Page 68 of D'Vaire or Nothing
“Is that really what you were thinking?”
“No, first I was thinking about your dick. Then your mouth. But mostly I was focused on how much I want our relationship to work.”
Heathcliff reached out and took Brinley’s hand as they leisurely strolled through the massive resort. Brinley had seen more of the hotel and its many amenities in the past couple of hours than he had since being hired a couple of weeks prior. Delighted with the bit of affection, Brinley stopped walking long enough to kiss Heathcliff’s cheek.
“Don’t worry, Brinley, we’ll make this work.”
Brinley kept thinking about Heathcliff’s past, and he wanted answers.
“I have faith in us too,” Brinley said. “But I want to talk about last night.”
“You sucking me off? Or later when I returned the favor?”
Brinley chuckled. “Before both of those glorious events. I want to learn about your past.”
“What do you want to know?”
“I feel like you’re leaving a lot out,” Brinley remarked. Heathcliff was blunt, and that was Brinley’s preferred method of communication too. “Let’s start at the beginning. Phoenix shifters and their fucked-up traditions.”
“Turns out it’s not all phoenix shifters. We’ve met the Eldrvalkyria since arriving at the Council, and they never didthat shit. But this group of shifters I’m related to would have an annual tradition. They’d stab some warrior in the heart. He’d die. His phoenix would be reborn. Three days later, he was as good as new, if not a bit stupid to go along with such a barbaric rite annually.”
“You never knew those morons?”
“Nope, my ancestors met them. The Tarinthi elves. Some of them found mates with these idiots. Inevitably, hybrid children were born.”
“Because anyone with elvish blood has to wait to have sex and needs to make up for lost time immediately.”
Heathcliff grinned in a way that had desire curling deliciously in Brinley’s belly. “Especially if they’re with an extremely sexy mage with a talented mouth.”
It was far too much of a temptation for Brinley to resist kissing Heathcliff, so he once again stopped their stroll to brush their lips together.
“Want to grab a drink?” Brinley asked, already leading Heathcliff to the open-air bar near the fancy restaurants. The place had a single occupied table, and Heathcliff waved at the pair.
They grabbed seats, and Brinley opted to order a beer from their server despite the early hour. He was treating the day as a vacation since he was with Heathcliff, and he didn’t have to work until Thursday. It would probably cost him a fortune to indulge in a drink at a resort, but Brinley refused to berate himself for that until later.
“Who’s that?” Brinley asked, referring to the couple who’d greeted Heathcliff with smiles. “They look familiar.”
“Vampyr Lord Nikolai Volkov and his mate, Lord James Volkov.”
“Does everyone you know have a title?”
“No, and don’t worry about it, they’re normal people.”
“Okay, okay,” Brinley said, resting a hand over his heart and he assured himself he could handle having a fancy Duke for a mate. After all, it was Heathcliff, and he was definitely far more than a title. “Let’s get back to the morons and the elves.”
“Right. Where were we?”
“Hybrid kids were born.”
“Yeah, they grew up. Some were warriors. They likely volunteered at first to be part of the tradition. Only, their journey was different. They lost their memories. Everything gone in a second. They struggled to regain their health. Six long months of weakness and fatigue. It split the once-happy Tarinthi elves and the shifters. Some elves wanted it to stop. Others championed the ancient practice. Eventually, it ended as you would expect. The Tarinthi packed up and abandoned the shifters.”
“Good for them. I fucking love the Tarinthi.”
“But there were hybrids no longer welcomed by the phoenixes. They didn’t want to be elves,” Heathcliff explained. “They wanted to be shifters. A man named Filmore defended their cause. He convinced them not to follow the Tarinthi. The phoenixes didn’t want them either, but they could be their own people. The Tarinthfenix. Through the centuries, Filmore did away with every elven custom. Which is why I don’t have long hair, wear a tunic, forgo underwear, or do anything else elven. To make the process of dying more consumable for the masses, Filmore created a tea the followers could drink that would render them unconscious as their phoenix burned away the elf.”
“Well, he’s a fucker.”
“And I was one of his warriors. My parents loved that. Trusted me. Wanted me to make them proud. Maybe I wanted it too. I don’t know. I don’t remember. What I recall is being terrified. So fucking scared. I didn’t even know my name. I was too weak to do anything for myself. At night, I would cry. Crycopious tears and wish I could be whole. And then there was Kieran. He was so fucking pissed at me, and at first I didn’t know why. He wanted me to remember things I couldn’t. And I was a different person.”
