It gave Sitric hope, though Nuriel’s trauma and reaction to her abduction worried him. A victim who was frightened enough could easily turn into an abuser herself, and Sitric dreaded what action might become necessary if Nuriel took that path.
Chapter Nine
Once again Temair stood, flanked by Miach and Dathan, and with Zevan a firm presence at her back. Her mother looked on from a large, gold-toned mirror, likewise flanked by her husbands. There was a hint of sorrow in the Queen’s eyes as she realized the extent of the turmoil in the land and her own culpability in the situation.
Sorcha stood quietly beside the Earth Priestess. Her eyes were serious and sad; they were all glaringly aware of Nuriel’s absence. The golden Princess was still in the hogan, closely attended by Darmon and Pelagia, the only ones of Temair’s personal guard that she trusted.
They’d decided to have the bonding ceremony in the clearing where Temair and Elan had first made love, though neither of them had felt the need to share why the spot was special to them, and nature herself seemed ready to celebrate with them. A pure, crystal blue sky greeted them, and the sun’s rays caressed them softly. Even the trees had joined the festivities, pale yellow and pink blossoms blooming on waving branches.
Temair knew the moment Elan stepped from the cover of the trees and into the clearing by the expression on Sorcha’s face. Her magical foster sister had not yet met her soon-to-be Earth Consort, and Temair hadn’t thought to prepare her for Elan’s appearance. She spared a moment for amusement, and then Elan was in her line of sight, and Temair could focus on nothing but the beautiful man before her, and the steady presence of her husbands at her back.
“Princess.” The priestess’ voice was rich with the power of Earth, and seemed filled with heavy meaning. “Have you chosen your Final Consort?”
“I have,” Temair responded, locking her gaze with Elan’s. Those beautiful green and gold eyes lit with an inner flame that spoke of love and lust and deep contentment with his place at her side. Like Zevan, he seemed to almost disbelieve his good fortune at being chosen. What he didn’t understand, what none of her Consorts could possibly understand, was how very fortunate she was.
As her tour had begun, Temair had feared that the lack of time would prevent her from finding mates she could like and respect, let alone four men she could love. Somehow the Sacred Mother had chosen to favor her. Dathan already held her heart, while Miach had laid claim to her soul. Zevan drew such protectiveness in her that she knew it was only a matter of time before he, too, filled her with love. And now she’d found Elan.
Never could she have asked for a better man, a man more suited to not only her, but her three other mates. In Elan’s eyes, Temair saw the promise of security and affection that would last a lifetime and could provide the very foundation of a caring and compassionate family.
She’d come so far from the terrified, insecure child she’d been at the beginning of her tour, and she had these four remarkable men to thank for it.
“And of what House do you choose, Princess?”
“I choose my Fourth and final Consort from the Hogan of Earth.” A shiver, like the wind over a field of ripe wheat, seemed to breathe in the aire as Mother and her children whispered their approval.
“And whom do you choose?”
“I choose Elan, thirteenth son of Mother Earth.” Her Consorts’ approval surrounded her with a warm blanket of emotion.
“What say you, Elan, thirteenth son of the Hogan of Earth? Will you share your Earth Communion with your Princess? Will you comfort and defend her? Will you strive with her to build and protect a strong Queendom?” Elan’s eyes flared, amber and gold glowing for a moment as peace filled his expression. His face seemed softer, more relaxed than she’d ever seen it.
“I will do so.” His voice was firm and sure. “I offer the Lady my body, my Earth Communion, and my protection. And I offer it most willingly.” His unexpectedly disarming smile nearly undid her. In that moment she wanted nothing more than to be crushed in those thick, strong arms so she could show him how willing she was, too. “Indeed,” he added with an unfamiliar smirk that reminded her eerily of Miach, “I offer it most enthusiastically.”
“My Consorts have already begun to corrupt you,” she muttered with feigned displeasure. She couldn’t keep the scowl on her face, however, when said Consorts’ laughter surrounded her.
“My Lady Ambassador?” The priestess made way for Sorcha, who let her eyes rove quite obviously over Elan before quirking a brow at Temair. Her Consorts all laughed again as Temair blushed. She’d missed Sorcha so much, with her pragmatic outlook on life and her sometimes brutal honesty and common sense, which was tempered with her innate kindness.
The flame-haired princess faced Temair with two delicate golden cuffs lying on her palms.
“Sister of my heart, fellow ruler and friend,” the now familiar words filled Temair with peace and joy. “Will you accept the bonds of mating as a symbol to all that you are bound to your people, the Children of Earth?”
Temair held out her wrists for Sorcha to enclose in the cuffs. “I will do so,” she answered her voice reflecting the emotions filling her heart.
Sorcha turned to Elan, whose expression was as confidant as Temair had ever seen it. Sorcha gave the Earth Lord an appraising look before presenting him with two very heavy, very large gold cuffs.
“Elan, of the Noble House of Earth, will you accept the bonds of mating as a symbol to all that the Children of Earth are bound to the support and protection to their Queen?”
Elan offered his wrists without hesitation. “I will do so.”
“And will you respect your fellow Consorts, giving them the support and friendship they need and deserve?”
Surprise and pleasure filled Elan’s eyes as he answered, “I will.”
The flame-haired Princess turned to the three men surrounding Temair. “And will you welcome Elan to your family, accepting him to your home and to your hearts.”
Temair fairly burst with pride as Zevan stepped forward and said, “We have already done so.”
Sorcha gently guided Elan’s hands to cover Temair’s cuffs, and Temair eagerly wrapped her fingers around the heavy gold adornments that lay on Elan’s wrists. When Sorcha began the musical chant that would join them until the end of time, Temair’s heart sang right along with her.
When Sorcha raised her hands from theirs, the thick golden bands around Elan’s wrists were sealed seamlessly, a promise without beginning or end. The change to her own cuffs caused her to catch her breath. Miach’s delicate copper flames wound sensually with the silver waves of Dathan’s. Zevan’s rainbow-kissed hematite formed a solid lattice-work that reminded her of a heavy vine, and sprinkled over the surface, Elan’s gold formed the most beautiful, delicate flowers. Truly the Sacred Mother was pleased, and showed Her pleasure in the beauty of the symbolic cuffs.
“By the four elements of Emetra,” Sorcha concluded, “By the blood of Zirah’s beasts, and by the soul of Turnin’s magic, you have bound yourselves together.” Magic shivered in her voice, trembled in the aire. A sense of rightness, an almost physical caress of approval rippled over her, and Temair knew with the rock-solid certainty of a true Queen, that she had chosen well.
* * *
“The custom in Earth is that on his bonding night, a man’s responsibility is to pleasure his wife. His own satisfaction comes from hers,” Elan told her earnestly. Temair bit back her instinctive response, which was to tell him to cut it out and just make love to her already, and tried to ignore Miach’s raised eyebrows, and the fact that it appeared Zevan and Dathan were laying odds on her reaction.
A closer look into Elan’s eyes, however, revealed a lurking amusement that had her crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes. So her Earth Consort wanted to play? She couldn’t be more thrilled.
With a deliberately vague smile, Temair flopped backwards on the bed, spread her arms wide and said, “Okay, then, husband. Do your
worst.”
It was obvious her Consorts had conferred in advance, making a plan of attack, as it were, and Temair was perfectly happy to let them take the lead. She’d come a long way from the shy innocent who’d hardly known how to react when Miach commanded her to bare her breasts, but sometimes it was nice to let her men do the work.
Now her first three Consorts scattered through the room. Dathan pulled out the clay pot of fragrant salve that would add so much delicious slickness to the encounter. Miach lit a multitude of candles with a flick of his wrist, bathing the room in warm, shifting shadows. Zevan moved to pour drinks for all five of them before sprawling on the couch where Dathan and Miach had watched him and Temair less than a week before. Their various tasks complete, Miach and Dathan joined Zevon, and the three men observed Temair and Elan interestedly.
Elan’s smile grew at her dare, wide lips curling delightfully in pleased amusement. “Do my worst? Oh, I plan to.”
Dropping to his knees, Elan planted himself firmly between Temair’s dangling legs. Still smiling, he caught hold of her ankles, running a huge, hard hand up the length of each leg, spreading them wide and leaning even closer.
The skirt of her bonding gown caught on his wrists as he bared her limbs, and she shivered at the tendril of aire that licked playfully at her inner thighs. She shot Zevan a quick glance and found her Aire Consort hiding a smile behind his drink.
Elan easily recaptured her attention by lifting her legs and hooking her knees over his shoulders, leaving her open and vulnerable to his hands and mouth. He pressed soft, wet kisses along her inner thighs, then cupped his large hands under her bottom, lifting her further, drawing her pussy right up to his waiting lips.
Temair didn’t even try to hold back her cry when Elan’s tongue stroked over her outer lips. In less than a heartbeat the caress deepened. Elan’s mouth was hot and strong, his tongue delving along her folds, lips sucking. Her breath stuttered, and Temair arched in his hold, digging her fingers into the bedding beneath her; groaning and trying to press tighter against him.
Just when she was sure she couldn’t take one more second of stimulation, Elan drew back, glancing over his shoulder at his fellow Consorts. “Some help, gentlemen?”
Miach stayed on the couch, his chaos-black eyes alight with sensual enjoyment, but Dathan and Zevan moved smoothly to opposite sides of the bed, crawling onto the mattress on either side of her until they could press against her sides.
Zevan leaned down and licked lightly over her lips, running his tongue over the flushed curves before pressing closer and dipping inside. Temair shifted in Elan’s hold, trying to turn toward Zevan’s hungry mouth, but then Dathan distracted her, breathing hot, damp kisses through the fabric of her gown until her nipples pebbled in painful pleasure.
She felt her Rayne rise to meet them, her glorious consorts. A sheen of perspiration coated her flesh; the fine material of her gown stuck to her skin becoming almost transparent -- a fact her Consorts clearly appreciated. Moisture flowed from her pussy, and Elan dropped his head to feast on her, licking and sucking as if she were an exotic fruit and he was determined to devour every succulent drop.
Temair writhed on the bed, arching into Elan’s mouth, Zevan’s kiss. Dathan caught the tip of her nipple between strong, white teeth, biting down gently through the fabric, and she felt the climax growing in her core, a long, low wail burst free as, without warning, Elan thrust two thick fingers deep into her sheath, scraping over a spot so sensitive she almost saw sparks behind her closed lids.
Dathan’s nipping teeth, Zevan’s delving tongue, and the heavy slam of Elan’s fingers fucking her relentlessly threw Temair over the edge, sending her into an orgasm that felt like flying, like leaping off a cliff and hoping she wouldn’t shatter when she hit Earth.
She collapsed, limp, held up by Elan’s firm grip on her legs. Zevan continued kissing her; long, languid caresses of lips and tongue that brought her slowly back into her body.
“You are so beautiful,” Elan murmured against the inside of her knee. Temair smiled softly. When her Consorts loved her so perfectly she felt beautiful.
“I think it’s time to see more of that beauty,” Dathan commented with a naughty smile.
Elan gently lowered her legs to the bed and rose to tower over her. Dathan rose and caught both of her hands, tugging her to her feet. Zevan braced her when she swayed, still dizzy from her orgasm.
Finally Miach joined the festivities. While Elan was pulling his tunic over his head, baring the wide, bronze expanse of his chest, Miach moved behind Temair and began picking at the laces down the back of her dress. On each inch of skin he revealed, he pressed a kiss, decorating her spine with hot little bursts of pleasure.
She snapped her eyes open; she hadn’t even realized they’d slid closed. The sight that met her caused her breath to hitch. Dathan knelt and worked her slippers off her feet, and then guided her to step out of her gown as it puddled on the floor. He, too, had removed his tunic, and his velvety golden skin glowed in the candlelight. Zevan stood, naked, gray eyes burning as they roved her bare body. For once he seemed completely unaware of his piercings. His sole focus was on Temair, eyes flickering from her flushed, swollen nipples to the sheen of moisture on her inner thighs.
As beautiful as her Second and Third Consorts were, though, they couldn’t steal the focus from Elan. Temair had seen him bare, had taken him into her body, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of him standing naked and proud before her.
He was a giant of a man, but there was nothing bulky or awkward about him. Each muscle was perfectly carved. His neck melted gracefully into his shoulders; the cut of his hipbones seemed like a sharp arrow pulling her eyes to his rigid erection. His cock was as oversized and impressive as the rest of him. Dark with blood, the head broad and tantalizingly shiny with a drop of pre-cum, she almost couldn’t believe she’d taken the whole length and girth of him inside of her.
She couldn’t wait to do it again.
Spreading her arms wide, she whispered, “Make love to me, Consort.” His eyes flared gold and green, and he bent to sweep her off her feet.
Elan laid her gently on the bed, then lay beside her. He propped himself on one arm and leaned over her, chest so wide it blocked out the rest of the room.
“I want you in me,” she told him, raising her hand to run tender fingers over his silky scalp.
“I want to be there.” Moving quickly, he rolled to his back and drew her to straddle his hips. “I don’t want to squash you,” he added, as he helped position her on her knees.
Another body joined them, the bed dipped gently and a silky warm chest pressed against her back. She knew without looking that it was Miach. She’d recognize the touch of his skin anywhere.
Elan set the head of his cock at her entrance, and Temair began rocking gently against him, taking him inch by slow, torturous inch. She’d never felt so full, so complete, not even the first time they’d made love.
Miach moved closer behind her, cupping her breasts and tugging lightly at her nipples. Each pull seemed to streak directly to her clit, and she rocked faster, taking Elan deeper with a choked groan.
“So tight,” he moaned. He was moving under her, tiny shifts of his hips that told her the pleasure was owning him, too. “So hot, Temair. So perfect for me.”
Awash in sensation, her magics began to get the best of her. Slick, heated moisture flowed to anoint Elan’s cock, making each stroke sweeter than the last. Both Miach and the Earth Lord grunted in pleasure as tiny flames flickered over Temair’s skin, and when Miach bent his head to sink his teeth into the curve where her neck met her shoulder, she felt his flames leap to answer hers.
She rocked faster, leaning forward to plant her hands on Elan’s chest as she rose and fell on his cock. The Earth Lord moaned and some of his iron control slipped. He began thrusting back, rhythmic surges of his hips that lifted Temair like a wave on the ocean.
Behind her, Miach was busy with the s
alve, stroking her tight rear opening until the muscles began to relax just the tiniest bit. There was no way she’d fit even a finger back there while Elan filled her so completely, but the mere sensation of pressure sent her arousal soaring.
Her inner muscles clenched against the pleasure, and Elan cried out his appreciation of the muscular contractions. He was panting now, face flushed and sweaty. His hands rose to clutch at her hips and he began to move her faster, lifting and dropping her until every thrust was a blow she felt clear to her heart. His beautiful face contorted, and Elan began a low, grating moan that rose in volume until he was almost screaming and his big body jerked as his climax shook him.
Each jerk, each heated spurt, sent Temair closer to coming, and each shout vibrated in her core. Trying to fight off her own pleasure, Temair focused on Elan, squeezing her muscles as tight as she could and wringing out the last drops of pleasure from his body.
Chapter Ten
Slowly he began to soften, though he still filled her pussy. As the pressure eased, Miach became more persistent, probing with one long, slippery finger; then another. Temair gasped as her Fyre Consort set his cock against her opening and began to ease his way in.
Filled to overflowing. Filled beyond comprehension. Both body and soul.
As Miach’s cock rasped over Elan’s through Temair’s delicate tissues, the bigger man made a soft cry and jerked in response. “Too much,” he gasped, slowly lifting Temair until he slipped free of her body. Miach helped, wrapping his arms around her waist and shifting her back until she sat straddling his thighs, her back to his chest.
Zevan, who was growing more assertive every day, poked at Elan’s ribs until the Earth Lord rolled out of his way with a grumble. It didn’t take long for Zevan to take Elan’s place.
The Queens of Merab 4 Temair’s Earth Page 8
