by Alex Lidell
I shake myself back to reality. Rub my face. Inhale the mix of cold air and warm steam. Forcing my mind beyond my throbbing sex takes more effort than any sparring match with Coal, but once I manage, I remember where we are. How we got here.
“Your shoulder.” I reach out to stroke Tye’s arm. The cut beside his clavicle looks clean, but his tightly coiled muscles and the memory of my blade slicing into flesh speak the truth. I let the male carry me here. “You are hurt.”
Tye barely seems to hear me, his intense eyes glazed with the same need that throbs inside me. “Mmm. I forgot about that.”
“Liar.”
Instead of answering, Tye lifts me to my feet and makes efficient work of ridding me of my trousers. His own follow a moment later, and as much as I’d like to help, I can’t take my eyes off the efficiency of his motions, the way his body engages only the muscles it must and not a single fiber more.
“Not a liar,” Tye murmurs into my ear, his soft breath warm and tickling. “A male. One with something else on his mind.”
And not only on his mind, I note from the hardness bumping against me, its velvety head impossibly large and opinionated.
“Can I touch you?” I ask, cringing at the awkwardness of my own words.
Instead of laughing, Tye turns us around and sits on my old underwater ledge. His shaft full and high, he lifts me by my hips and settles me carefully atop him. With my opening just over his cock, I feel every full inch of him as I slide down, my tightness stretching to accommodate his size. I moan and Tye’s eyes shudder in response. The male’s strong hands dig into my hips, guiding them, controlling the impaling descent. An inch. Two. Three. The fullness inside me throbs and I clench around him, even as I know there is more. More than I can possibly take inside.
16
Lera
When I let out a shaky breath, Tye’s finger opens my folds and traces the sensitive tissues around my apex, teasing the hood with leisurely strokes that send spasms along my thighs.
His fullness throbs, stretching me so insistently that I whimper as the head of his cock conquers every ridge inside me, sending a new wave of need with each bump, bump, bump. When my weight finally settles on Tye’s lap, his cock alive and pulsing, my breath catches.
For a moment, our gazes meet and hold. I notice new specks of silver in Tye’s brilliant green eyes, new freckles across his cheekbones. A tiny scar over his lip that I pull into my mouth, eliciting a soft growl in his chest.
Tye’s chest rises and falls with rapid breaths as he slides his hands from my hips to my breasts, trapping them in his large, callused palms. His thumbs stroke my sensitive nipples before his mouth closes over the left one, suckling it to a hard point. When I gasp, Tye adds a nip to his assault before attending similarly to my right breast, stoking the fire in my core until it is nearly impossible to bear.
With a growl, I surge against him. Again. Harder. The need to feel the length of him along my channel is so strong that it hurts, the ache spreading all the way to my fingertips. Cursing Tye under my breath, I slide along him with increasing speed, savoring his fullness inside me. My breath quickens, the wet and swollen tissues around my entry rippling in rhythm to Tye’s pulsing cock as I undulate with the lapping waves.
I brace myself on Tye’s shoulders, the male gripping one of my hips to help, lifting and lowering me with growing urgency. His other hand replaces his mouth on my breast, his fingers flicking my nipple to the rhythm of our thrusts. In the sinking light, Tye’s biceps bulge, his green eyes gleaming. Too much. The sight and feel of him. With a sudden surge, I claim his mouth, a clash of teeth and tongues.
More, more, more, my body demands, the steam rising from the water filling my lungs as absolutely as Tye’s cock fills my sex.
Yet, instead of satisfying my cravings, each pump along Tye’s shaft only flares the desire inside me. I moan in frustration and overwhelming heat. The muscles of my thighs quiver, zings of sensation shooting across my skin.
A predatory satisfaction sparkles through the wild lust in Tye’s green eyes. The bastard knows exactly what he is doing to me with those hands. With that mouth.
Two can play this game, tiger. Grabbing Tye’s hair, I force his head to the side.
The male startles but allows me to expose his neck.
Baring my teeth, I sink them into his skin and—
Tye is on his feet with a growl before I can conquer him, the blazing inferno in his eyes now echoing the predator he is.
“I think I’m through allowing my food to play with me,” he rumbles, lowering me to my feet. Shoving me to the other side of the basin, the male lays me down on the smooth lip, using his elbows to move my thighs apart. Steam so hot it is just short of painful rushes in to explore my exposed sex and opened backside. When a tiny spark of fire bites just above my roused bud, I scream, my hips jerking against the sensation, clenching against the nothingness inside.
Tye’s strong hand presses into my hip, keeping me down. Pinned. A second tiny spark nips the other side of the hood. Then the top.
“You . . . are using . . . magic.” My accusation comes in pants, burning need racking my body with each savage strike of my heart.
“Aye, I am.” Tye rubs my inner thighs, the soothing motion at utter odds with the havoc he’s unleashing above. “Magic is as much a part of me as my blood. But I’ve other parts too, lass.”
Hoisting one of my legs atop his shoulder, the male reaches between my legs to stroke my wet folds. A moment later, his finger slides inside me. A second finger. A third. Each increase mirrored by the same number of sparks teasing my bud. The edge of pain wakes my every nerve, magnifies each sensation to unbearable sharpness.
I writhe uncontrollably, pressing against Tye’s fingers, which refuse to move any faster. When the head of his cock replaces them at my opening, I’m ready to weep with the promise of coming release. With a sharp thrust, Tye plunges into me, the sensation so searing that I nearly topple over the edge then and there.
Except . . . except there is a sudden slickness circling my other opening and I freeze, recognizing the sensation.
My body writhes in rebellion, stopping at once when Tye’s sparks nip the most sensitive, swollen part of my apex in penalty. The instant I still, the finger at my bottom slides in.
My muscles spasm over the dual fullness inside me. Tye’s cock, still until now, thrusts deeply to strike the sensitive spot inside. In my bottom, his finger echoes his cock, thrusting in and out in perfect contrast. The seesaw of sensation would have me bucking up a storm if Tye’s free hand wasn’t holding me down firmly. Making me able to do nothing but feel him.
Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. Each plunge sends a new shock of need through my belly, the backs of my legs, my toes. Each wet slap sounds deafeningly loud amidst the low rumble of the river and occasional cries of birds. Tye’s beautiful face is tight with concentration, fending off his own release in order to draw out mine. Gasping, I lick salty drops of river spray from my lips. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.
When the tiny sparks circle my apex again, stalking closer and closer like a tiger’s pointed claws, the abyss I’ve been waiting for opens itself before me.
“Tye!” I choke on my desperation, knowing I can’t hold on for another second more and yet feeling a deeper need unfurl inside my soul. “I want to be closer to you.”
Tye hesitates for only a moment. Disengaging, he pulls my legs around his waist and stands, sheathing himself back inside me with a single, well-aimed stroke. I lock my ankles over his backside, my arms around his neck. The cool air swirls over our naked skin. The male’s green eyes are fevered with the same want that crushes my core.
I hold his eyes, our faces only an inch apart. “I love you, Tye.”
Taking my mouth with his and thrusting again, even deeper, Tye releases his magic along my sex until it pinches my bud in a tidal wave of ecstasy.
“Stars, I love you,” he gasps, the words sending us both over the edge.
We r
eturn to the cave to discover that someone—likely Shade, given the presence of a jar of green salve that makes Tye cringe on sight—has left us a bundle of supplies and food. Leaving our clothes outside to dry, we huddle together naked atop a cloak, Tye’s carefully built fire warming the space. Fatigue and contentment wash over me like waves lapping at the rocks.
“Can we keep the flames burning all night?” I ask, my eyes heavy. With full darkness now blanketing the mountains, the temperature is low enough to make my breath mist.
“It wouldn’t be safe, Lilac Girl.” Tye kisses the top of my head. “Not with so much wind and dry brush around. But I can do a bit of something.” Pulling a few fist-sized stones together, Tye lays his hands over them. When he tucks the rocks beneath the cloak a few minutes later, warmth seeps through the cloth. Grinning at my happy sigh, Tye snuffs out the fire, pulls me against him, and whispers for us to sleep.
I close my eyes, feeling the world fall away for a time. But not long enough. The night is so cold that even Tye’s arms around me aren’t enough to ward off the chill, and once the stones cool, I dare not ask Tye to warm them again. Between his injuries and heating the pool, even I know the male has used too much magic already.
Keeping my eyes closed, I let fatigue and the frigid mountain night battle each other in silence. Eventually, somehow, I drift off into a warm sleep that smells very much of a tiger’s thick fur cocooning my body.
17
Lera
For just under two weeks, we trek through the mountains and plains of the neutral lands, and then the rolling, forested hills of Slait, the days long and increasingly tense. River alternates between outlining and re-outlining our plans—all of which boil down to luring Griorgi to the palace—and long, stony silences that not even Tye’s improved humor can shatter. Tye has been shifting form more often since our coupling—since sharing the truth of his past with me and giving me leave to brief the rest of the quint on what happened. The glimpses of true humor returning slowly to Tye’s eyes, especially when they meet my own, are the best part of the cold journey. The only good part of the damn journey.
The nights are so cold that I have to lie next to the fire (when we’re allowed one), under my bedroll, and pressed between two males just to fall asleep. River and Shade. Shade and Tye. Tye and River. Never Coal. As if lying beside me will only kindle inevitable disaster.
Though Coal trains me in swordplay still—pulling me from my saddle at lunch break or before dawn or whatever other terrible time he can seize upon to make me miserable—the shield he’s locked around himself, around the strange magic connecting us, grows more impenetrable each day. As if the male is training himself to shut me out. The only times I can feel Coal’s purple strands of power are when River oversees my echo practice. In a clearing, on a rippling hilltop over a bustling Slait town, on a vast rocky slope—that last one nearly resulting in an avalanche.
“Can you tell Coal that you take back that reprimand over our kiss?” I finally ask Shade, after we’ve cleared up breakfast on what River promises to be the last day of the trek. The other males are already mounted and ready to ride, Sprite prancing unhappily at the wolf shifter’s proximity. I pat the mare’s neck soothingly. “Tell him that one unwise choice of when to share his magic isn’t cause for two weeks of brooding.”
Shade rocks back on his heels, his voice low enough for my ears alone. “Why would I wish to do that?”
I frown at him, my mind scrambling through my memories for something I might have missed. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“I rarely give orders, cub,” Shade says, his yellow eyes piercing mine. Not the impertinent lupine or kind male I’m used to, but River’s second-in-command. Steel beneath velvet. “When I do, I expect them to be followed. And when it comes to safety—your safety most of all—I’ve little desire to toy about.”
“Shade—”
He shakes his head, cutting off my words. “I’m aware that Coal fears his magic hurting you. He miscalculated pushing you in the arena. Failed to consider what would happen in the bedchamber, which left you with broken ribs—”
“That was my fault. I pushed him—”
“And ignored the consequences of offering magic against a healer’s orders. I’m all right with him feeling a bit of the sting from it.” Shade’s finger catches my chin before I can turn away, the power of his presence rolling over me in a great wave. His tone turns gentle, but not weak. “And I’m all right with you feeling the sting too, cub. There were two of you sharing that kiss, sharing the bed before that. I don’t imagine you like seeing Coal in pain any more than he enjoys seeing you in it. But if you want to mend what’s broken, you’ll need to do it yourselves. I stand by my earlier decision.”
Shade kisses the top of my head and shifts into wolf form, leaving me nothing to do but climb onto Sprite’s back.
The phantom touch of his lips and words stays with me well into the afternoon, when the sight of Slait Palace’s soaring marble towers rising majestically over the horizon sends a wave of relief through me. A sentiment that is not shared by all, if Coal pulling his stallion further and further toward the back of our procession is any indication.
“Is there any destination at which you actually enjoy arriving?” I ask, maneuvering Sprite beside the male.
“A battlefield,” he says, his voice as dark as his clothes. With his hair pulled back into a tight bun and a sword hilt rising above each shoulder, Coal certainly looks more prepared to walk onto a killing ground than the palace’s plush carpeting. “What are you so bloody happy about?”
“Bed. Bath. Vegetables.” I count the amenities on my fingers.
Coal’s face remains impassive.
When I reach out to touch his forearm, he shifts his weight, nudging the horse away.
My jaw tightens. “Coal—”
“Leralynn!” River calls from the front of the column, his hand held out to me, gray eyes unreadable.
“Go.” Coal jerks his chin forward before circling Czar around to put even more distance between us.
Suppressing a frown, I nudge Sprite into a slow canter to see what River is about. Sitting comfortably atop his stallion, River looks every inch the commander and prince. His rich blue coat is somehow both clean and unrumpled, his knee-high leather boots shining in the sun. If the cold wind ruffling his short brown hair nips at him the way it does me, River lets none of the discomfort show. When I rein up beside him and reach for his outstretched hand, he leans down from his horse and shamelessly plucks me from my saddle.
Ignoring sounds of protest from both Sprite and me, River settles me in front of him, his powerful thighs and torso bracketing me on three sides. “The last time we came to Slait, someone stole you away. This time, I’m taking precautions.”
“Aye, except those precautions are going to start aching any moment now,” Tye says, grabbing hold of my mare’s dropped reins as I register that River’s hardness does, in fact, press against my backside.
My face heats but River just wraps his arms around my waist and kicks his stallion into a canter that has me gripping the saddle horn for dear life. “Don’t let Coal see you doing that.” River’s voice is barely audible over the wind, his horse taking the wide dirt road in a smooth run. “Holding the saddle throws off your balance.”
“Riding double at a neck-breaking gait throws off me.”
River snorts but his arms tighten further around me as we ride into the outskirts of the clean, sprawling capital city, with its ordered white buildings and gaudy fountains, surrounded by rippling lawns and winter flowers. Rich curtains drape nearly every window, the bursting flowerpots hung outside coordinated by color. Townspeople bow formally as we pass, and River, even in his haste, lifts a friendly hand in return salute, drawing out warm smiles from the otherwise reserved fae.
Several of the children shyly sneak strips of meat from their pockets, tempting Shade’s wolf to trot over on his silent paws. All blissfully unaware of why we are here, of the silent ba
ttle for the throne that we are about to unleash.
“I hope Shade gets a stomachache,” I mutter, watching the gray wolf sprawl shamelessly before several young girls, all eager to scratch his furry belly and ears while sneaking more and more treats from pockets and pouches.
“Oh, he will,” River assures me, steering us up the cobblestone path that winds toward the palace. Since Autumn brought me in through a Gloom fold on my first visit, this is my first time approaching the palace gates, and their beauty takes my breath. River slows in front of them, letting me take in the elaborately carved iron, inlaid with gold reliefs and opaque blue stones that match the color of Slait’s flag, whipping in the wind from the tallest tower. “As I was saying, the last time we came, Autumn spoiled the approach. This time, you can enjoy the full experience.”
I open my mouth to point out that it’s River, not Autumn, whom I hold responsible for the disaster of my debut visit to the palace—thanks to him keeping the truth about his royal heritage from me—but the tension in River’s body pauses my retort. Light words aside, River is returning home not as a son or prince, but as a challenger to the throne he’s never wanted. I rest my palm over his hardened knuckles and he squeezes me tighter to him, dropping a kiss on my ear.
“How long do you think it will be before Griorgi comes?” I ask. Autumn’s network of patrols reported that the king has stayed away from the palace since the confrontation in Karnish, but not even they know all the folds in the Gloom that Griorgi has surely built. I hope we were out and about in the countryside long enough for the king to have gotten River’s message. “Could he have gone into hiding?”
“Griorgi doesn’t hide, he schemes.” Tye trots up to us, my mare’s reins in one hand. “We—” Tye cuts off as two dozen armed warriors step through rippling air from the Gloom, swords and bows already drawn. A wall of Slait’s navy blue and gold, sunlight glinting off metal.
