Given that they were knotted together, it was sort of their only option.
Chapter
Nine
Talon stretched up tall, rising on his toes and lifting his arms over his head.
He was in the training salle, waiting for Reno and Boone, maybe Triton, and he couldn’t stop grinning.
Once he and Mercury had started making love, they’d made it a lot.
A lot.
He was a happy damn braaken.
Mercury was surprisingly sexual and inventive and very, very enthusiastic. They’d spent a good two weeks together doing nothing but eating and making love.
Finally, Kami had thrown a bit of a fit, insisting that everyone needed to take showers and clean their damn apartment because it smelled like a cat house.
Once everything was aired out, Kami had taken Mercury to lunch and informed Talon he was not invited.
It was adorable, especially now that Mercury had been provided with clothes. It had been fun to dress his lover too.
Mercury was lean and silver, so it was fun to put him in soft shirts and pants. He wasn’t very good at wearing boots, but soft shoes he loved, and he was addicted to socks.
Triton was the first one to come into the salle, and his brother’s face was a study in unhappiness.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, worried. “Did something happen?”
“I’m married to a damn diplomat, and I’m not talking about Elowyn. What is he thinking?”
Talon assumed he was thinking that the seer had told him that he needed to work with Jack to be a diplomat and find the allies he’d suggested they needed, but it wasn’t his place to say so.
“I guess Cerran’s busy now, huh?”
Triton fastened him with a glare. “Busy. He’s nonexistent. Nonexistent. Do you know how hard it is to deal with Elowyn and the girls without him? He does this, deals with Elowyn and the girls. I’m not good at it.”
Oh, he had zero idea what to say about that. His brother was, at best, a little grumpy.
At worst, he was kind of a bitch.
Talon finally settled for, “Wanna spar?”
“Yes. You’re so damn cheery. Let me beat you to a pulp.”
“Nope. But Iwilllet you try.”
They got into position and started moving around the mat, testing one another carefully at first and then with more strength.
They’d learned together, and so they had very similar styles, but by necessity, they had changed over the years.
Triton was a soldier, a commander, and was used to a certain rigidity in pattern to his moves, while Talon was a guerrilla fighter. He did whatever and however he needed to do things to get things accomplished, and he didn’t particularly care about following the rules one way or the other.
So they were well-matched, and when Triton lunged, Talon rolled away, huffing out a laugh. He really was in a fine mood.
Triton rumbled and swept in again, this time catching him by the shoulder and whirling him around.
He almost went down, but he caught himself, sweeping Triton’s legs out from under him.
