If he was going to say anything else, her dad didn’t get the chance.
Slone grabbed him by the arm and with one strike, had her father out cold on the lobby floor. He tugged at his shirt, straightening himself.
“Carl?” he called. The frozen in time picture of the lobby at mid-morning gained motion again as people returned to their errands. Brigit watched as Slone gave directions to Carl to help her father find his way to his plane, and to ensure he got on it.
“Yes, Sir!” Carl lugged out her father with the help of one of the security guards, jamming him into the sedan with very little real intent to be careful about it.
“I wasn’t expecting you to do that!” Brigit gaped, then fumed at the man before her.
“No one will disrespect any woman in my presence. Ever,” Slone stated, his jaw so tight, his face was mottled red. “Let’s go upstairs and discuss our problem.”
Ja’Rol walked to Judy and left orders for the bags to be sent up to the penthouse when possible, then before she could stop either of them, they flanked her again and all three piled into the elevator.
With the swipe of their key card, they bypassed the office floors, the elevator rising like a comet to the very top.
Brigit popped open her mouth, but Ja’Rol cut her off. “Not yet,” he advised cautiously. “
Slone needs to calm down. I’ve never seen him behave like that.”
Realizing what he meant, she tipped to stare at her other lover. Dark and forbidding his attention was on the door. There was no softness to be found in his chiseled expression.
Then it hit her. He was truly furious at her father.
She lifted a hand to his forearm. It was tense and rock solid beneath her fingertips. “Slone?” she whispered. “It’s all right.”
The cab slowed and halted with a gentle settling motion, then the twin doors opened, giving her the first view of their shared home.
Slone lifted a hand, gesturing for her to go first.
Brigit took a few steps and stopped, not sure of her situation. Ja’Rol curled an arm around her waist. “It’ll be okay.”
“He’s
never
done that?” she asked, watching as Slone stalked right through the living room into a room she couldn’t see.
Ja’Rol shook his head. “He doesn’t have to for me, and the last woman to be insulted in front of him like that was decades ago, at least.”
Brigit felt a little sick to her stomach. “All this time, I thought he was just a prick, a mentality that never meshed to modern times. He despises me,” she whispered. She wrapped her arms around her waist and gasped a few breaths of air, but it did little to ease the pain his words had caused.
“No. He despises all women. You’ve seen it. You know it’s true. Does he treat his wife any different than you, or your mother?” Ja’Rol pulled her into his body, his arms protectively wrapped around her.
She drew several breaths, then managed to shake her head. “No. I had no idea.”
A few minutes later, she asked, “Where did Slone go?”
“He’s in the shower. It’s a way to distract himself.” He rested his chin to the top of her hair. “He’ll be okay soon.”
“He doesn’t react like that? He doesn’t get mad?” She leaned to search Ja’Rol’s face. Dark as honey, his eyes warmed for her.
“Of course he gets mad, but rage? No, not like that.” He hugged her closer, the shape of his body molding with hers. “He cares about you, the same as I do. Neither of us want to see you mistreated, by anyone.”
His voice lowered, a mere wisp of sound, his breath sweeping over her hair. Then his lips were pressing to her, little kisses that soothed and comforted her.
“How do you taste so sweet?”
he mused, his mouth flowing with her to find the curve of her neck.
“Good soap?”
Brigit said back, sighing through a giggle.
She squealed when he smacked her once on the ass. “Tease.” He brushed a quick kiss to her lips. “Slone is asking if you are ready to talk.”
“Why is he asking you, and not me? I can answer him.”
“Because he knows he disappointed you,” he replied, looking back at her with eyes that spoke the truth.
“Ja’Rol, we all make mistakes. Slone didn’t make one today.”
“I hope you feel that way when we’re done,” Slone said from behind her.
Turning, she spotted him, his skin still dew-damp, his hair towel dried with the towel low on his hips.
“You were in the shower?”
“Extreme cold helps me to refocus. I owe you an apology for that. No matter how much your father pissed me off, I shouldn’t have, but I don’t regret it.”
Slipping out of Ja’Rol’s hold, she walked right up to Slone. With a finger to his chin, she told him, “It’s okay. You took me by surprise. I never would have imagined that kind of reaction from you.”
“You’re not mad?” He studied her, mildly confused.
“No, not really.” Not for defending her, regardless of whom it was against.
Relief eased the tension in his shoulders. He swept her into his embrace and spun her around. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, dropping kisses to her face.
He set her on her feet a moment later. “Ja’Rol.” He held out his hand and together they stood before her.
She’d never seen two men happier than the two watching her at that moment. “You asked us yesterday if we were in love with you. The answer is an unequivocal yes. We want you; we need you, in so many ways.” Slone reached and clasped one of her hands and Ja’Rol took her other, then together they lowered before her.
“You are the anchor to our hearts. We are asking you to stay, to cherish us, as we will cherish you. We have only one thing to show you, and if you accept, then all that has happened to now will become a solid bonding.”
“Like the mind thinky thing?” she asked, smiling when they chuckled.
“Exactly like the mind thinky thing,” Slone replied with an equal grin of memory. “We understand common practice won’t allow us to marry, but together, we will be complete. Do you understand?”
That made her pause. “Meaning if I’m okay with your big secret, then we’ll be, for the sake of a better explanation, married?” She bit her lip. “That’s a big step.”
“We know,” Ja’Rol said. Together they stood, then he went and closed all the blinds to the main room, enshrouding them in a shaded space of secrets and privacy.
“This is where it gets harder,” Slone continued, subdued. “In our bedroom, we have a balcony. It faces the rear of the building, and if you’ve ever noticed, there is nothing as tall as us in that direction for blocks. The glass is tinted and bulletproof throughout our penthouse, but in that room, it is more than that. There is a staircase to the roof, and hidden walls all through this building. We created it that way, and only us, the designer and builders, know of them. And none of them live in this plane.”
“This plane?” she echoed, confused.
“We prefer it to our own,” Ja’Rol admitted. “We’re challenged here, have different environments to thrive in. At home, we’re merely one of many. Our skills are the same.”
She studied both, but saw nothing that would make her believe they weren’t sane.
“Would you like to sit? The next part can be overwhelming.”
She whipped around, searching the penthouse with unseeing eyes. “Sure.” Doubts were beginning to seriously wander through her mind. What had she gotten herself into after all?
Ja’Rol took her hand and urged her to sit, then began to unbutton his shirt as he strolled to meet with Slone. Slone dropped his towel. In a matter of moments they both stood naked before her.
“This is why our penthouse is special,” he explained.
The two men moved apart a few paces then as one, began to change shape. Her jaw fell wide open. Her fingers clutched like claws into the leather of the chair. Disbelief roiled through her stomach, making her heart race wildly.
Thick muscled legs grew thicker, lean bodies lengthened. Deep colors swept over each of their bodies, hardening into plates and scales. Then, unbelievably, wings began to form out of their shoulders.
Leather-like with fine veins, they spread out and flapped once, then retracted, conscious of their space limitations. Nails scored at the rug, but their steps were light enough to not damage the fine layers.
Lastly, their shapes defined, their heads changed, became spade-like but thinner. Even as large as the penthouse was, they still reached the ceiling and had to lower themselves to not hit their heads.
Cautiously, they crouched and then stopped moving. Both of them focused on her. Even their eyes had changed color! Both were nearly onyx black, pools of nothing that reflected back to her.
“What are you?” She enunciated each word, refusing to stutter over them.
Slone’s voice entered her mind first. “
We are wyvern. We are magic, human and dragon.”
Brigit stared, frozen by those two pairs of black eyes regarding her back.
“This is what created the mind thinky thing, because as we are able, our mates can too, within reason.”
She stared at the one on the right. Slone. His attempt at humor fell flat. Shock made it hard for her to form complete thoughts.
“Yes, I’m still me,”
he explained with a gentleness that she’d come to recognize as him.
“I can tell you apart by your color. Like your skin,” she pointed out. She unclenched her fingers with effort, clasping her hands on her lap to hide their shaking.
“It is one of the factors. It is very unusual to find a very pale wyvern in human form. We do not come in pale shades,”
he said, with a light teasing tone. Big, inky black eyes blinked at her, as if sharing the joke.
“Explain ‘us’.”
“We will change back,”
Ja’Rol informed her. “
It will be less stressful on you.”
Before she could argue, they began to shrink, their skin softening, their limbs taking shape. Even the chiseled maleness of their faces, eyes that she recognized. Mouths that she’d kissed.
“We are considerably older, for one,” Slone said, plucking his towel from the floor to wrap around his hips. Ja’Rol slipped on his jeans, but nothing else.
“How much older?” She glanced to Ja’Rol. “You said decades earlier…”
“Yes. Slone is two hundred and fifteen years old. I am a mere ninety-eight.”
She slumped into her chair, agape at that bombshell. “Holy Hell. I’m only twenty-eight. Isn’t that like, robbing the cradle, or something?”
Ja’Rol chuckled. “No, because in truth we live for several centuries, and sharing with us, you will too.” He nodded once to Slone. “It isn’t always easy; times make it difficult, but it can be done, and has been. By us and many others.”
Slone disappeared into the kitchen. She could hear him moving things around, bottles maybe. Glasses. A moment later, he returned with three glasses filled with wine, one half as full as the other two.
They sat across from her on a loveseat.
“This is why you said there is no gay between you,” she murmured. She’d begun to swirl the white wine, watching the play of the golden liquid as it moved within the glass. Trying hard to come to grips with what they’d shown her.
“It is like we said. It is because we respond in ways that are not typical.”