Gael gives me his Christmas morning smile, and pride wells up in me. I have and always will love pleasing him, and that smile tells me that I have. I don’t care as much about anything else as I do about making Gael happy. I never have, and I wonder if that’s because of who I am or because of what he is. I suppose that’s the question to add to the top of my list.
I grab a notebook, and while I do that, Phin and Gael move to the couch. I sit on the floor at the coffee table, facing them while they cuddle together. “I’m ready.”
“Mare aren’t like humans, in that we have conscious access to what is essentially magic. It’s the force of power that holds the universe together, and we are capable of manipulating it in minor ways that allow us to consume and be nourished by energy rather than needing to consume food and process that into energy like humans do. Obviously we can eat food like humans, but that’s an evolutionary quirk that allows us to blend in with our prey rather than a mode of refueling. I don’t get any nutritional value from food, even though I genuinely love it.” He smiles contentedly. “Thank you for making my favorites today, Sin.”
I stare at him, shaking my head in incredulity yet still preening with pleasure. “If I’d known it was wasted on you, I’d have made Phin’s favorites,” I lie, but they both know my words are patently false.
“It’s not a waste. It’s a pleasure,” Gael laughs, and Phin rumbles a happy sigh.
“Go on,” I urge him.
“As part of the ability to manipulate the universal force, mare are able to have some minor influence on the humans around them. We call it enthrallment, and it basically puts our humans in a state of energetic arousal that allows us to feed. We have absolutely no control over the ability, although it does seem to target the people who would give us the most energy of the type that appeals to us. We try to minimize the impact on humans by keeping our distance from intimate interpersonal relationships with them.
“My grandfather was the leader of our clan when I reached the age of ascension—that just means that I became responsible for my own decisions. When I was a child, my parents took theoath for me, but when I was fifteen, the oath that bound me to silence fell off, and my grandfather and I made a new oath. I was sworn to silence about the mare. We don’t talk about ourselves with anyone except other mare, and we can’t talk about the mare or magic in the presence of anyone who isn’t also sworn to silence about mare. I couldn’t tell you what I am until Grandpa Vernon died.”
Gael breathes a heavy sigh, and the solemnity that creased his face before returns. “I’m going to have to swear you to silence as well when this conversation is over. It is the way we keep our presence a secret from humanity, because as much as you are our food source, you also outnumber us a thousand to one, and we have very few physical advantages over you.
“Enthrallment doesn’t make you incapable of hurting us; it only makes you more inclined toward the types of energetic activities that feed us. I’m only slightly stronger than you, as in, even my frail old grandma can pop a pickle jar open, but against three strong humans, I’d be toast. I don’t even have the capacity to drain you of energy. Our early ancestors could do that, but we evolved to need less, so even when I came here starving for your energy, I only needed the equivalent of four orgasms to get back to my normal self. The only real advantage we have over humans is an accelerated healing ability. It takes a devastating amount of trauma to kill us, because as long as there is a food source nearby, we can heal almost any damage in less than an hour.
“The point is, my safety and the safety of my species relies on secrecy. I know you’re going to make the oath with me, and when you do, you will be bound by the universal force. You literally won’t be able to talk about the mare with anyone who isn’t a mare and also bound by secrecy. The only person who will be able to talk to you about it is me, the person who administers the oath to you, because you’re not a mare and none of my peoplewill be able to talk to you about it. Only me, because I will be your oath-maker.”
“What about Phin?” I ask even though I should just write that question down with the others I’ve written.
“Phin will be in the same boat as you,” Gael replies, turning to kiss Phin’s bearded cheek.
Phin’s expression morphs into consternation. “I don’t think you’ll be able to override the oath of silence I’m already under,” he rumbles softly.
Gael jerks just like Phin did before and whips around to face him, wide eyed. “You’re under an oath of silence already?” he demands.
Phin nods, pressing his lips together.
Gael growls in annoyance, and turns to me. “Phin is already under an oath of silence, and is unlikely to be able to speak to us about it, which means that he’s not human either. There are more than one species of people who aren’t human, including the shifters, who are all basically the same species, but with different subclasses based on their shift. I’m assuming Phin is a shifter just based on the sheer size of him and the strength of his libido, but there are other possibilities. As far as I know, on Earth there are seven different species of people. In order of most population: humans, shifters, demons, mare, dwarves, sorcerers, and fairies. I can’t tell you much about each of the species, because we are all sworn to silence in the same way. You can’t talk about your species with anyone who isn’t of your species and also under an oath.”
“Well, that’s pretty narrow minded and xenophobic,” I comment, eyeing Phin. How the hell is he supposed to live with us if he can’t tell us what he is?
Gael and Phin both stare at me for a long moment as if they’ve never thought of the oaths they make in that way.
I don’t want to insult their cultures but, “Your species have something in common: the weight of secrecy from humans, but you can’t even talk to each other about yourselves. It’s abhorrent, and if you need an example of why, look at us. We are three men who love each other, and there are secrets between us because you aren’t allowed to even talk to each other about yourselves. That’s completely irrational. There should have always been allowances for other species. Mare should be able to talk to shifters and fairies and all the other magical species about yourselves. Nothing but good things come from a good faith cultural exchange. It’s stupid that you can’t even do that.”
Misery fills Phin’s expression and he presses his face into Gael’s shoulder, shuddering. “It’s so stupid,” he whispers almost too quietly for me to hear.
Gael’s expression hardens, and rage makes him bare his teeth like he did the day Brantley broke my arm. “You can tell me who your oath-maker is,” he tells Phin, and it’s an order if I’ve ever heard one.
“Arden Mathan,” Phin responds immediately, knuckles white as he clutches Gael’s shirt.
Gael’s smile is terrifying, but I’m turned on by it. I can't say that I knew I had a protectiveness kink, but knowing Gael is going to do whatever it takes to fix this because we deserve better than a shitty oath of silence definitely rouses my energies.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” I tell him without an ounce of shame. He should know that he’s perfect, even in moments like this.
Gael’s smile turns into something softer and more beautiful. “Let me see your questions,” he says, holding out his hand for my notebook.
I hand it over, but there are only four on it:
How is our friendship affected by enthrallment?
