Lupi 06 - Blood Magic

panties slid down her legs at the entrance to the bedroom.
    His fingers slid between her legs just as they reached the bed. An easy caress, a gentle rub, one quick stroke - and she went over.
    The climax whited out her brain. She forgot about legs and standing. Fortunately, he scooped her up and tossed her on the bed before she collapsed. He followed her down and, with the aftershocks still pinging through her, he slid inside.
    He'd dawdled all he wanted, it seemed, for he finished with quick, hard strokes that overloaded her sensitized flesh, bringing her a second pop.
    The next she knew, he'd collapsed on top of her, his breath coming heavy and fast on the side of her head. She lifted one limp hand, stroked his chin. "Mmm. Tangy," she murmured.
    "Tangy?" He was amused, sleepy.
    She nodded, eyes closed. "Like a whole-body SweeTART. The second one, I mean, not the first. The first was... " Her drowsy brain couldn't find a sufficiently explosive food to compare it to. She settled for, "Wow."
    "Ah." He lifted off. "Wow here, too. Scoot. I'll get the cover."
    She scooted, tugged with him, and wiggled herself under the covers. There was a wet spot on the comforter - the only disadvantage of sex with a lupus. They couldn't get or give STDs, so no condoms were needed. No condoms meant wet spots, unless you took precautions. Which they'd forgotten to do... again.
    But no matter. She'd wash the comforter in the morning.
    Rule draped one arm over her. Lily snuggled close, closing her eyes, savoring the comfort of the bed and the contact, enjoying her limp body, the drugging pull of sleep.
    A thought wiggled up from somewhere.
    Rule hadn't made love like a jealous man, had he? There'd been no possessiveness, no claiming, in either part of their dance. Was she relieved or disappointed?
    She couldn't tell. It didn't matter. Lily sighed and let go.

 
    FIFTEEN

    It was still full dark when Rule stood in front of the window wall in the living area the next morning, sipping coffee. His view faced west, out toward the ocean. The moon hung near the horizon, her face half shadow, half light. Lily still slept. He'd reset the alarm to make sure of that. She wasn't always realistic about how much sleep she needed.
    He watched the darkness and listened to the song of the partly veiled moon and remembered jealousy.
    He'd experienced it, of course. Lupi weren't immune to the urge to hoard, whether it be toys, attention, love, or sex. Young lupi in particular - those who hadn't yet been received into the mantle - were subject to the flashy emotional noise of jealousy.
    Sometimes adult lupi were, too.
    A familiar sadness stole over Rule as he remembered his brother Mick. Mick had been ten years older than Rule, nine years younger than Benedict. Unlike Rule and Benedict, though, he'd been raised away from Clanhome until puberty rendered that impossible. His mother had refused to let Isen have custody until almost too late.
    Rule often wondered how much that had shaped him.
    Others had seen a simple dominance struggle between Mick and Rule - normal and even healthy. Rule knew it had gone deeper, been more twisted. Mick had been jealous of Rule. Jealous when Rule was young because of the time Rule had with their father. Jealous when they were both adults because Isen had named Rule Lu Nuncio. Mick's thinking had been so deformed by the bitter emotion he could see that only as a father's preference, not a Rho's choice. A theft of love.
    Lupi had a name for that particular form of jealousy: fratriodi, or brother hatred. It was a grave sin. The poison of Mick's jealousy had left him open to the manipulations of a woman named Helen, who'd used it - and an ancient staff - to control him.
    Yet in the end Mick had chosen to save Rule instead of killing him. He'd died, but he'd died clean of fratriodi.
    Sexual jealousy was as poisonous as any other type. Rule had no intention of indulging in it. But this wasn't jealousy, he decided as he turned away from the window. He crossed to the breakfast bar, where his laptop waited. An illicit curiosity, perhaps.
    The program had long since finished running the calculations he needed. He'd begun dabbling in currency trading, needing a way to bring Leidolf's disastrous finances into better shape. It was risky, no doubt about that, especially with the shaky state of the world economy.
    But that very instability left room for traders to make - or lose - large amounts of money with a relatively small initial