JК
Cerulean Sins :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 290 из 352I leaned in close enough that from Richard's point of view it probably looked like a kiss, but I whispered against Shang-Da's mouth, "Jason's yours tonight, but this can't be permanent."
Shang-Da stayed close, so that he breathed his answer on my lips, "We will discuss it."
He began to lean back and I caught the back of his head with my hand. "There will be no discussion."
His face went hard with his usual anger. He moved back forcefully enough that I either had to let him go, or take a handful of hair to keep him close to me. I let him go.
He held his hand out and said, "Your Ulfric wants you to stand with the wolves." His voice held only one emotion, and that dimly—anger.
Jason slid out from behind me, trailing his fingers across every piece of bare skin he could find, until he left me shuddering. Shang-Da led him away one hand on the smaller man's arm. Jason kept his gaze on me, like a child being carried away by scary strangers. But he wasn't really in immediate danger, and I couldn't say that about everybody in the room. Unfortunately.
"Maybe I should have made you Erato instead of Bolverk." Erato had been the muse of erotic poetry, among other duties. Now she was the title among most werewolves for the female that helps new little werewolves control their beast during sex. Eros, god of love and lust, was the male title. More first time shape-shifters lost control and killed people during sex than during any other single event. The point of orgasm is to lose control, after all.
I looked across the room at Richard, met his angry brown eyes, and felt nothing. I wasn't angry. It was too ridiculous that he was fighting like this in front of Musette and her people. It was beyond ridiculous, it was foolish.
"We'll discuss this when our company goes back home, Richard," I said, and there was no anger in my voice. I sounded reasonable, ordinary.
Something crossed Richard's face, something that leaked through his tight shields. Rage. He was so angry. He'd turned that anger inward, and the depression had eaten him, to the point where he cut his hair. He'd pulled himself out of the depression, but he was still angry. If the anger couldn't go inward, then it had to go outward. Outward seemed to be directed at me. Great, just great.
"If you're Bolverk, then come and stand with your pack," his voice vibrated with the rage that he was having trouble containing.
I blinked at him for a second. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"If you are truly Bolverk for our clan, then you need to stand with us.
Shang-Da stayed close, so that he breathed his answer on my lips, "We will discuss it."
He began to lean back and I caught the back of his head with my hand. "There will be no discussion."
His face went hard with his usual anger. He moved back forcefully enough that I either had to let him go, or take a handful of hair to keep him close to me. I let him go.
He held his hand out and said, "Your Ulfric wants you to stand with the wolves." His voice held only one emotion, and that dimly—anger.
Jason slid out from behind me, trailing his fingers across every piece of bare skin he could find, until he left me shuddering. Shang-Da led him away one hand on the smaller man's arm. Jason kept his gaze on me, like a child being carried away by scary strangers. But he wasn't really in immediate danger, and I couldn't say that about everybody in the room. Unfortunately.
"Maybe I should have made you Erato instead of Bolverk." Erato had been the muse of erotic poetry, among other duties. Now she was the title among most werewolves for the female that helps new little werewolves control their beast during sex. Eros, god of love and lust, was the male title. More first time shape-shifters lost control and killed people during sex than during any other single event. The point of orgasm is to lose control, after all.
I looked across the room at Richard, met his angry brown eyes, and felt nothing. I wasn't angry. It was too ridiculous that he was fighting like this in front of Musette and her people. It was beyond ridiculous, it was foolish.
"We'll discuss this when our company goes back home, Richard," I said, and there was no anger in my voice. I sounded reasonable, ordinary.
Something crossed Richard's face, something that leaked through his tight shields. Rage. He was so angry. He'd turned that anger inward, and the depression had eaten him, to the point where he cut his hair. He'd pulled himself out of the depression, but he was still angry. If the anger couldn't go inward, then it had to go outward. Outward seemed to be directed at me. Great, just great.
"If you're Bolverk, then come and stand with your pack," his voice vibrated with the rage that he was having trouble containing.
I blinked at him for a second. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"If you are truly Bolverk for our clan, then you need to stand with us.