Sunsinger

by Robyn Bachar

  “Gently, my lord,” she warned. “Your fears are quite loud.”

  “My apologies. I’m still not used to all this.” Galen smiled weakly. “You’ve already done more to defend House Sunsinger as its lady than I ever did as its lord.”

  “Don’t say that, that’s not true,” Malcolm scolded. “You’re a great lord. And a great handler. We’ve saved lots of people.”

  Andee tugged them close and gave them each a quick kiss. “You’re both heroes. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. I am blessed to have two amazing mates. We’re all going to survive this mission, and then go home to Cyprena and start our new lives together.” Andee did her best to sound confident, almost managing to convince herself in the process. “Now I insist that you both get naked and pleasure me.”

  Malcolm laughed, wrapped his arms around her tight and kissed the top of her head. “You’re the amazing one.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” She basked in his energy, indulging in his adoration and affection—she could certainly get used to that. Andee had never been the focus of so much attention before. She was used to slipping through rooms unseen, unnoticed, listening to conversations about more important people and more important things. But Malcolm and Galen looked to her with such intensity that it made her skin flush. She was the glue that held them together, the calm center that sheltered and protected them. It was a humbling responsibility.

  “It’s strange,” Galen murmured. “I’ve wanted a family for so long, but I was afraid of starting one. I thought I would never find a mate who understood me. Or who would even want me. I am so fortunate to have you.”

  “You are most fortunate, my lord,” she teased, “and don’t you forget it. You may change your tune when I’m cranky and round with child, or so on fire with the phase that I ride you to exhaustion.”

  “You’ve already ridden me to exhaustion,” Galen said.

  Malcolm snickered. “Oh, you have no idea. I’ve seen Cy’ren in phase. It’s crazy. No one can keep up with that.”

  “Well, then we had better work on your stamina, a’mhainen.” She smiled and nuzzled his neck as though he were a Cy’ren male. They would have to remember not to bite him—they had been diligent about it thus far, but it would be all too easy to give in to the instinct. Andee traced her fingers over his throat. “Would you want mate marks, like a Cy’ren?”

  “I think I have more than enough ink,” he said with a slight grimace. “Humans have many traditions to show that they are mated, but a popular one is to wear rings. Wedding bands.”

  Andee nodded, remembering that Tali, Dack and Carmen each wore a matching band. “And that would please you?”

  “Very much.”

  With a thoughtful expression, Galen traced the bruise Malcolm had left during his clumsy but enthusiastic attempt to bite her on Argent. “Andee gave you her throat?”

  “Yeah. It wasn’t the same, but it seemed the thing to do. Was that wrong?” Malcolm asked, suddenly concerned.

  “No, it was exactly right,” Galen said. He turned and bared his throat to Malcolm. “I hoped you might take mine as well.”

  “Hell yes,” Malcolm said. Andee smiled as he pounced on Galen, their shared hunger heating her skin as she stripped and knelt atop the bed.

  Galen moaned as he clutched Malcolm close. Andee stroked her clit as she watched them. Galen was pale and perfect, nearly shaking with the pleasure of his submission to Malcolm. When they finally parted Andee patted the bed beside her.

  “Lie back, my lord,” she instructed. Galen lay atop the bed without question, and Andee drew Malcolm close and embraced him. She nuzzled his ear as she whispered to him. “I want you to take my ass when he takes my cunt.”

  “You’ve done that before?” he asked, and she nodded with a wicked smile.

  “Yes. I’ve been dreaming about having you both inside me. There’s a bottle of lubricant in the locker there.” Andee gestured to the wardrobe where their clothing was stored.

  Malcolm quirked a brow. “You brought lube on a mission?”

  “Better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it,” she countered. Malcolm chuckled as he left to fetch it.

  Andee straddled Galen and sheathed herself on his cock, purring with pleasure as his grip tightened on her hips and he thrust deep inside her. Malcolm retrieved the lube and coated his shaft with it as he positioned himself behind Andee. She lay atop Galen’s chest and shivered in eager anticipation as Malcolm rimmed her entrance with a dollop of the cold, clear gel.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Andee replied.

  “What are you doing?” Galen asked, peering up at them with a quirked brow.

  Malcolm worked his cock into Andee without reply. She pushed back against him, completely filled by her mates. Malcolm placed his hands over Galen’s where he gripped Andee’s hips, and the three of them moved together.

  Andee moaned, gasped and nearly sobbed her approval, their shared pleasure intense and consuming, like a supernova. The physical sensations were phenomenal, but it was more than that. Sharing her body with her mates was more than she could have ever hoped for—even the many splendors of shadow sword victory celebrations paled in comparison. She had experienced lust before, but Galen and Malcolm loved her, and each other. This was perfection. This was completion.

  Andee shuddered in blissful climax after only a few thrusts. “Again,” she cried out. “More.”

  Malcolm was happy to comply, and Andee knew the moment that his gaze locked with Galen’s. Something primal passed between the males, so hot she was certain it singed her skin. With an eager growl Galen grabbed a handful of Andee’s hair, bared her throat and bit her. They writhed in ecstasy as the bite overtook them, and Malcolm soon followed as he came as well. Malcolm withdrew and lay beside them, and Andee purred as she cuddled between her mates.

  “Lube should be required equipment for every mission,” Malcolm said. “There’d probably be a lot less war that way. Soldiers would be in better moods.”

  Andee giggled. “Agreed, a’gra.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bryn stared at the twilit ruins that covered the surface above the Morningstar enclave. The enormous mining drill that spelled the city’s doom continued to grind through layers of earth and rock, and ominous constant rumbling filling the air.

  “It’s a shame we can’t disable it,” Commander Maysen said. He had handpicked three of his best men to accompany them on the mission. A small team was best for this kind of mission, as it would help them avoid detection.

  Bryn glanced at the shadow sword. “I know, but then they’d know we’re here.”

  “That hole’s going to be difficult to patch,” Maysen said.

  “Sort of gives new meaning to ‘security breach’,” Bryn muttered.

  She eyed the crumbling archway of the only remaining wall of the building closest to them, and wondered what it was like to have lived on the surface. The air seemed sharper up here, fresher—it hadn’t been recycled countless times through the scrubbers that kept the enclaves breathing. Cy’ren had lived below ground for generations, believing their armored homes to be safe from hostile off-worlders—or each other. Bryn scowled at the silhouette of the giant drill—nowhere would be safe as long as they were in Syndicate space. She hoped the Alliance was sincere in courting Cyprena for membership. They could use the backup.

  “Enough chatter,” Jace said. “Let’s move out.”

  He hopped onto his glider bike and kicked the engines into hover. It had been a bitch and a half to get the bikes to the surface, and Bryn was dubious about how trustworthy the things were. They had been used by couriers to ferry packages through the city, and if they were anything like the couriers Bryn remembered from Winter City, the machines were cobbled together with spit, twine and sheer orneriness. But they were small enough to avoid being detected from orbit, especially with the interference from the ruins that covered Cyprena.

  Bryn might have im
agined it, but she thought she heard the wind whistling past her helmet as her bike picked up speed as she zoomed after Jace. Not too fast—they didn’t want to end up as greasy splotches on a piece of rubble—but they didn’t have time to lose. Each second brought the drills closer to the Sunsinger and Morningstar cities.

  Their team wove through abandoned streets overgrown with weeds, scaring away flocks of birds and squealing rodents as they passed. Hopefully they were traveling too fast to be attacked by any of the local predators.

  It took most of the night to travel to their destination. Finding a place to cross the river slowed them down, because the bikes couldn’t travel over water and most of the bridges had long since crumbled from disrepair. Thank the gods that the cities were on the same continent.

  There was no drill over Winter City, and no Syndicate or Nightfall forces in sight. Bryn gnawed on her bottom lip as she pondered what that meant. Either she was right and Lord Bildanen thought the lesser houses were beneath his notice, or the Winter houses had already joined him.

  They pulled the bikes to a stop and hid them in the ruins of what had once been a temple to some god or other, probably one of the love deities judging by the faded erotic scenes painted on the walls. Bryn pulled a sensor unit from her pack and began scanning for energy readings. If Winter City was in lockdown, she would have to find a spot to splice into their comm. and bargain for entry. She’d never hoped for a city to be in lockdown before, but if they were locked down, then they weren’t on Bildanen’s side.

  “How long will this take?” Jace asked.

  Bryn grimaced. “If you wanted speed, you should’ve brought a real tech. I haven’t done this in a while.”

  There hadn’t been much opportunity for system hacking at the brothel. Not for lack of trying, because Bryn had attempted to escape at every chance. But Jace and the other shadow swords were more martial than tech minded, so she’d drawn the short straw in searching for comm. access. Plus the others seemed to hope that as a Wintersend she would have some miraculous insight into the Winter City comm. codes. She hadn’t been home in over five years—it was safe to say that the codes had changed a few times since then.

  The scanner led her to a communications relay, and she pulled an access panel from its base and frowned at the wires and circuit boards within.

  “Maybe we should just knock,” Bryn said. Jace scowled at her, and she swallowed the urge to tell the second son to lighten up. He wasn’t the second son anymore, and the term that had been an endearment would only cause him pain. Instead she nodded toward the east. “Go watch the sun rise, Morningstar.”

  “You’re a Morningstar too, now,” he reminded.

  Bryn’s gaze flicked to Commander Maysen, wondering what the shadow sword thought of having her as a lady of his house. Sabine was a more acceptable option. Wouldn’t it just chap their asses if Bryn ended up producing the Morningstar heir once she was fertile again?

  After burning her fingers three times Bryn spliced into the network, and then blundered about trying to get someone’s attention. It was easier than she expected because the city was on alert and no one was supposed to be accessing units on the surface. A security officer pinged her, and she activated the data pad’s vid screen.

  “This is Lieutenant Brynnaren Viera, requesting access to Winter City.”

  Silence. Not surprising, considering she had been officially declared killed in action after the Sabre had been destroyed.

  “Please provide your identification code.” The screen remained black, and the tiny electronic voice didn’t provide a clue to who was speaking. Bryn rattled off her ID, the numbers as familiar as her name. Silence carried on for so long that she smacked the pad with the palm of her hand, wondering if the damn thing had shorted out. Finally a familiar face blinked into view as the video engaged.

  “Heard you were dead,” Hex said.

  “Yeah I get that a lot. Your hair still looks like shit. Guess some things don’t change.”

  Hex barked a braying laugh and self-consciously brushed at her spiky pink hair. Hexarya Dennin had been a few years ahead of Bryn, and became the youngest instructor at the Winter City shadow sword training facility a few months before Bryn left. Bryn didn’t remember much of the night they’d spent celebrating Hex’s promotion, but the hangover the next day was seared into her memory.

  “Where’ve you been?”

  Bryn shrugged. “Was captured, sold into slavery. Found a couple of mates and settled down. In fact I brought one of my mates to visit. He’d really like a tour of the city.”

  “I bet.” She snorted. “We have your location and we’re sending an escort to you. Hang tight.”

  “Will do. Viera out.”

  “Friend of yours?” Jace asked.

  “Old friend. She could drop you in a heartbeat,” Bryn replied.

  “Then I hope you will defend me, a’gra.”

  “Are there many female shadow swords in House Wintersend?” Commander Maysen asked.

  “Not many, no. There are a lot of applicants, but most don’t make it through the training. It’s tough,” Bryn said. “A lot of females can’t hack it. They’re not built like a cargo hauler like I am.”

  “You’re not built like a cargo hauler,” Jace admonished.

  Bryn grinned. “Kicked your ass, though, didn’t I?”

  Maysen cleared his throat. “Will you be changing the House’s policy on allowing females to become shadow swords, my lord?”

  For a moment Jace blinked—Bryn did as well, for neither was used to Jace being referred to as the lord yet—but then he nodded. “Yes, I believe so. Brynnaren has opened my eyes to Cy’ren females’ effectiveness as warriors.”

  “Good answer,” Bryn said. “Maybe if you ask nicely you could hire Hex as an instructor.”

  “Lady Andelynn thrashes our recruits on a regular basis. Or she did, before—” The commander stopped and straightened. “It’s not my place to say.”

  “Before what?” Bryn prompted, curious. She looked forward to grilling Andee for details about her combat training when she returned from her mission.

  Commander Maysen looked to Jace for permission to speak before answering. “Lord Najamek forbade Lady Andelynn from visiting the barracks once Lord Degalen began courting your sisters.”

  “Why?” Jace’s brow furrowed, and Bryn snickered. Considering that Jace had been a virgin until recently, he must not have participated in the extracurricular activities that went on in the barracks.

  “Understood, Commander,” Bryn said, saving the male from having to explain. “Why don’t you set up a perimeter to keep a lookout for our escort?”

  “Yes, my lady,” he replied before retreating.

  “What am I missing?” Jace asked her once they were alone.

  Bryn chuckled and smiled dryly. “The many pleasures of victory. I assume no one bent you over after you lost a sparring match?”

  His jaw dropped. “No, why would they?”

  “In your case, the question is why wouldn’t they, and the answer is because you’re a lord’s son. I have many fond memories of winning and losing. I went into phase for the first time while I was a recruit. It’s a good thing the houses weren’t at war then, because we wouldn’t have had a sword free to man the defenses.”

  Jace growled, and Bryn pulled him close before he decided to do something foolish like defend Andee’s honor. “Hey, I’m yours and Sabine’s now, just as your sister belongs to Lord Degalen. Calm down.”

  “Do you think she hates me?” he asked suddenly.

  “Andee? No. Why would she?”

  “Because I forced her to become Lord Degalen’s mate. It wasn’t fair to her.”

  “You didn’t force her. You asked her to talk to him about it. She could have said no.” But then one of Jace’s other sisters would have taken Andee’s place. “You could change that tradition too, you know. I’m not thrilled at the idea of one of our future children being used to seal some political deal.”
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br />   “I know.” He sighed and shook his head. “A lot of things may change if we survive this.”

  “When,” she corrected. “When we survive this.”

  Jace leaned in and kissed her quickly. “With you at my side, we can conquer any foe.”

  “Excellent answer, my lord,” Bryn said.

  Their escort included a few shadow swords that Bryn had known before her capture. It was odd to see them again after so many years—it felt as though a lifetime had passed since she last set foot in Winter City. Their presence made Jace a bit more surly and possessive than necessary, but he wasn’t being ridiculous about it, so Bryn let it slide. Most males seemed to add gratuitous swagger to their stride when other males were around their mates, and Jace was new to the mate thing. Bryn had always been possessive over Sabine, but had never been able to act on it before. Poor Sabine—between Bryn and Jace, she had many years of growly mates to endure.

  Winter City was as cramped and overcrowded as Bryn remembered. It lacked the artistic order of the Morningstar enclave, nearly every square inch of the cavern occupied from ground to ceiling in mismatched layers of construction. Three houses had crowded into the space when the Cy’ren had abandoned the surface. House Wintersend and House Icefall had come from the southern continent, and House Everwinter from the north. Historically the three houses had never been allies before, but they had never been enemies, either. Many of the lesser houses had started out with bad blood between them, resulting in new grudges once they were crammed into close quarters. The Cy’ren of Winter City had bonded with each other over their mutual dislike of everyone else. Their escorts eyed Jace with suspicion, and Bryn like a traitor.

  “Where did you live here?” Jace asked as their transport traveled to the hall of lords. There wasn’t enough airspace for shuttles to travel above the city, so intercity travel consisted of a tangled network of ground cars and trams.

  “I had an apartment near the barracks.” Bryn waved in the general direction, but the building wasn’t visible from their current location. “I’m sure someone else rented it after I was reported dead. I wonder what happened to my stuff. Not that I had much of anything.”