by K. Webster
“You’re ours, Grace,” Sayer hisses, losing himself to the feral need to claim her.
“She knows it,” I mutter against her lips.
Her body shudders and I see that Sayer has decided to pleasure her clit while he rams into her. Despite being unable to move, she’s clearly affected by his ministrations. Her moans grow louder and louder.
“Retract your claw,” I order Sayer. “Wet your thumb.”
He obeys me, ever the dutiful one in bed, and then his eyes meet mine in question.
“Tell me if she feels the same as I do,” I rumble.
His eyes darken and then he pushes his thumb between her cheeks. A low, guttural groan echoes from her.
“Yes,” he groans. “Rekking yes.”
It’s enough to send him over the edge. He lets out a roar as he spills his seed. As soon as he pulls out, I settle her on the bed on her side and then motion for Sayer to lie down facing her. My cock is dripping with pre-cum and I need to be inside him. He pulls her to him, her belly now pressed against his, and his mouth ravishes hers. She’s boneless, but the moans coming from her are ones of bliss. I wrap my hand around Say’s flaccid cock to collect their combined juices before spreading it all over my shaft as lubricant. He groans when I pull his cheek to the side and then push against his hole. Then, as though it’s been designed this way, his body sucks me in. My mouth finds the side of his neck and I suckle the flesh there. When I bite him, he pushes his rump toward me, needing more.
Sayer loves it when I bite him.
It makes me wonder if Grace one solar would like it too.
The metallic taste of his blood has me nearly feral with pleasure. I rut into him hard and frantic. My palm finds Grace’s rump and I squeeze it. Their kissing is sloppy and noisy, but it turns me the rekk on. When I feel a hand on my own rump, I’m surprised to find it’s hers. The three of us rut, moan, kiss, and touch. It’s decadent and arousing. Maddeningly wonderful. When my sac tightens with the need to release, I bite Say again, harder as I spill my seed into him. His body relaxes as the toxica takes effect and I happily take care of both my mates. With my cock remaining lodged inside him, despite its softening, I sit up on one elbow and regard them both.
Grace’s hand finds my face and she runs her fingers over my lips. With my eyes searing into hers, I suck on her fingers. Her eyes roll back and she moans.
“You’re both mine,” I rumble, kissing Sayer’s shoulder as I stare intensely at Grace. “And our mortling too.”
“She won’t stop giggling, hmm?” Avrell frowns at us as his gaze rakes over Sayer’s neck. His skin is destroyed where I ravaged him with my teeth.
Grace giggles and writhes in the bed.
“What exactly happened?” Avrell demands.
Sayer and I exchange a worried look, neither of us eager to spill our secret. Grace does it for us.
“They both fucked me soooo good,” she says breathily, boldly rubbing at her breast over the blanket we covered her with. “Soooo good. And then Jareth let me watch him fuck Sayer. It was sooooo hot.”
Avrell tenses and glowers at us. “The commander—”
“Already knows,” I bite back, my sub-bones popping in response.
Avrell’s lips press into a firm line. “Did they take advantage of you?”
“We’re not Kevins, Avrell,” Sayer snarls, angry at the insinuation. “We discussed this before it happened. We took care of her. She’s our mate.”
Avrell’s face softens in confusion as he tries to figure it all out. Eventually, he lets out a heavy sigh. “It’ll wear off. My suggestion is you let the toxica fade before you double dose her with it.”
“Our mortling?” I ask, suddenly worried we put the little one at risk.
“The mortling is fine,” he clips out. “Take good care of your mate. She deserves it.”
He storms away, leaving us with our giggling mate, who teases us by pulling her blanket off and reveals her breasts.
Rekk, we’re never going to leave this bed.
Food. Our mate loves food, especially when we take turns feeding it to her. And, turns out, it helps the double toxica dose to wear off, too. We’re all three lying in bed, once again naked—now that Avrell’s gone—because it’s better that way. Her warm skin pressed between us is nice.
“Can we stay in this room forever?” she asks absently. “Out there, I’m a villain. In here, I’m a queen.”
I lick the sweet juices from the fruit from her lips. “What is a queen?”
“She’s royalty. There are people who serve and adore her.” She smiles at us both.
“Then, yes, you are our queen,” Sayer says fiercely.
“Oh,” she gasps. “The baby is moving.” She rubs her stomach. “Depending on the sex, it could be a prince or a princess.”
“An offspring to a queen?” I muse aloud.
She nods. “And to kings.”
Satisfied by her words, I relax. That is, until she speaks again.
“What’s happening with us?” she mutters.
I shrug. “We’re together now. The three of us.”
Her brows furrow as though she doesn’t know what to make of it. “But the two of you were mates. With years and years of love and history. I’m an outsider, prying her way in. I don’t belong.”
Sayer shakes his nog. “Then why does it feel so right?”
Her nostrils flare, but she has nothing to say.
“We both want you and you want us,” I remind her.
“But what about out there? What happens when everyone finds out that you’re not only together, but I’ve joined the mix? What will they think?”
Sayer clenches his jaw and frowns. Truth is, I’ve thought about this a lot. Hadrian and Theron will find it entertaining. Draven won’t care. Breccan already knows, and so does Avrell. Oz and Galen might be bothered, but I can’t find it in me to worry over their opinions. Calix is too busy doting over his newborn son to worry over such things.
But the aliens? Aria, Emery, and Molly? I’m not sure what they will think.
“Your faces tell me you’re worried,” Grace says with tears in her eyes.
A growl rumbles from Sayer. “We’re not worried. We were just considering their reactions.”
“But,” I finish for him. “It doesn’t matter what they think. All that matters is how the three of us feel. And, I for one, feel really rekking good.”
“A feisty alien and a ‘fucking freak,’” Sayer says with a laugh. “It’s all this mort could ever ask for.”
She gives us a sweet smile.
“You may be uncertain about a lot, sweet female,” I say with a kiss to her lips. “But you never have to be uncertain about us.”
13
Grace
I’m snuggled between the two morts and even though I miss the life I used to have I can’t imagine being anywhere else. Sayer is pressed against my front, reclined on his back and snoring softly. In sleep, his poetic beauty is even more entrancing, especially with his long hair draped over the bed underneath him.
I want them so much it hurts.
I want to keep them.
I want to be theirs, like they said.
They seem so sincere when they said those things the night before.
Could it be possible?
It’s the what-ifs that make me second-guess myself.
What if they change their minds? What if something goes wrong with the baby and we lose our prince or princess? Would they still want me then? What if the rest of the morts and their mates don’t accept a relationship between the three of us?
There are so many things that could go wrong, and it terrifies me.
Jareth stirs behind me and throws a hand over us both. It’s like he can sense when I’m upset, even in his sleep. Sayer and I share the intense attraction from the pheromones, but with Jareth, there’s something about the way he seems to know me. It’s the same way I’ve seen him look at a malfunctioning gadget and figure out the problem. If I’m being
honest, he and I have a lot in common in that respect.
The two of them are the perfect complement. To each other…and to me.
I stay locked in between them, unable to sleep, but perfectly content. Throughout the morning, they shift, lock hands, Sayer rubs my stomach, Jareth kneads my back, all in a half-doze, like they’ve done it every day. Like we were meant to be together.
How is that possible?
How can we be from two different worlds, forced to be together, and be so right for each other?
As someone who always wants answers, maybe this is one situation where I’ll have to accept there aren’t any.
I must fall asleep at some point, because the next thing I know the bedroom door slides open and the two males clinging to me jolt upright, their pointed fangs bared.
Hadrian and Theron stop as though they’ve hit a brick wall when they see Sayer and Jareth in bed with me. Hadrian and Theron share a look and I jump to my feet to head off whatever conclusions they’ve drawn.
Except I don’t get there. Both Sayer and Jareth pin me down.
Hadrian smacks Theron on the shoulder. “I rekking told you. You owe me.”
Theron scowls at the three of us. “You cost me a week of laundry detail. I hope you’re happy.”
“I told him solars ago the three of you would be mated up before the mortling was born,” Hadrian crows.
“I thought the two of you were going to fight over the little alien,” Theron admits grudgingly. Then his eyes go kind of hazy as he studies us. “How does it work, exactly? Do the two of you bed her at once? Or do you bed each other? Look, I get if you like to watch, too. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
POP! POP! POP!
SNARL!
The two morts in bed make to get up, but I hold them back. “I like to watch,” I say defiantly. “And the pheromones get out of control sometimes. I’m sure when you are lucky enough to get a mate at some point in the far, far future you’ll understand.” My tone drips with condescension. “Sayer would do anything to please me, and Jareth is a loyal friend who wants you morts to continue to breed and have more children to ensure your race doesn’t die out. If you were half the men they are, you’d understand, but clearly you don’t have enough brain cells to share between the both of you.”
There’s a ringing silence save for the sound of Sayer’s and Jareth’s sub-bones popping back in place. My ears ring with a rush of adrenaline and part of me is embarrassed at my tirade, but the other is proud of me for standing up for my guys. I won’t have any of the other morts having a go at them because of me.
Theron pouts as though I’m not right here. “You two always have all the fun. She’s as spicy as a perapa plant.” He waggles his brows at me. “I like that. I should have been the one who got to mate her.”
Again, right here, buddy.
Hadrian scowls. “If only we could mate with the ones we truly want…” Something tells me he’s not talking about me.
“Too bad,” Jareth says and wraps an arm around me. “She’s our queen, not yours. Now what do you want?”
With a sigh, Theron says, “Breccan says you’ve got more information about the prison whereabouts, Say. We’re meeting at the command center to plot out a route for a rescue mission and we need you there. They want us gone as soon as possible, so if you can manage to tear yourselves out of a bed for a few hours, we’d appreciate it.”
He leaves, but Hadrian hovers behind, his eyes on me. With a bitter look, he soon follows Theron out of the room.
What was his problem?
“He’s had eyes for Aria since she came out of cryo. We’ve been telling him to get the rekk over it, but he’s young, yet. Maybe it’ll be good for him to go on this mission to Exilium Penitentiary. He needs some space to sort himself out.” Sayer rubs my shoulder and regretfully pulls himself from the bed to dress.
“You aren’t worried who they’ll tell?” This is all my fault. I should have left last night before we went to bed together.
Jareth kisses my brow. “Let them tell. We have nothing to hide anymore. I’m proud to have you both as my mates, no matter what anyone says.”
He seems so sure, but I’m still so damn uncertain.
I can’t be the mate they need, the one they truly deserve, until I’ve made things right with the other women. I won’t be the cause for hard feelings between my guys and everyone else. The morts so far have been accepting of their unconventional relationship and I’m going to make sure it stays that way.
“How are you feeling?” Avrell asks delicately.
I’m not generally a shy woman and I’m not easily embarrassed, but there’s definitely a blush on my cheeks at my next appointment with Avrell. So, I’m putting off confronting Molly and Aria. Can you blame me? I’d rather face Avrell, who’d seen me at my absolute most vulnerable than face their disappointment and accusations.
“I’m feeling fine. Large, but fine. Is it normal for mort pregnancies to progress so quickly?” When I’d woken up from cryosleep, I’d been in such shock, I didn’t pay too much attention to the actual pregnancy. There were so many things I had to wrap my head around, I guess I assumed I had plenty of time to deal with the eventuality of birth. So why do I feel like I might pop at any moment?
As though to punctuate the point, the little one inside me moves and my stomach tightens around them. I suck in a breath.
“What is it?” Avrell asks.
“I don’t know, maybe the baby wanted me to eat my words. It felt like a muscle cramp, but all over my stomach. Everything is okay, isn’t it?”
“We know mort-alien pregnancies progress at a more rapid pace. Because the process is fairly new, we don’t know everything. I estimate you’re around seven months now, based on your date of insemination for a human pregnancy, for a mort pregnancy, you’re nearing full-term.”
Was I mistaken, or was he blushing? Good. Maybe that means he feels a little remorse for what he did. I don’t feel as angry about it anymore. If I’m being honest with myself, what Avrell did brought me to Sayer and Jareth, so it’s hard to hold a grudge.
“At a more rapid pace, meaning I could go into labor at any point? Lovely.” For such an uncertain person, I hate dealing with uncertainties.
“I wish I had more answers for you, but what I can tell you is I’m going to do my best to ensure both you and the mortling make it through the birthing process safely. I’d bet my life on it.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have epidurals, would you?” I ask.
Avrell’s eyes furrow as he scans me again with what he’s told me is called a wegloscan. “Are those a food?”
“I guess that was a little too much to hope for. Epidurals are pain medication humans use on Earth II for childbirth,” I explain.
“Unfortunately, our medications are limited to emergencies. We do have something we can use for pain, if the situation calls for it.”
“I figured as much. I’m sure it will be fine,” I say with a bit more bravery than I feel. Avrell is quiet as he packs up his tools and I sit up on the examination table. “Is everything okay?”
He sighs, then takes a seat in front of me. His shoulders are slumped, and he can’t quite look me in the eye. “I never should have put my own desires ahead of yours. It wasn’t my right to inseminate you after our commander decreed against it. I took away your choices and that makes me a Kevin.”
Before Molly stopped talking to me, she’d explained more in depth the morts’ distaste for Kevin’s namesake. I put a hand on his shoulder. “You aren’t a Kevin, Avrell, because a Kevin wouldn’t feel remorse for his mistakes. As long as you know not to ever repeat them, then I hope you’ll accept my forgiveness.”
His eyes shine when he meets mine. “I don’t deserve it, but if you’re kind enough to offer it, I will accept.”
Another cramp wraps around my stomach, but I push the sensation to the back of my mind. Forgiving Avrell has released a ton of the tension I’d been carrying around. I still don’t
know what I’m going to do, but it feels much better not to have that anger on my back. I may not have chosen this life, but this is what I’ve been given, and I’d rather make the most of it than hang on to resentment for the rest of it.
After a quiet moment, Avrell pulls away. After straightening his shirt, he gets to his feet. “The cramps may be your body preparing for the baby’s arrival. If your fluids rush or if the cramps become stronger or closer together, please come see me immediately.”
I don’t take offense to his brusque tone. I’m starting to realize he and I have more in common than I originally thought. We both like to push our emotions away when they get too intense.
Feeling much more confident about dealing with those emotions, I pat his shoulder. “Do you happen to know where Molly is?” I ask.
Still looking away from me, Avrell says, “She’s either with the rogcow, Eileen, or she’s with Draven.”
“Thank you, Av.”
I never thought I’d say this, but I hope she’s with the cow-thing. The last thing I want to do is have this conversation with Molly’s intimidating mate Draven in tow. She’s told me not to be intimidated by him, but that’s nearly impossible when you’ve got this towering, scarred male staring at you. The only time I’ve ever seen him even remotely soften is when he’s around Molly.
Of course, when I find Molly in the pen they’re keeping the rogcow in, Draven is hovering nearby. Swallowing my fears and apprehension, I cross to her. She’s nearly as pregnant as I am, but it seems to come so much more naturally to her. Which only makes me feel worse about keeping information that would help her find her other child away from her.
If I were her, I wouldn’t forgive me.
I don’t know what the hell I’m going to say to get her to forgive me.
Until I realize, it isn’t up to me to make her forgive me at all.
