Page 113 of Dead Wrong

These connections were becoming a part of me. But what would happen if the extraction was a success? Would I lose the tethers to each of them? Was that really what I wanted?

My conclusion was a resounding no. But what if it were the only way I was going to be able to retrieve those memories that had continued to evade me? Now that I was more than a week into my second life, the kaleidoscope of memories had slowed, and gaps in my memory had become more apparent. Without fixing the fracture, I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to recover them.

Selfishly, I wanted them to stay gone. But I couldn’t keep running from my past. I had to face it head-on if I was going to have a future.

A soft knock on the door brought me back to reality.

“Come in.”

Bastien pokes his head through the cracked door. “We’re ready for you.”

I nodded, taking one last look in the mirror before leaving the bathroom.

In the other room, my bed had been pushed to the side, a long table with restraints in the center of the room. The previous attempts at extraction had proven difficult, as my body reacted violently of its own accord, so the restraints were probably for the best. Cirian stood on the side of the table, while Azrael stood at the far end, where my head would go. They both smiled at me as I entered, and a pulse of warmth steadied my trembling hands.

“Tobias,” Wilhelm greeted me. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I replied, peeling my shirt off and tossing it onto the bed. Hefting myself onto the table, Wilhelm and Bastien worked to secure my limbs at the wrists and ankles. Cirian watched with delighted fascination while Azrael only looked into my eyes, his fingers padding through my hair.

“Okay, like we discussed,” Bastien addressed the others. “We attempt to remove them at the same time. You have your instructions.”

Azrael and Cirian nodded, each placing a hand over their stone. Bastien took his place last, wrapping his hand around mine so that his palm pressed into the smooth facet.

Wilhelm began to chant, the lights above us flickering as an acidic green haze drifted into the air around us. All at once, the three points of contact lit up with searing heat, my mind pulled in three different directions as the invisible threads connecting me to each of the men drew taut?—

“The Source has never made something more beautiful.”

Cirian cupped the side of my face, his dark eyes mooring me to him. His pale skin glistened in the moonlight that poured through the window across from the bed we sprawled across. My flesh burned with desire at every connection of his body to mine, his free hand wandering the channels of my thighs, then directing his cock to press against my entrance, slipping inside with ease as I roiled against the cool sheets, a whimper on my tongue as I begged him for more.

“I love you, Toto,” he breathed into my ear, the eager pace of my stroke driving me over the edge. “I love you, I love you, I love you?—”

Shocked back into the present moment, I cried out as the gem embedded in my palm burned white hot, Cirian’s tugging sending a shooting pain straight up to my chest.

“Keep going!” Bastien shouted, clasping tighter to my hand as the thread between us pulled tight?—

“How was work today?”

I looked up from my plate, watching Bastien from across the dinner table. The small apartment was pleasantly warm, with candles glowing in the periphery and soft music drifting from the other room.

“I couldn’t wait to get home,” I replied, knocking my foot against his under the table.

He let out a deep, contented sigh, sipping from his wine glass. It stained his top lip blood-red, and I couldn’t help myself any longer.

Setting down my utensils, I rose from my seat, rounding the table and lowering myself into Bastien’s lap. He made a surprised noise as I wrapped my arms around his neck and devoured him in a kiss. Warm hands held my hips as he breathed into me, the two of us abandoning our dinners for the comfort we found in each other?—

Another cry poured from my mouth as pain ricocheted up my arm. I was fracturing again, this time my entire body coming apart at the seams. These threads I held were the stitching holding me together, and the others’ efforts were trying to unravel them.

My body seized, muscles aching as I strained against the bindings that held me in place.

“Bastien!” Azrael's voice came in a growl.

“Keep going! They’re almost free!”

Azrael’s hand was in my hair again, trying to comfort me as the pain radiated through every pore?—

“He has your nose,” Azrael said, holding the bundled youngling in his arms, his head propped against a wall of pillows. His russet skin was still flushed, a sheen of sweat covering his brow as he cooed over the newborn.

“You did so well,” I told him, leaning into his shoulder but careful not to jostle the sleeping babe. “Is it always that terrifying?”

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