Kristie Cook - Devotion

"Of course I'd like you next to me. Always. But …" I hesitated.

"But what?"

I dropped my head, staring at the floor. "But you think this is funny. I can already hear the jokes."

"Hmm … yeah, I'm not the least bit ashamed of what I can do to you." He lifted my chin with his fingers, brushing his thumb across my lower lip. Then his hand trailed down my neck, between my breasts, along my stomach … and lower. I shuddered. He smiled proudly. "So I guess I'll go down by myself and we can all have our laughs without you."

He kissed me and winked, then turned and walked out the door. I stared after him in a daze, and when the fog cleared, I hurried after him.

"Don't forget I can do the same to you," I said when I caught up to him.

He chuckled. "Trust me, I'll never forget. And I'm not ashamed of it, either. But I do promise to behave."

He took my hand, his touch automatically calming me, but right before we entered the dining room, I stepped behind him.

"Dad!" Dorian bounded from his chair at the table and leapt into Tristan's arms. "I've been waiting forever for you to wake up!"

He threw his arms around Tristan's neck in a tight hug.

"Guess I don't count for anything anymore," I said with mocked pain.

He peeked over Tristan's shoulder with the same hazel eyes as his father's. "Hey, Mom. I missed you, too."

"Sure you did," I said, ruffling his blond hair. I didn't blame him for his enthusiasm for Tristan–yesterday was the first time they'd ever met. They had a lot of catching up to do.

Rina, Mom and Owen sat at the table, coffee mugs and breakfast plates in front of them, their conversation we'd heard from the hallway suddenly silent. I barely glanced their way, just in time to see Owen turning his head and dropping his sapphire eyes, his face as pink as the half-eaten grapefruit on his plate. The image of the rising sheet popped into my mind, and my face heated, probably turning darker than Owen's. I studied the tablecloth, wondering if anyone would notice if I crawled underneath it and stayed there the rest of my life. Or at least until Owen left. How can I ever face him again?

As soon as Tristan and I sat down, a woman who looked as old as the ancient mansion came through a door with a tray of coffee, mugs and condiments. She placed everything in front of us, and I reached for the coffee pot, but she grabbed it first, pouring our coffee for us. I wasn't used to this.

"Alexis, this is Ophelia," Rina said with her Italian accent. She was over a century-and-a-half old, but Rina appeared to be in her late twenties, not much older than Mom looked. Her wide, mahogany eyes, nearly identical to mine and Mom's, warmed with appreciation as she regarded the elderly woman. "She has served the Amadis for over two-hundred years, since the days of my great-grandmother's rule. Ophelia, I'd like you to meet our Alexis."

Ophelia dipped into a curtsy. I definitely wasn't used to that.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Alexis," she said, her voice soft and smoother than I expected, compared to her severely creased face. She turned to Tristan. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Tristan. It has been a long time."

Ophelia returned her attention to me, her gray eyes surprisingly clear behind the many folds of her eyelids. Doing the math, I realized she was nearly the same age as Tristan. Ew. That thought's … discomforting. I banished it immediately.

"What would you like for breakfast, dear?" she asked me.

"What are my choices?"

She smiled. "Anything you'd like, Ms. Alexis."

"Anything?" I asked with surprise. "Chocolate croissants? And strawberries?"

She curtsied again. "Certainly. Mr. Tristan?"

I stared at him as he rattled off a list of eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits and practically every other breakfast item known to mankind.

"I told you I was starving," he said once Ophelia disappeared.

"I thought we were in a hurry," I muttered. "It'll take forever for her to cook all that."

But as soon as I said the last word, Ophelia came through the door again, another tray on her arm. I wondered if the kitchen always had food ready to go and then the truth hit me–the chef probably prepared it with magic. And then I realized, with mild shock, Ophelia herself was probably a witch. I'd only just learned the basics of the creatures that made up the Amadis, and mage made the most sense. Since she served the royal family domestically, she couldn't have been a warlock, who'd be out fighting, even at her age. Although … she might have been a Were, explaining how her frail-looking body could hold all that food, but then I noticed she wasn't actually carrying it. The tray hovered just over her arm, so it only looked as though she carried it. Yep, a witch. Weird.

Dorian eyed her, apparently not seeing that magic held the tray. "How are you so strong, Ophelia? You're so old!"

"Dorian!" I hissed, my face even hotter than it had been. "That's not nice."

"He's simply saying what he sees–I am old," Ophelia said with a chuckle as she doled out all of Tristan's plates. Then she winked at Dorian. "Bat wing soup and lots of vegetables."

"Ew," Dorian said, wrinkling his nose. "Good thing I'm strong because of my dad."

"Vegetables help," Tristan said as he pierced some kind of decorative leaf on his plate of eggs and shoved it into his mouth.

He dug into all his food while I pulled my croissant apart, picking at it more than eating it. My stomach remained knotted with worry, not helped by the embarrassment for my loss of control last night. I couldn't ever have felt any more awkward than I did at this moment, sitting at a table full of people who had all experienced my orgasm right along with me.

"Alexis!" Rina's voice said in my head, sounding very nearly like her regular voice but loud as a shout. I nearly jumped in my seat at the urgent tone and my eyes shot up at her. Her brows drew together as she studied me then she finally said, "I need to talk to you about your gift."

Had she heard my thoughts about last night? I blushed.

"Yes, we will talk about that, but it will have to wait," she said. "I need to discuss a few things with you regarding the council meeting."

This way or in private? I asked her.

She rose from her chair. "We need to be at the Council Hall in ten minutes. Sophia, Alexis, please come with me, yes?"

I dropped the fist-sized strawberry I was eating onto the plate next to my half-eaten croissant, wiped the red juice from my fingers onto the cloth napkin and stood up.

"I'll stay with Dorian during the meeting," Owen offered. He wasn't a member of the council–just my bodyguard, though I thought of him more like the big brother I never had but always wanted. Similarly, he was like an uncle to Dorian. They adored each other. Dorian, who'd been pouting because he wanted Tristan to himself all day, grinned at the idea of at least getting to hang out with Uncle Owen.

"No, Owen, I would like you at the meeting," Rina said. "You will continue to serve as Alexis's protector, so you need to know everything. Ophelia will take care of him."

"We'll go toad hunting," Ophelia called from the kitchen, just as Dorian was about to frown again. His eyes lit up. He jumped off his chair, gave Tristan and me quick hugs and ran for the kitchen.

I followed Rina and Mom out of the dining room and down a long hallway. Rina's deep-violet, floor-length gown swished at her legs as we entered what appeared to be her office. It was large and beautifully decorated, with polished wood furniture, including a desk and ceiling-high bookshelves, full of ancient-looking books and knickknacks. A leather sofa and two high-back chairs created a sitting area near the fireplace, where crackling flames danced, as they did in every fireplace in the cool stone mansion. Everything was antique.