Earning Their Mate's Trust [Half-Demon Mates 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour ManLove) Page 6

  “Do you have threesomes often?” he asked, unable to ask his real question. Were you really waiting for me?

  Hurt flashed across both of their faces. Damon recovered first. “We’ve only fucked each other in this cabin. No one else has entered our home.”

  It was obvious by the way he said the word our that Jessie was included.

  “What about bedrooms?”

  “There’s one.” Michael pointed to the other door.

  Jessie opened the door and gasped when he came face-to-face with the biggest poster bed he’d ever seen. The frame looked heavy and impossible to move, like it was carved directly from a tree. Did they build the house around the bed? No, he wouldn’t focus on the bed. He was about to turn away when he saw blue silk sheets. Great, most of the dreams he had with Michael and Damon happened in this room on that bed.

  “Do you like the bed?” Michael purred.

  “I’m admiring the comforter. I like the blend of brown and blue. It fits nicely inside the bedroom. He didn’t need to rest on top of the bed to know it was soft. He still remembered the feel of the mattress beneath him as the other two played his body like a string guitar.

  “You look ready to pounce on the bed,” Damon said.

  “The silk rubs nicely against the skin during sex,” Michael added.

  “I know,” he whispered.

  Both men looked at him.

  “I mean silk is nice against the skin. It has to feel good.” They weren’t buying it, so he focused on a direct attack to draw their attention away. “But if you need to rely on sheets to feel good, then the two of you must suck in bed,” he teased. Passion burned in Damon’s eyes. Michael’s eyes flashed yellow, ready to show Jessie the sheets didn’t compare to him.

  “Watch it Jessie. Play with fire and you might get burned,” Michael warned.

  “It’s not fire I’m worried about,” he confessed. He sat on the bed and tried to look seductive before continuing. “From the way I see it, I’m pretty safe. No fucking.”

  Damon smirked. “Someday you’ll come crawling, asking for sex, and I’ll pound your ass, remembering every time you teased me. Made my cock hard.” Damon walked closer and pushed back his hair. “And you’ll love it.”

  Jessie swallowed. “But not until I ask.”

  “Not until you ask,” Damon agreed.

  Michael turned from them. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes. Canned sauce and pasta until we go food shopping.”

  Damon reached out a hand. Jessie grabbed hold and powerful arms tugged him off the bed. An arm rested across his shoulder as he was led down the hall.

  Michael moved around the kitchen, but not in an efficient way. He pulled a pot out and placed it on the stove only to realize he needed to get the can opener that was located in the drawer across the kitchen over the pots. He dumped the sauce in, covered it and moved back over to pull out a large spaghetti pot.

  “Do you have spices?” Jessie asked.

  Michael looked at him like he said a foreign word.

  “Garlic powder, onion powder, oregano, you know, spices for the sauce.”

  “Not needed. The sauce and spaghetti are fine without modifications.”

  “Modifications?” he asked, turning to Damon. “We’re talking about flavor, not making a bomb.”

  “It has flavor,” Michael said, tasting the red sauce. He scrunched his nose. “We need to pick up a better brand.”

  Jessie shook his head. “That’s tomato sauce, not seasoned spaghetti sauce. You’re expected to add spices.”

  Michael’s eyes widened in understanding.

  “What do you guys normally eat?”

  “We fish a lot. Pick up packaged food, but it’s never that good.”

  “Tastes fine to me,” Damon added.

  * * * *

  Michael glared at Damon. All food tasted the same to him, so the last thing he needed was for someone that couldn’t taste a wide variety of flavors to come to his defense.

  “That’s because you eat anything and don’t taste much.” Damon nodded in agreement. Michael resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

  He waited until the water warmed and threw in the pasta.

  “That’s not boiling.” Jessie said. He looked from the water to him like he’d just killed someone and was cooking the dead body.

  “It’ll still cook.”

  Jessie laid his head on the counter. “Wake me when you’re done. I can’t watch this anymore.”

  Michael knew he wasn’t a good cook. He’d tasted good food and his food didn’t compare. Damon ate but never cared about the product. Jessie on the other hand expected the food to taste good or at least be edible.

  He stirred the pasta with a large spoon. See, he was making an effort. The water hadn’t started to boil. Warm water, boiling water, did it really matter? Stir. Not stir. How important was it? Yes, he’d served pasta that stuck together, but a knife and fork cut through it.

  As for the sauce, now that Jessie drew his attention to the can, he remembered picking up the tomato sauce and not already seasoned sauce. It was the same brand as the other sauce, but the store didn’t have any of the normal stuff. How different could it be? Now that he tasted it, Michael realized that the two products weren’t even close.

  Well, they’d just have to make it work.

  “So Jessie, what do you like to eat?’

  Jessie’s eyes widened. “I like pasta.” He looked over at the stove and added, “Usually.”

  Before he could comment, Jessie turned his head toward Damon. “What about you?” he asked.

  Damon shrugged. “I don’t taste food.”

  That seemed to surprise Jessie. Damon focused on Jessie and added. “I’m part demon. The earth feeds me. I eat, but don’t need to.”

  “So you don’t taste anything.”

  Daman thought about it. “Everything tastes different, but I don’t prefer one thing over the other.”

  That satisfied Jessie and the smaller man turned his attention back to Michael.

  “What’s your favorite food?”

  That was a loaded question. He liked to eat and never wasted food. As a child, he had to go days without eating. His parents’ favorite punishment was starvation. Did he have a favorite? Was it unusual not to have one? As a wolf, he hunted and ate raw meat.

  Jessie gave him a pointed look. “If you were going into a restaurant, what would you order?” he asked.

  “Steak.” That had been surprisingly easy.

  “Do you ever cook steak?”

  Michael shook his head. He wouldn’t even know where to begin.

  Jessie laughed. The sound, unusual inside the cabin, left Michael with a sense of peace. He leaned forward on the counter. “I’ll teach you. My parents loved to grill. And I worked in enough restaurants to pick up some tips.”

  The mention of parents led Michael down another path. “How did they die? You mentioned murder.”

  Jessie, clearly not expecting the question, flinched like he’d been hit. “My parents were cautious. We moved around a lot. That’s how I learned to hide and leave a place within seconds.”

  Michael poured a glass of water and placed it in front of Jessie, knowing by the time he was done, Jessie would need it.

  “When we arrived at a new place, they always had an escape plan. It took me a while to realize that they never thought about their own survival, just mine. The plan was always for me to get away. If they escaped with me, fine, but if they didn’t they were prepared to die.”

  Damon laid a hand on Jessie’s shoulder. “We need to know what we’re up against.”

  Jessie nodded. “My father was smart. I never went to school, so he acted as my teacher. I passed the basic high school tests for reading and math around twelve. I’m not good at history and horrible at science.” Jessie paused. “Sometimes people visited and called my father doctor. He set up surveillance systems to monitor activity.” Jessie looked at them. “That type of equipment cost money. They cut corn
ers on food and other things, like hot water and heat.” Jessie sipped the water. “My mother often got premonitions when something bad was going to happen.” He lowered his head to hide the pain. “The day they died my parents locked me in a panic room, cut off from the rest of the house. It had a week’s worth of food. I wanted to go out, but that wasn’t the plan. They trusted me to wait until they came for me, but they never did. When I crawled out of my hiding spot, everything was gone. The house. My parents.”

  “Gone?” Michael asked.

  Jessie nodded. “A fire destroyed the house. Police reports indicated my parents had been shot and killed before the fire began.”

  “Did you have dreams or premonitions about it?” Damon asked.

  Jessie shook his head. “Before my parents died, I was normal. After their deaths, the dreams came. I could do the things my mother did.” He bit his bottom lip. “I think they had something to do with that. I don’t know why, but after their deaths, within months, I was just like my mother.”

  “How did you survive alone?”

  “My parents had other houses and money in accounts. I hid and learned to live using the Internet to buy food and stuff. I was twelve when they died and old enough that people rarely questioned me.”

  Michael opened his mouth to ask another question, but stopped when the water on the stove started to boil. He got up and stirred the pasta. It looked like one clumpy mess. There was no way to save this meal. He turned his attention to the sauce. The red liquid bubbled up, but the brown sides alarmed him. He shrugged and pulled out the plates and put the finishing touches on dinner.

  When he walked over with the food, Jessie never looked up.

  “If you were under the house, how did you survive the fire?”

  “The entrance was in the basement, but you had to crawl a few yards. Then after the door shut it was a self-contained unit. My father said it was once an underground bomb shelter that he modified to make safer.”

  Damon dug in like he normally did. “Eat up, Jessie, it’s good.”

  Jessie looked down and scrunched his nose. “Are you sure this won’t make me sick?”

  “The taste might not be great, but the ingredients should be good,” Michael said without answering the question.

  “You two are food snobs,” Damon said.

  “How so?” Jessie asked, trying to focus on them, but the hurt lingered. It couldn’t be hidden.

  “Both of you turn your nose up at good food.”

  “I’m not a food snob.” To prove his point, Jessie lifted up a fork and forced the food down. He chewed a few times and then swallowed. “So what do you two do for fun?”

  “Fun?” Damon asked like the idea was a foreign concept.

  Michael shook his head. The subject had been changed. Tonight, they would no longer talk about the past. Instead of forcing the subject back, he moved forward and took pity on his mate. “Damon runs a company. I like to build things out of wood like the rocking chair and bench out on the porch. We both enjoy being outside. Damon likes nature. I like to fish and hunt.”

  “What kind of company? Is that what you do to make money?” Jessie asked.

  Damon nodded. “I own an investment firm. It’s small. I manage my own money and accounts for nonhumans.”

  Michael smiled at Jessie’s curiosity. They were the type of men who rarely questioned why people did things. “In the summer, I give tours and help climbers up the mountain. In the winter, it’s quiet, so I lounge around.”

  Damon shook his head. “He builds.”

  Jessie looked at Michael with stars in his eyes. “What do you build?”

  “Wooden toys for kids and sleds,” he confessed. “I chop enough wood in the summer and carve things out of the logs.”

  Jessie smiled. “I’d love to help.”

  Michael nodded the thought of having someone by his side while working tugged at his heart. He didn’t know that he wanted that until it was offered.

  “What about you? What do you like to do for fun?” Michael asked.

  The smaller man shrugged. “I work and sleep. I never thought about a hobby or finding something to do in my spare time, because I don’t have spare time. I used to read a lot. Happy stories always lifted my mood.”

  Michael couldn’t identify the warmth filling him. Meals with Damon were short with little conversation. They spent most of their time communicating through sex, but this was nice. Jessie had filled an empty part, and only now did he realize how much they were missing.

  Chapter Five

  Michael gazed down at the sleeping figure. Soft, even breathing sounded like a sweet melody that drew him in. Jessie’s eyes fluttered then relaxed, making Michael wonder about the other man’s dreams. He ran a hand down Jessie’s cheek. His entire face had delicate yet well-defined features that reminded him of a Greek statue, perfect and breathtaking. Skin pale with a light pinkish undertone would turn red as his cock sunk deep inside. Michael licked his lips, imagining the savory dish and the soft, lust-filled cries. Light, ash-brown hair fanned out over the pillow. He pushed back the silk strands that fell into Jessie’s face, wanting to get a better look. Soft red lips invited him closer. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Jessie’s lips. Not wanting to wake the smaller man, he pulled away before ravishing him.

  Michael watched as seconds turned to minutes. His arms ached to hold the sleeping man in a tight embrace. He wasn’t good at waiting. Every inch burned with desire.

  The white blanket rested at Jessie’s waist, exposing lean muscles under soft skin. Michael reached for the blanket and pulled it up to the other man’s neck. The room was warm like spring, but Jessie felt the cold more than him. His fist tightened. How did he miss a day of shivering? Jessie’s body had been ice cold when they arrived. He had watched the younger man but never noticed the paler-than-normal skin. The ankle. He focused on the known injury, the twisted ankle, and couldn’t see beyond it. Now that he knew the other man hid away pain and weakness, nothing would escape his gaze. From this moment, he would be on the lookout for any sign of distress.

  He stood and reached for the light, but stopped, remembering Jessie’s fear. A smirk pulled at his lips. Someone needed to show the other man the fun that happened after sunset. His treacherous cock twitched, imagining the night’s pleasures.

  “Please, I can’t stay out here. It’s too dark,” Jessie had said with a whimper during last night’s rainstorm. Damon tried to keep the fire burning, but with the storm not even he could manage it, and it was too late for Damon to send the rain away. The other man was good at changing weather and building storms, but once they hit, they needed to play out.

  Thankfully, a flashlight packed in the survival pack provided just enough light to calm Jessie. If that hadn’t worked, Damon would’ve reached into their other mate’s mind and forced the fear from him, something neither of them wanted.

  Jessie clung to the flashlight like a child to a stuffed animal. All night the light shone in Jessie’s arms. Damon’s hand rubbed Jessie’s back, trying to chase the darkness away. While Jessie slept, Michael and Damon watched over him. Staring into each other’s eyes, their contentment and desire flowed through the mating bond. For the first time, he felt Damon’s heart full, and it mirrored his own heart.

  Michael pulled another blanket from the closet and covered Jessie. The fire burned out two hours ago, and as the cold night air seeped in, the toasty room would cool. Warm was better than cold. Jessie snuggled under the extra protective layer. Michael placed one last kiss on the top of Jessie’s head and headed to the bedroom.

  Damon stood in front of the window, staring out into the darkness. Michael’s eyes changed to share Damon’s view.

  “It’s beautiful up here,” Michael said.

  Damon nodded. “How’s Jessie?”

  “Warm and asleep.”

  “Do you think he’ll like it up here?” Damon asked.

  Michael wrapped an arm around his mate’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine.�
� He leaned closer. “What’s wrong? I’m usually the one that worries about such things.” Damon never worried. He plowed ahead, never looking back.

  “Nothing.” The instant response lacked believability. Damon didn’t betray anything in his tone. His mate didn’t give clues like that.

  Michael pulled at Damon’s hair. “Don’t be like that.”

  Damon sighed in defeat. “He’s not like us.” He paused. “If he wants to live with people, we’ll leave here.”

  It was unusual for Damon to let doubts seep in. Michael’s heart warmed at Damon’s words. His mate’s heart was opening and the coldness turned tender. “We can’t let him go. If he’s not happy, we’ll find another place.”

  “Let’s not worry about that. Right now, he’s happy. After he joins us in our bed, we’ll keep his body full and satisfied that he won’t be able to think about anything but us.” Michael needed to be the one to reassure. He had his own doubt, but feeding Damon’s wouldn’t be good.

  “He’s keeping something from us. There’s something different about him.” Damon stared up at the stars. His hand squeezed and flattened, a sign that he wanted to swat it against Jessie’s smooth ass.

  Michael decided to let it go. Each of them had their own kinks. Damon liked to spank. Michael liked hard, rough fucking. What would Jessie like? He focused on Damon’s concerns. It was the first time they’d spoken about Jessie being different. “He’s psychic. That’s probably why you can’t read him. He’s good at blocking.”

  “That makes him different, but still human.” Damon’s eyes narrowed. “Why would hunters kill a human?”

  They both knew that hunters never stopped until the target died. “He needs us. Up here, you control the mountain. One blizzard will keep us safe all winter. A heavy fog and no one will find us. If they try to fly in, your wind will destroy them in the air. Jessie is safe. Everything will work out. Right now he needs us. No matter how much he denies it, the mating bond makes him crave our touch.” Michael pulled Damon into his arms. He rubbed their lips together. “He wants us.” He nipped at his mate’s lip. “Right now, I want you.”