Patrick turned to face us with his back braced against the door as I stood naked, bared, and ready for him. His dark eyes met mine and I felt the world crashing down around us, all three of us in a rush of anticipation, lust, and hunger. But somehow we were safe. In the midst of all of the shit storms that seemed to follow us and the things yet unsaid, in that moment and together, we were safe. Patrick strode toward me, light careful strides as he stalked me like the confident predator he was.
Dean sat on the bed behind me and ran his hands over the curve of my thighs and ass, digging into my over-sensitized flesh—kneading it gently. His fingers stretched across my hips and jerked me back against him until his hands wrapped around each of my thighs, spreading me open.
Cupping my face in his hands, Patrick’s lips crashed down on mine in a ferocious mark of possession. The sweet taste of copper coated the inside of my mouth as Patrick sliced his own tongue on his fangs in the brutal kiss. I thrust my tongue in his mouth, lapping at him and mimicking what I wanted him to do to me. I shimmied Patrick out of his jacket, dropping it to the floor. My fingers were clumsy with the small buttons of his dress shirt, tumbling over each other as I tried to free the perfect alabaster skin beneath. I wanted to touch him, taste him, have him inside of me and the urge to hurry spiked with the surge of desire burning through me. Behind me, the soft hum of Dean’s zipper coming undone was like thunder in my ears and then his pants were a mess of tuxedo at my feet.
Patrick broke the kiss with a devious smile on his full, plump lips as he reached down and undid his own pants. The heat of my Eithina roared through me and I knew by the smirk on Patrick’s face and the soft shimmer against his alabaster skin that my eyes had changed color to the sparkling silver of my magic.
Dean’s fingers dug into my hips and guided me down onto his lap until his hard cock was pressed against my waiting slickness. Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I glanced up at Patrick and then down at his hard dick a few inches from my mouth. Before I could think of all the wonderful things to do with Patrick’s cock, I slid down over Dean’s rigid hardness as he perched on the edge of the bed.
I exhaled a groan of contentedness and rolled my hips, letting the heat and girth of him touch every inch inside of me. I felt the silver in my nails burn against my skin and knew that my claws had poked out.
“GODDAMN!” Dean cried behind me as I rocked my pelvis and clenched around him until I could feel him quiver beneath me.
Reaching down, I scrapped my claws along the flesh of his thighs. The soft tickle of thick, dark hair danced across my fingertips as the warm drip of blood seeped beneath my nails. I leaned forward and took Patrick into my mouth, sucking him deep until I was almost at his hilt. He filled my mouth, sliding to the back of my throat and the salty taste of smooth skin over rock hard flesh made me groan with delight.
“Dahlia,” Patrick gasped as his fingers sunk into my hair.
With the taste of Patrick’s blood still on my tongue, the smell of Dean’s blood in my nose, and the warm presence of my own blood on the inside of my thigh, power burst from me in an explosion of static charged magic. I felt as if my hair was standing on end. The electricity of it simmered and churned around us as I swallowed Patrick down and Dean thrust up into me. Sparks, like a million fireflies, flickered in and out of existence through the room. As our movements became more hurried and my heart raced with anticipation, the sparks seemed to be condensing around us until we were a bright glow of sweat, sex, and blood in the center of all the darkness.
Again and again, Dean thrust up, stroking blissful parts of me that only he and Patrick could touch. I rocked my pelvis, meeting his rhythm and sucking on Patrick until I couldn’t ignore the pressure building inside of me anymore. In that moment, I let go. I wasn’t The Blushing Death, or the Golden Anidae. Hell, I wasn’t even a Fertiri. I wasn’t anything but Dahlia with the two men I loved most in the world.
From one heartbeat to the next, soft white light shimmered around us and became solid, changing colors as our powers mingled and settled to a soft pink sheen while moving out beyond our reach.
Patrick’s hand left my head and I peered up at him, letting the tight hold I had on his dick go. He moved back, staring at the light streaming through the dim room as if he’d never seen anything like it before. The expression on his face was filled with . . . wonder.
Dean stopped thrusting, holding my hips in place more gently. I wanted him to move, to keep up the rhythm of desire I felt burning through his skin and mine but, like he and Patrick, I was astounded by the physical presence of magic surrounding us.
“What?” Dean said, his voice a harsh guttural sound filled with desire and hunger. My reaction to his voice was primal and visceral as I squeezed his cock still lodged in my body.
“The Fertiri bond,” Patrick whispered almost in awe, a boyish grin turning up the corner of his delicious mouth. That grin or maybe the light shining off of all three of us made his dark eyes twinkle. “Turn around,” he ordered, and I couldn’t keep the smirk from my face. I liked Patrick like this. I missed him like this. This was the man I’d first met and couldn’t stay away from, even when I knew it was stupid to taunt and tease death.
I stood, sliding off of Dean and turned, meeting his Caribbean blue eyes with a grin. I bent over, leaning in to slide my lips over his cock, dripping with my wetness.
“No,” Patrick snapped. He closed the distance between us as I stood between Dean’s legs, pressing his hard length against my backside. His hands rubbed soft soothing circles over the meaty flesh of my ass. “Have you ever?” Patrick asked. I couldn’t see his face but I didn’t think he was talking to me. The hungry, excited glint in Dean’s gaze told me enough.
“No,” Dean almost snarled but it wasn’t a frightening sound, it was excited and cautious.
I could almost feel the rush of heat as my body saturated with slick desire just from the anxious glare of anticipation on Dean’s face.
He scooted back on the bed, lying flat and dick up.
“Virgin territory,” Patrick almost cooed in my ear.
“She’s gonna come fast once we’re in,” Dean answered.
“I hope so,” he said to Dean. To me, Patrick asked, “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Relax,” he said, lightly stroking his hands down my biceps and across my chest until my breasts were cupped in his hands cool, strong hands. He plucked my nipples, playing with them until I cried out from the fierce pleasure of his touch. He took a step forward and so did I.
Crawling on the bed, I met Dean’s gaze. He cupped my face and eased me down for a tender kiss, sliding his tongue across the seam of my mouth until I opened and allowed him entrance. His kiss was a slow taste of me, caressing the inside of my mouth as if he’d never tasted anything so sweet. Gently stroking my hands over Dean’s hard chest, I savored the delicateness of his kiss that left me breathless and panting. I filled my senses with the smell of him, a heady, woodsy scent mixed with the heavy musk of male. I couldn’t keep the smile from my lips as the man’s tongue dipped into my mouth again and again.
Dean trailed work-roughened fingers down my back with one hand as he gripped himself in the other. Guiding himself between my slick folds, I lowered down onto him and sighed in pure satisfaction as he filled me up.
I felt the mattress dip as Patrick crawled up behind me. He pressed his long, cool body against mine and the juxtaposition of both men spread through me, Patrick’s frost to Dean’s heat. Patrick’s fingers slid between my legs, dragging along my wet center and up the crack of my ass. His cool fingers spread my cheeks wide and before I could think, he slid into me.
“Easy,” Dean growled through clenched teeth beneath me as my body froze and locked up at the unexpected intrusion.
“She’s so tight!”
Dean cupped my face in
his large hands and made me focus on him. “Relax,” he whispered.
I met the steady, unwavering gaze of his wolf and released all the tension in my body.
Patrick moved, sliding slowly out. Dean caught Patrick’s, slow and careful rhythm and thrust upward. Together, my two men moved in and out of me in tandem.
God, I’d never been so full. I felt stretched to the point I thought I couldn’t take it anymore but with each stroke, my body relaxed and the painful ebb eased into pleasure. Patrick and Dean bombarded me with sensation, the smell of them, the feel of them possessing my body in the most primal and delectable way, and the basic feel of them surrounding me with both their physical presence and their magic sent pressure quivering through the walls of my womb until I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Please, I need to come,” I shouted just before my walls came crashing down, squeezing both of them in a frantic convulsion of pleasure. Dean and Patrick picked up their pace as if they’d done this a thousand times before until I felt the hot rush of Dean flow from him and the cool splash of Patrick as they both came together.
I collapsed down onto Dean, panting and happy. My body was a ball of vibrating bliss as Patrick withdrew and fell on the bed beside us.
“Fuck me running!” I sighed as I turned and met Patrick’s content and satiated gaze.
“Perhaps we can try that later,” Patrick said and Dean couldn’t keep the chuckle from his throat.
Chapter 22
Logan paced the slate-shingled roof of the large brick home, feeling the loss of his children in his bones. His energy had dwindled, using much to keep so many animated and moving as one. And for what? Patrick Cavanaugh and that Alpha had blown through his zombies like they were nothing.
“What are you waiting for?” Isidro snarled.
“I need reinforcements,” Logan snapped back. He didn’t answer to Isidro. Even if he did, his children were dead and he wouldn’t be able to create more until he had another sacrifice and had recovered some of his magic. No, he would not be able to raise another zombie tonight.
“They are weak, exhausted, and alone. Now is your chance to slaughter them as Konyam directed.”
Logan bristled at the vampire’s tone and his own inability to finish it as he’d planned. He’d thought the gala would be enough. Before he could answer Isidro, he felt a distinct shift in the air, a static prickle that crept across his skin like sunlight at dawn. Magic bubbled and churned, waiting to explode and he knew there was nothing he could do to get out of its way before it struck.
“No,” Logan whispered, bracing for the hit as the hair at his nape stood on end.
“What is it?” Isidro asked, glancing around for the danger.
Magic, a solid wall of steel with a soft-pink glimmer and the taste of blood, slammed into them. For a moment, Logan was weightless, soaring through the air like a kite caught in the wind. Magic. Her magic, strong and violent, chased him until he crashed onto the A-frame roof of the mansion next door. His fingers gripped for purchase as he slid down the sharp angled rooftop. Beside him, Isidro clutched at the shingles, dragging his nails down the slate and screeching into the silent night.
Logan slid over the edge, finally catching a grip on the gutter as he and Isidro dangled over the side of the roof. Swinging himself up, he landed on light feet and crouched to maintain his balance until Isidro could right himself as well. He and Isidro stood side by side, staring at the shimmering pink dome encasing The Blushing Death’s mansion like a protective shield.
“A power circle,” Isidro whispered, amazement widening his eyes.
“I’ve never felt one so strong or seen one so large,” Logan muttered, stepping closer to the edge of the soft pink dome. The sheen rippled with each throb of a steady heartbeat.
“Whose is it? Can you tell? One of the fae, perhaps?”
Logan stepped within a few inches of the pulsing wall. Running his fingers across the outer shimmer of power radiating from the obstacle but not touching the field itself. He believed he could feel the constant beat of a heart. Covering the entire house and a portion of the surrounding houses, the shield erected was large, metaphysically solid, and a formidable barrier. Blood, the pungent scent of sweet copper made his mouth water. Logan fought the urge to lick it just to see what it would taste like. He didn’t dare in the event that the owner would be able to feel his intrusion.
“Blood. I can almost taste it across the surface but the power, the construction holding it together is all her.” Logan ran his fingers over his tongue, letting the magic tingle across his taste buds. Something dark lingered in the magic as an aftertaste, something ancient and deadly. “Who is this woman?” he murmured.
“Whoever she is, she’s more powerful than Konyam imagined,” Isidro purred.
The man was diabolical and Logan could almost see the wheels turning in Isidro’s mind as he reached for the wall.
“Don’t,” Logan barked.
“Do you think she would be able to sense us?”
“I don’t know but I would rather not take the chance.”
“That would make her powerful indeed,” Isidro whispered.
“Each one of them is more powerful than we thought. This circle tastes of not only The Blushing Death, but of Cavanaugh and the Alpha. But the force behind it is her will.”
Logan stared through the haze of The Blushing Death’s protective shield. He couldn’t fail, wouldn’t disappoint his Lord and King in such a way, or suffer Konyam’s torment for failure.
“They’ve sealed the bonds then,” Isidro growled.
“I believe so, yes,” Logan agreed, stiffening his shoulders. He should have killed her while he had the chance instead of playing with them. He’d wanted her fear, her begging for her life. Konyam would have been so proud. Perhaps he would have even welcomed him back into his arms. Now, his teeth ground together and throbbed with want of her blood. He’d been a fool.
“Then,” Isidro grumbled, “it is already too late.”
Chapter 23
The sun was warm across my face, heating my skin until the light burned my eyes on the inside of my eyelids. I snuggled in deeper to the cocoon of warmth at my back, trailing my fingers across the cool flesh spooned along my front. The smell of old books and death filled my nose and I tugged the comforter back up over my shoulders to chase the chill away.
It’s so bright, the sun, someone should pull the shades, I thought in my groggy state. I slid my hand up the cool flesh tucked in against me and the dominoes started to tick into place in my mind. I was snuggled up against Patrick. The sun was so bright that I buried my nose against his back to shield my eyes.
My eyes flew open, “Oh SHIT!,” I snapped and I threw the covers off.
“What the—” Dean mumbled, disoriented, sitting up at attention at my sharp cry.
Cold air shot across my body, pimpling my skin with gooseflesh. Suddenly, the light across my face made sense, and horror tightened every muscle I had with fear.
“The windows!” I screamed, jumping from the bed. I didn’t care that I was naked as I leapt toward the wall. Oh well, everyone had already seen it. No use in hiding it now, there wasn’t time. I had to get to the windows before Patrick burst into flames.
The late-morning sun filled the room and it was only a matter of time before he burned. I sprinted to the windows and grasped the blackout shades in my tight fists.
“Baby?” Dean called, a note of uncertainty in his tone.
I jerked the blackout shades too hard and tore one of them. “Shit!”
“Dahlia!” Dean shouted.
“What?” I snapped back, fighting with the shades.
Dean’s olive-green eyes focused on the man sleeping on the other side of the bed. Patrick lay on his stomach, his obsidian hair a stark contrast to the white pillow and
pale arms folded beneath his head. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, glittering across the alabaster skin across his back. I gasped as my fingers released the curtain and stared at Patrick’s pristine skin, minus the scars, shining in the sunlight. It wasn’t burning, blistering, or even smoking. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.
Dean glanced up and met my gaze with the same amazement crinkling his brow that tightened my gut.
Dean jumped from the bed and closed the bedroom door. One of them had left it open to get water at some point during the night. We couldn’t let anyone see this, not yet anyway. Closing out the world, Dean threw on a pair of plaid boxers and I stared at Patrick, still asleep on the bed.
“How?” I breathed.
“Dunno.”
“We should wake him,” I said, unable to move from the spot. What if I was still dreaming? I was afraid that if I moved, it would break the spell. The sun was fucking shining on Patrick’s skin and he continued to sleep through it without pain, injury, or torment.
“Can we? Have you ever tried to wake him during daylight hours?”
“Honestly,” I huffed, “I don’t know. He uses his own power to wake while the sun’s up. I don’t know how to wake him, or even if we can.”
“Try. He’ll wanna see this.”
Crawling back onto the king-sized bed, I knelt beside Patrick and away from the window. I pressed my knees into his side and let the chill of his body seep into me.
What the hell am I supposed to do here?
“Well?”
“I’m thinking.” I had to try something. I poked him, digging my index finger into the muscles of his bicep.
Emerald Fire (A Blushing Death Novel Book 6) Page 16
