Shadows and Shade Box Set

by Amanda Cashure

  And Three nods. I twist, untangling myself from Three’s chuckin’ awesome touch and shakily pulling myself onto my knees.

  “Then I want all of you,” I say, as Three’s hand is already gripping my hip and sliding me backward across the bed.

  “Your choice,” he says.

  I nod and keep nodding as he sinks himself inside of me, and the heat rips up through my core.

  “She’s still nodding,” Two says, diving onto the bed.

  And getting tossed to the side by One. In the process of throwing his brother off, One has ended up kneeling in front of me, and I grab at his still hard cock before he can escape – or possibly kill one of his brothers.

  Sparks rush over my fingers, smashing into the heat.

  Three gasps, slowing his thrusts until his whole torso is rigid, and the only motion is a slow pull and slam of my hips back against his cock. In my hand, One has done the same. Both of them locked in pleasure.

  I slip my mouth over One. Licking and tasting and moaning. It’s the moan that finally breaks them from their freeze.

  I’m not sure where Two and Four come from, but my mouth is controlled by One, and my free hand is wrestled between Two and Four.

  Three is gasping and thrusting and groaning too. One’s fingers lace through my hair, guiding and timing me, and I really wouldn’t care if he was in my mouth for eternity. Those burning eyes and the electricity rushing through me make time and logic dissolve.

  As his intensity increases, I try to sneak looks at his face, his expression. Every time I look up, I find him looking down at me.

  Three leans forwards, rubbing my clit and thrusting at the same chuckin’ time. When did that become possible?

  The tremors return. Three’s silky heat fails to even out One’s static and shock.

  “She’s almost there,” One says, pushing my mouth down further onto his cock.

  “Almost?” I hear Four grunt. “Move, Three.”

  I whine as Three gently pulls ever so slowly out. Hard as stone, Four moves into me, followed by whimpers, then moans, then all kinds of other noises as he thrusts with a desperate, demanding need to own each sensation. His grip on my hips is painful – and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Three leans in to rub my clit again. Harder, sliding up and down in the perfect burn.

  I grip him in my hand, managing to free the other hand from One’s cock.

  Four is fucking the shit out of me from behind. Two in my right hand. Three in my left hand, and One slowly lowering my mouth over his cock, past the point I’d normally pull back, past the point where I can breathe.

  “This is where you obey,” he says.

  Three’s fingers are gone. The warmth slowly retreats from the points where Four was pressed against my ass. His cock is pulling away very, very deliberately. Two grabs my hand and stills it.

  I whimper.

  No. They’re going to stop.

  All. Of. Them.

  Desperately, I nod, and One pulls my hair, forcing my mouth off his cock, pulls me forwards all of the way until I’m almost looking him in the eye.

  “Say it.”

  I’m nodding like a crazy person, and it takes me a few deep breaths to find my words.

  “I’ll obey you, whatever you want. Whatever you say… please.”

  He presses his lips to mine, kissing me like hunger itself would be satisfied by the taste of my mouth, as he leans me back and climbs on top of me, pushing himself inside of me with a desperate need to control, to have, to own.

  He doesn’t let go of my hair, doesn’t start gentle and build to ferociousness.

  He just fucks.

  And I just moan, quiver, and fall.

  My hand finds Three's cock on my left, gripping, pulling, drawing the heat from him and mixing it with the static from One. I don’t even know which brother I have in my right hand, but I feel his release and then a much bigger cock takes its place.

  Five breaths, six, not nearly long enough, as the heat inside me draws to the point of being unbearable.

  “Wait,” One orders.

  “Wait for what?” I gasp.

  “Wait until I say so,” he orders.

  “I can’t chuckin’ control this,” I try to say, but the explosion in me rips through the words.

  My back arches, my groan mixing with One’s, and a split second later, Three’s release wets my arm. And Four, I’m sure it’s Four, in my other hand. None of us are stopping, thrusting and rubbing and gasping until every last bit of power and heat and passion has twisted from pleasure into numbness.

  A contentment-filled numbness.

  My body is cold, and the guys retreat from me, leaving me bare and relaxed in the wake of bliss.

  Paralyzed by it.

  “Well, that wasn’t fucking worth it,” One growls, breaking something. Possibly a wall.

  “She’ll live ’til morning,” Three says, his tone flat. Hollow. Dead.

  My eyelids droop closed. Who cares about living when my body feels this high with rapture?

  “I should have stopped you,” Four growls.

  “I should have been allowed to join in more,” Two says, then gets hit. Possibly through a wall.

  That’s the last sound I hear. Two being thrown through a wall.

  World gone.

  Heaven found.

  Now forget the details of what you just read.

  None of it was real.

  It never happened,

  and it never will.

  Shade is with them. With Killian and Seth and Roarke. She’s supposed to be safe.

  I’m supposed to keep my distance, leashing myself. If that were even possible. It could be, if she could stay out of trouble and not get attacked by lizards. Not need to be rescued.

  We need to talk – I tell my demon.

  Currently – he says, words muffled by layers and layers of pain and distrust, – killing things.

  He finishes the man, ending his life. What’s ours can’t be harmed. Can’t even be touched.

  And then? – I demand, the man’s blood between our teeth.

  Then we talk – he says.

  I sit back, unable to offer more than my opinion unless I want to get into a very heated argument. And at this point I agree with every move he is making.

  Until he turns toward Shade.

  Beautiful – I think, unintentionally sharing the word with the beast.

  She has a name? – he asks, because of course he has not bothered to pay attention.

  Shade – I say.

  Beautiful – he agrees.

  In a sharp rush of power, we turn from beast to man, and I move toward the one thing we both want more than air or life or peace inside our own minds. The one thing burning through our joined souls with irreversible need.

  She falls into my arms, the crimson-gold threads entangling, fusing, becoming whole. I can’t see them like Killian, but I feel them.

  Mine – we agree.

  She must be. There is no other option.

  40.5 miles from Potion Master Eydis

  Majestic Silva trees have surrounded us all night. They were shadows and darkness as we raced from probable death and certain pain until the early morning light began to creep between the reaching branches. With a gentle shawl of mist lifting from the leaf litter, the day promises more peaceful things.

  Promises it, but I know better than to believe it.

  My four companions have slowed, their horses easing into a relaxed amble. We’re no longer moving at the speed of running-for-our-lives, and I’m no longer in danger of being thrown from my horse.

  I don’t ride, never have. It’s one of those things that most servants, especially a servant from the soot side of the border, just don’t do. When the order came in from a mysterious Sealer who turned up in the middle of the night, telling us to get our asses out of the White Castle and as far away from the wrath of Silva’s crazy DeathSeed ruler as possible, riding lessons were a luxury I didn’t have time for
.

  I’m on a short gray mare, and yes – she has reins. Those reins are being controlled by Roarke. The long-haired guy on the chestnut gelding to the side of me.

  Killian is riding the big black thing behind us. Pax, on a dapple-gray, and Seth, on a bay gelding, are riding ahead. All the horses are as different as their riders, but everyone is in their usual order.

  One – Pax. AlphaSeed, badass, and Commander.

  Two – Seth. ChaosSeed and the biggest pain in my ass.

  Three – Roarke. AllureSeed. The guy who knows everything, which is helped by the fact that he can draw information out of your mind at any time. As well as make you take your clothes off without saying a word. It has taken me a long time to trust this guy.

  And Four – Killian. DarknessSeed and the worst combination of sweet and deadly I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

  I’ve known sweet before. Jake, an indentured servant like me on Martin’s estate, was sweet. That was back when Silva was nonexistent, and the Enchanted Forest was just a scary forest off in the distance. I had no idea a whole realm was hidden in here, cloaked by magic and somehow much bigger on the inside than you’d think possible.

  Martin, the Manor Lord, on the other hand, was the kind of darkness that still twists my insides into knots. Knots of fear which curl through my limbs and take hold of my mind.

  “Don’t,” Killian orders.

  I jump a little in the saddle. Then wince, because saddle plus legs plus riding like crazy through the night equals pain.

  When did he even get there?

  Killian grunts, but I can’t tell if it’s a pleased or displeased sound.

  Roarke twists and runs his gaze over me, a concerned little crease in his brow. I just want to make it to the end of this ride, to our destination, and eat – then sleep – then eat again.

  “Don’t,” I grumble at Roarke. Why not? It works for Killian.

  Roarke’s gaze doesn’t shift. “Shade needs to stop.”

  Apparently, it doesn’t work for me.

  I know what I look like, I don’t need to see it reflected in his eyes. I was asleep when the assignment arrived. Comfortable and warm.

  Then my life went from bed to horse. My blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail, but after riding all night, strands have broken free and dangle in front of my eyes. I huff at one in frustration.

  On a lucky note, I had fallen asleep fully dressed, in a shirt and pants made of soft Silvari cotton, and I did manage to get my boots on my feet. Under the long sleeves, my left arm sports a thin blue length of cloth, tied around the old scars left by Lord Martin’s chains, and my right arm is bandaged securely around the wound I received from an attack orchestrated by Logan, nephew to the Crown of chuckin’ Death.

  Orchestrated by Logan, but carried out by Asanta – Seth’s stalker and the woman who wants me dead on a personal level – and her brother, Thom.

  Yep – life’s been peachy.

  We pick our way through the trees. Then, without discussion, Pax stops, swings down, and starts fishing in his saddlebags. No one else is surprised. We’re on a rough track, the kind made by animals, not horses and carts. That wouldn’t stop a cart getting through here, though, if one wanted to. The grass is flat, the trees well-spaced, and the low brush is scattered away from the track.

  Seth turns his horse in a circle, seeming to consider where he wants to get off, before stopping next to a tree and tossing the horse’s reins over a branch. The guy pops up onto his feet, standing in the saddle, and leaps straight up into the branches.

  “I’m getting a better look,” he says, then he’s gone.

  The Elorsin brothers have both the super-fast and super-strong thing down pat. They also have deadly fighting skills, and their own individual arsenal of abilities – Seeds of power that they were born with.

  I’m too busy watching Seth climb from limb to limb to realize that Roarke’s dismounted and tied my horse’s reins around the nearest tree.

  “Get down, stretch your legs,” he says.

  “Can’t,” I say under my breath, still trying to spot Seth in the canopy.

  Killian makes a chuffing noise as he rides up beside me. That’s his ‘this-is-going-to-be-funny’ sound. I turn to glare at him – and at the same time, he scoops down, grabs my foot, and tips me off the horse.

  I flail, then hit the ground flat on my back, gasping for air through the ache that vibrates down my whole body.

  Killian rises up in the stirrups and glares at me over the back of my horse.

  “No time for this,” he says, walking off.

  It takes me a few more gasps before the air actually reaches my lungs. Roarke’s long hair falls forward to frame his face as he holds a hand out to me.

  I accept with my good arm, and he pulls me to my feet. He doesn’t let go of me, though, clasping my fingers just enough to make me look up into his eyes.

  “Kitten, you know I can take it away?” His voice drifts between us, soft and tempting – but lacking the intensity of his Allure magic.

  By ‘it,’ he means my pain. The numb ache that has now settled in my broken arm, the throbbing in my head from hitting the ground, and the burning down my legs. Saddle versus skin apparently leaves the skin worse off.

  But I shake my head, slipping my hand free from his. It will all pass. Minor inconveniences, and not the end of the world.

  “No, thank you, but please fix him up.” I wave toward where Killian is grabbing a piece of bread from Pax.

  He’s taken off his cloak, and I can see his left shoulder has begun to weep. Sections of his black linen shirt have stuck to his skin. I’ve had a burn before, but not one that covered my whole shoulder and was caused by barging into a magically warded door to try and save some girl who can’t even defend herself – me. Regardless, I still know that leaving a weeping wound to dry means peeling skin off later.

  Roarke nods and moves off to collect supplies from Killian’s saddlebags. Killian, the man who likes to hurt things, is also the man who can feel when you’re hurting. That makes him our resident healer-of-sorts. The guy is really bad at looking after himself, though – maybe he likes being in pain. I don’t know. I’ve never asked him.

  “Here,” Pax says, closing the distance between us and offering me a roll. “You should eat something.”

  I sigh with pleasure, wrapping my fingers around it and taking my time with the first delicious bite.

  His sleeve falls back, drawing my eye to the seal on the palm of his hand. It looks like an angry black stick-figure frog, the style of drawing I might have done in the dirt with the kids from the Manor. Though, those were never burnt into anyone’s flesh by a SealSeed. It has a head pointed like an arrow. Arms and legs that curve and swirl. No body, though. Just lines. And over that, in red, are more curves and swirls, finished with three dots on either side.

  “Where are we?” I ask while chewing.

  “About an hour from Rengurra,” Pax says, putting the last piece of his own roll into his mouth.

  “Which is where, exactly?”

  “About a day’s ride from Potion Master Eydis’,” Pax says.

  It’s pretty much just him and me, and my new horse, in this conversation. Seth is still up a tree, and Roarke’s a short distance away, about to argue with Killian.

  Through the night and half a day to get here, another day to get to the border. When they snatched me from Martin’s estate – long story – I was knocked unconscious in the morning and woke in the White Castle two nights later. Thirty-something hours unconscious on Pax’s horse – I put a taco in his boot for that pleasure.

  “Why, when you guys can run faster than the wind, do we have to ride horses?”

  “Speed only lasts for short distances. Horses last for long distances,” he says, running his hand along the sweaty side of my mount. “We’ll have to get you something with more stamina in Rengurra. This little pony isn’t built for this kind of travel.”

  Killian finally gives in t
o Roarke and tugs his shirt up over his head. My mind switches gears. The guy is tall, built for battle, toned, and tanned. Two scars mark his body, one that cuts clean across his face and another across his chest. Scars he earned defending his mother until her last breath.

  “What else don’t you get?” Pax asks, partially dragging my mind away from the definition of Killian’s abdomen, where it vees and dips into the front of his pants.

  “Sex.” The word escapes – because apparently my mind wasn’t dragged far enough away from Killian’s complete hotness.

  Crap!

  My eyes widen, and I turn sharply to walk away.

  Pax practically chokes on his laughter, coughing to try to cover it up, but he catches my wrist before I can get too far. Stopping me, then stepping in close. Heat radiates off him, sinking into my skin at the points where he’s almost, but not quite, touching me. He dips his face down next to my ear. His breath skimming along my collarbone.

  “That’s going to be complicated from now on,” he says softly. “You can’t lay with a Saber. Our magic would devour your soul. Your own kind would be safest, and you could possibly satisfy yourself with a Silvari, but my AlphaSeed isn’t going to let that happen. It’s complicated.”

  I’m on the verge of saying that I have no desire to climb into bed with some random Silvari, because everyone in this realm, every Silvari I have met, has been an asshole. Almost everyone. Clara was nice, but she’s the one exception, and I’m not climbing into bed with her either.

  But before I can say any of that he’s dropped a new rule into my life.

  No sex.

  And instead of saying something sane and rational, I turn on him, yanking my arm free from his grip, and proceed to poke him in the chest.

  Which always pisses him off.

  “You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t sleep with,” I growl.

  “I’m only telling you because it’s a fact.” He sounds almost casual, but the slight glow in his golden eyes warns me that calm Pax is very close to becoming bossy-as-bralls Pax. My head tries to tell my mouth to shut up – but my mouth never listens.