Page 122 of Legacy of Chaos

“Stryke?” Cyan came even closer, her hand up as if she wanted to touch him but wasn’t sure how he’d respond. “I’m sorry. I never meant to betray you—”

He shut her up with a kiss. He didn’t need her apology. He neededher.

And he needed to make sure she understoodexactlyhow much.

Masumi smiled as she shrugged into a body-hugging pair of tactical pants and a shimmery black sports bra.

Stryke had found his match in Cyan, and it was about time. He’d needed someone to help him navigate not just his feelings, but also his life. As intelligent as he was, he was dumber than a stoned orc when it came to taking care of himself.

She felt him deep in her chest, their bond telling her he was on the verge of orgasm, and she smiled even bigger. For far too many years, she’d been his sole source of sex. Everything else had come via his injections.

He deserved this, and she was happy for him.

Another sensation pulsed inside her as she tugged on her boots, the reason she was dressing the way she was. Blade liked his females in workout or combat gear. He liked them physical. Strong. Able to withstand his appetite.

Because as caring and attentive as he was, he also liked to dominate, and he liked it a little rough. He’d taught her to fight, and sometimes they’d spar for an hour before finally peeling out of their sweat-soaked clothes and finishing in the shower.

Distantly, she could feel Sabre and Mace too, but their needs were hours away. She hadn’t been with either of them in the last couple of days, but Rade and Blade had kept her sated, using her exclusively of late.

The sensation of her home being moved swept through her, and a moment later, Blade’s summons tugged at her very being. Automatically, her physical form became another type of matter, a “viscous, Non-Newtonian fluid,” Stryke called it. The sensation of being transported from her home into Blade’s bedroom was almost erotic, leaving her breathless when she fully materialized next to her secondary vase he’d placed on his bedside table.

“I’m wearing your favorite outfit,” she purred.

His smile was predatory, his voice husky. “Yes, you are.”

He watched her, his gaze dark and hungry as she sauntered up to him, dressed in his own combat gear. Except he actually used his. He smelled of sweat, and smoke, blood and fury.

“I thought you might want to spar, but it appears you’ve been fighting already,” she said as she trailed her finger down his chest. “With Mace and Scotty?”

His eyes flashed the way they always did when she mentioned Scotty. Sometimes, when they fucked, when he was wild, so deep into it he lost control, he called out Scotty’s name.

And he wasn’t the only one.

Mace had called Masumi by Scotty’s name once, just before he sank his fangs into her throat and came so hard and for so long he’d failed to seal the punctures in her vein and she’d soaked the sheets in blood.

Blade didn’t answer the question. “Have you seen my brother?”

“Rade?” she asked, knowing full well he was talking about Stryke. Sometimes, she liked to work him up before sex. His dark side was always so unexpected from someone who was usually so level. “A couple of hours ago. And don’t ask what we talked about. He says very little.”

He growled deep in his chest, the vibration so tangible she felt it between her legs, and she nearly moaned. “Not Rade.”

“Crux, then?” She tapped her chin, pretending to recall her last meeting with Blade’s little brother. “I talked to him yesterday. I believe his change is near. He’s moody, skittish, and his pulse was erratic during my last couple of visits. Also,” she said, “and this is curious, he’s popping a slight hormonal spike when I wear a superhero or anime-style outfit, no matter my skin tone, hairstyle, or body shape. Interesting kink.”

“Not. Crux,” Blade ground out, his patience wearing thin as he pitted his body’s growing needs against his need to get a straight answer from her. “Stryke.”

She fluttered her lashes, loving how easy it was to tease him. “You know I can’t say anything about what Stryke and I did.”

“I don’t care what you did. I want to know…” He trailed off with a curse, wheeling away from her, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

“What?” She slipped around in front of him and tenderly took his right hand in hers, playtime over. “What do you want to know?”

He looked up at the colorful painted pipes running across the ceiling and cursed again. “He almost died, Masumi,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically thick with emotion. “I want to know if he’s okay.”

She thought about how she’d left him with Cyan, the only female he’d ever let into his heart. Not even Masumi could claim to have been allowed inside that cold stone fortress.

“He is now,” she said, feeling the truth of that in a wave of relief. She’d feared for him for years, watched him teeter on the edge of self-destruction he couldn’t even see. But Cyan seemed to have the magic touch, able to call him on his shitandsomehow bring him down from the precipice.

Blade’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank gods. I never wanted him dead, Masumi. I’m just so…angry. I want him to know what he did to us.”

---