by Ava Sinclair
“Then we must take her!” Hope enters Lady Isla’s voice again.
“No.” The oracle is firm. “We cannot. Magic attracts magic. This is why the Wyrd have used communication and magic sparingly. Something of great power hunts them. To even use the pools will draw it in.”
“You said they intend to attack the Mystic Mountain anyway!” Isla cries. “What difference will it make when the Wyrd are already in their sites?”
Jayx looks at the woman floating in the water. He looks back at Olin the Wise. “Appeal to them. Do what you must.”
“I will ask.” We all fall silent as Olin looks up at the ceiling. He closes his eyes and begins to chant in a strange tongue. When he opens his eyes, his face transforms, the features soft and feminine. I have seen this before. The Oracle kneels now.
“This is not sickness,” the soft voice says. “This is dark magic. She is under a spell.”
“Can you break it?” Jayx asks.
“It is risky. Too risky.”
“Please…please…” Isla has fallen to her knees. She drops her head, and when she looks up again, her face is defiant as she stares into the oracle’s transformed eyes.
“You,” she says. “Your kind has protected the Drakoryans, even as they made us their subjects, even as they took from us. And what of our people who fed your Drakoryans?”
“My Drakoryans?” the voice asks. “Do you not love them, too?”
“Yes, I love them now.” Tears stream down Isla’s face. “I love my people too. This was not our war, yet our people agreed to fight. Yes, the ShadowFell are our enemy, but they destroyed my village and stole the maidens because they hated the Drakoryans! And now you deny my sister aid to protect yourselves?” She begins to sob. “Would you not save your own sister if you could?”
Thera is crying now, too. She looks to me, and I can see hope in her eyes as she listens to Lady Isla’s appeal. The cavern is quiet, save for the sound of water dripping from the rocks.
“Perhaps there is a way,” the witch says. “Bring her. But with only Lord Jayx to ferry her and another Drakoryan to protect them.”
“I will go.” Lord Imryth steps forward.
“And not me?” Lady Isla asks.
“No.” The voice from the oracle is firm. “Stay here and rest. We do not know how long it will take.”
The oracle drops his head. There is no more time for debate. There is no time for anything. Thera grasps Lady Isla’s hand in hers as they watch Jayx and Imryth hasten from the cavern with the limp body of her sister.
Chapter 24
THERA
“How is Lady Isla?”
“She’s asleep,” I say. “I saw to Lady Lyla as well. I gave her herbs to soothe her stomach. She is in good hands. I can dote on her no more than her mother does.”
“You wear worry like a cloak,” Lord Gyrvig observes. He has come to look in on me and takes a seat across from where I sit staring into the fire.
“There is much to worry about.” I begin to list off the worries in my head. My people. The cold. Lady Isla. Zara. Lady Lyla and her baby. I look to Gyrvig. “You Drakoryans don’t know what it is to lose. Long life and healing waters have spared you the deepest of pains, my Lord.”
He rises and walks over to kneel by my chair. “You are right. Yet we know enough to fear losing you.”
“It is worse when you are joined with someone,” I say. I raise my eyes to his. “I have wondered sometimes why you Drakoryans would open yourself to this kind of hurt. You are so strong, so powerful. Why would you enter into a bond that would make you weak?”
He takes my hand. “Perhaps because love is worth the pain.”
“Love or lust?” I ask. I look down where his hand dwarfs mine. I can feel his heat, his want, radiating through the calloused palm.
“You are an honest woman, Thera of Darly. I look forward to when we are all mated and achieve the Deepening. The lust within a Drakoryan is not just for the physical connection. The deeper connection is something we pine for. It is like…” He struggles to find the words. “It is like coupling to a green boy. He does not know the feeling of a woman’s body. He only knows he wants it, that it was meant for him. I want to touch all of you.”
“Even the parts that hurt?” I ask.
He puts a hand to my face. “Especially the parts that hurt.” He smiles. It is a kind smile that makes my heart twist because it reminds me of Bran. And when Gyrvig opens his strong arms, I move into his embrace with the same willingness.
What brings me to bed with the third Lord of Kri’byl is a need for carnal comfort. I am aware that the arms that lift me from the chair were days ago a dragon’s wings. The mouth that warms mine is capable of breathing fire when he changes form. Even now, as a man, he could kill me with his superior strength. Yet this lord is all tenderness as he lays me on the bed in this chamber where I’d have struggled to find sleep. He is gentle as he strips me of my gown. His warm lips are feather-light where they trace the hard curve of my breastbone. Gyrvig whispers reassurances as he molds his huge hands to my breasts. His mouth is in my hair, telling me to give him all my worries, that he will take them from me if I’ll only allow.
I cannot give him my worries, but I can give him my body. In spite of all that’s going on, I want to. The feel of his hard cock pressing against my bare leg awakens the well of desire in my core. I feel arousal pulse through the seam of my pussy and flush when the kisses Gyrvig plants on my hardened nipples move lower to crown the crest of my mons. When his large hands part my thighs, I do not resist. I need this. I need the escape he provides me, the unleashing of tension through the shudders I know my body will experience.
He is skilled with his tongue; the fleshy spear tip swirls up through my inner labia to move in a rapid circular motion over the pearl of flesh he’s teased from under its hood. I arch my back, moving my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to me and crying out when he captures my clit and draws on it.
Gyrvig grasps my hips, holding me fast as he feasts on my flesh. The ceiling above disappears, replaced by starbursts as pleasure courses through me in such strong rushes that I momentarily forget to breathe. When I finally do draw breath, I exhale in a cry, and am still shuddering when he flips me over and shoves himself into me.
His cock is pulsing in time with my pussy, spreading as I clench, heightening the intensity of my climax. No sooner does it end than he drives me towards the next, thrusting in and out as his cock vibrates inside me. I am reminded that the man fucking me is inhuman, a creation, an unnatural. I do not care. It feels right to surrender to what he does, to give myself to him, to love him. He sees me empty and seeks to fill me the only way he can.
I come again. And again. And again.
When it is over, I am finally able to sleep.
Chapter 25
ERDORIN
Word of the woman we found in the forest has spread. It seems a miracle that a stolen maiden from Branlock could have escaped her captors.
We know it is no miracle, however. Jayx had no choice but to leave Isla’s sister in the care of the witches, who determined that Zara was indeed bewitched of dark magic. Zara’s words to her rescuers indicated this was punishment by her ShadowFell captors, who’d consigned to wander in the woods, feeling the cold without succumbing to it, until she starved to death.
Even with the strength of the witches’ pools, Zara’s recovery must be taken slowly. The Wyrd cannot work magic too powerfully lest it attracts the enemy. They promised to keep in communication with Olin the Wise.
Thera was disappointed to tell Isla that her sister would be staying in the Mystic Mountain, yet the Lady of Za’vol understood, and was content to have some hope if nothing else. She returned to her own castle, and Thera had seen to a pregnant Lyla once more before returning to us.
We know Gyrvig claimed Thera before they came home. In a world that is becoming increasingly unpredictable, the one thing we Lords of Kri’byl can look forward to is the culmination of ou
r union. There are two more brothers yet to take Thera – our twin siblings Tyri and Yrko. What will she think when she learns what they will ask of her?
I look over as she sits talking with them. We have recently had our evening meal. It was a rare treat—venison stew. Thera insisted on cooking it herself, turning the meat and turnips and barley into something worthy of a king’s table with her herbs. But our youngest brothers’ eyes burn with a deeper hunger where they watch her grind leaves into powders for poultices and salves.
“Which of you was born first? No, wait. Let me guess.” Her tone is flirtatious, and I think she is trying to figure which one will take her next so she can focus on him. They dodge her question, telling her that our mother never said because she could not tell them apart until their birthmarks appeared several days later.
Tyri and Yrko change the subject to the weather, which isn’t much of a subject. It is still cold; the ground is still frozen. People still speak of spring as an idea rather than something we can plan for. Overhead, the rush of dragon wings can be heard. With each passing day, the patrols increase. Every lord has left his castle now to keep watch, with an especially strong presence on the Mystic Mountain now that the witches are working their magic to heal Lady Isla’s sister.
“I heard a villager today say he’s ready for the ShadowFell to come back.” Jareo’s words redirect my attention away from Thera and our youngest brothers. “It troubled me.”
“As it should,” I say. “Two attacks, both designed to give the villagers false hope and a diminished sense of the enemy’s power. I fear what may come.”
“As do I,” Gyrvig agrees. “But if it does, King Vukuris will come in all of his might and we will again prevail.”
Jareo and I exchange knowing glances. While our brother is trying to be optimistic, his tone betrays him. He is no more convinced than we are that King Vukuris has the strength for the kind of brutal battle we fear is coming. The princes, charged with carrying on the Drakoryans’ royal bloodline, do not battle. If the old king fails and the people we’ve trained turn and flee, will we lords alone have the strength to prevail in what is likely to be our greatest test?
“We’ve defeated them before,” I say. “Our human side is our advantage. So long as we protect the Mystic Mountain, we can always use our man nature to tilt the scales.”
My brothers nod, more encouraged now as we remind ourselves that the reason the ShadowFell seek the magic of the Wyrd is because they know the Drakoryan strength is in our humanity. That is why they covet it for themselves.
There is laugher at the end of the table. Yrko has said something to delight Thera, who—despite her near constant worry over the villagers—has allowed herself to relax and enjoy the time we spend with her. I turn back to Jareo and Gyrvig.
“We should spend the rest of the evening patrolling,” I say, casting a wistful glance towards the end of the table.
“We should.” Jareo stands, then Gyrvig. Our youngest brothers and Thera do not even notice when we leave.
Chapter 26
THERA
I have had a full day of tending to the villagers, but a good one. An easy birth, an old woman who needed company more than care for the cough she’d exaggerated, and a woman whose slip on a patch of ice resulted in a swollen yet blessedly unbroken ankle.
The villagers are used to having something to trade, and although I need less even now that the lords of Kri’byl insist on having me dine with them, I still accept small tokens for my trade. I return at candle time with a coveted recipe for rhubarb pudding from the old lady, a woven bracelet from the woman, and a moonflower seed pod from the new father, who was a gardener in the village of Darly.
I am in an improved mood when I sit down to eat with the five lords. It is rare that we are all together, but I find my attention gravitating towards the two men I have yet to bed. My unions with Tyri and Yrko are inevitable. I catch them staring at me more often than not, and I flush in a way I have not done since I was married. It is taking some getting used to, being desired. The reawakening of desire is also an adjustment.
My coupling with Erdorin, Jareo, and Gyrvig has given me confidence. I am no longer afraid. I allow myself to be easy with the twins who exude power and virility. Tonight I coyly asked who is the older, seeking to determine who will be next to take me. I got no direct answer. They turned the conversation to other things, and when I got up to clear away the table, I realized I was alone with the twins.
“Where have the others gone?” I looked to the door, embarrassed to have been so focused on Yrko and Tyri that I’d not even noticed.
“Perhaps they thought it time to leave us alone.” The light tone in Tyri’s voice is replaced by a different one. It’s serious. His deep voice sends a little shudder through my body. I turn from where I’m standing. My heart begins to pound.
“So tonight I’ll be with one of you?”
The twins rise from the table and walk over. When they reach me, Yrko puts a finger under my chin and tilts my head back so that I’m looking up at him and his brother.
“No, Thera. Tonight you’ll be with us both.”
“Both?” I struggle to get the word out.
Tyri nods. “Drakoryan twins are different. If I am cut, Yrko feels it. If he feels lust, my cock gets hard. If I am hungry, his stomach growls. When we shifted for the first time, it was together. And when it comes time to claim a mate…”
As unprepared as I was for this revelation, I am even less prepared for the touch of both men moving over my body. Yrko moves behind me; his hands span my waist and slide up to cup my breasts. Tyri, who is facing me, reaches down to cup and squeeze my buttocks.
My reaction shames me. I feel a trickle of arousal slip from the seam of my aching pussy. It seems so long ago that I was a widow, certain she’d never lie with another man. Since then, I have been with three. And now I am about to be taken by two at once.
And I want it. If this is wrong…but it can’t be. The witches are the conduits of the Goddess. They gave me to these men. Tyri leans down, his warm lips closing over mine as Yrko lifts the mantle of my hair and begins to nibble my neck. I sway between them, a little afraid but yearning for what I am fearing.
Hands unlacing my bodice. Hands pushing my dress over my shoulder. Hands between my legs, where fingers stroke my passion-slick inner flower and tease my clit to aching hardness. A hand on my breast, another between my bottom cheeks, probing the tight pucker of my anus.
My knees give way. I am on the floor and they are with me. A mouth on my mouth. A mouth between my legs. I moan against the tongue dancing with mine and arch towards the hot tongue lathing away my arousal.
I want to please them. I want to…I turn my head, gasping, and reach for Yrko’s cock. “Please.” I turn my head as I reach for him; my hand barely spans the girth. I want to taste him. He looks up at his brother, and they both moan when I slip my mouth over the head, pressing my tongue against the slit where a pearlescent drop has already appeared. Salt and musk. But his cock is so hot. So large. I slide my mouth up and down, relishing the power, the maleness. Both my lovers are moaning.
I am on my knees. I don’t remember when or how I came to be in this position. My hand cups Yrko’s balls. They are heavy in my hand. Even when I feel his cock hit the back of my throat, I know I cannot take him all. I change tactics, licking the length of him. His huge hand is in my hair. I feel Tyri behind me, the head of his cock nudging against my pussy. It’s pulsing, vibrating. I push my hips back in a silent, wanton invitation to be filled.
“She’s a hungry little thing,” Tyri says. “Her mouth feels good. I can feel her, too, brother.” As Tyri enters me, Yrko pulls his cock from my mouth. He pulls me to my knees so that Tyri is thrusting upwards into me. Yrko is in front, moaning, feeling what his brother feels. His mouth is hot on my nipple, suckling so hard that it hurts, yet the pain mingles with pleasure and courses through me like a current that joins the wave of pleasure in my core. My head is thrown b
ack. I am lost to the overload of sensations. Hands everywhere. Hands and mouths.
“Don’t be greedy,” Yrko growl, and I growl as I feel Tyri pull his cock from inside me, leaving a sweet ache in its absence.
I do not ache for long. Yrko lies before the fire. From behind, Tyri positions me to sink onto his brother’s cock as I face Yrko. I moan. He is deep. So deep.
“I can’t,” I say.
“You can. You will.” Tyri’s words are hot in my ear, his commanding tone nearly bring me to orgasm. I am lost to what they are doing with me. Yrko guides me forward so that my nipples graze his chest. Behind me, I feel Tyri nudging at my bottom, his cock moving like a thin, fleshy probe as it works itself past the resisting ring of muscles of my bottom hole. It moves like a finger as it enters, pushing in. I am doubly filled, and then filled to capacity as Tyri’s cock begins to slowly increase in girth and Yrko’s begins to pulse rhythmically where it is lodged in my pussy.
“Do we please you, sweet Thera?” I glance down to see each twin has grasped a nipple. They roll them between their fingers. I am alight with pleasure, moving with them.
“Yes,” I say. “Oh, my lords, yes.”
Outside, the wind batters the cottage. But inside, warm between the huge bodies of these twin Drakoryans, my cry is louder, and as wild.
Chapter 27
YRKO
When the king sent us to be guardians of the village, my brothers and I did not protest. We are obedient to our liege and always willing to do our duty. We knew things had changed. We would miss our castle, miss the warm fires and serving girls who were always wet and ready when we lifted their skirts in some dark corner.
We had burned with lust so long, and serving girls offered temporary relief. We were resigned to having to wait much longer. War Brides are rarely given, and the witches had just granted one to the Lords of Za’vol. Wars can stretch on for years; we could not see a mating in our future.
