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A house can be empty even when it’s full of people. And wasn’t that a good thing. About a half an hour before dawn, Phury lurched around one of the mansion’s countless corners, putting his hand out to steady himself on a wall. Man, he was wasted. How many blunts? How much hooch? Whatever. Trying to get a tally on the bender would have been a waste of time anyway. Given how fogged-out he was, it was doubtful he could count high enough and besides, he couldn’t really recall what his hourly rate of consumption was. All he was sure about was that he’d left his room when his three bottles of gin had run out. Originally, he’d planned to get more so he could keep making martinis, but then he’d just started wandering. Hanging a right, he kept going along slowly, the base of his brain starting to fire with the need for another hit of red smoke. He was on the verge of turning back when he heard sounds coming down from the third floor’s back stairwell. Someone was up in the movie theater... which meant he really needed to beat feet in the opposite direction. Running into one of his brothers would so be a bad thing. Although the Brotherhood suspected he had a little problem with the red smoke- hello, his room smelled like a Starbucks all the time- having his nasty habits out in the open was just going to lead to drama. As he turned away, he caught the scent of jasmine and stopped dead. Cormia...Cormia was up there. Letting himself fall back against the wall, he scrubbed his face and wondered what she was doing out and about. The Chosen rarely left her guest room except for meals. What was she doing? And who was she with? Phury ran a hand through his thick hair. Straightened his black silk shirt. Jacked up his cream Prada trousers. He might be totally cooked, but at least he looked like a gentleman. Evidently satisfied by his resolve, Boo trotted away from the door and brushed against Phury’s leg as if he were giving him an ‘atta boy before heading off. Using the brass hand rail to steady his big body, he went up the stairs knowing he was pulling a bad move. If you were barely in good enough shape to walk, you absolutely shouldn’t interact with the Chosen female with whom you were supposed to mate as the Primale… especially considering that she’d been forced into the arrangement and you were a recently retired celibate whose sexual experience was pretty much limited to an uncompleted quickie with a prostitute in a bathroom at ZeroSum. He got to the top of the stairs, and pushed open the padded door. The movie theater had a real 1940s Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer vibe, decked out in retro style with low-level lights in brass cups and Art Deco palm reliefs running up the red-and-black walls. The stadium seating wasn’t the kind that you’d ever find in a ballpark. There were twenty-one chairs set back in three sections, the aisles marked with little rows of lights. Each of the leather ass-palaces was the size of a twin bed, and collectively they had more drink cup holders than a Boeing 747. Cormia was down in front, part of her white Chosen’s robe hanging off the arm of her chair. Up on the screen images were flickering fast. She was rewinding a scene. God, she smelled good. Although, for some reason that jasmine scent of hers was especially strong tonight. The rewinding stopped and Phury glanced up at the vast screen- Holy... Christ. It was... a love scene. Patrick Swayze and that Jennifer woman with the nose were working each other out on a bed. Dirty Dancing. Cormia leaned forward in the chair, her face coming into view. Her eyes were rapt on what was up ahead, her lips parted, one hand resting on the base of her throat. Long blond hair fell over her shoulder and brushed the top of her knee. Phury’s body hardened, his erection popping a tent in the front of his slacks, laying waste to the tailored pleating. Through the haze of red smoke, his sex roared, although not because of what was on the screen. Cormia was the trigger. The bastard in him pointed out that he was the Chosen’s Primale and she was his first among the others and it was about time they did what they were supposed to do. He had every right by law and custom to march down the shallow steps, drop to his knees in front of her, and push her white robbing to her hips. He was totally allowed to slide his hands up her thighs and spread her wide and dip down with his head. And after he got her good and wet with his mouth, he could absolutely unzip his pants, spring himself, and penetrate her over and over again until he came. Phury groaned. Okay, that kind of pep talk was so not helping. Besides, he’d never gone down on a woman before so he wasn’t sure what to do- The bastard voice pointed out that if he could eat an ice cream cone, the licking and sucking would translate pretty damn well. Shut. Up. He forced himself to turn back to the stairs. Leaving was the only descent thing to do. Sure, she’d lay with him out of duty. Hell, she’d been trained for it, she expected it, she wanted to discharge her obligation. After all, it was only after the two of them mated that the Chosen had their precious Primale, their stud. She was taking one for the team, as it were, and how noble was that? “Your grace?” Cormia’s voice froze Phury’s feet to the floor. Damn it… The movie theatre went dark as if she’d canned the movie. “Your grace, do you... need something?” Do not turn back around. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes casting a yellow light down the backs of the chairs and the carpeted steps. Cormia was illuminated by his glowing stare, resplendent in her robe. “What were you watching?” he said in a low voice, even though it was perfectly obvious what had been up on the screen. “Ah... John picked the movie.” “You picked that scene, though, didn’t you? And you watched it over and over again. Didn’t you?” Her reply was more breath than voice. “Yes... I did.” “Why that scene?” he asked, knowing perfectly well the why of it. She was aroused. That was the reason her natural fragrance was so strong. She liked what she’d been looking at. As he waited for her to answer, he knew he had to leave. What was pounding through his blood had nothing to with rituals or obligations or propriety. It was straight-out, hard-core sex, the kind that was going to leave them both exhausted and sweaty and messy and probably a little bruised. And to his total discredit, he didn’t care that she was aroused because of the movie. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t about him. “Why did you pick the scene, Cormia?” Her graceful hand went back to the base of her throat. “Because... it made me think of you.” Phury exhaled on a growl. It was the very last thing he expected her say, as he was the very last thing he expected her to want. Duty was one thing. But she didn’t have the look of a female worried about meeting an obligation. She wanted sex. Maybe even needed it. Just like he did. And she wanted it with him. In slow motion, he pivoted toward her, his body suddenly very coordinated. He was going to take her. Here. Now. It was time to complete the Primale ceremony, seal the pact they’d taken on five months ago, seal it with their bodies. Phury headed down the shallow steps, ready to claim his female.
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