Alana’s sword is leaning against a wall when we return to the room hand-in-hand, my lovely knight having progressed to the stretches she does at the end of her workouts. I’m surprised. Normally, she swings her sword for at least an hour but me and Talia couldn’t have been talking for more than half of one, probably less. She’s still covered in an impressive sheen of sweat. Guess she traded time for intensity.

Blue eyes flick up as we enter, taking in our joined hands. I raise a brow suggestively and she looks away. There’s a flash of disappointment when I see she isn’t blushing as usual but much greater is the wave of excitement. My future wife grows bolder every day.

I guide Talia toward the bed, my eyes on Alana as she curls into my back. It’s another perfect moment, the two of us lounging together as the faintest light of dawn begins to lighten the gloom of the room, Alana’s controlled breathing and three steady heartbeats the only sounds to disturb the comfortable silence.

I wonder if Talia’s talent for the mental affinity is an extension of a general talent for learning. It would explain her incredible aptitude for her new role. Or perhaps she’s reading my mind, boosting her perception of my thoughts to divine the perfect way to lean into me, the perfect way to softly stroke my body, and the perfect tune to hum to make me melt into the bed.

Or maybe it’s something much simpler. Perhaps the role of the flower speaks to her. It isn’t rare for a woman to enjoy being pampered and taken care of. She also isn’t the type that enjoys competition and ripping what she wants from the hands of others.

A stable household where she is freely given what she needs to develop herself, ensured by a relationship that doesn’t require feelings she might not be able to have, could be her ideal life and now that she’s found it, she’s taken to it like a fish to water.

Whatever the case, I enjoy her touch and let her artfully build the tension around us. My eyes are half-lidded when she starts to undress me but Alana getting to her feet catches my attention.

“I’m going to see about a bath,” she mutters when she notices my gaze.

Unfortunately, this isn’t a room with a bath attached. I wonder if there are private rooms for such or if the hotel servants bring tubs on request. The latter could be…annoying, but I trust her to take care of it. I’m sure the last thing she wants is our early morning fun being interrupted. “Enjoy,” I drawl.

She fixes the two of us with a long look before leaving the room. The soft click of the door shutting encourages Talia to increase her pace. In short order, I’m divested of my shirt and pants, leaving me in just my underclothes.

That’s when I roll over, stopping her hands as I straddle her. As enjoyable as her attention is and my willingness to let a partner take the lead, Talia’s relationship with us is defined by adhering to a strict role. She can tease, she can coax, but she does not lead. She does not initiate. That’s my role.

As her exotic gaze watches me, I feel a hesitance I haven’t felt since Kierra and I’s first time. My flower isn’t intimidating. She cannot be, it goes against everything she strives to be. What gives me pause is the weight of the moment.

Right now, as much as she is participating, she is also watching. Learning. Talia takes her cues of what a flower is from us, the ones who nurture and take care of her. My actions aren’t so weighty that they can never be taken back but knowing that she will judge, even in a benign way, my every action, gesture, and spoken word…well, it makes me nervous.

Still, I push through it. Her relaxed posture that oozes calm and serenity, that tells me that there is no wrong way to move forward, gives me strength. “What a treasure you are,” I whisper, sighing softly. I push to settle between her legs and she opens them to accommodate me. I settle my weight on my forearms as our bottom halves intertwine.

As strange and barbaric as Kierra’s traditions can seem at times, I understand more of their appeal every day. There is…comfort in knowing there is someone who belongs entirely to you. Knowing that they are dedicated to your happiness. Your fulfillment. Kierra and Alana care about me in a similar way but ours is a give and take, a constant ebb and flow. Our relationships, our roles, grow, change, and evolve. Which is a good thing.

But there is a beauty in the simplicity that Talia offers. I suppose it’d be naive to think that what we have will always be the same but there is a timeless quality to these moments we share.

She wants one thing from me. I want one thing from her. Two lines of desire that intersect and meet, forming a loop, a cycle, of fulfillment. When I think of us, I think of the variable for infinity. It uses are usually academic, in theoretical spells as nothing is truly infinite, especially a caster’s mana. My tutors didn’t dwell on it, as Father insisted on a practical education and never envisioned me as a scholar of magical studies, but I remember my tutors explaining to me the common misconception behind the variable.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Infinity isn’t unrivaled potential. It is one thing that will always be. A thing without end. It isn’t something with the capacity to grow indefinitely, but something that never grows or decays. It is a thing, a concept, that is immutable, untouchable even to the ravages of time.

I don’t know what Kierra, Alana, and I will be in the future. I don’t know if it will only be us, one more, or a true harem, like those maintained by the fictional kings in the stories dreamt of in the fervent imaginations of weak and powerful men alike, a hundred women lounging across the rooms and balconies of a towering palace. I can’t even imagine. But, no matter what changes in the future, I have a feeling that Talia’s role will be exactly the same.

Somehow, despite the charged air, there is nothing sexual about the meeting of our lips. Well, nothing might be an exaggeration. The ways I appreciate women may be growing more varied and nuanced, but I am who I am. There’s no way I can kiss a woman I’m attracted to and not get excited. But the warmth between my legs is overshadowed by the warmth in my…not in my heart. In my mind?

It reminds me of lying my head on Kierra’s lap after being chased to a state of complete exhaustion. There was nothing sexy or even romantic about it, but it was so damn comfortable, I’d have lingered for hours if I could.

“Take of me,” she whispers between our kisses. A verbal surrender to supplement the physical one. She’s reminding me of our agreement. Inviting me to do what I will with her. Saints, it’s a little terrifying to imagine how far she would allow me to go, but she is mine to care for, not to abuse.

Power might have changed me, but it won’t make a monster.

Talia follows the guidance of my hands as I strip her of her robe. I have to hold back a chuckle as she reflexively folds the garment and places it at the corner of the bed. When I met Talia, I thought it was a shame that she dressed in such simple clothing but how something looked was irrelevant to the woman trapped in darkness. Since gaining her sight, her attitude has changed dramatically, as well as her appreciation of her wardrobe. I’ve never seen her angry, but I imagine damaging anything in her closet would be a quick way to ignite her temper.

Her hands are deft and well-practiced as they wander my body while we kiss. Her sighs and breathless words of encouragement are enticing but shallow. I can tell they are scripted, as they come in an easily recognizable pattern and are too stable to have been uttered by a woman breathless with passion, but it only serves to amuse me. After all, just because she is relying on practiced sounds to express her feelings doesn’t make said feelings ingenuine.

Better, it’s easy to tell when the sounds become genuine. The small hitches in her even breaths that come just that much faster. Her rising heartbeat. The pink flush to her face that darkens to scarlet.

But then there’s an unwelcome sign. She begins to fidget under me, which is cute. It’s not cute when she tenses, body rigid as wood. The faintest smell of fear is like a smack in the face. I jerk back, sitting up with furrowed brows.

The smell is so faint I could almost think it was my mind playing tricks on me and Talia immediately relaxes as I rise over her, but I can’t ignore it. “What’s wrong?” I raise a finger as she opens her mouth. “The truth and all of it.”

“It is nothing. Kii warned me of your constitution but the effects…surprise me.”

I peer at her, trying to discern the true concern beneath the words. That was not surprise or shock. That was something else. “Maybe we should stop,” I say, grudgingly. My faint frustration isn’t directed at her but at myself for making her uncomfortable. What did I miss? And did I really miss it or did I ignore it in my excitement? Saints, I’ll be pissed at myself if I accidentally hurt her.

“No. Please.” Her hand touches my arm before I can move away. When that isn’t enough to soothe my concern, she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me toward her. She couldn’t move me even if there were five of her, but I let her coax me into pressing our bodies together. Only then does she relax.

“Talk to me or we can’t do this.” Please. I don’t know what caused her to be afraid of me, but that fear inspired an emotional twin in my gut that is currently making me feel sick. The thought responsible is the memory of Jac calling me a Grimoire. Forcing women to please them was the most common treachery of the Grimoire men. Being compared to those monsters is offensive but that small moment of fear has planted a similar small seed of doubt in my stomach that is gnawing on my guts uncomfortably.

“…for a long time, I was dependent on others,” she offers in a soft voice. “They mocked me for what they called a weakness. Even after the interrogators found me and Lord Remmings became my teacher, I was still dependent on another’s benevolence. There was…very little in my life I could control. One thing. My magic. From it, I learned I enjoyed power. Over myself. Over others. It became the most important thing to me.

“You are wonderful, Lou. What you do to me is enjoyable. I enjoy it.” She stresses the last part, staring me right in the eyes. “I enjoy being a flower and being a part of your family, but the effect you inspire is powerful. I realized…it is not something I can control. That is…daunting.”

“You don’t have to be afraid,” I whisper, gently stroking her cheek.

She leans into the touch. “I know.” To prove it, she pushes up a little to kiss me. A break in her role but a reassurance I need. I’m incredibly alert, more so than when I was searching for the assassins aiming for my life, as I search for another trace of fear but there is nothing but enthusiastic, or as enthusiastic as Talia ever gets, acceptance.