Gods and Trickery: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Unfortunate Magic Book 3)

by Candace Wondrak

  Vale said, “It’s what he wants to be called.”

  It’s what he wanted to be called, so Lena had to respect it? Well, sure, maybe. But to be thankful to him? She wouldn’t go that far.

  “Do you…” She grew quiet. “Do you believe him? Do you think he could be…” What was she trying to say? Did they think Zyssept could be good and not an evil son of a bitch? Lena could still recall those nightmares—such things were impossible to truly forget. Zyssept was the root of them, and he’d all but threatened her in some. How was she to believe he suddenly had turned a new leaf? It just didn’t seem plausible.

  Vale chose his words carefully, “I think he is trying. I think being here is an adjustment for him, as I imagine it would be to anyone or anything that is unaccustomed to this world. I don’t know how far I would go to claim his benevolence, but…he’s done nothing to us to show otherwise.”

  Lena turned to Tamlen, puckering her lips as she asked, “And what do you think, Tamlen?”

  Tamlen snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. He was lucky she wasn’t in a full gown today, otherwise being so close would be impossible. “I think,” he whispered, “you both talk far too much.” His expression was dark and serious, and before she knew what she was doing, she reached up and traced the scar that lined the entire left side of his face.

  Lena practically melted in his grip, sighing into his chest as she breathed the scent of him in. Fire and smoke, all heat and power. Magic that at one point scared her. Now…now she wouldn’t have it any other way. She loved his fire, loved him.

  She loved them all.

  Except Zyssept. She definitely did not love Zyssept.

  “What would you rather have us do, then?” she posed the question, already knowing the answer. With Tamlen, there was only one answer to such an inquiry, and it involved them all naked and atop each other.

  It was something she never would’ve thought of if her men weren’t here, for she’d done all she could to put those thoughts behind her as she danced around Cailan’s advances. But Lena grew tired of trying to be the good girl. She wanted to be bad. So very, very bad. And, by all the gods old and new, she would be.

  Tamlen grinned. “I can think of a few things.”

  Dark, dank, and black. Endless fear washed over him, drowning him, traveling down his throat and up his nose as he tried desperately to breathe. But breathe he could not, would not, for there was no air. No air to gulp down, nothing but dirt, grimy and wormy. An earthy smell, a terrible smell, a smell lingering in his brain even after it shut off. The frantic need to be free, met with silence, the only noise around that of shovels, burying him deeper. Locking him away from the world above.

  Bastian knew he was not underground anymore, knew he was not dead, and yet the thoughts consumed him. Being back in this castle, hearing Celena might wed the callous Prince Cailan, it was too much. He could not remain in the room and pretend everything was okay.

  Things were not okay.

  He went into the hall, trying to catch his breathing, doing his best to get his mind and his anxiety under control, but the panic was too much. His vision blurred. It took every ounce of his willpower to stay standing and not collapse to the floor.

  Would it always be like this? Would that night always feel as though it were yesterday? Bastian might’ve been a traitor, a spy in chevalier armor, but he did not deserve such a fate, did he? He was unsure. He’d lied to everyone in his first life, even to Celena. He’d lied for her.

  But that…that was the only lie he did not regret. He would lie a thousand times for her, even if she did not ask him to.

  Suddenly he was not alone. No, that wasn’t right; he never was alone. The old god had been in the hall the entire time, watching him break down. Still, knowing someone watched, Bastian could not pull it together. Moments like this, he wanted to give up. In moments like this…he imagined death was the easier choice.

  Zys set a hand on his shoulder pad, and though Bastian could not feel it through the metal, it drew him out of his mind enough for him to see clearly, enough he was able to slowly and steadily control his breathing.

  It was a while before Bastian said, “I do not like being here. It triggers far too many memories for me.” Most of them, if not all of them, were bad.

  The old god tilted his head, his peculiar silver stare studying him like some experiment. Zys had made it clear to them in the farmhouse he did not quite comprehend human emotions yet, but he was, at least, making an effort to do so. “Would you rather be away from here, away from her?” The question was spoken innocently enough, in a smooth timbre that instantly calmed Bastian’s frayed nerves.

  There was something about Zys that was so utterly tranquil and serene, it was impossible to remain panic-ridden as he spoke.

  It was a short while before Bastian spoke, “No, I would never leave her side again.”

  “Even if remaining would cause you harm?”

  Bastian looked at Zys then, met his stare. The old god was curious, inquisitive; it was a strange thing to see, and an even stranger thing to do—explain something to a god. “I would go through the worst kind of torture every day if it meant I got to spend a minute with Celena.” Would Zys understand? He had his doubts.

  “Why? Because she is your necromancer?”

  “Because I love her,” Bastian replied, honest in his response. Zys was trying, he knew it, but what could a god know about love?

  Zys turned his thoughtful gaze to the wall, pensive and brooding, though he wasn’t as loud about his brooding as Tamlen was. “And how do you know you love her? What are the signs of…love?” He spoke the word love meticulously, carefully.

  “It’s hard to explain,” Bastian said. “When you love someone, you want to be with them, to protect them from everything. You want their happiness, even at your own detriment. When you’re in love, you’d do anything for them…even going against the will of a god.”

  At that, Zys looked at him, pulling away his arm, straightening his back. He was much taller than Bastian, taller than Tamlen, even. His height did not make him lanky; if anything, it made him ethereal, otherworldly, above any and all he shared a room with. “Even if you knew you could never win?” Zys asked, his expression twitching, almost sad.

  Almost.

  “Men,” Bastian paused, “and women do crazy things when they’re in love.”

  Zys seemed to think on this for a while. He tilted his head ever so slightly, eyebrows creasing just a bit. They were the same hue as his hair, if not a tad darker. “Love. It sounds like a strange thing. Can one foster it?”

  “No. It will grow wherever it will grow. It is not something you can control, even as a god. It just…is.”

  “How long does it take to form?”

  Bastian sighed. Explaining love to a god, to a being who wasn’t even mortal, was certainly trying. But at least it got his mind off of the panic attack that had so recently attempted to overtake him. “There is no set time. It can take years—or less. I’ve heard sonnets singing about love at first sight, though I loathe to agree that it was love and not lust, but…” He stopped, noticing how thoughtful the other man looked.

  “Years,” Zys repeated. “I don’t want to wait years. I find I don’t want to wait at all, but I will, if I must.” His silver stare moved to the tiled floor, buffed and waxed to the extreme. Its tile nearly reflected their faces back up at them. “Do you believe she could ever learn to feel for me the way she does you?”

  “Truly, I don’t know. I cannot say how Celena would ever feel for you.” Bastian’s words did nothing to ease the small glimmer of concern on the old god’s face. He added, “But I think you made the first step by reuniting us. If you truly want her to choose you of her own free will, you need to give her time.”

  Why was Bastian giving Zys advice? Not too long ago, Celena had told them she wanted to fight Zyssept, and here he was, aiding him, helping him. The very opposite of fighting. It was difficult to reconcile the fact
Zys was a god—the god of death, to boot. The man before him radiated a raw power, but he was rather infantile when it came to human interaction. Wherever he was before, he hadn’t gotten much practice in.

  But, Bastian remembered, wherever it was couldn’t have been too awful, for Zyssept had heard Celena’s cries when she was younger. Whether or not she was linked to the other realms, to beyond the Veil, he didn’t know. But Zyssept had heard her and helped her, after her parents abused her in ways no loving parents should. Maybe, he was slow to admit, having an old, forgotten god by her side was just what Celena needed.

  Zys wasn’t so bad of a fellow, really. A little off-putting, but he seemed to mean well, seemed to care for Celena. As long as he took care of her, Bastian would be happy. Being on his second life, he wasn’t naive enough to think he’d last until the end of time. Even death had to have its limits. If Celena became a goddess of death, at least she would remain with Zys and never be alone again.

  Such things Bastian did not enjoy thinking about.

  Zys nodded. “I will give her time. I will let her choose her destiny, one way or another.” He cracked a smile, even though it was an uncomfortable sight. “You are a kind man, Bastian LeFuer. I can see why you’ve stolen her heart.”

  Bastian tried to return the smile, but it fell off his face as he looked around. The hall they stood in was crisp and clean, not a speck of dirt on the tile below. The walls were made of handcrafted wood, portraits lining the upper walls above the wainscoting. A different sort of dread filled him.

  “The King is dead,” Zys whispered. “Cailan’s coronation is tomorrow.”

  Philip was dead. The news was welcomed to Bastian, and yet he could not help but feel even worse as he remembered how Cailan wanted to wed Celena. The ceremony would instantly make her a queen, and a target for much hatred and violence. Was it something she truly wanted? And, besides that, a queen was expected to pop out an heir.

  Bastian would not let her have Cailan’s child. The man couldn’t be trusted. Not a bit.

  “Cailan is a madman,” Bastian whispered.

  “I find myself agreeing with you, but it will be Lena’s decision to make.”

  He bit back any remarks he might’ve had for Zys, knowing Celena would have to make up her mind. It did not mean, however, Bastian would sit back. He would do his damnedest to steer her in the right direction.

  Anyone could see the Prince was unstable. Celena would not, could not agree to marry such a man.

  Chapter Four

  It was about fucking time, Tamlen thought as he helped Lena out of her dress. So many different belts and laces that had to be undone, far too many layers hindering his view of her naked body. Once she was completely bare and free of all clothing, save for that adorned necklace, she laid on the chaise lounge, breathing hard as if they’d already had sex. Getting out of the dress so quickly was a lot of work, but it was nothing compared to what he planned on doing with her next.

  Vale had waited until the last moment to take off his armor, and Tamlen wasn’t going to sit around and wait for him. He dove into Lena’s arms, running his lips along her neck above the necklace, nipping her jaw as his hands touched every curve of her squirming body. Though he still had his underlayer of clothes on, it felt amazing.

  This was what he’d missed since Lena had walked out of that farmhouse while he slept. This was what he’d dreamed of doing since the moment he’d realized she was gone. This was better than anything, than everything. Her arms were home, as stupid and dumb as it sounded. Her body was home.

  Their mouths came together, and from the way she ran her fingers through his hair, how she held him close, Tamlen knew Lena had thought of much the same thing, even if she wouldn’t admit it. When would she realize being away from them was a terrible idea? They were all better, saner, when they were near each other.

  Her tongue was eager to slip in his mouth, playful and hungry as it danced with his. She arched her back and let out a moan, right into his mouth, and the action nearly sent Tamlen into a frenzy. He wanted to tear off his clothes and have her right this second.

  And that’s exactly what he was going to do.

  While Vale was still working to rid his body of his suit of armor, Tamlen broke their liplock to yank off his restricting clothes. He pressed his body against Lena’s, their heat mingling and mixing, creating something new. Her legs were between his, her feet rubbing along him, but by the gods, he wanted those legs open, and he wanted them open now.

  Tamlen sat up, placing his strong hands on her inner thighs, opening her up. The view of her spread eagle on the lounge before him made his cock ache even more—and it already throbbed with the need to be inside her. He ran a finger along her; Lena was already wet and ready for him.

  “Gods,” he muttered, positioning himself above her slowly, “I’ve missed you.” Before she could respond, he pushed inside of her, closing his eyes as he felt his cock slide in with ease. As he rocked his hips, he tried to get her moaning. Once Lena started to moan, she only grew louder; it was music, a sweet melody to his ears. He craved to hear her noises almost as much as he craved being inside of her.

  It had been far too long since they’d been together. Far too long.

  Lena’s head lolled back in ecstasy, her eyelids fluttering closed. She had a different color hair than when he last saw her; instead of the violet, she was red. It reminded him of fire, and Tamlen and fire were as close as a mage and an element could possibly be. Her hands ran down his back, gently scratching his skin until she gripped his ass. She liked it when he was as deep inside her as he could go, pushing the boundaries of her sweet, delicious sex.

  His thrusting grew more erratic, his rhythm picking up speed as he felt the urge to come. He did not try to prolong it; he simply let the pleasure sweep over him in an undeniable wave. His body tensed, shaking as his hips pulsated and his cock spewed seed inside her. Tamlen let out a low, gruff moan as he withdrew from her.

  “That’s when you’re supposed to say you missed me, too,” he remarked dryly, though a smile spread across his face as he studied the flushed cheeks on the woman below him. She was beautiful no matter what position, no matter what ungodly clothes she wore or what color her hair was.

  She was already a goddess. Lena didn’t need Zys for that.

  A cute but sloppy grin grew on her red, luscious lips as she sat up and kissed him. “Of course I missed you. I thought of you guys constantly.” Lena set a hand on his cheek, tender and loving, a stark contrast to the somewhat wild and free sex they just had. Her palm stroked him, grazing his stubble, and Tamlen never wanted her to stop. He could be staring into a multitude of colors, eyes that were ridiculously polka-dotted or some other strange pattern, and he’d never look away, never ask her to stop touching him.

  Gods, he had it bad for her, didn’t he? The mighty Tamlen Grey, leader of the Grey Revolt. One of the most powerful fire mages to ever roam the lands—or at least he was, centuries ago. Times had changed when it came to magic; mages were able to cast a wider variety of spells instead of focusing on one area. But that was neither here nor there; Tamlen Grey was so smitten, so in love, it startled him in that moment.

  He never once thought he’d fall in love. It never once crossed his mind, even in his first life. He’d been a ladies’ man, had an easy way about him, but he was always so focused on the mission, of freeing mages from their oppressors he never much thought of having a personal life. Marriage and children—it all seemed so foreign to him, so outlandish. Tamlen never believed he’d want to do any of it. Never had the time nor the inclination.

  Being here with Lena, well, it made him think of such things. It made him want such things. His feelings for her dwarfed the jealousy he might’ve once felt towards Bastian, the anger he felt at Zys for the power he’d given a child. His feelings were so strong, his heart so true, he could not imagine going on without her.

  Tamlen would stand by her side until he couldn’t stand any longer.

&nb
sp; Lena’s eyes flicked to Vale, who’d moved onto the lounge behind her, finally free of his armor and underclothing. Vale’s hands snaked around her stomach, pulling her to him as she said, “I was so…depressed when I thought I’d lost you forever.”

  Taking one of her hands to his mouth, Vale kissed it lightly. “You will never lose us, Lena. Never.” The man spoke it like a promise, and Tamlen was swift to nod his head in agreement. A thousand storms could come their way, and they’d weather it together.

  Even if together meant Tamlen, Vale, Bastian, and Zys.

  Lena turned her top half, smothering Vale with a series of hard and passionate kisses. Tamlen scooted away to give them a bit more room. He wasn’t about to get dressed and leave the room; watching was his second favorite part. Seeing Lena with Vale, knowing that she took pleasure from him, it was almost as erotic as doing the fucking himself.

  Oh, yes. Tamlen would watch. No man or god would begrudge him of it.

  Lena was flying high. Truly, she’d never felt so good. Being reunited with her men was everything, and she’d never be stupid enough to leave them again. Whatever happened next, they’d do it as one.

  Leaving them was far too hard. She’d never do it again.

  Her arms were around Vale’s neck, her lips on his. He returned her kisses with a burning hunger, though his touches were accompanied by tiny, almost negligible electric tingles. The teeny shockwaves grew a bit when she touched any of the runes on his chest and arms. White and risen flesh, decorative scars that somehow held properties of magic and allowed him to wield lightning. What once was curiosity over runes had morphed into fascination with not the runes, but the man wearing them.

  To think, she’d stumbled in the cave so long ago in the hopes of studying runes. Lena never would’ve guessed she’d wind up here, in Rivaini’s castle, with not one, but three lovers and a god who wanted to be her fourth. And it wasn’t even mentioning the crazy prince who wanted her to be his wife. Honestly, if Lena was forced to choose between marrying Cailan and Zyssept, she’d be stumped. Neither was too appealing.