Page 43 of Illusory (The Marked Saga #8)

Every part of my working brain knew this was a terrible idea. I barely had any control over myself as it was, and when the two of them were working together—something they’d been doing far too often lately—I really didn’t stand a chance against either of them.

But what choice did I have? Trace was newly Turned, and he needed to stay on a strict regimen in order to keep his bloodlust at bay. The bloodlust that I cursed him to.

Only it wasn’t really his lust for my blood that had me worried tonight.

“Fine. Let’s just get it over with.” My gaze drifted to Trace. He was still sitting on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as his wanton eyes drank me in like I was the only thing he wanted in the entire world.

And just like that, the crackling heat under my skin was back.

“Should we maybe…just use a glass this time?” I asked anxiously, knowing that things were already intense enough without adding that to the mix.

“You know the rules, angel.” Dominic winked at me as he picked up my hand and towed me back to the spot on the sofa beside Trace. “Straight from the vein or it won’t have the same impact.”

I bit down on my lip that was still swollen from the sizzling kiss just moments ago and met Trace’s gaze. His pupils were already devouring the blue of his eyes, though I wasn’t sure which part of me he was hungering for then.

“You’re nervous,” stated Trace, probably sensing my hesitation through our bond. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he offered, the pain from my possible rejection already etching itself onto his face.

But my hesitation had nothing to do with not wanting to do this and everything to do with fearing how far it would go, and my inability to stop myself when it inevitably did.

Even though I’d broken things off with them for a good reason—for their own good—running away from my own feelings was becoming a job in and of itself. Especially when they both still refused to see it my way.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe they weren’t seeing what a disaster this whole thing would be because I kept stopping it before it had a chance to start. Maybe I needed to let them see exactly what they were asking for, and just how painful and messy it would be for all three of us.

Up until this point, I’d tried everything else. What did I really have to lose?

Swallowing down the butterflies rising in my chest, I picked up my hair and slowly dragged it over my shoulder, exposing the full side of my neck to him. “I want to,” I said softly, testing the words out on my tongue.

“You do?” he asked, his brows pulling together from the whiplash I’d probably just given him.

“Why do you look so surprised?” Smiling, I sweetened my voice when I added, “You know I like it when you do.”

Heat flared in Trace’s eyes, as though a volcano had just gone off in them, but he hadn’t seen anything yet.

If I played my cards right and kept my head in the game, I might just be able to pull this off after all and give them exactly what they think they want.

“Maybe I’ll even let you both do it at the same time,” I said, fighting the searing blush that wanted to burn me alive.

Dominic cocked his head to the side, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “Is that right?”

“Maybe,” I said breathily.

He smiled as if he already knew exactly what I was up to, and then came to sit beside me, placing his glass on the coffee table and angling his body to me like he wanted a front row seat.

Like he knew exactly how this was going to play out.

“Go on then,” he said to Trace, inclining his head to him in a nod.

Trace’s eyes never left mine as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and then cupped my face, his thumb gently caressing the apple of my cheek. Black ink spread through his eyes, the dark hunger taking up the whole of his irises as his gaze dropped down to my neck and then stayed there. I could feel my pulse knocking under my skin and I knew his eyes were trained on the spot, but he still wasn’t making a move.

It seemed he was taking his time with me, quietly maintaining control over himself as he tempered the beast and its unsatiable bloodlust for me. Just like Dominic had taught him to do.

Anticipation flitted into my stomach as he tilted my head back and then gently pressed his lips against my throat, peppering my skin with soft kisses and then with the gentle stroke of his tongue. I swayed from the sudden rush, but Dominic’s hands were already there to steady me, his fingers gripping my shoulders from behind as he gently eased me back against his chest again.

As Trace continued kissing my neck, Dominic’s hold on me relaxed, his fingers brushing against my skin in a caress that traced the path of my collarbone and sent a bolt of excitement through my body. And this time, I let myself feel it. I let it cloud out my better judgment and sank into the feeling of having them both touching me at the same time. I let the tangle of lips and hands and eyes run rampant all over me, making my blood feel as though it was purring under my skin. As though I might levitate right off the couch if I didn’t brace myself against something solid and sturdy.

Already it felt like it was too much to take, and we hadn’t even started yet.

A sharp ache pinched at the base of my neck as Trace’s fangs pierced through my skin and then everything slowed down to a crawl. The room, Dominic’s heartbeat against my back, the soft creak of the leather sofa. Everything faded into a hazy, indiscernible backdrop against the overwhelming sensations flooding me. Pain and pleasure tangled in a dance as old as time itself, whirling me around the dance floor of my own personal heaven.

My lips parted on a moan as I relaxed deeper into Dominic’s arms, my eyes fluttering closed at the feel of his fingers tracing languid circles along my collarbone. Ecstasy pulsed through my veins, and I sank deeper into the moment, caught between the hardness of Dominic's chest and the intoxicating closeness of Trace’s mouth and suddenly, I couldn’t remember why I’d thought this was a bad idea.

The harder Trace sucked down, the gentler Dominic became, his touch almost feather-soft against my skin as he whispered reassurances that felt both thrilling and wicked.

“You’re doing so well, angel,” he purred lowly, his voice a soothing balm that somehow managed to stoke the fire that was already consuming me from the inside out. His hand moved up to cradle my cheek, caressing it softly before turning my face towards him so that all I could see was him.

His face. His lips. His dark, hungry eyes that were filled with love and want and devotion and the proof of just how far he’d be willing to go for me—for my happiness. And then his lips were on me, moving against mine with an urgency that belied his usual controlled demeanor.

There was no more holding back, no more denying himself what he wanted. What Dominic wanted was me— only me — and I swore I could feel it right down to the marrow of my bones.

Trace’s fingers tightened around the base of my neck as his other hand came down to grip my waist, pulling me up toward himself as Dominic’s kiss became more demanding, his own hands exploring with a ferventness that contrasted the steady control Trace maintained at my neck.

Every touch multiplied and magnified as if they were orchestrated to unravel me completely, pulling me further away from reality and deeper into the impossible web we were weaving. A web that was blurring out the lines almost as spectacularly as the room’s edges.

All thoughts of tomorrow melted away, consequences be damned, and I silently prayed this moment would go on forever. That Trace and Dominic would never stop, knowing with absolute certainty that I’d happily see myself out of this life at the mouths of the two men I loved more than life itself.

It was all I could do not to pass out from the absolute bliss of the moment before I was rudely wrenched away from my little slice of heaven via the strange, familiar burn at my back. A burn that I intuitively knew was my wings because they literally had the absolute worst timing ever.

Stupid, stupid wings .

I shoved off the couch, attempting to jump to my feet and scramble away from Trace and Dominic, terrified the wings would lash out and take one of their eyes as they exploded from my back. But the blood loss and the sudden movement made me lose my balance, and I toppled forward, crashing to the floor on my hands and knees just as the wings erupted from my back, filling the living room like some fallen angel cast down from Heaven.

The sound of the guys shuffling up to their feet and rushing over to me only mildly registered as I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to stop the room from violently spinning around me. Stars exploded in the periphery of my vision like a Fourth of July show. But it wasn’t the good kind.

Seconds felt like an eternity before Dominic’s hand came down against my arm, his gentle touch jolting me back to the present moment. “Angel?” His voice came across jumbled and far away, as though I were hearing it from the bottom of an endless well.

“ Don’t ,” I hissed, jerking away from his touch as I sat back on my legs and looked up at the two of them. Dominic’s brows were pulled together as he stared at me like a riddle he was trying to solve while Trace stood a few feet away from us, swaying slightly as though he was still high from my blood. “Please don’t touch me right now,” I pleaded softly, humiliated that they were seeing me like this again.

I couldn’t even begin to guess what they were thinking just then but I was certain that the words ‘bird-like’ and ‘freak’ were probably reigning supremely in their minds.

The room seemed to pulse along with my heartbeat, the walls stretching and contracting as if alive and breathing. As if it, too, conspired to bear witness to the inconceivable freak that was me.

“Please kill me now,” I muttered to myself, not even having the energy to dramatically run out of the room and spare myself any further humiliation.

“What is it, angel? Are you in pain?” he asked, his forehead creased with concern.

I stared up at him for a long beat, gauging whether he was serious. “No. I’m not in pain, Dominic.”

He bounced a quick glance at Trace and then blinked at me. “Then what is it, love? What’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter? Look at me!” I cried, lifting my arms up as if to present the evidence. I was the literal definition of an abomination and there wasn’t a soul on Earth that could deny it now.

It was easy to forget—to pretend it wasn’t so—when my wings were tucked away with magic and invisible to even my own eyes, but it was a whole different thing when they were just out there, all loud and proud, for everyone to see.

Dominic’s worried gaze softened into something more tender, almost reverent, as he took in the sight of my satiny black wings. He didn't move closer, respecting my plea for him not to touch me, but his eyes were speaking volumes—awe mixed with hints of something else. Something I couldn’t quite name.

“I am looking,” he said as he knelt beside me, his eyes heating as they raked over me, taking in every inch of me as though he were enchanted and couldn’t bring himself to look away. “In case you haven’t noticed, angel, I have not been able to stop looking at you from the moment I first saw you.”

“And how’s that working for you now, Dominic?” I huffed sourly as tears burned under my lids, making my throat feel tight and uncomfortable.

“Quite well, actually.”

I crinkled my brows at him as he just chuckled softly.

“You have always been the most exquisite thing I have ever laid eyes upon, angel, and now…” He shook his head as a tiny smile curled the corner of his mouth up. “Now, you are transcendent in every sense of the word.”

I blinked up at him, his words hanging in the air like sacred scripts that promised to heal the sick and cure the dying. It was so far from what I had expected him to say that I almost didn’t trust my ears.

I mean, I did lose a lot of blood.

I started to shake my head, my gaze catching on Trace who had been standing a few feet away from us, trying to compose himself.

“He’s not lying, Jemma,” he said lowly, as if he had felt my doubt, his gravelly voice vibrating against my heart and making it beat faster. His dimples pressed in as he stepped closer, his expression mirroring Dominic’s awe but underscored with something else. Something that made his eyes glimmer like the ocean when the sun was hitting the surface at just the right angle.

Wiping out the remaining gap, he lowered himself onto his knees before me. “You’re fucking breathtaking, Jemma. You should be on a fucking throne being worshipped, not sitting on the floor crying. Don’t you see that?” he asked me in earnest.

Me? Lucifer’s Daughter . Transcendent? Breathtaking?

Their words should have soothed the storm spiraling in my chest, but they only served to amplify the turmoil. They weren’t thinking with their heads. At least not the ones on their necks. But I was. I knew who the wings had come from, and I knew exactly what they stood for. How could they see beauty in something so abhorrent?

Feeling as though I couldn’t pull in a full breath of air, I scrambled up to my feet and then took a small step back. Trace and Dominic followed suit and straightened along with me as though they’d been tied to me.

“I appreciate you both for trying to make me feel better and I’m sorry for…I don’t know. For everything I guess,” I said flatly as I shook my head, completely exhausted. “But I think I’ll just go to bed now.”

“Angel, we ought to—”

“ No ,” I cut in before he could finish his objection.

I didn’t want to talk about the wings or have them studied or tested or anything else he was going to suggest. I just wanted to go to bed so that they could disappear again, and I could go back to pretending they didn’t exist at all. Was that wrong? Maybe. But it was the only thing I could manage tonight.

I started to turn and then halted as the tips of my wings began to flutter as though a gust of wind had swept through the room and stroked them. Except there was no wind to speak of. The subtle movement drew their eyes right back to my twitching feathers, fascination once again overtaking their features.

Feeling uncomfortable, I crossed my arms, completely dejected by my inability to have even the slightest bit of control over them. To make them disappear like I wanted them to. And standing there with them staring at me as they were only made me feel worse. More naked and alone and ashamed, like my body was being cut wide open and examined like some weird science experiment.

God, I really was a living, breathing sideshow freak .

I growled my frustration out and then spun on my heel to leave, not even bothering to say another word.

Trace and Dominic exchanged a look, but neither one tried to stop me this time as I shuffled out of the room and down the hallway. My footsteps felt alien and clunky, as though the weight of the wings were messing with my balance and making me unsteady on my own feet.

Then again, it could have been the indecent amount of alcohol I had drank tonight. Or the blood loss. Either way, it had both Trace and Dominic following me all the way up the stairs to my bedroom as though they were afraid I might not be able to make it up there on my own.

And if I was being perfectly honest, I wasn’t even sure of it myself, so I let them.

Flicking on the light switch, I walked straight to my dresser and pulled out a T-shirt and shorts to change into and then tossed them onto my bed as Trace and Dominic filed into my room. As much as I appreciated their accompaniment and concern, the only thing I wanted then was to be left alone.

“Thank you very much for escorting me to my room, but you can both leave now,” I said as I turned my back to them and pulled down the zipper that ran along the side of my dress before peeling the measly fabric off my body and kicking it into the corner. There was no time for modesty. Besides, I already knew my giant bird wings would cover everything that needed covering, and the quicker I got out of the dress and into my pajamas, the faster I could get back to pretending I was just another run-of-the-mill Slayer.

Grabbing the T-shirt from my bed, I slipped my arms and head through the holes and then tried to pull it down over myself, but the shirt snagged on my wings, bunching up around my shoulders and refusing to budge no matter how many times I tugged at it. Because, you know, wings . Stupid, fucking wings.

“Here, let me help you,” offered Trace from somewhere over my shoulder.

But that was the last thing I needed.

“I’m fine. I don’t need your help,” I snapped more harshly than I’d intended as I continued to struggle with the shirt, trying to force it onto my body. It didn’t matter which way I worked it, there was too much of my feathered appendages and not enough fabric to cover them.

Giving up, I ripped the shirt off and chucked it into the corner pile with my dress. My vision blurred as I glared at the T-shirt, trying not to cry. I hated the wings. I hated everything about them. I just wanted them to go away so that I could be my father’s daughter again. So that I could be normal again.

“Why don’t you tell us what you do need, angel?” suggested Dominic, his voice soft and disarming.

“What I need is to get rid of these fucking wings,” I cried as I spun around to face them, a single tear trickling down my cheek before plummeting to the ground below me. “So, unless either of you know how to do that, I think I’m just about done with this entire night.”

Trace’s eyes darkened to night as Dominic swallowed roughly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes ran down the length of my body. It took me a few seconds to realize what had them in a chokehold: Me standing there with nothing on but Tessa’s black, strapless bra and my cotton red underwear.

My mismatched red underwear. Because of course they were.

Heat flooded my cheeks as an almost pained growl rumbled deep in Trace’s chest. He immediately tried to close the gap between us, practically lunging from the spot he was standing in, but Dominic threw his arm out in front of his chest and stopped him.

“I think it’s safe to say that your wings aren’t going anywhere, angel. It seems you’re going to need to get used to them whether you like it or not.”

I already knew that. I did. But it still didn’t stop me from wishing them away anyway.

Trace exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as he pulled himself together. “Why don’t you let us see if we can help you learn to control them?” he asked gingerly, his eyes back to their usual pristine blue as he lowered Dominic’s arm.

The prior conversation I had with them about ‘riling my emotions’ flashed through my mind and I dutifully shook my head. Things had already gotten heated enough before without them trying to do it on purpose. “N-no. That’s okay. I think I’m just going to wait them out.”

“Ah, yes,” taunted Dominic as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “That’s a splendid idea. Why deal with the problem at hand when we can drag it out indefinitely? Should we tuck you and your wings into bed now, or would you prefer to go another round with a T-shirt first?”

I wasn’t sure which part of his statement to bark at first. “Are you seriously mocking me right now?”

“I don’t know, angel. Am I?”

“You know what, Dominic? Screw you!”

He snorted as he crossed the room to me, stopping just inches from where I was standing, half-naked and bristling. “I’d be happy to oblige you,” he said as he leaned in close to my ear and purred, “but apparently we’re not doing that anymore.”

All the blood rushed up to my face, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of my anger or because of the memories his comment dragged in with them. “I hate you right now.”

His gaze skirted over my shoulder at my wings flapping behind my back before boomeranging back to my eyes, a small smirk forming on his lips. “I think we both know that’s a lie, angel.”

Huffing, I tried to storm away, but he snagged my elbow and yanked me back. “What are you—” His pillow-soft lips were on mine, shutting me up before I could finish the sentence.

Desire simmered under my skin as he threaded his fingers into my hair, his thumbs brushing against my cheeks as he deepened the kiss, pulling me in until my body was pressed up against his.

For a moment, the world spun wildly out of control—the frustration, the anger, the relentless tension that had been building all night, coalescing into an electric current that zapped through every nerve ending in my body.

I pushed my hands against his chest, my feeble attempt to regain control, but instead found myself fisting the fabric of his shirt and using it to tug him in closer, to claw my hands up his chest and around his neck as all the anger evaporated like morning mist, leaving only burning desire in its wake.

His hands moved from my hair to my arms and then down the length of my body until they curled around my waist and wrenched me up against him. Until all I could feel was his hardness pressing against me in the most delicious of ways. The scent of rich, melting chocolate invaded my senses and something inside me shattered.

I moaned against his lips as his tongue briefly invaded my mouth, the taste of sweet honey against my own tongue making me needy and greedy for more.

Dominic pulled back suddenly, his breath ragged as I fruitlessly tried to chase his lips. Holding me at arm’s length, he looked over at Trace as an unspoken conversation passed between them. I should have been angry with him for whatever game he had just played with me, but I was too preoccupied with my own panicked thoughts to bother, my body instantly tensing with the realization of what I had just done.

In front of Trace.

Shame burned into my cheeks as my fingers rushed up to cover my lips, as though they had acted completely of their own volition.

“I don’t get it,” said Trace, looking more perplexed than angry or hurt. “ How ?”

“Well, it’s not magic, Romeo. I simply took her mind off it for long enough for her to relax and forget.”

Forget? My muscles strained as the haze slowly dissipated. Forget what? What were they talking about? And what the hell had just possessed me to make out with Dominic like that right in front of Trace?

“So, she feels relaxed with you but not with me,” surmised Trace, his tone clipped.

“That’s a mighty leap you just took.”

“Would somebody mind filling me in?” I asked, my worried gaze bouncing between the two of them. “What the hell are you guys talking about?”

“We’re talking about your wings, angel,” said Dominic with a smirk and then lifted his chin to gesture to them.

I glanced over my shoulder absentmindedly. “Okay, but what do they have to do with—” I stopped short and looked over my shoulder again, taking in the clear view all the way to the window.

The wings were gone. I hadn’t even felt them retract.

“How?” I asked, mirroring Trace’s question from earlier.

“Apparently, his mouth is the cure to the revulsion you feel when I bite you,” answered Trace as he walked over to the leather armchair and flopped down into it, completely dejected.

Revulsion ? What the hell was he talking about? That was the furthest thing from what I felt when he bit me.

“There’s no need for a pity party,” scolded Dominic, sans sympathy. “It has nothing to do with either one of us.”

“Easy for you to say,” he said, glaring up at him. “You’re not the one making her wings bust out of her back every time you feed from her. Wings that she fucking hates. You’re what, 0 for 3?”

“That’s because I have yet to feed from her.” He paused to think about it, his eyes thinning almost imperceivably. “It seems the wings are appearing instinctually like some sort of defense mechanism in order to protect her from perceived harm…such as a sudden but significant loss of blood. I don’t think it matters who is at the helm of the blood loss.”

Trace thought about it for a beat as he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “So, you think the same thing would have happened if it was you feeding?” he asked, his eyes narrowing with greedy curiosity.

“I can’t fathom why it would be any different.”

“But you don’t know for sure,” argued Trace, needing something more concrete than Dominic’s theories.

“Of course not. We won’t know for sure until…” He hesitated. “We test it.”

“Alright. Then let’s do that,” said Trace as the two of them turned their attention to me.

I was still nodding along with them until I realized what they were suggesting. “Oh. You want to test it out now ?”

“Don’t you want to know for sure?” pushed Trace, though I could hear the fear lancing through his words. As much as he wanted to know the truth, he was scared of hearing it too.

If this thing went sideways and turned out to be the opposite of what Dominic was hypothesizing, I wasn’t sure Trace would be able to recover from the hit. Not this time.

Then again, I couldn’t deny that I was curious to see whether Dominic’s bite incited my wings just as readily as Trace’s did. As much as I hated my wings and what they represented, I hated being in the dark about them even more.

“Okay,” I finally agreed as a thread of anxiety unfurled in my belly. “We’ll put it to the test.”

No big deal . We were simply going to test this out, once and for all.

Dominic was going to feed on me after weeks of denying himself, and Trace was going to watch it all go down for the first time ever as a Revenant.

What could go wrong with that?