Savage Possessed: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy Adventure (Twin Rivers Possession Book 2)

by September Stone

  Sophie’s gaze softens when she takes in the spectacular nature of the sky. Now Hagan’s looking up, as does Carrigan as he moves my sleeping bag next to Jonas and slips inside. The four of us study the stars, and I’m overcome with the notion that there might be something beautiful left in the world that’s power enough to distract from our pain. “It’s pretty,” she breathes.

  “It is. But you’ll never see any of it with your eyes on the grass. Look up every now and then. There is far more to life than the dirt we were born from.”

  My meaning is simple, and it shoots an arrow straight through her shield of quietness she wears far too often. Her body warms to mine now, her head leaning on my shoulder as if that’s exactly where it belongs. I sift my fingers through her tangles, breathing in the scent of only her. Her blood has the aroma of citrus when it warms. Mixing that with the floral notes of her skin makes me long to bite into her. I don’t, but the temptation is always there. It’s a struggle to have two voices in my head again—one rogue devil and one angel. But to have that second voice is a gift I don’t take for granted. I want that angel controlling everything, since he’s been silent for so long. He gets me closer to a life where I don’t feel conflicted. He also gets me closer to this trusting wonder of a woman, who entrances me far too easily with her inner angel. Perhaps her angel understands mine, unpracticed as he is. He’s drawn to her, as am I.

  “Do you think…” She trails off, pressing her lips into a firm line.

  “Yes?” How I want her to be at peace with me—with all of us. But I can see the inner turmoil brewing in her eyes. When she shakes her head, I sigh. “There will be far more to contemplate in the morning, I’m sure of it.”

  I expect her to go to the sleeping bag, but she surprises me by wrapping her arms around my waist. Her cheek presses to my heart as if I’m the thing that has the power to warm her cold spots. “Valor?” she whispers.

  My fingers trace her spine all the way up until my thumb drags along her cheek. “Yes, my love?”

  “You matter to me.”

  Sonnets and whole operas pale in comparison with the grip she has on my heart. It’s the simplicity in the sweetness that does me in. I want to say something clever, but I’m choking back emotion that hasn’t touched me in far too long. I clear my throat and rest my chin atop her head. “I haven’t mattered to anyone in a very long time.” It’s embarrassing, but I lay myself bare because she deserves to know the mess of a man she’s letting into her life.

  She leans up on her toes and kisses my lips just once, so lightly it feels like silk on my skin. “I’ll be gentle with you, baby doll.” It’s her promise to my broken soul, and I love her for it.

  In fact, I love her very much for her foolishness in believing someone like me can be worthy.

  She trusts me, even though she’s seen the villain in me firsthand. I want to warn her away, but part of me latches on to the possibility she sees in me—that I can do good. That I can be good. She’s taking care of me, so I make the decision to take care of her. “To bed with you, young one.”

  After Sophie slides into the bag to lay on her back next to Hagan, I remove my shirt, shoes, socks and suspenders, and slip in on her other side. I lock eyes with Hagan, letting him know this is happening. It’s clear he doesn’t want me cozying up to Sophie when he’s sleeping, but the fact of the matter is, I don’t care. He may need her to settle his bear, but she needs me to hear the questions she’s too afraid to ask aloud of the world. And I need her if I want a chance at healing the world I’ve broken.

  Hagan wastes no time snuggling up to her, kissing each breast and then nuzzling them before he lays his head atop them. It’s like an animal circling his bed before he lays down in his haven. Hagan’s arm is heavy across her stomach, but she doesn’t seem to mind it. Her hand finds its way to his head and scratches behind his ear, drawing out a needy whine. The whole thing is equal amounts of precious and odd.

  Her eyes close, and I think she’s asleep after a few beats. I’ve been aching to study her up close, the slants and arcs of her features. I count her lashes, numbering the swoops that do me in far too often. Her head lolls toward me, and I freeze when she opens her mouth, worried I’m caught being a creepy stalker, watching her while she sleeps. “Valor?” she whispers, tugging at my resolve to take things slow, as promised.

  Tracing the slope of her jaw isn’t too fast, I tell the angel on my shoulder who wakes up and watches the scene in silence. “Yes, young one. What is it you want?”

  At first, she doesn’t answer. Her eyes are still closed, and I wonder if she’s muttering my name in her sleep, which gives me no small amount of joy. Then she reaches her hand up and clumsily brushes her knuckle to my cheek. Her lashes are still shut, which means her hand intuitively knows where I’m at. She seeks me out like I belong here, right next to her. I’m certain she’s mostly asleep until she slants her chin toward mine and cranes her neck. “Just one kiss,” she begs.

  I don’t have the self-control for her request, so one kiss turns into three, seven, and multiplies until, despite our best efforts to be still, Hagan rouses with a grumpy frown, breaking our kisses. I expect him to shove me with his huge hands, but he studies her face and then mine, and something in him shifts. “You’re upset about tonight, honeycomb?”

  The longing in her eyes morphs to sadness as she nods.

  “Not ready to sleep yet?”

  She shakes her head.

  The corners of his mouth twitch. “You’re nervous I won’t play nice, so you waited until I was out to kiss Valor?”

  She chews on her lower lip, and for the life of me, I want to pounce and tear the indecision from her, one orgasm at a time. I can see her tied up, naked and squirming just for me. I push down my desires, certain she’s too sweet for something as tawdry as my tastes.

  Hagan presses his lips to her clavicle. “Kiss him. Take what you want while I’m around to make sure things don’t go south. I don’t want you to be with him without me here. If you want a kiss from Valor, that’s fine, only make sure I’m with you in case he vamps out.”

  “You’re sure? You’re okay if I want Valor, too?” she asks quietly.

  Hagan’s mouth lifts in a lopsided smile that’s lousy with lust. “Take him,” he urges in a dare. “Just make sure every time you do, I’m in the room to keep you safe.”

  Sophie kisses Hagan with so much gratitude, he lets out a helpless “hmm” when her fingernails brush over his scalp. Then she turns toward me, and the rest of the world fades from view. It’s only her that draws me in so wholly.

  She kisses me harder this time, her fingers still twining in Hagan’s hair. We both expect her to let him go, but she keeps him close so he’s very much a part of our connection. I’m not sure how I feel about any of it, but damn if she doesn’t taste like a good dream gone dirty.

  Hagan’s hands aren’t gentle when he flips the hem and collar of her shirt over her head, breaking our kiss for only a second before we magnetize once more. We move slowly as her lavender t-shirt slides over her arms and gets discarded… somewhere. I don’t care where. I pull back an inch so I can glimpse the spectacular view. Her breasts are glorious, round and plump with just the right amount of give.

  Hagan tastes her right nipple. His tongue circles her pink areola, flicking the bud in the center. There’s a lazy contentment to his fascination with her breasts, like he could play with them all night and wake up refreshed. She gasps into my mouth, her back arching when his fingers dance across the flat planes of her stomach. He knows I’m watching, and he lets me, which is far more generous than I expect him to be on our very first night together.

  I kiss my young one, tentatively running my fingers along the outside of her other breast, testing the waters to see if either of them will stop me. I’ve had women in far too many stages of surrender, due to my venom sending waves of uncontrollable desire through them after one simple bite. But this is different. I need to be careful with Sophie, who isn’t car
eful with any of us. She expects us to accept this arrangement, so we do, because we need her so very badly. But it’s cruel, in a way, for me to watch Hagan tease her without being able to play on the same level.

  When Hagan gives my wrist a tug downward, I’m certain I misunderstand him. But he yanks at me again, and I find myself abandoning her bee-stung lips and venturing to the swell across from his. He makes eye contact with me, and then looks at her other breast. Every part of me is screaming to join in their dangerous game, but the angel in me needs a more specific green light.

  Hagan seems to understand this, and pauses his suckling to bring his lips to her ear. “You’re all worked up, honeycomb. How about we take your mind off of things so you can sleep?”

  It’s then I understand. Hagan doesn’t necessarily want to share Sophie with me, but wants to teach me how to relax her when she’s too tightly wound. I shoot him a look of gratitude, his answering nod of respect sealing us together. I can tell that he’s grateful I wait until Sophie mutters a quiet “yes, please,” garnering permission from both parties before my head lowers to her breast. I may be out of practice listening to my conscience, but I’m fairly certain this is how this sort of thing is supposed to work. Permission, then pleasure.

  I watch Hagan, who shows me just how she likes to be licked—in slow circles at first, and then hard flicks with the tip of his tongue. I could’ve figured out as much, but I let him teach me, since he seems to take pride in knowing how his girlfriend is to be pleasured. I follow Sophie’s panting and the eventual thrashing of her head to know when to speed up and when to make her crazy with a slow tease. The stars barely light us, giving us plenty of cover to indulge in something so decadent as Sophie. He shows me how he uses his teeth on her, which are similar enough to mine in terms of predator sharpness. She purses her lips to keep from shouting, which draws out a lazy, contented smile from Hagan, the beast. Hagan toys with her a little, but he loves giving her exactly what she wants.

  Not me. If I had my way, I would punish her for hours, whole nights of her mewling with need until she cried for me. I would kiss those tears and then make sure more were added to the collection. I would tie her up and tease her, never giving her a release until the sun rose. They give in to her far too easily—Hagan and Carrigan. They spoil her, which I guess I’m not entirely opposed to, since she’s giving me bits of what I want right now.

  If it were up to me, I would have her ass in the air so I could study the plump curve up close. In my fantasy, she lets me do whatever I like and thanks me for it while she weeps.

  Hagan undresses her under the sleeping bag, well-versed in the art of pulling off her bottoms one-handed. When her thighs mash together to find friction, Hagan yanks them apart, handing me one knee to capture between my legs. She’s spread open for us, but it’s not enough for me. I’m a visual creature, and want to see every part of her. I tear my face from her breast to unzip the corner nearest me and flip the top cover down, exposing her to the night air. Her thighs are supple and creamy, and I don’t ask permission to trill my fingers up the smooth skin to test its softness.

  Hagan’s eyes are lidded when he touches down on the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. She’s completely exposed, which is how I prefer her. The starlight plays off her dripping lips so perfectly; I long to taste them. My head moves on its own toward the glimmer of moisture, but Hagan bats me lightly atop my head, pushing me away. For whatever reason, that’s too much range on the leash he’s given me. He yanks the chain back so I fall in line and let him lead. He’s got maybe fifteen years of practice pleasing a woman. I’ve had more than a hundred. Still, this is his show, so I let him run it, grateful just to be near the woman who’s captivated me so thoroughly.

  Sophie’s head swishes from side to side when Hagan’s fingers toy with her entrance. He brings some of her moisture up and slathers it over her left nipple for me to taste. My eyes roll back, and I’m positive I’m done for the moment my tongue laves over her glistening peak.

  Hagan’s teasing her so much that her face is livid with redness. It’s a tenuous dance we do, me waiting for his silent signals while Sophie all but cries for us to take her already. She’s completely silent, but that changes when Hagan plunges his digit deep into her channel. Her hips jerk at finally getting what she wants, but she needs more. When she moves my hand to the bundle of nerves above her entrance, I don’t need any further instruction. I suck on her nipple, offering up the occasional non-piercing bite while I strum her like a tightly tuned violin. Her whole body is a tense knot that only we can unravel if I keep strumming a wanton song from her lips.

  She’s utterly soaked, and I pause only to bring my fingers to my lips to taste what’s now rightfully mine. There’s a sweetness to her that extends beyond the brightness of her smile, and I want to capture it all. When sound starts to bubble from her lips, Hagan tears his mouth from her breast and kisses her hard on the mouth. He adds a second finger, driving deeper and deeper into her with a punishing pace that fascinates me. I’ve had sex with hundreds of women throughout the course of my overlong lifespan, but none so tender and open as her. And she’s absolutely the first woman I’ve ever needed, that’s for certain. It’s too soon for me to play with her tightest hole, so I restrain myself. But the temptation is there, so I content myself with squeezing a handful of the plumpness that’s taunted me every time she walks away.

  The night air hits the wet spots on her body, and I know she won’t last much longer until she’s careening toward that cliff that promises a blissful fall—never a crash. I strum a strangled noise of angst from her lips, loving the way she bends for me. It’s as if her body’s known all this time that I could excite and relax her, even if her mind is only just realizing the paradox.

  It’s incredible to watch my Sophie topple over the edge. When she finally collapses in a heap of delirious exhaustion, Hagan gives me an approving nod over a job well done. He resumes using her breasts as his pillow and closes his eyes for the night, leaving me with nothing but my own raging desire as I cover my young one against the nighttime chill.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sophie

  I awake with a start. No, not a start. This feels more like a punch to my gut. Hagan jostles when I scramble out from underneath him and Valor’s hand falls away from my ass. My head whips around for the source of whatever woke me so harshly. I fish around for my clothes, which have been thrown every which way. Luckily, Jonas is out cold, so I manage to shimmy on some not-so-clean clothes from my pack with only Carrigan, Hagan, and Valor staring at me. “We have to move,” I tell them when the punch hits me again.

  Valor sits up, but Hagan’s already pulling on his jeans. He makes quick work of rolling up the sleeping bags while Carrigan hovers over Jonas. “He’s groggy. Sophie, is he supposed to be this out of it still?”

  “When I went through the process of healing my broken magic, it took me about a day until I was back to feeling like myself, I think. He might move a little slower than usual, but we can’t baby him. Mother needs us to move, and I’m not about to disobey. That’s far more dangerous than waking him up before he feels like it.”

  The angst is building inside of me when Mother kicks at my insides. Something’s not just frustrating her; it might be outright fear that’s driving her to push me forward.

  I nearly scream at Jonas when he takes his sweet time sitting up after I’ve already got my pack ready to go, shoes on, and direction chosen. Mother’s sentiments aren’t ever expected to be kind, but they sound brutal coming from my lips when I lean over and grip Jonas by the forearm, tugging him up before he’s ready. Maybe they’re willing to test Mother again by dawdling when she bellows for us to go, but I’m not. “Do you want to die? No? Then move!”

  Carrigan recoils from my volume, blinking at me like I’ve got three heads. He’s never seen this side of me, which really isn’t me. It’s Mother echoing out of my mouth with both fists raised. But I don’t back down, because this is too i
mportant. It matters if I get them out of here. It doesn’t matter if they like me in the process.

  I avoid Carrigan’s hard stare, but just as he kept his mouth shut for the most part when Jonas was a jerk, he doesn’t correct me. I feel the sting of his disapproval, and I sorely wish I could be different. That everything could be different.

  But it isn’t, so we move.

  Jonas is all turned around, mildly out of it from the lingering herbs slogging through his system. For once, he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t say much of anything. Somehow we’ve switched roles—with me as the loudmouth jerk and him as the one keeping his thoughts to himself. Besides, any protest would just be him admitting that he can’t march as fast as the rest of us, which his pride surely won’t allow. I lead the way this time, though I have no idea where we’re going. My stomach rumbles, but that doesn’t matter. Mother’s guiding the way, even though the sun isn’t more than a sliver on the horizon, barely illuminating our path.

  It isn’t until we have proper light that Carrigan finally calls up to me. “Okay, stop! Sophie, you have to go slower. Jonas can barely keep up.”

  I stop, though everything in me screams to move faster. I don’t meet Valor’s questioning gaze or Hagan’s perplexity as I march toward the back of the line and crouch next to Jonas, who’s on his knees beside Cary. I check the bandages on his hands, peer into his pupils and examine the back of his throat. He’s sweating, but he’ll survive.

  I get in his eyeline meeting his gaze with a firmness I doubt he’s used to. “Look at me, Jonas. Cary’s not going to save you today. I’m not going to save you. It’s on you. Do you understand why we’re doing this?”