Tres: Ancient Warriors. Modern Women. Waking Desires.

by Jules River

  First, Mira said, “Liberum.” Then Faye followed, saying, “Tres.” Lyra finished, with, “Robustissimi.”

  Free. Three. Warriors.

  Then they waited, and they waited, and they waited some more, but nothing happened. Nothing, absolutely nothing. No puff of magic, no quaking earth, no crumbling stone. The three sisters stood as still as stone, as still as the three warrior brothers, each waiting with bated breath for a miracle to occur. And after a time, each let out the expectant breath she had been holding, and the brothers did the same, even if they could only do so in their minds. They were beyond disappointment.

  Faye’s shoulders slumped as she echoed what they all believed. “I really thought something would happen.” The others quietly nodded in agreement. “It’s late, I’m going to bed.” The sisters hugged each other tightly and slowly left the room.

  ***

  The brothers were impressed with the sisters’ skills with the dummy. The sisters had a good relationship and the brothers related, because that was how they had been when they were younger. They still razzed each other often. It was good to see the sisters were happy.

  The excitement was strong when Faye started toward them with the dagger, and once each of the three was reunited with his weapon their expectations ran rampant, only to be dampened when nothing happened. The brothers heard Mira and Lyra agree as the sisters walked out the door.

  They didn’t know what went wrong. No one knew what went wrong. The disappointment was so crushing, not one of them could bring himself to speak. In stoic silence, they held their emotions in check, but it was an appalling blow to their resolve to remain strong. Each had thought he would be feeling his woman’s soft skin beneath his touch by now.

  And then

  Tingling.

  That's how it started. Tingling, then faint vibrations. The vibrations became stronger, until they became great pulses, swiftly pumping from once-still hearts, like a river cutting through stone canyons. Blood flowed through veins, in great waves, filling and warming tissue, sending life to every fiber of their beings.

  Tingling.

  And that's how it ended. Their skin was flesh once more, their lungs filled with breath, their joints unfroze, their limbs could move again. And move they did, straight out of the office, up the castle stairs, and onward to the bedrooms.

  Once again, the warrior brothers were on a mission.

  Chapter 4

  Seventeen hundred years was a long time to live without living. As the warriors started up the stairs, they had to use all of their control not to savagely take that which had recently become what they most wanted in the world.

  Restraint, honor, and discipline were foremost on each of the brother’s minds. Warin led the way silently; they gestured with hand signals as they stealthily stayed to the shadows, quietly opened doors, each looking for the object of his desire.

  The first few rooms they came to were empty. Cenric opened one door and saw an empty bed, but a light was on in the attached bathroom, and he could hear a loud blowing noise. He took a few steps inside the bedroom, through another door he caught a glimpse of Mira reflected in a mirror. Quietly, he stepped back out and gestured to his brother that this was the room Warin was seeking. Warin nodded in understanding.

  Warin slipped into Mira’s bedroom, engaging the lock as he did so. He stood with his back to the door to calm his breathing and control his excitement. It would not be long before he would touch her skin, feel her flesh warm beneath his hands, and move as he had not been able to do for so many centuries. He would be patient.

  He was able to see Mira’s profile through the open bathroom door; she was wearing a short, pale-blue silk negligee that fit her curves perfectly, barely covering her sweet ass. Just then Mira turned off the blow dryer and brushed through her hair once more before she turned to the bedroom. As soon as she walked through the bathroom door she was grabbed from behind, one hand around her waist, the other over her mouth. She struggled and tried to scream to no avail, until her self-defense training kicked in. Mira went limp to throw off her attacker, then threw her head back for a head butt, stomped down with her foot and jabbed her elbows in the ribs behind her. Her attacker was taller than she was expecting so her head only slammed into his chest, she was barefoot so her heel did little to a booted foot, and her elbows did not even get a grunt out of the brute holding her. He was completely immovable. She felt his strength with every flex of the large muscles that surrounded her. She didn’t know that she could have stabbed him and he would not have let her go, Warin thought. His desire to touch and hold her was so strong, he was determined to hold on no matter how she struggled.

  As Warin put his lips to her ear and gently caressed her waist, she instantly stilled. Warin could not believe how perfect she felt. Her womanly scent had his head swimming. He wanted to bury himself in her soft warmth, so much so his hands were shaking, as he whispered, “Be calm, Mira, I mean you no harm. I wish to speak with you.”

  His voice was deep, rich, and rough, it caused butterflies in her stomach, but it eased her fears. Something about his touch and voice was strangely arousing, yet non-threatening; it made her body ignite and her mind think of deep, drugging kisses.

  Just the way he said her name was a caress, almost hypnotically possessive. She mentally shook herself, then nodded her head. Warin slowly removed his hand from her mouth and Mira tentatively turned her head to look at him.

  Warin could not resist, and quickly took possession of her lips. As difficult as it was, he was gentle as he rubbed his lips to hers. He sucked her bottom lip between his teeth and licked her lip, he could not release her from the kiss before tasting her mouth, at least for a brief moment. His male ego was pleased that she did not fight him. He was shaking with the restraint it took to stop kissing her.

  Mira was stunned and aroused. She still could not tell who it was with the light from the bathroom shining from behind his head, leaving his face in shadow. Something about him put her at ease as much as it unsettled her. She was appalled at herself for responding to a stranger as she had.

  Unable to believe her reaction to this stranger, and trying to regain some semblance of control, she shakily demanded, “Who are you?” Then, more forcefully and in better control of her emotions, “Let go of me!”

  Keeping her close to his body, unable to completely stop touching her, he did not let her out of his hands, but let her lean back slightly. She looked toward the bedside lamp and nodded, silently asking permission, then slowly reached out and turned it on, only to gasp as he was illuminated.

  She had to look up to him he was so tall, at least six-foot-four. He had short, dark-brown hair, strong facial features, nice lips surrounded by a trim mustache and goatee, which enhanced the masculinity of his face. He had a two-inch scar on his right cheek, just below the outer edge of his eye; that must have been painful at one time. Surprisingly the scar did not take away from his attractiveness and, if anything, it enhanced his dangerously good looks. He seemed to be nearing his prime, somewhere around 30 years old.

  Her thorough appraisal continued down his strong neck to his chest, bare except for the thick leather straps that crisscrossed his bulk, past sculpted abs and low-slung leather pants, to tall leather boots.

  He was so beautiful in a rough, very male way . . . and familiar. Could it really be?

  She continued to look at him in awe, then met his keen blue eyes. “You’re Warin Faust, aren’t you, the warrior chieftain?” She asked this in a hushed and stunned voice, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear his confirmation. Unable to hold his stare another moment, she followed his brawny arm to the firm hand at her waist.

  “Yes, you know me. You have touched me enough of late to know me well. You and your sisters did free us, only not as instantly as assumed.”

  Mira blushed as she looked up searchingly at his face and lips, and then her eyes again roamed the rest of his magnificent body; she could not keep the appreciative look out of her ey
es. His shirtless chest was even more appealing in the flesh than it was in marble. She thought the statue of him beckoned her touch, but the reality was so much more. She had to clench her hands to keep from running them all over him.

  Warin was greatly pleased with the looks she gave him. Mira was so stunned, she did not even try to hide her reaction to him. Her mind was racing, there were so many questions rushing through her, but all she could do was openly stare at him for a moment.

  She was finally able to calm her reaction to him and start to think again. It was difficult with his hands constantly touching her, kneading her hips where he held her, not letting her get more than arms-length away from him.

  When she found her tongue the questions came in a jumbled rush, “What was it like? What happened? Why were you cursed? How do you speak English so fluently? What is your native language? I mean, we have researched, and we are relatively sure you spoke Old Norse. Have you really been cursed for 1700 years? Were you sentient all this time? What are the three tasks that must be performed to completely undo the curse? What are your plans now? Why did you kiss me? Wait, where are your brothers?” Then she started to struggle, worrying about her sisters.

  He tightened his grip, “Easy, minn kona, your sisters are safe with my brothers. Come, sit with me.” As he gestured toward the bed with a tilt of his head, he pulled her down close to him, still holding her waist with their bodies partly turned toward each other. She gave him a weary look, but stayed, and waited for him to speak.

  He could not keep his hands still. He needed to touch her as much as he needed to breathe. He wanted so much more. He wanted to strip away the clothing that blocked his view of her beautiful body, he wanted to taste her all over, he wanted to feel her all over him.

  He tried to focus so he could concentrate on what she said, but chose to answer only a few of her questions. He responded slowly and calmly. “Yes, we were sentient, that is how we understand your English and German. But I know not of the tasks of which you speak. You and your sisters will help us.” He had questions of his own. “How do you know of the curse? Why have you been trying to free us? What do you gain from our release?”

  She was distracted by his thumbs rubbing circles on her sides, his hands lightly squeezing her, and she expected nothing less of a warrior from his time to demand what he wanted. She only hoped that all he wanted right now was help deciphering the tasks. As tempting as he was, she was not yet ready for anything more. She concentrated on his questions instead of his hands as best she could.

  “Our father found a codex telling of your curse. He died three years ago, and we are finishing his work. I’m not really sure what we would gain, as we did not even really believe in the curse, but having a complete set of a written prophecy and all its artifacts could be most lucrative if we wished to sell, though we would not have done that to our father’s memory.”

  Warin was satisfied with her answers, but still had many questions. And Mira had questions, too. “Why did you call me minn kona? What does it mean? Is that Old Norse?” She was fairly certain of its meaning and its origin.

  “Yes, it is Norse. It means ‘my woman.’ You are my woman.”

  ***

  While Warin was entering Mira’s room, Dunstin was slipping into another bedroom. From the hallway, he could just make out Lyra’s long, straight hair strewn across the pillows. Moonlight shining softly through the open curtains made her enticing form visible in the darkened room. He closed the door behind him, and made his way over to the bed.

  Dunstin longed to run his fingers through her hair, wrap his fist around its length and bring her beautiful mouth to his, but he only lifted the strands to his face and breathed deeply of her feminine scent, rubbing the silky hair between his fingers and thumb. The perfect features of her face drew his attention; she looked so youthful in slumber. Next he noticed her lovely breasts in a snug lacy camisole, and her flat stomach. She must have been warm, as not only was her upper body exposed, but one smooth leg as well. He could not resist skimming his hand down the extremely long limb to the high arch of her dainty foot.

  Lyra started to stir, so he quickly leaned over, holding her in place with his upper body, and put his hand over her mouth. The contact of his bare chest with her scantily covered warm body gave both of them a jolt. Instantly awake, her eyes snapped open. She struggled and yelled as best she could with his hand muffling the sound. Dunstin talked to her, quietly. “Be at ease, I’ll not harm you.” Caressing her arm with his free hand, he soothed, “shush, my beauty, shush, Lyra.”

  That's when she started fighting him in earnest, kicking him hard and repeatedly on the back of his leg with her bony heel, until he captured her legs with his. She dug her nails into his chest, and bit the hand that covered her mouth. He pushed his hand a bit farther into her mouth, extending her jaw so she could not bite down as hard. He was rough with her, and Lyra gave him a killing glare. Dunstin sternly growled, “Enough, Lyra, you will cease to fight me.”

  As he sat up on her, straddling her hips, he quickly removed his hand from her mouth and grabbed both her punching hands in one of his and held them above her head. She was furious at being restrained. He was so close to losing it at that moment, with her warm, soft body beneath his, he had to take deep calming breaths until he had his emotions and body under control once again.

  Lyra stared at him, speechless. She could make out in the dim light that he was one of the statue’s warriors, and her guess would be this was Dunstin, but she was still as angry as hell. Anger, however, did not keep her from raking his body with her eyes. She did not even go over the ‘is-that-really-you’ part, but just started in on him right off. “How dare you come into my room while I’m asleep and manhandle me! Just because you were a statue and you’re from another time does not mean you can get away with this kind of behavior. I will not put up with it! Now get off of me, you ill-mannered behemoth!” And she gave a body shake trying to dislodge him, and kicked the bed for good measure. She was uncomfortable with the reaction she was having to him, so she hid behind her anger.

  Dunstin just looked down at her and laughed. He even put a bit more of his weight on her to really aggravate her. “Lyra, my lovely, you’re not in a position to be giving orders. If you’re sweet, I'll let you rub your greedy hands on me in the flesh this time.” He wanted to tease her after her comments when she had first seen him in statue form.

  Lyra was embarrassed and so tempted, but she was not about to show it, and she was also spitting mad. “Greedy hands? I have NO desire to EVER touch you! You arrogant Neanderthal! Get. Off. Of. Me.” She was driving him crazy, he wanted her so bad. Right away he realized he enjoyed making her angry, because she was damned sexy when she was angry. Her skin flushed, her eyes sparked, and her breathing became labored, causing her breasts to expand over the top of that tight little sleeping garment.

  “Neanderthal, huh? Oh, you want to touch me as badly as I want to touch you,” he said as he leaned forward and captured her lips with his. He was not gentle, he was in too much need to be gentle at the moment. He kissed her until she softened for him, he nipped her lip and slipped his tongue in when she gasped, letting her taste him and learning her textures. She was overwhelmed by the feel of him on top of her and his exotic taste. When she whimpered in the back of her throat, he pulled back and looked at her with lust-filled eyes. If he did not stop now, he would not be able to stop at all. He was certain she would hate him if he took what her body was agreeable to, but her mind resisted, because her body was more than willing to give into him now. But he needed her mind as well as her body, so he would be patient.

  ***

  Cenric found Faye sleeping in the room across from Lyra. It was pitch black in Faye's room, but with the light from the hallway he saw she was uncovered completely. She looked amazing, in a curve-hugging tank top and lacy panties. He could smell her clean, intoxicating scent the moment he walked in the room and closed the door; her scent aroused him so much he felt lighthead
ed. He ached to touch every inch of her lush body with his hands, his mouth, his body.

  He made his way to Faye in the darkness, and while reaching for the bed, he ended up placing his hand on her stomach. His blood quickened, and his heart pounded faster at the feel of her supple body under his hand. She was soft, warm and womanly. He could not keep from stroking her stomach, moving up to skim the bottom of her breast.

  Faye started to awaken, so Cenric slipped his arm around her waist to hold and calm her. Faye grabbed the shoulder of the arm he had wrapped around her, then twisted and turned, tossing him over her onto his back as she rolled on top of him and tried to punch him in the face. Before she could punch, he had her by the back of the thighs, rolling her under him with a growl, pinning her down, and attaching his lips to hers in one smooth movement. He nibbled, licked and pressed her to open for him. In between each kiss he tried to calm and coax her. “Kiss me.” He stroked her lips, “Faye.” He licked, “You’re mine.” When she responded to him, he drank from her lips thirstily. “You know me,” he said as he rubbed his body against hers, “now feel me as flesh.” Cenric was out of control, she was so responsive to him, beyond tempting; he had no thoughts of stopping until they were both sated.

  Faye was very aware of every place his hard body touched hers. She could feel his size, his large, hard muscles. The feel of him on top of her, moving against her, was extremely arousing. She was unable to hold back the moan that escaped from deep in her throat. The intensity of the way he made her feel filled her with trepidation, and she did not even know who was making her feel that way. She was embarrassed at her brazenness toward this stranger, but was powerless to stop kissing him as desperately as he was kissing her. He was moving too fast, and started lifting her top, and trying to remove her panties. Suddenly, it was all too much for her. She reached out, feeling blindly around as she continued to respond to her intruder. Her unsteady fingers wrapped around something hard on the nightstand, then she did the only thing she could do. She cracked the lamp over his head.