The Gifted 2: Passions Aflame (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  Sometimes, the loss of a loved one left a whole in the heart that never closed. She’d met a mother whose son had died when he was in his late twenties and a woman who’d been widowed more years than her beloved husband had even lived. Neither had fully healed from their loss, and she knew, neither ever would.

  Mr. Kolm reached into his inside jacket pocket and withdrew an envelope. He laid it on the table and then pushed it toward Jeremy.

  Jeremy’s hand moved cautiously, as if touching the white vellum would somehow cause something horrific to happen. His complexion paled. He turned the envelope so that she—and Ryan—could see the writing on it.

  There was a tiny heart in the corner, where a stamp might go.

  Ryan paled as well, swallowed hard, and looked at Jeremy. “Do you want some privacy?”

  He looked torn. Meghan turned to look at Ryan. Then she leaned into Jeremy. “It’s all right, my love. You’re entitled to see it on your own, first.”

  He picked up the letter. “Thank you. I’ll be back.”

  Whether he planned it, or it was a slip because of the unexpected situation, she didn’t know. But Meghan did wonder when Mr. Kolm didn’t even appear startled when he vanished.

  Ryan turned to her. “Mrs. Smith used to put notes in Jeremy’s lunch box. She always put a heart up in the corner of it.” Ryan smiled, a quick little grin edged with sadness. “When he turned eight, he told her that he was too big for any more hearts. And she told him—”

  “She told me that was too bad because I would have her heart for all of my life.” Jeremy had materialized back in his chair. He turned his attention to Mr. Kolm. “Thank you for giving me this. It means a great deal to me.”

  “You’re welcome.” He tilted his head to the side. “There may come a day when I can do something to help you. You have my number and”—he nodded—“I have feeling you’ll be able to find me, in any event.”

  The three of them stood together, alone, in the driveway and watched the middle-aged man drive out of sight. It had been a very emotional day, and Meghan was ready to be alone with her men.

  “Will you share what was in the letter?”

  “I will, yes. But after.”

  “After?” She couldn’t stop her grin or the memory of the last time one of them had used that preposition on her.

  “Yes, after.” Ryan took her left hand while Jeremy reached for her right. “There’s something we need to do first. Something we very much want to do right now.”

  She expected the tingle. This time, she didn’t have to ask them where they were. It was the same spot they’d brought her to before—their favorite, adolescent hang-out beside the happy stream.

  “We had an image of us—just as the Fortunas were preparing to attack—of the three of us, dressed very much the way we were. Only...”

  Meghan smiled. She finished Ryan’s sentence. “It wasn’t the ‘us’ we are today, but us from another lifetime.”

  “Yes.” Jeremy kissed her hand. “We were together then, we three, as we are now. Or as we soon will be.”

  “We’d wondered, ever since you mentioned it, just what all was involved in becoming ‘mates.’ We knew it was more than just making love. But in that moment, we understood everything.”

  “We should have known the truth of it. The words are merely a statement and a promise. We’re already mated to you, sweet Meghan, in our hearts.”

  “But we need to say the words.” Ryan’s tone deepened.

  Jeremy had released her right hand. Ryan took hold so that he had both of her hands in his and lifted them to his lips. He didn’t kiss the backs of them, though, but her palms.

  “You are my mate—for life, for love, forever. No other heart shall beat with mine. Meghan Clark, I claim you.”

  Ryan stepped to the side and gave her hands to Jeremy. He, too, lifted them to his lips, kissing her exactly as his brother had done.

  “You are my mate—for life, for love, forever. No other soul shall dwell with mine. Meghan Clark, I claim you.”

  They’d known the words, for their magic had told them, just as it had shared the visions of what had been. Her vision blurred as she understood she needed no magic to see what would be. When she’d agreed to come here to this world, agreed to accept the mates that destiny would give her, she never truly expected to find her true soul mates. It didn’t matter, either, that her vision blurred. She didn’t need to see to share her heart.

  “You are my mates—for life, for love, forever. You are the beating of my heart, the pulsing of my soul, and no others will my eyes ever see. Ryan Jones, Jeremy Smith Jones, I accept your claims, and acknowledge you both as my husbands, my mates. No other heart, no other soul, shall twine with mine.”

  Then Meghan stepped back, and Ryan and Jeremy faced each other. They grasped each other’s forearms, an ancient greeting between brothers.

  “We are brothers, united, together.” Ryan’s words echoed with conviction and heart.

  “We will remain brothers and become husbands and fathers united, together.” Jeremy finished the sacred pledge. They nodded to each other, and the oath was done.

  Then her men turned to her. They both used thumbs to wipe away her tears. And then she was as naked as they were naked. Ryan scooped her up, lifting her against him. The heat of his engorged cock settled against her pussy, and Meghan sighed.

  “So hot. So sexy.”

  “That’s my description of you, baby.” He took two steps to the bed they’d conjured and lay on his back, so that she was on top him.

  He guided her head down, but she needed no urging. She kissed him, her tongue tangling with his, her lips sliding against his in a rhythm immediately deep and sensual. She felt Jeremy behind her as his hands stroked her nape to ass. She lifted her mouth from one mate and turned her head to kiss the other. The flavor of Jeremy on her tongue mixed with that of his brother’s, and Meghan recognized the blend as necessary to her very existence.

  Jeremy kissed his way down her back, and she returned her mouth back to Ryan’s. His hands caressed her, sliding up and down her sides, his thumbs stroking the swells of her breasts. Behind her, Jeremy tented her, stroking her back and bottom and then massaging cool gel onto her rosette, his fingers seductive in their strength.

  Ryan lifted her, and she reached down, grasped his cock, and brought it to her slit. She sank down on him, the sensation so good she couldn’t hold back her moan. And then, behind, Jeremy’s fingers continued to play, to stretch, and the burning promise of the joining to come ignited her fires and heated her blood.

  Then he pressed forward, his cock finding the exact spot against her anus, pressing until her sphincter gave, and he entered her, sinking into her to the hilt.

  Reality faded, overlaid with mists of color and wisps of ancient times. Behind her closed eyelids, she caught a glimpse of lifetimes lived, loved, and cherished. Swirling and dipping, the veiling mists surrounded them, transporting them to a place that was both private and magical. Held within the womb of a leafy bower, the scent of spring blossoms and the sound of sweet birdsong filled the air. Here, in a place she at once knew was sacred and theirs, Meghan gave herself to her men, the thrusting of their cocks now the center of her being. She took, and she gave, her body squeezing them, all that she was rejoicing in being, once again connected, physically and spiritually, to these two souls who had been her mates and would be her mates for time eternal.

  The shivers of Eros, the fires of passion, aflame once more in an affirmation as old as the ancients, consumed her and fed her and united her with her mates so that they truly were one.

  Their growls as they neared their peaks called to her in a language she’d craved, and as she answered, as her orgasm began to spill out of her, she cried out in triumph.

  And the magic that was within them merged, spun, rejoiced in the moment, twirling and changing, their colors forever blending, joining from three into one—constant, powerful, and fulfilled.

  Shivers of aftershocks
pebbled her flesh. Meghan lay pliant, trusting her men, relying on them to care for her. They’d brought her back to her cottage, cleaned her, and comforted her, then held her between them as the last of the aftermath faded.

  “That was the most moving moment of my life.” Ryan kissed her shoulder.

  On the other side of her, Jeremy stirred. He, too, kissed her. “Thank you, little tiger. Thank you for making us whole.”

  Meghan sighed. “It’s what you’ve done for me, too.” They stayed close, quiet, satiation blanketing them. Meghan knew their lives ahead would be filled with such moments, moments too sacred to clutter with talk.

  Finally, Jeremy sighed. He lifted his hand, and a letter appeared in it. She didn’t ask. She knew it was the letter Mr. Kolm had given him.

  “Will you read it aloud, Meghan?”

  “Yes, my love.” The paper held a trace of magic, and Meghan understood that there’d been enough of an ember in his mother to have wrought this one miracle. She’d never questioned that his mother had loved him. She’d felt it in the photograph Jeremy had shown her.

  My dearest boyo,

  I am so proud of the man you’ve become. I’m sorry we had to leave you, but destiny will be met. Your father and I are always with you. We reside in your heart, for love is the purest magic of all. When you see her next, ask Chelsea to tell you the stories of our youth—for we grew up best friends, daughters of mothers who were distant cousins and so, family. The tales she’s kept alive for you to hear are a part of your past—and your future.

  With endless love,

  Your Mam

  “I could feel her in this letter. It was a comfort, when I didn’t realize I needed one.”

  “I’m glad. Chelsea—that would be your mother?” She met Ryan’s gaze as she asked that.

  “Yes. All these years, she never said anything about stories to be handed down.”

  “It wasn’t time.” Meghan handed the letter back to Jeremy. It vanished, but she knew, without asking, where he’d sent it. It would be in his room, behind the photograph of his parents that he treasured.

  “I wish they could have met you,” he said to her. “But I have a feeling, Mam saw the future—at least my future.”

  “It’s all connected,” Meghan said. “We’re all connected.” It was an emotion, a feeling difficult to put into words. But life—all life—was created from the same source, and so, all life was connected. And the embers that burned within, when nurtured, would evolve into fires that would forever, with love, stay aflame.

  Epilogue

  Roman Fortuna stood alone on the cliff overlooking the North Atlantic. Behind him, the swath of land that had been a part of his heritage, land that he’d bought for himself a handful of years before, waited.

  On this stretch of what was called the Scottish Highlands, his ancestors had fought and bled and died. They’d thought their magic sufficient to rule all, to steal all, and they’d discovered a greater magic existed.

  Vanquished, they’d turned their backs on this land and had sought a new beginning in a land far more suited to their aspirations—Italy. They’d taken for themselves a name tailored for their sworn purpose—to make and keep their fortune—and had set about to design their own fate by creating a history that had been riddled with falsehoods. They were fools.

  Only a fool can believe he is solely in charge of his own destiny.

  That was a lesson Roman had learned as a lad—and not at the knee of his father.

  No, his mother—a far craftier woman of the Gifted than his father had been a descendant of the Scorned—had seen to it that he knew the truth of his heritage—and his destiny.

  He tilted his head to the side and nodded. It was done. The second three were safe and mated. And free of the stain that blots my soul.

  But like them, he’d had a choice. Destiny had brought them all to the moment, and in the moment, he had chosen.

  One more test awaits me, and this will be the hardest one of all. And beyond this last challenge, when it was done...he grunted. For the first time in a long while, he felt his lips turn up into a slight smile.

  The future would take care of itself. And he would continue to meet his destiny.

  THE END

  WWW.MORGANASHBURY.COM

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Morgan Ashbury, also writing as Cara Covington, has been a writer since she was first able to pick up a pen. In the beginning, it was a hobby, a way to create a world of her own, and who could resist the allure of that? Then as she grew and matured, life got in the way, as life often does. She got married and had three children, and worked in the field of accounting, for that was the practical thing to do, and the children did need to be fed. And all the time she was being practical, she would squirrel herself away on quiet Sunday afternoons, and write.

  Most children are raised knowing the Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule. Morgan’s children also learned the Paper Rule: Thou shalt not throw out any paper that has thy mother’s words upon it.

  Believing in tradition, Morgan ensured that her children’s children learned this rule, too.

  Life threw Morgan a curve when, in 2002, she underwent emergency triple bypass surgery. Second chances are to be cherished, and with the encouragement and support of her husband, Morgan decided to use hers to do what she’d always dreamed of doing—writing full-time.

  Morgan has always loved writing romance. It is the one genre that can incorporate every other genre within its pulsating heart. Romance showcases all that humankind can aspire to be. And, she admits, she’s a sucker for a happy ending.

  Morgan’s favorite hobbies are reading, cooking, and traveling—though she would rather you didn’t mention that last one to her husband. She has too much fun teasing him about having become a “Traveling Fool” of late.

  Morgan lives in Southwestern Ontario, Canada, with a mysterious cat, a nine-pound Morkie dog who thinks he’s a German Shepherd, and her husband of forty-three years, David.

  For all titles by Cara Covington, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/cara-covington

  For all titles by Cara Covington writing as

  Morgan Ashbury, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com