Chapter Forty-Six

Havermouth, Present Time

Heath was pleased enough with Aislen’s behaviour to feed her in the farmhouse-style kitchen with its polished wooden benchtops and shaker profile doors painted a soft moss green.

The Triquetra had opened up the rear of the house, putting in French doors on the balcony, so that light streamed in. There were comfortable, natural-toned, leather couches and a TV on one side, and a vintage dining table in distressed white paint, complete with gothic styled Queen Anne chairs upholstered in dark grey. The lighting was twisted wrought iron chandeliers, and the fridge and appliances were top of the range and expensive.

It was a blend of all three men, she thought, and it worked, each detail complimenting and offsetting the other, a bit like the Triquetra themselves. Though, there was tension and dissent in the Triquetra’s relationship as was demonstrated when Rhett called Heath out of the kitchen. They had been arguing somewhere else in the house, out of sight, but not out of hearing, ever since. She knew that she was the cause of their fight, of the tension, of the dissent - as she had always been the cause of troubles with them.

Aislen fell upon the chicken salad with utter disregard for manners or cutlery, focused on filling a stomach that had not seen more than water and toothpaste since the morning of her father’s funeral. Cameron poured her an orange juice and watched her eat, leaning against the kitchen bench, and they both listened to Rhett and Heath argue.

“This is bullshit!” Rhett said, his voice carrying quite clearly through the house. “I’m… I’m hurting her, and you both are fucking her into multiple orgasms. Whilst this may help you and Cameron repair the bond with her, you are fucking up mine. She is going to hate me. She is starting to hate me - I can feel it. The point was to make things equal, not to make me…” His voice broke and Aislen realized that he was weeping.

She met Cameron’s eyes and picked up the orange juice, drinking it in one go. “More please.”

Cameron hesitated, obviously wondering if he was breaking some rule that the Triquetra had obviously set before abducting her. He shrugged and topped up the glass. “Don’t tell,” he murmured conspiratorially before turning to replace it into the fridge.

She heard the murmur of Heath’s voice rising and falling, some words lost as he soothed Rhett. “… Not much longer… We are making progress… Take a break. We’ll let Cameron watch her and you and I will… Okay?”

There was a long silence.

“I … back tattoo,” Rhett’s voice was softer, and some of the words were smothered as if his mouth was pressed against something, and she could imagine the two men were embracing, with Rhett’s head on Heath’s shoulder. It was a touching image, she admitted to herself. There were some things about the Triquetra that she had always wished she could share in – their obvious love, affection, and unquestioning support for each other had been something she envied when they were teenagers, and it still made her heart hurt with longing.

“Okay,” Heath agreed. “We’ll change tactics then. It’s good strategy anyway, to keep her unbalanced..."

"I don't think they know that WE CAN HEAR THEM," Cameron called out. He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. “I can almost see the cogs moving behind your eyes, Aislen,” he added softer. “I can see you scheming how to use this knowledge to your advantage. You need to stop that, stop acting like we are the enemy.”

She pushed the plate and empty glass across the kitchen bench to him. “That was the first meal that I have had since the breakfast I ate before my father’s funeral,” she pointed out grimly. “My breasts hurt because there are fucking metal bars shoved through the nipples. My clit throbs because someone thought that shoving metal through that was a good idea too. My skin feels tight and burning because I have four tattoos that I didn’t volunteer for. Not to mention the fact that I’m supposed to be home in Kabramatta, and not a fucking prisoner for three demented psychopaths in their backwoods, and probably off the grid, house. Pray tell me, how should I act?”

“Well,” Heath said dryly from behind her. “At least we know that whatever fucking progress we had thought we’d made, we clearly haven’t. Funny how you are so compliant until you get what you fucking want, and then that razor sharp, snarky tongue of yours comes right back out.”

“Fuck,” Aislen grimaced. He was right. She seemed to never have been able to restrain her temper and stop herself from speaking unwisely. She blamed the telepathy - she knew too much that she didn't want to know, sometimes she filled to the point that she couldn't stand it anymore, and bits slipped out. She rose to her feet slowly in resignation. “I’m guessing I can’t tempt you to fuck?” She offered hopefully, seeking to delay a return to Rhett's room.

“It is tempting,” Heath cupped her cheek, and she felt that he did not lie. There was regret flooding his thoughts. (She doesn’t know what’s at stake… And we cannot tell her…) “But Rhett wants to finish the black on your back today.”

“Oh, yay,” she said. “What’s at stake? Why can’t you tell me?”

He stared at her. “This… telepathy of yours,” he said slowly. “Sometimes it works with great accuracy.”

“I’m sure that Cameron told you all about it whilst Rhett drilled ink into my skin this morning,” she replied through her teeth, flicking the russet haired man a look from the corner of her eye. Cameron looked chastised, colour rising to his cheeks. “Of course, he did,” she muttered shaking her head.

“Not a witch,” Heath said. “Then what…?”

She shrugged. “Telepath is close, I guess. Close enough.”

“But it’s not just thoughts. You told Cameron that his mother would die, and how…”

“Yes, I did,” she met his eyes, not letting herself feel guilt over that, hardening her heart with anger. “The night that you didn’t rape me on the lawn.”

Heath blew out his breath in irritation. “That was not rape, Aislen.”

“I’m pretty sure that the rape victim gets to decide what is and what is not rape, not the rapist.”

“We aren’t humans,” his face hardened with the words. “As I told you earlier, we have advantages that humans do not.” He leaned forward and breathed in. “We can tell when someone is dying to be fucked,” he murmured into her ear and cupped her cunt, burying his fingers into her.

“Not to mention that we’re extra sensitive when it comes to a mate,” Cameron added.

Heath closed his eyes, his expression tormented. “For fuck sake, Cameron. Telepath or not, as far as the pack is concerned, she is a human, and the law applies. Try to be a bit discrete.”

“Maybe it’s time to break the law,” Cameron replied. “I heard what Rhett said.”

Heath opened his eyes and stared into Aislen’s. “She is just so fucking stubborn,” he said through his teeth. “We just need to… stick to the plan.”

“For how long?” Cameron asked softly. “For how long?”

“Until she breaks.” Heath withdrew his fingers and sucked on them without taking his eyes from Aislen’s. “And she will break. I will not fail us again.”