CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The first sensations that she felt when she began to regain consciousness were those of warmth and comfort. She was cradled in a nest of pillows and blankets, a familiar scent soothing her. When her eyes fluttered open, she recognized the bed as Graham’s, the scent as Graham’s, and she stretched her arms up over her head.

“Hey there, sleepy head,” came the sound of Rowan’s voice, and she turned her head to see him sitting on the edge of the bed. Pushing herself up onto her elbows, she blinked and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

“How long have I been out?” She asked, her voice thick and sleepy.

“About four hours,” Rowan said, sliding off of the bed and walking across the length of the room to the bathroom, whereupon he filled up a cup with water and brought it over to her. She drank, happily.

“What happened?” She asked, handing the empty cup back to him, which he abandoned on the bedside table.

“You were a hit,” he said with a gentle smile.

“I was?”

“Yeah. You were phenomenal. I’ve…” he paused, regarding her warmly. “No one has ever seen anything like what you showed them today.”

“It worked, then?”

“I think it did.” When Viola had passed out, the room fell into absolute silence, even as Graham and Rowan rushed to her side. Graham scooped her up into his arms to shield her from view, and Rowan smoothed wisps of black hair back from her face, feeling the heat of her skin and making sure she was still breathing.

“Graham brought you back here, and I stayed with you while he went to answer more of their questions, you know, about how we’ll all proceed. But it seems like everyone’s on board.”

Viola smiled, laying her head back against the pillow, finally feeling as though she could rest. If their plan worked, it meant that everything was all right, that life could begin to take shape again. That she had a home, here, with two men whom she adored.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, his eyes glimmering green in the dim light of the bedroom.

“Fine,” she said on the wings of a yawn. “Actually, pretty good. I feel…hopeful. Grateful that this whole thing worked out. I mean, for the most part.”

“For the most part?” Rowan looked down at her, his head slightly inclined, and she sat up. When she did, the blankets fell away, and she became aware of her nudity. She’d shifted back into human form in front of hundreds of people and had been carried away in her most natural state.

“I still don’t know how to handle…us,” she said quietly. “You, and me. And Graham.”

He gave a slow nod of his head, and she could see his thoughts flash across his face, as knotted and confused as her own. He said nothing, however, simply ran his tongue over his lips and lifted a hand to her breast, cupping it gently and running a thumb over her nipple until it hardened beneath his touch.

“Rowan…” she said, not sure if she wanted to protest or not. He leaned in and kissed her: it was a soft, delicate thing, full of question and longing. He trailed those unspoken thoughts in a series of kisses along the line of her jaw, down her neck, and across the plain of her shoulder, her breastbone, and down until he could take her nipple between his lips. Viola allowed her head to drop back to make room for him, and her body responded to his touch, her knees falling apart underneath the cover of the blanket.

Sitting upright, he tugged the covers away from her and ran his fingertips up her shins, over her knees, and along her inner thighs until they brushed at the most sensitive region of her body. His eyes asked her if she wanted him; and when his fingers came away slicked with her juices, he had his answer.

He thrust his index and middle fingers into her, palm up, so that he could work her with a come-hither gesture that awakened her need, and she began to moan, desperate for the orgasm their earlier tryst had failed to produce before they’d been interrupted. And Rowan was turgid within the confines of his pants, uncomfortably so, until he had to pull away so that he could tug his shirt off over his head and wriggle out of his jeans and boxer briefs. Thus freed, his cock stood at full attention, long and eager, just as he himself was. He had one knee up on the edge of the bed, his other foot planted firmly on the floor, and Viola shifted so that she was facing him. She bent at the waist and curled her fingers around his erection, tugging gently as she guided the head of him into her mouth. She flicked her tongue over the tip playfully before taking the full length of him into her throat. Rowan lifted a hand and took her braid into his fist, guiding her, directing her rhythm, and pumping himself between her lips as she bobbed her head up and down.

Viola parted her knees to further steady herself, and this is what Graham saw when he walked into the room: her bottom bared, the flower of sex in full bloom, and glistening with the force of her desire. When Viola heard the door click shut behind Graham, she lifted her head and peered over her shoulder at him. “Join us,” she said, before returning her attention to Rowan’s hard on.

Graham watched her suck him off, the sight of her so exposed drawing his own cock to attention, and he unbuttoned his shirt, laying it gently over the back of a chair even as he kicked off his shoes, and tugged off his pants and boxers. He was behind her with such quickness that she nearly jumped when he touched her, his hands gripping the flesh of her ass with prideful ownership as he plunged the full, impressive length of himself into her warm and waiting orifice. He fucked her fiercely, slamming into her as though he were trying to ensure that she was overtaken by the sensations between her legs while she was trying to please someone else. There was certainly a jealousy roiling up between them, and she allowed Rowan’s member to pop out of her mouth as she tossed her head back to revel in the feel of Graham filling her up, his hips thrusting hard into her, his fingers gripping her hips hard enough to leave red prints in their wake.

After a moment, Viola broke free of Graham’s grip and laid herself down on the bed between the two men. She turned her body, situating herself so that she could present her pussy to Rowan, and parting her lips for Graham. Rowan slid deeply into her, gyrating his hips so that he moved slowly in and out of her, hitting her g-spot, even as Graham slipped between her lips. She was turned inside out by them, overwhelmed by the sensations, lost to the feel of it. She was breathing slowly, deeply, taking in the scent of these men that she adored.

Rowan’s pace quickened, and she reached up to take Graham’s cock in her fist. She wrapped her legs around Rowan and drew him into her; he slid his hands beneath her and held her close. His breathing became erratic, harried, and he came inside of her with a low grunt and a final thrust before resting atop her.

“I’m going to come,” Graham said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Viola pulled him from out of her mouth. “Not yet,” she said, and gently disentangled herself from Rowan, who rolled over onto the mattress, panting.

Viola got up and gently pushed Graham back so that he was laying down on the bed next to Rowan; then, she climbed astride him and directed his tumescent prick into her cunt, dripping with the remnants of Rowan’s ministrations. She rode him, undulating her hips back and form, until she could feel her orgasm starting to build at the very core of herself. She reached down between them and rubbed at her clitoris as she rocked back and forth, sending her delicate little moans up to the wooden ceiling beams.

Her release burst forth suddenly, and with such force, that it took her completely by surprise. She cried out, the muscles between her thighs spasming around Graham’s hardness. The feel of her reaching her climax was enough to send him over the edge, and so he gripped her hips and cried out as well, releasing himself into her with the full exertion of a desire that had gone for too long without being satisfied.

Viola collapsed on the bed between Graham and Rowan, the remains of their activities dripping down the cleft of her and onto the sheets beneath. She reached out with her right hand and laced her fingers with Rowan’s; her left hand came to rest palm-up on the plane of Graham’s chest. And this is how they fell asleep.

~ * ~

They woke in the night, taking their pleasure from one another in a sleepy, love-driven haze, until the sheets were soaked from all manner of fluids. They were a tangle of limbs and lips, and they laughed when they banged their heads together during moments of transition, or when someone’s body made a particularly amusing sound. They were finding the joys of their joining, and they were easing into an easy rhythm. For Viola was insatiable, love-hungry and love starved, like a sickness and its cure all together, and she opened for them both at every opportunity.

When they finally emerged, it was to eat and discuss the details of building their leadership.

“We’ll need a new headquarters,” Viola said, munching absently on a piece of toast. They were all naked, enjoying the access it gave them to one another, taking food in Graham’s rooms where they could be open, intimate, and private.

“What’s wrong with the Dwelling?” Graham wanted to know, sipping coffee from a steaming mug.

“Or the Felidae Highrise?” Asked Rowan.

“See, that’s just it,” Viola said, “they’re divided. We need something that can represent all of the clans, where members from all the councils come and feel comfortable. We need to design something totally new.”

“Hm,” Graham intoned.

“It should probably be by the water,” Rowan absently remarked, having chosen a Bloody Mary over a cup of coffee, “you know, so the weird water shifters don’t feel all left out.”

“That’s a good idea, Rowan,” Viola said.

“Yes, and we should put little doggy doors in,” Graham said flatly, “and those carpeted shelves on the walls, for house cats.”

“Play nice, Mr. McCallum,” Viola said with mock sternness.

“No, I think it’s a terrific idea,” Rowan said. “And we’ll have a lot of, what…? Honey pots and picnic baskets for the bears.”

They were stoic for a moment, but then smiles broke on both of the men’s faces and they laughed.

“We’ll reach out to a few teams of designers, then,” Graham said.

“Agreed. Take some meetings, see what people come up with.”

“Try to find a good plot.”

“And go from there.”

~ * ~

Viola was out walking one morning, taking in the sight of the den mothers with their Urslings, her arms crossed tightly in front of her against a slight chill, the origins of which were unknown to her, when she spied Elizabeth Weaver on the other side of the esplanade.

Elizabeth had her hair done up neatly on the top of her head, her mouth a pursed line of displeasure as she approached Viola.

“Ms. St. James,” Elizabeth said, smoothing her hands over her black pinstriped pencil skirt.

“Mrs. Weaver,” Viola said, becoming suddenly anxious.

“I want you to know a few things,” she said, her eyes the same uncanny peridot as her son’s. Viola arched her brows in question, waiting for her to go on. “I want you to know that I never fully supported my husband’s plans, nor certainly the means through which he achieved is considerable success. But he was still my husband, and you are still his murderer.” Viola said nothing, but she did stand a little straighter, and she did lower her hands so that they were at her side, steady, calm. “And as such, you and I shall not be allies.”

“I am your son’s mate, Mrs. Weaver,” she said, canting her head to the side. “I shall be the bearer of your grandchildren.”

“Yes, but the unfortunate byproduct of yours and Mr. McCallum’s decisions is that you will have made a series of very powerful enemies, myself included.”

“I have no quarrel with you.”

“That may very well be, but you have uprooted our entire system, in one fell swoop. You’ll see no harm from me in this place, but I do intend to take back what’s mine.” Elizabeth Weaver was slim and slight, but Viola could see the determination in her eyes.

“What is it that you think I have taken from you?”

“My son, and my rightful place at the head of the most power clan of shifters on the continent.” She gave a sharp nod of her head and brushed past Viola, heading toward the elevator that would take her up and away from the Ursus dwelling. “Don’t be foolish enough to think that I’m not the only council member who feels this way. You’ll have your Ursine elders, and other members of leadership throughout the shifter community vying for your head.”

“But I just want peace,” she protested. “That’s all any of us wanted, Rowan, Graham, and me.”

“Yes, well,” Elizabeth said, pressing the button to summon the elevator, “everything comes at a price.” When the doors dinged open, she stepped inside. “Good day to you,” and disappeared.

~ * ~

Viola did her best to put the encounter out of her mind, but when she couldn’t sleep, she whispered the truth of it to Rowan in the night. He simply shrugged it off. “I love my mother, I do,” he said, “but she’s insane if she thinks she will be able to garner more support in Felidae than I will.”

Still, it ate at her, plaguing the darkest corners of her mind until she started to get restless, antsy. She needed time away from complicated clan politics.

So it was that she got her hands on Graham’s car keys, and a day to herself, away from the prying eyes of to over-concerned lovers, each vying to be the center of her limited attention. It was well past time that she endeavor to find her sister, so one sunny afternoon, she climbed into Graham’s Ford F150 and headed down the empty mountain roads back toward the city.

It was pleasant to spend several hours in solitude, the windows down, the wind mussing her hair. And it was even something of a relief to be back at her old building, the familiar stairs, the familiar smell of the place, as run down as it was.

When she let herself into her apartment, something like nostalgia washed over her, and she thought back rather fondly on the life she knew before the events of the last few weeks had begun to transpire. It looked the same: shoddy furniture, largely second hand, a mess of bottles and cans all over the kitchen counter, Rowan’s ashtray overrun with cigarette butts, clothes slung over every available surface. She smiled: how had she lived in such squalor?

“Verity?” She called out, opening the bathroom door to peer inside: empty. “You here?” But there was no reply. Brow furrowed, she made a search through the entire space, from top to bottom, but there was no sign that Verity had ever even been there at all, let alone was living there presently. What was it that Winnie had told her she’d said? Something about going to…what was it? Viola wracked her brain and couldn’t recall.

Since she was without a cell phone, she decided to make a call from the internet and made her way over to the cluttered kitchen table that also served as her workspace whenever she needed to use the computer. She plucked her laptop up off the couch and opened it, typing in the password one-handed as she sat in a chair at the kitchen table.

As soon as the screen came to life, she saw a still of her sister’s face, frozen at the end of a recently recorded video. Viola’s heart was thrumming in her chest as she reached out to press play.

And Verity came to life there on her screen, smiling, lovely. “Is this recording…?” she said, her eyes darting around as she attempted to determine whether or not everything was functioning properly. “Ok.”

Quickly, Viola was able to tell that she wasn’t making this video out of coercion. Also, that she had recorded it here, in the loft. So she had been here. “So, Vi,” Verity said, looked healthy, animated, not like someone who had spent nearly a month in a hospital bed. “I’ve tried calling you like a dozen times, but you’re off on your little…adventure, we’ll call it. And I do hope it’s going well and that everything’s turned out precisely as you want it to, but in the meantime, I have my own adventures to go on. And I can’t sit around and wait for you anymore.” She was beaming, strong, proud. “I’m not the sickly, invalid sister anymore, at least…not right now. Right now, I’m healthy and if history is any indication, I have a few solid good weeks ahead of me. So now is the time to follow this lead, wherever it takes me. When you see this, I hope you’ll call. I’ll send you a postcard from my first location, and I’ll let you know what I find out because…Vi? I think I found our mom.”

Viola blinked rapidly, stunned. She’d been told their mother was dead. In fact, Rowan had seemed certain of it. So what sort of windmills was Verity tilting at? She closed the laptop, and tucked it under her arm, leaving the apartment as quickly as she’d arrived, and heading down a flight of stairs to the row of mailboxes near the front entrance. She opened her box, which was overrun with bills and junk mail, and found the postcard, as promised. It was dated three days ago, sent from a place called Ventura, and it had a black and white photo of a bear on the front. “Vi, I’ll be here for one night, at the Motel Lyon, room 23.”

Viola looked at the date in the corner again and heaved a sigh. Verity had already gone. But maybe she was right, what she’d said in the video. Maybe she was no longer the invalid sister; maybe she was capable of taking care of herself. She was, ostensibly, an adult. Viola swallowed hard and headed back to the truck, tossing her laptop onto the passenger seat before throwing it into drive and pulling back out onto the main road. Getting out of the city, the streets were clogged with rush-hour commuters, but Viola didn’t mind: she was enjoying her time away, even if she was worried about her sister.

Their mother…She supposed it was possible that Lily Murphy was alive. Possible, but unlikely. And if she was, Viola hoped she would be proud to see how she’d worked to unite the clans that had ripped her family apart.

One way or another, Viola and Verity St. James would have a family again, whether through blood or sheer force of will.

Viola got out onto the highway and rolled the windows down, breathing in the sweet pine air as she drove, back to the Dwelling, back to Graham, back to Rowan, and back to the leadership role she now understood was her birthright, her destiny. She could only pray that she would live up to the challenge.