Page 21 of The Pixies' Chosen

I wonder if he can feel this same curious sensation of being bound within and carried by the music. I could dance.

The thought is brief—minute—but suddenly I’m standing and stepping out of the bed onto the coffee table. I’m conscious of both pairs of male eyes now on me as my body sways to the strands of music flowing through me. It carries me across the table, my body bending and feet lifting up in whirling steps. There is a snap of wings as I turn and my eyes skim over Havoc as he moves parallel to me, his wings lowering and raising, and flexing beautifully in plays of violet as they catch the glow of his shimmer.

A strong desire to touch him rushes through me with such ferocity that I swear it is not just coming from me. I want to smooth my hands over his beautiful form as he sways but I resist the urge and sink once more below that numinous pull of the melody.

I feel the silky brush of a wing against my bare arm, but I continue to dance, each brush of wings against my body causing a tremor to rise through me and meld with the voice of the music rumbling its secrets to me. A haunted masquerade… a spectral waltz… I feel as if I’m not dancing with something of great power and age, like the spirits of ancient forests have bound me to them and are now moving me as the air takes a more primal note.

Over and over Havoc’s wings brush me. They are almost a blur as he whirls, and my breath catches as a rush of sensation uncoils from my depths with interest.

“Havoc,” I whisper, the sound nearly a breathy moan as my nipples tighten with the sensation of ghostly fingertips grazing me with each brush of his body against me.

The music is taking a wild cadence, the longing, sighing notes of the melody reaching a fever pitch as if a fire is pouring directly into me, begging voicelessly except for those long strains of music.

I whirl abruptly, my body colliding into the powerful length of Havoc’s powerful form. He catches my forearms in his handsand lifts them well above my head, stretching my body against his as we sway and bend together. I can feel the heat of his breath upon me, the tease of his claws and faint fluttering brushes of his wings. Our bodies graze each other intimately, pressing along our entire length, his groin, hard with need pressing against my belly. His wings shiver in reaction, sending a violet dust over me as the shimmer lighting him up flickers with a rich light that awakens my desire.

Havoc is everywhere, his body all around mine, his scents within my every breath. I tremble with hot need rushing through me but suddenly the music ends on a low, drawn, sweet note that has Havoc’s body rubbing sinuously against mine, the faintest brush of his lips against my lips. With the last fading note of the music, I’m left to stare pantingly into his wild eyes before he suddenly tears himself away and stumbles back. His hand flattens over his heart which I can only guess is racing as quickly as mine as he stares at me in complete shock.

And Tryst laughs.

The sound has a hint of bitter melancholy to it and yet there is a note of delight to it that cannot be missed as if he has discovered something unexpected. Havoc’s head whips to him, his chest heaving but then he flutters quickly to a short—presumably safe—distance away as he regards us with wide, wild eyes.

I’m panting as I stare back at him, my own need and a hunger burning within me that is not entirely my own dragging burning claws through me. He looks panicked and frightened as if suddenly caught unaware. He is like a trapped predator, nervous and ready to spring.

A shiver runs through me as my eyes drift shut and the loud sound of wings humming through the air rushes over me. Warm arms embrace me, dragging me tightly against a hot, solid body, stroking my hunger higher once again.

“Take what you need Ammayi,” Tryst rasps seconds before I drag his head down into my kiss.

Havoc’s eyes burn into us as I wrap myself around him, scorching us and melding us together. A deep, yawning pit needing to be filled has opened within me and knowing it is his eyes upon me sparks a savageness that flares brightly as I respond to Tryst’s melody and embrace, surrendering entirely as he lifts me high and parts my legs around his hips to sink his engorged lengths deep within the snug confines of my grasping channel.

Our bodies twist in a primal dance, our hips pumping and swinging rhythmically as I become completely lost within the echoing chords between us until my pleasure explodes into ecstasy and Trysts’s cocks kick and release their potent, hot seed within me, our gasps and pheromones filling the room with the stain of Tryst’s wings straining eagerly against me with their every pulse.

Shivering, I come down from the heights of bliss, my eyes fluttering open to meet Havoc’s burning, coal gaze over Tryst’s shoulder. And suddenly, I know without a doubt that whatever I thought was settled and over between all of us has only just begun. All with the hot promise and hunger burning within Havoc’s tempestuous gaze.

And for one sweet moment the melancholy devouring me drift away as I savor Havoc’s hunger and drift in Tryst’s desire dancing all around me.

CHAPTER 17

HAVOC

My gaze restlessly follows the source of my torment, my fingers absently brushing my lips. I swear I can still feel the heat of her mouth upon mine, and it burns through me. My wings twitch reflexively to the heat twisting deep in my gut, and a shiver steals through me. Tryst is still giving me the cold shoulder, but I have caught him looking speculatively more than once and I know he is waiting for me to prove my sincerity.

Which is, of course, an improvement over the way he has altogether ignored my presence for days until now outside of where absolutely necessary when it comes to caring for Ammayi. I deserve it—I know that—but now I find that I am confronted with another hurdle now that I have regained a fraction of his attention.

Namely—how do I convince him that it is real and that the pull that I had felt to his music and Ammayi’s dance was entirely instinctive, catching even me by surprise, and notsomething designed to ensnare them. Quite the opposite as it bewilders even me as ever glimpse of the female and scent of her pheromones draws me more firmly to her. In retrospect, I can appreciate the fact that there had been warning signs, but my own stubbornness had assisted me fighting to resist them and downplaying their significance, even within my own mind.

I do not know for any degree of certainty whether or not the fact that the truth has become harder to ignore is a good thing or an unfortunate calamity. Is it healthy to be so incapable of tearing one’s eyes away from a single female? I have always felt admiration and appreciation, and then deepening love for Tryst, but this obsession is new, and it prowls through me in a worrying manner.

This is no pixie trickery, and as a result my mistakes have come to mock me by daylight and into the night. That knowledge settles over me heavily and sends illness through me whenever it surfaces within my thoughts. Worst, it has settled as an ache yawning through my heart like a chasm waiting to be filled and within my groin with a restless need to pin her sweetly perfumed body beneath my own. Or even better, between me and Tryst where we can share every touch with each other.

Ammayi—her name sings through the hot rush of my blood, tempting me unspeakably, whispering seductive promises of what could be. Every breath in which I draw in her scent just makes those voices grow louder. Every small gesture and movement that she makes now seems to spark my hunger even higher.

I may truly be cursed if this continues unrequited. And although Tryst might find that not only amusing but just, the thought fills me with dread.

My tongue strokes over my bottom lip as I watch her nibble on a bit of food Tryst has handed to her. At least, that is what I think it is. It is some colorful confection that I am quiteunfamiliar with and of such an unnatural shade of orange that it makes me nervous. I do not think that Tryst would intentionally poison her, but this cannot be real food! Even the sickening sweet odor is beyond the sweetness of honey and makes my stomach turn.

I cannot stand it any longer.

“What is that?” I demand.

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