Then again, she wasn’t the sort of mage who accidentally rose an entire crypt’s worth of dead things, either. Today had been an enlightening day. Maybe, deep down, she did want to be one of those girls. It wouldn’t be so bad to have Tamlen, too, would it? It would keep them equal, and perhaps they wouldn’t bicker as much…
Gods. Lena felt her skin flush hotter at the thought. These thoughts were not hers; she’d ask Ingrid to do a cleansing spell on her once they were safely back in the College. A cleansing spell would get rid of anything that might’ve latched onto her while she was cowering from the skeleton horde.
Hmm. If Valerius and Tamlen were her thralls, why weren’t the skeletons the same? Why didn’t they all come back with their skin and memories? Something wasn’t right here, but Lena’s mind was too frazzled to truly think about it.
Tamlen was beside her, grinning like a foolish boy. With his hair short and his face clean, he did look younger. Maybe as old as Bastian was, when he died. Certainly not old enough to be the face of a failed civil war that historians still fought about. The scar that ran down his left eyebrow and cheek looked like it hurt.
Lena refused to look at him, until the very moment he poked her on her side, eliciting an immediate laugh. She inched away, glaring at him harshly. “Don’t do that.”
“Awe,” Tamlen muttered, shoulders slumping. Such wide, strong shoulders for a mage. He could pick her up easily, no force spell necessary to lighten the load. “But I find you achingly adorable when you’re laughing.”
She crossed her arms, keeping her gaze level with his. She would not look below his waistline. She wouldn’t. To do that would…well, Lena knew it wouldn’t be good. Not when she still felt a stirring in her gut, a heat that just wouldn’t go away. “I am not adorable.”
His dark eyes squinted. “I do think that’s subjective, but yes, you are.”
“I don’t know what you hope to gain from this, but if you think that I’m going to kiss you as well, you have another thing coming.” Lena shrugged, hoping that was that.
“Please.” He chuckled, stretching out his legs. Beside him, she looked like a dwarf. Like a gangly adolescent who hadn’t yet grown into her adult body. But she had. This was the tiny frame that she was stuck with until she died. “I don’t think you’re going to kiss me. I know it.”
He was far too confident for his own good, she quickly decided. She debated on flicking her hair over her shoulder and smacking him with the ends—he was that close. “You might wish that I would,” she whispered, “but I will not. That was a momentary lapse in judgement with Valerius, and it most certainly will not happen again.” When she felt his eyes burning holes on the back of her neck, she added, “I’m not the type of girl who kisses every man she meets all willy-nilly.”
Willy-nilly. Gods. Why did she even choose to open her mouth? Lena knew she sounded ridiculous. It wasn’t a wonder why Tamlen couldn’t take her seriously. She couldn’t even take herself seriously.
“You’re not? You could’ve fooled me.” There was a pause before Tamlen said, “What about your friend?”
That got Lena to glare at him again. “What about her?” Why in all of Rivaini would Tamlen bring Ingrid up? He didn’t want her like that, did he? Yes, she was pretty, far prettier than Lena, but to hear him actually say it was rage-inducing.
“She’s a pretty one,” Tamlen said, crossing his ankles.
Her mouth was ajar. “So what?” Lena sounded more miffed than she felt. Or, perhaps, she truly did feel as upset as she sounded. The mere thought of Tamlen, as ridiculous as it was, kissing her friend made her intensely aggravated.
Tamlen studied her. “Does it bother you if I say I would very much like to kiss her?”
She scoffed. What was with these two men? It was as though they could think with nothing but the thing that hung between their legs. It didn’t matter that Lena was feeling the same…frisky and wild. Nope.
“Kiss whoever you like,” Lena muttered, about to cross her arms and look away. She couldn’t, though, because suddenly a pair of lips were on hers, hard and crushing, stealing the breath from her lungs and the attitude from her demeanor.
It was over far too quickly. Tamlen pulled away, smirking.
“What?” It was all Lena could say.
His grin sent her insides for a twist, little fluttering butterflies coursing through her as he answered, “You said that I could kiss whomever I wanted. I wanted to kiss you, you fool. Your friend may be pretty, but so are you. Besides—I find the way you frown at me unbelievably adorable too.”
Lena shook her head, incredulous. Was this normal? Did everyone go around kissing everyone else they found somewhat attractive? She’d be a liar if she said she didn’t like it, but she wasn’t ready to admit that aloud.
She whispered, “You don’t know me.”
“You don’t know me either. You might have heard some cracked version of what I did, but I’m sure the history books don’t do it justice.” Tamlen’s smile grew wider. “Don’t do me justice.” His hand was on her thigh, touching her near a place that yearned for more. She thought about smacking the hand away, but she found she enjoyed the warmth that seeped from it through her trousers.
If that hand could move just a few inches over, then…
“Maybe,” Lena said, her voice soft and fluttery. She barely recognized herself. “Maybe you should tell me.”
“Oh, I can do much better than that.” The hand that rested on her thigh moved to her stomach, pushing her down, onto the grass. Despite the strength that was behind it, he wasn’t overly rough with her. As Tamlen crawled above her, he brought his lips to her ear, gently nibbling on her earlobe, “I can show you just how bad I can be.”
A shiver ran through her, jolting her every nerve. Oh, yes. With this strange, new way Lena felt—she knew she’d like that very much.
“Of course,” he said, kissing her neck near her ear, “I can always tell you too, if you’d prefer.”
A restless desire that burned within her forced Lena to say, “No. Show me.” What had gotten into her? Ingrid was due back any moment now, as was Valerius. Nothing should happen here and she knew that, yet she felt urges she never had before.
What in all the world was in that crypt?
Tamlen ran his hands down, along her body, taking care to get to know each and every curve. Her chest, her waist, her sides, her stomach. His lips trailed along her collarbone, her tunic’s neckline a loose one, allowing him access to an area that her College robes would not.
When Tamlen moved his face above hers, his hips ground down, a hardness pressing against her the very same moment his mouth met hers. This kiss was rougher, wilder than Valerius’s. This kiss was both desperate and forceful. The scent of smoke and brimstone entered her nose, the smell of his chosen element, fire. That alone should’ve warned her off, warned her away. But it didn’t.
Lena threw all caution to the wind. Fire was the element she most feared, for she had unnatural powers over it as well. Maybe that’s why she was so drawn to Tamlen. They were both fire mages, both had souls made of magic and flames…only his was the color of a normal fire, and hers was black.
Blackfire.
Lena took her hands to his shoulders, running them down over his back, raking her nails over his skin. He still needed to bathe, to sit in clean water and rid himself of the grime that caked his body, but she didn’t care. She’d be as dirty as he was after this, and she didn’t care even a little.
He moved to kiss her jaw, whispering, “It has been too long since I’ve…” Tamlen nipped her other ear. It was more than obvious what he meant. It was very difficult to not feel the poking and the prodding that came from him. “Would you believe that when you’re fighting a war, the last thing on your mind is sex?” He chuckled softly against her, his hands cupping her breasts over the fabric, kneading her skin, touching her in a way no man had ever touched her before. “Tragic, really.”
Yes, so utterly tragic.
&n
bsp; Just when he went in to kiss her again, a voice spoke out of nothing, “You filthy bastard. Get off her!” Tamlen was yanked back by an invisible hand, the short hairs on the top of his head sticking up.
“All right, all right,” Tamlen whined, very un-manly, as he got off her.
Lena sat, making sure no bits of skin were showing before she shot a glare at the surrounding empty area. “Ingrid, you’re still cloaked.”
“Damn right I am. A good thing too, otherwise I might not have caught you and lover boy here going at it like rabbits.” In the blink of an eye, Ingrid’s body appeared. Her hands were empty, fists on her hips. “They might be your thralls, but you can’t use them like that.”
That was only one of the reasons why necromancy was banned. People tended to use it for unnatural things. But that wasn’t what was happening here, between Lena and Tamlen, was it?
“Actually,” Tamlen chimed in with a grin, not even bothering to hide his erection, “I’m more than happy to be used like that—” His words were muffled when Ingrid bent to pick up the pile of clothes she must’ve dropped the moment she saw him and Lena entangled on the ground. Her friend threw a ball of clothes at his face.
“I hope they are the most uncomfortable clothes you have ever worn. I hope they chafe and itch that dick of yours,” Ingrid growled out, turning her eyes away from Tamlen as he held up the shirt to his bare chest, as if he were testing out the fabric. Truthfully, her friend probably wanted to say more, but she must’ve held back as she turned her stare upon Lena.
Lena swallowed, feeling guilty, not knowing why she suddenly felt so free with her desires. It wasn’t as if she didn’t feel attraction before. She had. And of course she’d imagined having sex, even done a bit of self-gratification in that department, but not while in public, where anyone could stumble upon her as she did it. Still, touching herself and imagining having sex was completely different than actually getting hot and heavy with someone she just met.
No, not even that. Tamlen wasn’t a stranger. She’d read his name countless of times before.
Tamlen and Valerius were her thralls, because they were risen from the dead. Because she read from a book in a language she didn’t comprehend. Maybe that was why—she felt connected to them. It was possible that they shared something, that a part of her magic, as terrible as it was, was inside them, constantly giving them life. Maybe it was inevitable that she’d feel like this. It could only be a matter of time until she threw herself at the both of them.
Why not a little earlier, to get it over with? Why not a few times, so Lena could learn the arts of love…
Valerius appeared, clean-shaven and oblivious to the anger that permeated the air around Ingrid. His dirty blond hair was cut in a similar fashion to Tamlen’s, though he left an inch of hair all around, even on the sides. His face, perfectly sculpted beneath the beard that had been there—and was fortunately there no longer—was vacant for only a moment. Judging from his expression, he did not handle angry women well.
“Get dressed,” Ingrid said without looking at him, grabbing Lena’s arm, getting her up. She moved them away from both men, standing between Lena and her duo. “What has gotten into you, Lena?”
All Lena could do was lift her shoulders and drop them once. She had no answer.
“You’re the girl who blushes when she thinks about going up to Jerome—Jerome,” Ingrid put emphasis on his name, as if Lena didn’t recall how measly the library aide was. “You refuse to go on any dates I set up, stick your fingers in your ear when I try to tell you about…certain things.”
“I know,” Lena muttered, not happy to have her actions rehashed by her friend. She also knew that both Tamlen and Valerius were listening, even though they pretended not to. How embarrassing.
“But I find you with your legs wrapped around one of the guys you raised from the dead?” Ingrid exhaled. “I’m shocked. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for it, but do you really think now is the time?”
“No,” Lena agreed swiftly, knowing her friend was right. Arguing with her would only make it worse. Ingrid was both beautiful and bull-headed. “It’s not.” Would there ever be a good time for her to continue down that path with Tamlen? With Valerius? Perhaps. Not today, though.
Ingrid threw a look over her shoulder. Both men were wriggling into the clothes she stole from the hunting lords. “Their dicks haven’t been washed in years. You don’t want one of them inside you, do you?” Her nose scrunched up as she brought her jade eyes back to Lena. “It’s always better when it’s clean.”
Lena wanted to tear off her ears. This was not a talk she wanted to have with Ingrid. Not now, not ever. She knew her friend had been with a few guys, but she didn’t need reminders. She didn’t want to think about that. Ew.
When Lena didn’t answer, her friend added, “It is. Trust me. Especially when they want you to get on your knees and—”
Throwing up her hands, Lena walked away, pretending not to listen. She did not need that mental image, not while she was feeling so frisky. It was asking for trouble. It wasn’t long before Ingrid caught up to her, a gentle hand on her wrist, stopping her.
“All seriousness,” Ingrid spoke, “what are you going to do with them?”
Lena paused to watch Tamlen slip inside a rather tight white shirt. Short sleeved, though its neckline was quite frumpy and lacy. Hopefully the nobles wouldn’t notice their clothes as they walked by on two undead thralls.
Okay, she had to stop thinking about them like that. Tamlen and Valerius were not undead. They might have been her thralls, because that’s what necromancy was, but they were both very much alive. Warm and solid, able to do anything a living man could…
With their nudity under control, both men looked more than good. Watching them struggle to slip on the two pairs of boots Ingrid stole brought a smile to Lena’s face. Valerius nearly fell over as he jammed his left foot into a boot. She wanted to go over and help him, but she stopped herself. He was a man. He could put on his own boots without help.
Why did she feel so close to them? Was it because they were connected to her, or was it because something else had dwelled inside that crypt? With Lena’s awful luck, it was probably the second one.
“I don’t know,” Lena finally said.
Ingrid chuckled. “You are in some deep shit with them, aren’t you?”
Her friend had no idea.
Valerius hadn’t exactly returned after Lena’s friend; he actually came back a while before and saw that she and Tamlen were a bit too close. Tamlen was atop her, comfortable as if he was always there, like that was where he was destined to be. Lena hadn’t seemed to mind one bit. She actually seemed to relish in the sensation of his hands all over her body and his lips on hers.
He would be jealous, for it was not that long ago that Lena and Valerius were wrapped up in each other, not to mention the slight fact that Tamlen was his enemy—and his worst one, at that. But he couldn’t be, for he knew Lena was not his.
Lena was no more his to claim than the clothes he now wore were. Neither belonged to Valerius, and quite frankly, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. About her, and that damned kiss. Midas’s touch had always been possessive, like he knew Valerius was his and his alone, that there was no competition in his affections. But kissing Lena? The opposite. She was soft and small, the kiss not nearly as much a claiming as those with Midas had been. That didn’t mean their kiss was bad. It just meant he didn’t know what to think about it.
And, of course, Valerius would’ve been blind to not notice Tamlen above her. It was true that he hated Tamlen, that he was his enemy of enemies, but simultaneously, he couldn’t deny that Tamlen was a very attractive man. Truthfully, he’d noticed it in his first life, when he first had seen Tamlen across a body-strewn battlefield. The way Tamlen strode in his armor, how he held himself—certainly a wondrous male specimen, even if he was a bleeding mage.
He had done his best not to stare at Tamlen in the cave, and even harder not to
look when they emerged into the daylight. It was exceedingly hard not to stare when Valerius came upon him dry-humping Lena.
His ass was very firm. His legs, even now, so lean and strong. Valerius was a weak man apparently, for he’d grown aroused just watching them together, even though it was only for a few moments. He…might’ve had thoughts about joining them—fast, rapidly evaporating thoughts—until he’d heard Lena’s friend return and he made a split decision to leave and return after the situation was over.
Glad he did, Valerius watched the women bicker. Her friend, Ingrid, was talking about dirty cocks, which made him smile, though the smile fell off his face the moment he turned to view Tamlen struggling to get in his shirt. He wanted desperately to roll his eyes, for it wasn’t that hard to get inside a tunic, even if the garments were on the smaller side of the scale, but as his eyes drifted to Tamlen’s defined abdomen, he knew he couldn’t. It would take all his strength and willpower to not ogle the man constantly, and to sort out the strange feelings that grew in his gut for Lena.
His first life hadn’t been much fun, at least not in the end. At this rate, Valerius’s second one wasn’t going to be much better.
Not wanting to see Tamlen’s bare stomach any longer, Valerius moved to his side, helping him with the shirt, which earned him an eyebrow raise from his so-called enemy. The small, little facial expression caused his heart to nearly a skip a beat. His fingertips may have brushed that damned abdomen he was trying so hard not to stare at.
Shit. At this rate, all three of them would wind up in bed together at the end of the week.
“Wow,” Tamlen remarked, “so it’s not just lightning those fingers of yours can make, huh?”
Valerius wasn’t sure how to respond, so he harrumphed, giving the man his back as he went to yank on a pair of boots. Just as he thought to himself that he shouldn’t have helped him, he nearly fell over. One foot in the air, trying to stuff it into a boot that was a size too small, he lost his balance, and he would’ve fallen over if Tamlen hadn’t set two strong hands on his back and stopped him. He hurriedly got the boot on, a tad too tight, but he’d rather have slightly miserable feet than continue to feel the warmth that radiated from Tamlen’s hands.
Spells and Necromancy: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Unfortunate Magic Book 1) Page 7
