Wyka were supposed to be all about goodness, purity, and light. Helping people, that kind of shit. No one needed more help than I did. I could learn to be good. I’d do anything not to have to face the Devil again.
“Go,” Mom said in my voice.
“No. I’m not leaving without you,” I whined like the little girl I was in that moment. A little girl who’d made a stupid mistake she couldn’t take back.
How far I’d fallen from the power-high Dad’s magick gifted me less than an hour ago.
“You are, and you’ll do it, now!” she demanded.
I never realized my nostrils flared so much when I was pissed. And that, when I rolled my eyes, it was so annoyingly obnoxious. But seeing that look on Mom’s face, while she wore my face, made me understand why she’d get frustrated with me all the time.
I was a brat, and I was being one now.
Footsteps pounded against the linoleum in the front room. Electricity zapped my flesh, singed my arm hair. Grandma was casting something. By the taste and feel of it, I’d say it was another portal.
“I love you, Kate. No matter what.”
No matter what? What the hell did that mean?
Before I could tell her that I loved her, too, or ask what she meant, she pushed to her feet and ran out of my bedroom, closing the door at the same moment the Wyka reached her.
A bright light shone from underneath the door. I screamed. No, Mom screamed, and then went silent.
I tried to move, tried to run after her. The vortex of magick behind me was too strong. Breathless and broken, I was ripped away from my mother, pulled into a funnel, squeezed through space.
The black took me, and I knew I’d never see my mother again. Never go home. I’d destroyed both.
12
“Now do you believe me?” Caleb’s lips move against mine when he asks the question.
“Yeah,” I somehow manage to say. Damn him, making me lightheaded and breathless. Callen steps in behind me, sandwiches me between hunky male hotness. That’s when I know I’m screwed. Good, bad, and sideways.
I release a nervous laugh, bury my head in Caleb’s chest, and almost moan when Callen presses in closer from behind. “Does it make me an idiot that a man falling for me after stalking me for two years is the most romantic thing to ever happen to me?”
Callen snorts. “If it’s good enough for the movies, it’s good enough for real life.”
He has a point.
I arch my back, press into Callen’s front while rubbing my now hard nipples against Caleb’s chest. “So, uh…how does this work?”
Callen’s hard body covers the length of mine. “You know how this works,” he teases. “We’ve practiced tons.”
I push him back with my hips. With his grip on my waist, he doesn’t go far. “I don’t mean sex, perv.” Though, actually, I kinda do.
I’ve been with two other people at the same time before. But not four. There’s a mechanics issue I feel should definitely be worked out.
“I mean, the ritual,” I clarify. “I don’t have any of the tools we need.”
“We’ll get them,” Derion says. He and Dante have somehow squeezed their way onto my porch.
“We’ll get whatever you need. Do whatever you tell us.” Dante’s voice is smooth. It pulls me into feeling safe. Like I could trust him, despite what his brother has shown me.
“How will we get them?” I ask Dante and Derion while enjoying the warmth of Callen and Caleb. More than warmth. Their bodies are hot. Or maybe it’s me that’s hot being between them.
Derion saunters over like he owns the world, palming something too small for me to see. After we mate and I become Inferi, he might.
“First, we mate you.” Derion’s eyes flick to every man on the porch. “All of us. We claim some of the power promised once we officially form our Pentagram. Then, we kick magickal ass and take zero names, take back what the Wyka stole from you.”
I’d ask how he knows about what happened the day I made a deal with Dad and lost all of my magickal relics. But I have to imagine the rumor about the Inferi who denied the Devil has made the rounds.
“Once we do that,” Dante continue, “we perform the ritual.”
“We become yours,” Callen whispers into my ear. His voice, the heat from his breath, goes straight between my thighs. “You know I’m already yours.”
“I am, too,” Callen ads.
Fuck. These men are killing me. And killing is exactly what’ll happen if we do this.
I’m just about to push them away, go back into my apartment, grab my purse, and get the hell out of Gatlinburg. Away from the state of Tennessee. The country. The planet, if I could.
Derion’s hand is little more than a blur. He moves so fast that it takes me a moment to realize what he’s done. Sunlight glints off the small silver blade he’d palmed. Blood pools in the cut on his arm. The scent of him permeates the air until he’s all that I smell. All that I crave.
That’s when I know I’m lost to him. Lost to all four of them. If I can’t resist my Pentagram, what hope do I have to resist the Devil?
I don’t remember my feet moving. Maybe they don’t. Probably, my men carry me into the apartment, down the hall to my bedroom. I’m too busy sucking on Derion’s arm to notice or care.
Good thing I’m not squeamish about blood. This is twice now I’ve wanted to feed on him like the Queen of the Damned. Vampires aren’t real, but that doesn’t stop me from questioning if those stories aren’t based off Dark magick, somehow.
There’s power in blood, which is what makes blood magick so potent. Dangerous. It’s the quickest, simplest, and messiest way to tap into someone’s power. The most immediate way to connect.
Connecting is precisely what I’ll be doing with these four. The binding isn’t only sexual, it’s intimate. Soul deep. I may hate Derion because he’s an ass with a bad attitude and way too much ego, but he’s the first I blooded and my soul-sworn. I’ll always be closer to him than the others.
Not favoritism. Not quite. Not that Derion could be anyone’s favorite anything. Unless asshat is the category. Derion is my north point. The pinnacle of the compass. The keystone to holding the Pentagram together.
God help us. If there is such a thing.
“Kate, I’m going to undress you now, okay?” Dante’s voice caresses my body the same way his hands do.
“Mm-hm,” I mutter, unable to trust my voice to work properly.
When I open my eyes so I can watch my men watch me get naked, my vision is hazy, my eyelids hooded. It takes me a moment to realize Callen and Caleb haven’t joined us on the bed. They’re both leaning against opposite walls, one at the east point. One at the west.
Callen must see the question on my face because he answers, “Them first. Then us.”
Good to know I don’t have to entertain them all at once. Though, with them watching, I feel as if I have to put on a good show. Being the center of attention is something I do exceptionally well.
Dante takes his time with my shoes and pants. I only detach from Derion’s arm when Dante pulls my shirt over my head. Once it’s off, Derion leans down and kisses me, cleans my lips of his blood.
I moan into his mouth when he deepens the kiss and pinches my nipple through my bra at the same time. A low growling sound pulls my attention away from Derion to the east wall of my room.
Even though I’m looking at Caleb, I can see Derion’s sneering face in my mind’s eye when he says, “Don’t worry. You’ll get my sloppy seconds soon enough.”
Before I can get pissed about everything wrong with that statement, Caleb fires back. “I didn’t figure you’d last long.”
Derion pushes off the bed. I swear Caleb’s chest doubles in size. The two have a stare-off, powder kegs primed to explode. My inner bossy nature takes over.
Dante moves when I roll off the bed to stand. My hands find my hips, and I’m painfully aware I’m in nothing but a bra and panties. But someone needs to take control of
this shit show. I’m the Priestess. It’s my job to lead. It’s their job to follow.
“What the fuck do you two think you’re doing?” I yell at Derion and Caleb as I wave my hand over my body. “If you two don’t want this, then you can fuck off outside, beat the shit out of each other. I don’t care. I’m happy to form a two-sided Pentagram with your twins. Or maybe I’ll fuck them both twice. Even the odds.”
Callen and Dante grin. Derion and Caleb break their stare-off to look at me. “You can’t do this without him and me.” Derion points to himself, then to Caleb.
“Maybe not, but I can try, and I don’t have to do anything right now. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. You two fighting makes me not want to.”
I bend down, pick up my pants and shirt off the floor, and make like I’m heading toward my bathroom.
“Kate. Stop.” It’s the first time Derion says my name without derision or the cocky tone he uses to let everyone know he’s the smartest man in the room. Smartest assed, maybe.
His hand wraps around my arm. He isn’t forceful, not even a little. I’m surprised by how gentle he is. I had no idea he was capable.
Derion’s body presses against my exposed back as his lips brush the shell of my ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t want the others to hear him apologize, or if it’s because he’s never done it before and his voice doesn’t quite know what to make of the words. “Stay.” He nibbles on my earlobe. “With me.”
I have no way of knowing if the pull to give him a second chance has to do with his blood, or how the baddest boy I know just asked for something nicely. The reason doesn’t matter, not when the outcome is the same.
My clothes hit the floor at the same time I turn in his arms, climb him like a mountain about to be conquered, and wrap my legs around his waist. I grunt when my back hits the nearest wall, can’t catch my breath when he kisses me as if his life depends on it. In a way, it does. After today, it always will.
Derion’s touch is nothing like the man himself. Where his attitude is all sharp edges and forceful indifference, his fingers glide across my body as if I’m a masterpiece about to be complete, and he’s the artist coaxing out every nuance and subtle perfection.
How he knows where to caress and kiss to set me on fire? I don’t want to know. His past doesn’t matter. None of theirs does, just like mine doesn’t. There’s only us. Now. Forever.
The sound of his jeans unzipping pulls me from my thoughts. He doesn’t undress or remove my panties. He doesn’t need to. The tiny bit of fabric covering me is no match for his determined fingers when he moves it to the side. He isn’t wearing any underwear to get in the way when he presses against me.
Now is the wrong time to think about condoms. This should’ve been a discussion we had before we got to this point, not that it matters. I’m on the pill, and there’s no human STI magick can’t get rid of. Still, my lack of responsibility is disappointing.
I wiggle my hips, relish in the noise he makes when I slick him through my folds, tease him because I can. A part of me fully expected him to shove into me, use brute force to claim what he’s wanted for far too long.
Derion’s full of surprises. Instead of acting like the douche he’s been this entire time, he peppers butterfly-light kisses along my neck. His fingers rub in slow circles against my nipples through my bra. And his velvety hard heat waits at my entrance for my permission.
He’s my soul-sworn, not the other way around. He belongs to me. He can’t force our mating. He must be invited in. All of them must.
In this, as in all things magick, the woman is the master. The man, the servant. Both have crucial roles. Both need each other.
“Derion,” I say when every cell inside my body screams for the kind of relief only he and Dante can give. “I need you inside me. Please.”
His eyes lock with mine. His dark irises turn pitch black when he slowly and gently glides into my warmth until he’s all the way inside. “Priestess,” he gasps, followed by a few choice curse words.
I cry out, claw at his back, and finally remember to breathe. He’s wide enough to stretch me, not long enough to hurt. He’s a perfect fit, a fact celebrated by my internal nub when he pulls out only to fill me again.
Derion kisses me then rests his forehead against mine as his hands skim around to my ass, partially to hold me up and partially to tilt my hips to a more pleasurable angle. I’m loud when he does. No one in the room should doubt that Derion knows how to please me. Probably, it’s his unspoken challenge to the others.
It isn’t long before the familiar coiling sensation in my stomach spreads down my legs and up my spine. Or maybe that’s the magick I’ve denied too long finally seeking release. All I know is that when the wave strikes with promised oblivion, I break.
Break free.
Break open.
Break my dry spell.
The unleashing of magick is so strong, there’s almost no other sensation that can compare. Almost.
If my neighbors are home, they’re going to hate me. I pray they don’t lodge a noise complaint.
Just when I think I’m done, Derion bites my neck below my ear, drawing blood. If I could see myself as the other men can see me, I’d marvel at the look of ecstasy on my face, at the disco ball patterned light show pulsating from my skin.
I have his blood. He has mine. Our bond locks into place. It’s there, below the surface, a lifeline to my north point. Should I ever drown, this, and the three others I’m about to make, will save me.
I’m boneless when the wave retreats and leaves me a broken, battered thing against the rocky shore. More like Derion’s rock-hard chest.
“I’ve got her,” Dante says. I’m vaguely aware of a second set of arms around me before the heat of Derion’s body is torn away.
I want to complain, but then Dante starts whispering in my ear all the things I’ve wanted to hear. How beautiful I am. How lucky he is to be my soul-sworn. That he would’ve chosen me if his birthright hadn’t done the task for him. That he admires me for being a survivor. I don’t have to do this alone anymore.
He lays me on the bed with reverence, worships my body with his eyes as much as his hands. I lift my hips so he can remove my panties, turn to the side so he can unlatch my bra. When I’m fully naked, fully exposed, he drinks me in with his gaze.
The bed dips behind me. I glance over my shoulder to see a fully naked Derion, still completely hard. “You didn’t…?” I don’t bother finishing the sentence.
His grin is infectious and definitely a bit asshole-ish when he says, “Not yet. That was just a warm-up.”
Warm up? Any warmer and I’ll start a fire.
“Show off,” Caleb mutters. Callen just shakes his head and tries to hide his smile.
Dante’s clothes hit the floor which brings my attention back to him. His energy is calm and stable where his brother’s energy is intense and chaotic. When he crawls onto the bed next to me, I open my arms. It’s instinct, the compulsion to hold him close and never let go.
Dante pushes a lock of hair from my face. His other hand traces lazy circles on my hip. “My brother and I need to be inside you for the bonding to take place. It won’t be fully solid until we do the ritual—”
“But it’ll be a hell of a lot stronger than it is now,” Derion finishes.
“Okay,” I answer, ready to feel Dante the same way I felt Derion.
“Do you understand what I mean, Kate?” Dante’s fingers still. He waits until I get his meaning. Or he would’ve if Derion wasn’t so impatient.
Derion smacks my ass, making me jump. “We both need to be inside you, Priestess. At the same time.”
Oh. Oh! Oh, shit.
I frantically glance at Callen. A look of understanding and concern flashes across his face. We’d only gone there a few times, despite his effort to do it more often. I’d wondered why the insistence, but now it makes sense. He was trying to prepare me.
Callen hasn’t been my only lover, but he’s been the best. I would’ve trusted him the most had trust been a thing I was capable of. Which means he’s the only one who has ever had me there. I refused to try with my other lovers. Never saw the point.
There definitely the hell is a point, now.
Callen nods, his way of telling me everything will be okay. That he’ll take care of me, and so will Derion and Dante. “Be gentle with her,” he warns them, his I’m-not-fucking-around mask firmly in place.
“I know what I’m doing.” Derion’s cocky tone tells me he means it. It also tells me he isn’t the one I want back there. He isn’t the one I trust.
“You do it,” I say to Dante as I turn my back to him and press my ass against his front.
“No fair,” Derion pouts.
“It would be my honor,” Dante counters, and I know I’ve made the right decision.
Derion shakes his head and pulls me into him. “Your loss, Priestess.”
It isn’t, but I don’t correct him when Dante slides in behind me. Their body heat combined with mine threatens to send me supernova. I shiver despite the heat, nervous as hell.
“Ready?” Dante asks, his voice barely above a whisper. It’s comforting to know he takes this as seriously as I do, even if Derion’s grin reminds me this can be fun, too.
“More than ready,” Derion answers before pulling me into the kind of kiss that obliterates everything but the wet heat of his mouth and his demanding presence.
Dante begins to chant. Tiny pinpricks tickle my flesh moments before a gentle calm washes over me. When he brings himself to my entrance, I don’t clench. This doesn’t seem like the big deal I’ve made it out to be.
I gasp at the pressure when Dante enters me, then moan at how good it feels. It was good with Callen, too. But we never used magick to ease the process. If it’s always like this, I’m definitely willing to do it more often.
Derion breaks our kiss long enough to say, “I’m going to enter you, too. Keep your focus on my brother and me. Mostly me.” He winks, kisses me again, and glides into my wet center.
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