought. She was relieved to discover the drink wasn’t alcohol but something cooling and slightly sweet. It soothed her throat perfectly.
Having Anso coddle her felt like her first morning after with James. Anso hovered on the edge of fussing just like James had. She found it awkward and yet weirdly endearing.
“It gets easier,” he said. “The first time is always the hardest.” She knew he didn’t mean the first time one cuckolded one’s husband. Given that she’d initiated their second no-holds-barred erotic session, she felt almost as guilty as if that had been his meaning. She nodded in acknowledgment, her eyes on her bare wet feet and her head hanging.
Anso’s hand settled gingerly on her shoulder. “I know this must be difficult for you, now that our heat has backed off. I promise you weren’t imagining the connection between us.”
She nodded again, unwilling to look at him for fear she’d feel the same magnetic pull as those other times. Were wereseals like vampires? Could they compel you with their eyes?
Oh God
. She was jolted by a new possibility. If wereseals were real, what else was?
She almost looked up, almost drew breath to ask. Stubbornly, she closed her mouth. There was a sensible explanation for all of this.
Anso squeezed her shoulder and then let go. “I guess -” He looked behind him at the old-fashioned submarine-type hatch. “I guess we’ll go in. Your husband and Ty are most likely in my apartments.”
At least he was still calling James her husband.
His handprint was required to open the hatch to his rooms - to safeguard his royal person, she assumed. Did getting out require a handprint too? Would she have the nerve to attempt an escape if she got the chance? They’d swum quite a ways to reach here, and at Anso’s super speed. The exact length of the tunnel she couldn’t judge, or what underwater perils they’d avoided by taking it. Olivia always had to leave the room when James watched
Shark Week
. She seriously doubted she’d like meeting them in real life.
On the bright side, she and James didn’t have to find their way back to Long Island. They only had to reach ordinary humans. Anso’s people lived in concealment. Probably they wouldn’t want to expose themselves. Olivia simply had to make sure she was never, ever alone near the sea again.
Anso sighed as he tugged the heavy hatch open.
They stepped - still dripping - into a handsome office. The color scheme was dramatic. Striking silver eel patterns danced across black walls, and silvery-gold portholes provided views of the water garden they’d just left. The mostly scarlet furnishings were good quality antiques - shabby chic for people with long histories and high incomes. The floor was a shiny glasslike black stone whose smoothness delighted her bare feet.
She realized Anso was watching her take in her surroundings.
“Many things here will be what you’re used to,” he said. “Our cultures aren’t entirely alien.”
She looked at him, trying to gauge his mood.
Cautious
was the best description she came up with.
“Anso,” she began. He said her name at the same time. Before they could sort out who’d speak first, a knock sounded on the door.
“Sire,” said a veddy British voice. “If I might take the liberty, I brought Her Majesty something to wear.”
Her Majesty
. Olivia’s brows lifted. Anso pulled a face like he hadn’t meant for this to happen, then went to open the paneled door. He didn’t crack it far enough for Olivia to see who was there, a consideration she should have been grateful for. She
was
in her birthday suit. Anso accepted a small bundle from his unseen male caller.
“Thank you, Harrison,” he said, more formal than he was when he spoke to her. “I take it the others have arrived?”
“Lord Tykon and his companion are in the blue salon.”
“Very good. If you’d be so kind, please order everyone a meal.” Olivia’s stomach growled. She guessed she’d ... worked off the sandwiches she and James had eaten at their eons-ago picnic. Anso must have heard the reaction. He was smiling faintly when he passed her the pile of clothes.
“I hope this isn’t like one of those pirate books,” she said unthinkingly.
Anso had the gift of quirking just one eyebrow. “Pirate books?” Because Olivia’s accountant nature was incapable of giving half explanations, she assumed a pirate voice. “Wench, put on this low-cut gown. I want to see how you look in it.”
Evidently, the king was acquainted with these stories. Anso’s grin slanted up on the opposite side from his eyebrow, an expression that made him look like the naughtiest boy in the neighborhood. He’d been so serious till now that it startled her. “It’s a lounging robe. Perfectly modest.”
It was more than modest, it was the most amazing garment she’d ever slid her arms into. The robe’s silk was cool and heavy, the embroidery clearly created by an artist. The silver eels that swam across the rich blue cloth seemed to writhe.
Olivia tied the waist belt and stroked the pattern, amazed by how velvety smooth the stitching was.
“Vitul family symbol,” Anso informed her. “Done in enchantable electrum thread. The robe is spelled to protect you from magical attacks.” Olivia’s jaw dropped and hung open.
“I’m not expecting attacks,” he hastened to assure her, misunderstanding her reaction. “I’m sure my people will accept you, just as they did my mother. In any case, the palace hasn’t seen a misuse of magic incident in years.”
“Magic,” she said.
His brow furrowed before it cleared. “I thought you ... Olivia, I’m a wereseal.
We were both breathing underwater. I told you magic was what shielded the Helike Tunnel from discovery.”
He had told her. She’d simply preferred to deny it.
“Vampires?” she burst out.
“What about them? Oh. You mean are they real? Yes, and a great many other creatures besides. Faeries. Elves. I’ve never met a weretiger; they don’t like water, so they don’t visit Oceana, but I hear they’re wonderfully fierce and charming. Any race is welcome in the Pocket as long as they abide by fae law.
Faeries are top dogs when it comes spells. They created the half-magic territory where most supes live. While the different city-nations rule themselves, the fae have the final say on what goes.”
Because her knees felt a trifle wobbly, Olivia sat on a bright red couch. It was firm and comfortable. “Do they sparkle?”
“Vampires or faeries?” He flashed a grin when she gawked. “I saw that
Twilight
movie on the Import Channel.”
“Faeries,” she clarified breathlessly.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “Quite beautifully, as it happens. Real faerie dust is a sight to see. Vampires don’t sparkle, I’m afraid, though other things Outsiders write about them are true.
Outsiders
are what Pocket residents call people who live beyond our borders. It’s bit of an insult, but we also call them mundanes.” Olivia pressed her palm to her pounding heart. Anso dropped beside her on the couch, his knee bumping hers as companionably as if they’d been lovers for years. He laid his hand gently on her leg. A warmth she couldn’t control suffused her thigh.
“Wonders abound here, Olivia. More than you can imagine. I hope you’ll open yourself to enjoying them.”
She saw he meant it, which didn’t make him less of a kidnapper.
“Could I speak to my husband now?” she asked politely.
He didn’t wince, but his eyes searched hers. “Of course,” he said. “Just let me grab my clothes.”
When he rose, he was smart enough not to hold out his hand to her.
* * *
James was dressed in lace-up buckskin trousers and a full white shirt - which was either piratical or medieval, depending on your perspective. He leaped to his feet from a silver loveseat the instant Olivia and the king came in. He and Olivia hurried to each other and hugged tightly, a response she doubted either of them thought twice about, despite the eyes on them. To her relief, the love that welled up inside her was a strong as ever. This was her man, holding her in his arms. She closed her eyes and laid her cheek on his broad shoulder.
James’s embrace tightened. “God, Olivia. I’m sorry.” This wasn’t the most reassuring greeting he might have uttered, though -
admittedly - Olivia owed her own apologies. She pushed back a little to look at him. His eyes were slumberous beneath their worry, his mouth relaxed. He looked the way he did after they’d had one of their Wild Sex Weekends - a tradition they’d established the first summer their daughter Violet begged them to let her attend band camp. They told their friends they were going out of town but really stayed in bed. Though Violet’s skill with the trumpet never took off, the Wild Sex Weekends did.
To see that pleasured look on her husband’s face when she hadn’t put it there was a shock. Olivia shot a glance at the tall golden man who stood with his back to one of the round windows. Anso’s friend met her gaze without expression. She did notice his fingers curling toward his palms, his hands not quite making fists.
The black centers of his yellow eyes jumped bigger.
Because she couldn’t very well ask him why, she returned her gaze to James.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes. You?”
She nodded, and he stroked her damp hair behind her ear. His hair was dry.
How long had she and Anso’s ... activities kept the others waiting here?
“He didn’t hurt you?”
Olivia blushed and shook her head.
“All right,” James said, seemingly to himself. He hugged her again. “All right.”
She sensed James looking over her head at Anso, his hand stroking up and down her back through the blue silk robe. “She’s still mine,” he said to the king.
“You can’t undo that.”
The calmness of his voice surprised her. Anyone who heard him would have recognized both truth and confidence in it.
“I’m hoping we can reach a compromise,” Anso responded.
The man by the window bit out a terse swear word.
James tensed but didn’t let her go. “My wife and I need some time alone.” Olivia didn’t see Anso’s measuring stare, just felt a buzzy prickle at the back of her neck. “Fine,” the king said after a brief pause. “Meet us in the dining room when you’re done. It’s two doors further from this chamber.” James stood where he was, holding her, until the other men exited. Only then did he push back and clasp her hands.
“The spotted man sucked me off,” he blurted. “And it felt really good.” In spite of everything, or perhaps because of everything, Olivia let out a breathy laugh. “You always did like to get your confessions out first thing.”
“And you always prefer to think them through.” His eyes asked questions his mouth wasn’t ready to.
“We had intercourse,” she said. “Twice. He didn’t have to force me.”
“And you enjoyed it? No.” He wagged his head. “You don’t have to tell me.
Of course you enjoyed it. He’s probably a stud and a half. You have that look you only get after one of our Wild Weekends. At least ... At least tell me he used protection.”
“I’m afraid he didn’t.” Olivia sighed resignedly. “At the time, I was hoping he’d give me a baby.”
James closed his eyes, though he had to know she wasn’t playing Hurt You Worse. Their doctors hadn’t identified which of them was responsible for her problems conceiving a second time. After a few rounds of inconclusive tests, she and James decided they didn’t want to know. The daughter they did have was more important to focus on.
James opened his eyes slowly. “Maybe he could get you pregnant. He is younger than me.”
Olivia clasped his face, hating the hint of bitterness in his tone. “We need to get home. To our life. To Violet. I know she’s grown up, but she still needs us.” James was silent for longer than she expected.
