Chapter 46.2

Ah, my Jax.  So fierce.  So confident.  But she had good reason to be.  I strode forward, heedless of her bared teeth or splayed claws, and cupped her chin.

“Yes, you are,” I whispered softly.

The kiss I planted on her lips was a soft one.  Tender.  Reassuring.  And as the tension drained from her body, I knew that was all it needed to be.

When I straightened, I glanced over at the other two.  Lynnria was busy checking the stairs down for traps, but I caught Arx watching us from the corner of her eye, despite her act of studying the displays along the wall.

“Personally, I’m not a fan of caste systems,” I said, offhand.  “But I can’t see how anyone could rate above my Dolilim.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Arx’s lip, and she looked away, satisfied.

“I agree with your assessment completely, my lord,” Mia said privately.  “There is no need to be so formal about these things.  But since you brought it up, my own place could not be more clear.  We are one, after all.”

I resisted the urge to snort my derision.  We were about as ‘one’ as a wart and a genital.  But perhaps that was for the best.

I still vividly recalled those few disorienting moments of oneness I had experienced with Arx.  They had been… interesting.  In a lot of ways.  But ultimately unsustainable.  Without perfect coordination, our every action had been met with debate and hesitation.  There had to be a dominant personality in the mix, or else we would never get anything done.

And thinking further, it was a bit of a cruel comparison.  No one would ever describe genital warts as hot, and my mental daemon had that going for her in spades.  She could even be helpful.

When she behaved herself.

“Come look at this, Master Dearest,” Arx called, saving me from having to comment.  “There’s something strange about this painting.”

“How so?” I asked, then quickly strode forward, glad for the change in subject.  All this talk about the complicated web of relationships spreading out from me was starting to make my head pound.

Then I jumped.  But when I glanced back, I found Jax studiously examining her claws.  Little mynx just goosed me!

“Look.  See?” Arx said, pulling my attention back.  “I probably would have walked right past it if it hadn’t been for that note.”

With a smirk still on my face, I came to stand beside her and focused on the painting she had pointed out.  There were actually quite a few of them around, liberally decorating the walls.  Thus far, I had not detected much of a unifying theme beyond simple decoration.  They were the sort of artworks one might hang to fill the space.

Mostly, they depicted various scenes in a naturalistic style.  Battles.  Mountains.  Forests.  Exotic animals.

A tasteful nude sprinkled here and there.

This particular one seemed to be a depiction of a dinner party.  All sorts of people from various of the races were gathered together in a stately manor, all dressed to the nines.  Most of them were simply mingling with one another over drinks.

What jumped out at me, however, was their location.  “It’s the stairs,” I said, gesturing below us.  “It’s like the painter is standing at the front door to the mansion.  And look here!  You can even see your statues.”

That got Jax’s attention.

“Statues of us?  Where?” she asked, crowding closer. Then, realizing the real things must exist somewhere, she twirled and looked over the landing.  “Hochmagandy, would you look at them!  Think we could cut ‘em loose?  I never had a statue before.”

Like a kid at a candy store, Jax placed a hand on the railing and kicked her feet over, dropping to the floor below.  “They’s gold, too!”

Lynnria shook her head and leaned down.  “They’re clearly bronze.”

“Aww, really?  How can ye tell?”  Out of sight, I heard a sound that brought to mind a claw scratching at metal.  “Hmm… I think they made yer chebs too small, Arxie-love.  No tail on ye, neither.”

Arx scowled but refrained from comment.  She must have felt a little like someone who had been going to the gym for months only to be confronted by a bunch of her old, fat pictures in her family’s photo album.  Only cast in bronze.  And nude.  And on display in a complete stranger’s house.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” I assured her.  “Who cares about some hack sculpture?”

She shrugged as though trying to pretend indifference.  “My likeness has never lent itself to art, anyway.”

“Oh, I don’t know.  I’ve always considered your backside something of a work of art,” I said, then playfully grabbed a handful.

At my touch, she sucked in breath and, before I had even realized what had happened, her fingers had encircled my wrist, capturing my hand where it was.  Almost uncontrollably, she rolled her hips back, as though my touch had ignited a fire within her.

“It’s yours for the taking,” she whispered fervently.  “Any time you want it.”

My manhood pulsed—and much more strongly this time—to my chagrin.  I was in no shape to continue with these shenanigans, which was the main reason we had decided to abandon the safe room in the first place.

“Don’t hold yourself back,” she pleaded.  “Touch me.  Feel me.  Use me!  Tell me to cum!  Please?”

I swallowed.  “Can you really do that?  Just from me asking?”

“I don’t know… maybe,” she breathed.  Her tail had begun to flick back and forth, brushing against my fingers.  “If you ask me the right way.”

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