The harpy’s feathers are still drifting through the air when the door clicks shut behind her.
I collapse back onto the mattress, my chest heaving with ragged breaths that feel like they’re scraping my lungs raw. Sweat coats every inch of my skin, cooling in the afternoon air filtering through the window. My arms are trembling. My legs are trembling. Everything is trembling.
Third client today. Three women who paid to have me, and I gave them everything I had.
The exhaustion hits differently this time.
I stare at the ceiling, watching those feathers drift lazily downward. My cock lies soft against my thigh, finally granted mercy after hours of relentless demand. The muscles in my core ache from exertion, and there’s a soreness settling into my hips that promises I’ll feel this tomorrow.
The door opens again.
I don’t have the energy to lift my head. My eyes track toward the sound instead as Tisha and Meira step through the threshold together.
Meira gnaws at her fingernails with sharp, agitated bites. Her pale silver eyes sweep the room before pinning me to the mattress, the annoyance etched into her brow refusing to yield.
Tisha is the complete opposite. Her green eyes brighten, a wide grin spreading as she takes me in.
“Wow!” Genuine excitement rings in her voice. “You made us three silver today, Vincent! I’m so proud of you!”
I manage to lift one hand in a weak wave, my arm feeling like it weighs a hundred pounds.
“You are too, right, Meira?” Tisha turns to her wife, her grin unwavering.
Meira’s gaze shifts from me to Tisha, and her jaw tightens. “The harpy was too loud.”
The words come out clipped, sharp enough to cut glass. My brain is too fried to process what that means, but the excitement drains from Tisha.
“Meira...” Tisha’s voice drops lower, studying her wife with careful attention. “Are you feeling jealous?”
“I most certainly am not feeling jealous!” The response explodes out of Meira fast enough to make me flinch. Her pale eyes flash with indignation, and she crosses her arms defensively. “Especially not over some sniveling peasants who can’t afford their own stud and have to rent one from us!”
Tisha takes a step closer to Meira, a knowing look intensifying on her face. “Are you perhaps falling for our lovely little whore, Meira?”
“No! Of course not!”
The panic in Meira’s voice cuts through my exhaustion. Her right palm flies up, pressing against Tisha’s cheek with desperate urgency. Tisha wraps a hand around Meira’s wrist, holding that palm in place.
“I only have eyes for you, my love.” Meira’s voice cracks slightly, vulnerability bleeding through the panic. “You know that.”
Tisha softens. Her free hand comes up to cup Meira’s face, and the tenderness in the gesture makes my chest ache.
“I wouldn’t mind if you fell for our slave, Meira.” Her tone holds gentle reassurance. “As long as your heart is big enough for both of us.” She pauses, her green eyes flickering with admission. “After all, I felt a little pang of jealousy today too.”
The words hang in the air between them. Meira’s eyes widen, genuine surprise taking over. “You did?”
Tisha nods, her green eyes drifting toward me for a moment before returning to Meira.
“Since yesterday, yeah.” She speaks without shame. “I realized it with that Dullahan. But I think it’s fine if we all fall together, don’t you?”
Meira’s gaze swings to me. Those pale silver eyes lock onto my face with an intensity that makes my exhausted body tense. The silence stretches for several heartbeats before she looks back at Tisha.
“If I fall any further, it would make selling his time difficult.”
The words hit me harder than they should. Tisha’s hand remains on Meira’s cheek.
“We need him to remain a whore for a while.” Tisha stays firm. “But that’s not a reason for us not to love him.”
Love him.
The words echo in my skull, bouncing around until they lose all meaning.
“Do I get a say in any of this?” I pipe up.
“No.”
Tisha’s answer comes without a second thought, and she doesn’t even look at me when she says it. Her attention stays locked on Meira for another beat before turning my way. Those green eyes pin me in place with absolute certainty.
“I see the way you always eye us, Vincent. You’re just as lovesick for us as we are for you.”
My head falls forward. The exhaustion makes it impossible to hold up the weight of denial. My gaze fixes on the mattress beneath me, and the truth sits in my chest like a stone.
“Okay.”
She’s not wrong. I know she’s not wrong. Ever since Tisha bathed me and talked to me about love, about falling for owners and studs and all the complicated dynamics of this world, I’ve felt it growing inside me. This attachment. I was with Silvy for two weeks and never felt a spark. But this reminds me of the early days with Amalina.
If I’m only ever going to be with them, I might as well fall in love with them.
The realization settles into my bones with startling clarity. Acceptance mixed with resignation.
“Come here, Vincent.”
Tisha’s voice pulls my attention up. She extends one hand toward me, palm up, invitation clear in the gesture. Meira stands beside her, the earlier panic drained away and replaced by careful consideration.
I push myself up from the mattress. My muscles protest, soreness shooting through my core and hips, but I force my legs to cooperate. Each step feels heavier than the last, exhaustion dragging at my limbs.
When I reach them, Tisha’s hand finds my shoulder. Her grip is warm, grounding, pulling me closer until I’m standing between them.
Meira studies my face with sharp focus, her skepticism shifting to concern.
“Why are you so worn out? You’ve done well over three hours with us without seeming this exhausted.”
The question makes me laugh, though the sound comes out breathless and strained.
“Fucking the harpy was basically a full body workout.”
Meira’s eyebrows rise slightly, and then she nods once. Understanding takes over, the concern lingering beneath it.
Her hand rises toward my face. Her lips move, forming words in that flowing language I don’t understand. The syllables roll together in patterns that sound almost musical, and her palm presses against my forehead.
Heat blooms where she touches. It spreads through my skull in waves, flowing down my neck and radiating outward through my entire body.
The magic pulses. Then it fades, and Meira’s hand drops away.
It’s the same spell she does after every client, after every sexual encounter with anyone who isn’t her or Tisha. The purifying spell. Since she’s a healer, she can kill any potential diseases I might pick up from the women who pay for me.
Gratitude and discomfort tangle up inside me. Gratitude that I won’t have to worry about catching anything. Discomfort that this is necessary in the first place.
Tisha cuts through my thoughts.
“Let’s bathe him together, Meira.”
I turn to look at her. Her green eyes shine with genuine enthusiasm at the prospect. My gaze swings to Meira, waiting for her reaction.
“Fine.” The word comes out without hesitation.