by May Dawson
Anticipating that they’ll be cold like Airren was, and remembering how I heated the Fox’s body after I dragged him out of the half-frozen sea, I unbutton their shirts and then pull off my own. I unlace my boots before, dragging blankets over my shoulders like an unfashionable cloak, I climb into the bed between the two of them.
“Wake,” I murmur, pressing my hand to Cax’s face first.
His green eyes fly open as his lips part, drawing in a frantic, desperate breath. “You’re alright,” I tell him, rubbing my thumb across that chiseled cheekbone. “I’ve got you.”
“I was having the weirdest dreams,” he murmurs, and then his gaze slips behind me and he frowns as he takes in the room. “Wait. Where are we?”
“Minsk.”
He scrambles to sit up, and the movement pulls away from me. His skin is still cool, but he’s alive, and he’s fixed on Mycroft. He touches Mycroft’s chest, then turns to me with wild eyes. “Croft. Fix Croft.”
“I will,” I promise him, even though I can’t shake this terrible, desperate fear that I won’t be able to wake the last of my men.
I run my hand over Mycroft’s bare chest. His skin is icy to the touch, and panic flares in my chest as I murmur, “Wake.”
Nothing happens. Cax rests his hand on my hip as he looks over my shoulder. “Is this what it was like before? It takes time?”
There’s an eager note in his voice, and an edge of fear.
“Yes, sometimes it takes time,” I say, sounding confident, because I’ve done this twice so I definitely know what I’m doing, right?
I murmur the words of the spell to wake Mycroft again. I lean over him, pressing my hands to the hard, chiseled planes of his chest; his heart still beats, but faintly, distantly. My hair sweeps across his body as I study his face.
“Come on, Mycroft,” I murmur as I lean forward and rest my forehead against his. My heart gallops wildly. “Please. I need you.”
Mycroft comes to life, wrapping cold arms around me, pulling me down against his chest. His skin is still icy to the touch, but when his eyelashes flutter open, they’re full of heat.
“You’re alive,” I murmur, gratitude and relief sparking in my chest. Deep down, I never thought I’d be so lucky as to have all my men back again.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily, princess,” he murmurs.
The golden specks in his eyes remind me of flames in that moment. He sits up in the bed, his hard arms still wrapped around my body, and presses his lips to mine.
I kiss him back wildly. It doesn’t matter that his body against mine is still so cold that goosebumps race across my skin and my muscles tense. His lips tease mine open, and our kisses deepen. My fingers curl deep into his broad shoulders. Heat races between my body and his, drawing his temperature up, and by the time he pulls away from me, his body is warm again, his heart beating.
“Leave it to you,” Cax says, shaking his head, “to kiss the girl before you’ve even thawed.”
Mycroft’s mouth turns up at one corner. I expect some smartass quip like usual, but instead, he grabs Cax’s shirt and tugs him close. I’m still straddling Mycroft’s lap as his lips sear to Cax’s narrow mouth. Cax moves closer, his gaze intent on Mycroft, but he wraps his arm around my waist as he leans in to Mycroft’s kisses. Beneath my thighs, I can feel Croft harden. He’s definitely defrosted.
Mycroft’s hand brushes the small of my back, then drifts down the curve of my ass, as he shifts away from Cax.
“I thought I was going to die,” Mycroft admits in his usual gruff, level voice. “And the worst part was that I wasted so much goddamn time with you all. I don’t intend to waste any more.”
“Sounds good to me,” I say, right before Cax kisses me. His hand catches the side of my face, his thumb caressing the curve of my cheekbone. The two of us trade quick, hungry kisses that leave me smiling.
Mycroft shifts beneath me, and before I fully realize what’s happening, he’s tackling us both. I laugh out loud as my shoulder brushes Cax’s. Mycroft does his best to straddle us both, massaging my breast with his hand as he kisses me, then moving to kiss Cax. His hand warms against my skin as he palms my breast, caressing my nipple with his thumb until it tightens into a hard pebble of desire.
Cax laughs as he sits up, pushing Mycroft away. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I think there’s got to be a better way.”
Mycroft frowns, but Cax is already scrambling to his knees and kissing him again until the frown falls away.
Still, when they separate, Mycroft grouches, “Well, if you’re the expert—”
“None of us are experts,” Cax says. “That’s part of what makes it…”
He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to say special.
But the three of us are here in this moment because we all love each other. It is special.
Goddamn spies just can’t talk about their feelings.
But then Cax draws my back against his body, his arm a hard, warm bar sweeping across my lower abs. When I turn my head and he kisses me, I’m not sure we need to talk to know their feelings at all.
The three of us undress each other the rest of the way, tenderly, uncertainly; we’ve never been like this, the three of us, but we aren’t losing out on any more chances. Mycroft’s deeply bronzed skin and chiseled muscles, Cax’s pale limbs sinewy with muscle, my own soft curves; the three of us slip together as one, trailing kisses over familiar, beloved bodies.
I draw Mycroft into my hand, running my thumb over the sensitive spot at the head of his cock that always makes his eyes flutter closed, his jaw tilting skyward as if he has to work to hold himself together. Then I bend forward, taking his tip in my mouth, swirling my tongue around him until he moans softly.
Cax shifts behind me, sliding his hand up my bare skin, his touch raising sparks. He palms my breast and, when he toys with my nipple, I moan around Mycroft’s cock. Mycroft’s head falls back as if that alone could send him over the edge. Mycroft’s fingers tease through my hair affectionately, pushing it back from my face.
I reach back and catch Cax, pressing my hips back against him. I draw his tip in a circle across the slick warmth between my thighs. My clit throbs with need, and then his hips press against my ass, his tip gliding across my wet heat as he circles purposefully around my slit until I’m making soft sounds of desire around Croft’s cock.
I push my hips back into Cax, wanting more of him, wanting all of them.
Cax moves forward, trapping me between him and Croft, his cock pressing against the curve of my ass, just out of reach. Before I can protest, his hand sweeps across my thigh, drifting closer and closer to my clit until I’m going out of my mind with need. Then his fingertips settle against my slit, working steadily over my clit, teasing me as heat builds between my thighs.
As my clit swells with desire and a flush steals over my skin, I pour all my own heat into drawing my mouth down Mycroft’s shaft over and over. I run my hand over his thighs, feeling the corded muscles begin to tremble under my touch, until I can take his balls in my hand. They’re a satisfying weight in my palm to massage and toy with, and Mycroft—unflappable Mycroft—groans in desire.
I pop my hips up, pushing against Cax insistently, and I can’t see him but I know he’s grinning. He finally yields, brushing his tip over my wet heat until the tip of his cock finally slips inside. He keeps playing with my clit as he eases in and out, and my core squeezes around him. My toes stiffen against the bedsheets as tension tightens every muscle in my body.
As Cax toys with my clit and the two of us rock together, his cock hitting that sensitive spot inside that makes my limbs feel weak, Mycroft stiffens. His fingers tighten in my hair. Then he shatters inside my mouth. I swallow his salty heat, which reminds me of the taste of the ocean, and look up to find his gaze heavy-lidded with affection.
He leans down and kisses me. Seamlessly, he follows my motion, keeping time with Cax and I as we rock together. His lips caress mine, and I catch his hard-plan
ed face with my palm, holding him to me.
Cax’s arm tightens around my waist, drawing me tight to him as he comes, and my muscles shudder around him over and over. Mycroft’s lips burn across my throat, my breasts, as I come.
Then the three of us collapse into a pile of lazy limbs in that bed. I feel relaxed, warm, safe.
Devlin and I stole these men from death. I brought them back from the cold.
They must be mine. No matter what enemies we face, it feels like we’ll always find a way to be together.
Chapter 12
Mycroft slips ahead of me when we reach the stairs. His broad shoulders fill my line of sight as he descends ahead of me, and his head swivels back and forth as he takes in the sweeping staircase and the expansive marble foyer below. It takes me a second to realize that he’s being typically Mycroft; he’s gone ahead to check that the house is safe.
Cax, on the other hand, slings his arm over my shoulders. I smile at him as I match his pace, the two of us slowly walking together down the stairs, staying very close.
Mycroft checks from room to room, swinging doors open. Exasperation is written across his face as he crosses the foyer from the ballroom. “How many rooms are there in this damn place?”
“Too many. Devlin has no sense of moderation.”
“That’s certainly true.” It’s a familiar, musical voice.
Alia, princess of Avalon, breezes through the door that Mycroft has just opened.
Airren follows her, raising his hands to soothe Mycroft. “She’s here as a friend.”
“I’m here as an aggravated sister, actually,” Alia says, her eyes flashing behind Airren to Rian.
“The king shouldn’t be able to track her,” Airren assures us all, but mostly Mycroft, who appears on the verge of a heart attack.
“He gave me this little necklace so he could track me,” Alia explains, touching the pendant that hangs around her long, white neck. “Made from my mother’s wedding ring, so he knew I’d want to wear it.”
“So he can track you.” Mycroft says flatly.
“I altered his enchantments so I can change the location he receives at will. Right now he thinks I’m at my summer palace,” she says airily. “It’s really very convenient that the old idiot thought he’d use something of my mother’s against me.”
“Why are you aggravated?” Rian demands, his gaze intent om Alia. “By the way, I’m touched by your emotion at finding I’m still alive after Father sent half of Avalon’s soldiers to murder me—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she cuts him off. “Half of Avalon’s soldiers are loyal to us.”
“You two are planning a coup?” I ask.
“We are,” Alia says to me, and then pointedly to Rian, “and I thought we had a plan.”
“Things got complicated,” Rian says defensively.
“Complicated, indeed. And you six started a war,” she says, her eyes meeting mine as if it’s my fault. “Always knew you had it in you.”
“What are you talking about?” Cax demands.
“Tera’s sea monsters,” she says, “and I think at this point we can call them Tera’s sea monsters, since apparently she can control every magical beastie under the sun, from Avalon or the Rip.”
I’m not quite sure how to take that, but she continues on. “The sea monsters didn’t stop when they destroyed the ships that came after her. No, the monsters chased the shattered remnants of the Vasilik ships back into harbor, and then rampaged until they destroyed the entire Vasilik navy.”
“My father should be thrilled,” Rian says. He has a newspaper in his hand, and I slip down the stairs to take it from his hand. He seems amused by the whole thing, just as you expect from a playboy prince. “Good lord.”
I stare at the headline until it begins to blur in front of my eyes. “Vasilik declared war on Avalon.”
“It’s been coming for years,” Rian says.
“That’s easy to say when it’s literally not your face in the paper saying you started a war. Oh my god.” Everyone knows I have my magic back, and in big, scary, I-can-control-the-monsters-of-the-Rift way. In the black and white sketch in the paper, I’m smiling alongside the declaration of war.
“You’re being hunted by Avalon and Vasilik both. Soldiers, spies, assassins. Everyone’s on full alert for you lot.” Alia flashes us a smile that doesn’t quite fit with this bit of jarring news. “You need to get out of here.”
“Where do we go?” Cax asks.
“Primus.” Mycroft says. “No one will look for us there.”
“Because no one wants to go there,” I say.
“It’ll give us a chance to hide out and regroup,” Mycroft says. “I could use a few days to recover from you killing me, princess.”
“I only killed you a little.”
“Mycroft is right,” Rian says. “We need a plan. I have allies here in Avalon, but I need time to reach out to them. You can hide in Primus, and I can join you—”
“You have to come with us,” Airren says. “You’re in danger here. More than any of us. Even Tera, and that’s saying something.”
“Thanks.” I love the optimistic outlook.
“He’s right,” Alia says. “You need to get out of here, brother. There’s no place in the realm safe for you at the moment. Besides, I’ve got a mission for you.”
“Oh, you’ve got a mission for us?” Rian pulls a face at her. “You’re in charge now?”
“Given that I’m the one staying here facing down our father, who is increasingly paranoid and murderous given how you turned out, I think I’m in charge now, yes. And I need you.”
“Oh, I always like it when you phrase things like that,” Rian admits.
“You would,” she says.
“What’s the mission?” Airren demands, cutting into their sibling back-and-forth.
“Find the shield of Evalach,” she says without hesitation, as if she’s certain she will be obeyed.
“From the time of Arthur,” Mycroft murmurs.
“Would you fill in those of us who weren’t around then?” Cax asks.
Mycroft gives him the dark look that always accompanies any reminder of the age difference between them. “And teach those of us who don’t crack the spine of any book that isn’t a fantasy novel or an engineering text? Yes. The shield is a relic from before Avalon split from Primus.”
“What exactly does the shield do?”
“It hopefully saves our kingdom from being destroyed by the rips,” she says. “The war is the least of our problems.”
“How do we even get Earthside from here?” I ask. The portals are all guarded; there’s no easy way to slip through and be sure the king won’t discover our location.
“Oh, that’s easier than expected.” Rian says. “There are rips opening everywhere now.”
The four of us turn on him, and he says, “I know, I know. Even Intel doesn’t know how bad it is. We’ve been keeping the Intel cells as fragmented as possible. But the walls between realms keep tearing.”
“What’s making it so much worse than it was before?” I ask.
“The more people—or things, for that matter—pass between realms, the more the walls between them soften.” Alia explains. “Every creature brings part of its own realm with it, bleeding the old realm, and poisoning its new home…”
“My father’s doing his best to make sure no one knows,” Rian adds. “But we’ve understood what was happening since, Lord, before anyone was born. He just did his best to discredit anyone who spoke up.”
“Like my father.” I shake my head. I’m afraid to think of him as a hero, because he did such terrible things. I can’t sort out who he was before and who he was after.
Airren rests his hand on my shoulder, gently squeezing, as if he understands.
“Right,” Rian says. “Your father might have done terrible things, but he was absolutely correct that we need to seal the rips. Every bit of magic from another realm that leaks into a world…every monste
r, every creature…carries part of its realm with it. The walls between the realms are breaking down more and more all the time.”
“And yet people are still shuttling freely back and forth?”
“Just like we’re about to do,” Rian says. “Right? Because we have good reason. Everyone feels they have good reason.”
“The tech,” Cax says. “We’ve been going back and forth for the tech…”
“And it’s not going to matter soon,” Rian says. “Just like Tera destroyed Devlin’s castle, the walls are going to crash in between the realms. And it’s not going to matter how nicely anything was decorated to begin with.”
“How long do we have?” Airren asks bleakly.
“It could be years.” Rian’s voice is doubtful, as if he doesn’t expect it to be years. “But today, at least, the impending apocalypse is on our side. There’s a rip up that mountain.”
“Up the mountain,” Cax repeats. “Of course it would be up the mountain.”
“And the best part is,” Rian says, “this rip has garnered very little attention, since no monsters are coming through it except in the summertime, when people assume they wandered here from a farther distance.”
I frown at him, wondering why they’d be summer monsters.
“Because things die up in the mountains in the winter,” Airren finishes. “Great.”
“The shield of Everlach can repair the rips,” Alia says. “If you find the shield, we can save our people.”
“You’re leaving out one important detail, if I understand my mythology correctly,” Mycroft says.
“Let’s take this one step at a time,” Alia interrupts him. “Stay alive, overthrow the government. You know. Kid stuff.”
“Are you really going to be alright here, with—as you just said—our murderous, paranoid father?” Rian asks her.
Alia smiles ruefully, her eyes full of affection as she looks up at her brother. “This is our kingdom. If we aren’t willing to risk everything for it—to sacrifice everything for it—we don’t deserve to rule.”
