Dark Glitter

by C. M. Stunich

  I lifted my arms up and crossed them above my head, closing my eyes as his cool hands slid up underneath the long, dark skirt I was wearing. Kill’s palms had scars and rough spots from years of riding his bike and doing … well, whatever it was that a motorcycle club did, but they were also soft in a way, like he cared for himself. I liked that, a man who took pride in his appearance.

  “Do you know what temperature play is, mon Gardien?” he asked, curling his long, inked fingers under the waistband of my new panties and making me gasp. I stared up at the ceiling, biting my lip, listening to my heart thunder inside my chest. No wonder I liked sex so much—it was fun. It was invigorating. It was exciting. And maybe … after all those years of being trapped and chained, beaten and abused, it was nice to be reminded what pleasure felt like, that this was my body to do with what I pleased.

  “No,” I whispered, wracking my brain for that term. Temperature play. If I had known what it was before, when I was Ciarah O'Rourke, I no longer remembered. “Are you going to tell me about it, Killian?”

  “I'll do more than just tell you about it,” he purred, sliding my panties down with an achingly painful slowness, like he was painting a picture of the pleasure he planned on giving me, each careful stroke of his brush adding a new layer to the image. But it would take time to build on it, hours maybe before I could see what all those shadows and highlights were coming together to create. “I'll fucking show you.”

  The panties slid over my feet and I raised my head up just enough to see Killian toss them aside. A moment later, the door to the room slammed open and Arlo entered, pausing to glare at me and Kill before he scowled and headed in the direction of the bathroom.

  “Not enough to take my bedroom, you gotta fuck in it, too?”

  “Clearly throwing you out the window wasn't lesson enough,” Kill growled, the sound like that of a cat, low and unassuming but full of threat. I wondered what it might be like if he were to show his claws? “Show some goddamn respect. Or if the thought of a powerful woman frightens your alpha male sensibilities so terribly, then leave.”

  “Leave? I can't leave,” Arlo roared, wet and dripping from his swim in the bayou. “She's already named me her damn Lord of Spring. I'd rather not have the Wild Hunt on my ass.” He stormed past us and tore the bathroom door open, slamming it shut behind him.

  “I haven't officially named him,” I told Killian, leaning up on my elbows, the sharp scent of Arlo's anger … arousing me even further. He was like a beast that needed taming. Or mating. I would do either and both with him if he would only calm down. “Shall I let him go?”

  Kill snorted.

  “He doesn't want you to let him go,” he told me, pushing my thighs apart and dropping his head between them. Since my legs were dangling off the end of the bed, I hooked my knees over Killian's strong shoulders for support, gasping in surprise when the firm, wet heat of his tongue flicked over my clit.

  Reaching my right arm up, I blindly grasped for the first pillow I could find and yanked it to my face. Good thing Arlo and I had left the bed messy this morning or else I wouldn't have been able to reach it.

  Biting down hard, I curled the fingers of my left hand into Killian's silken locks, the thick ebony strands of his hair smooth against my skin.

  “Is this temperature play?” I choked out, swallowing hard and groaning as Kill locked his fingers around my hip bones to hold my thrusting pelvis in place. I couldn't help myself—I wanted to be pressed up against his face. I wanted more. “Because your mouth is fucking hot. Almost too hot.”

  “This isn't the trick, mon cher,” he whispered. “This is.”

  Killian pulled back as I yanked the pillow from between my teeth and stuck it under my head so I could relax my neck. As I watched, he twirled his fingers in the air, pulling water from the humid atmosphere and drawing it into his palm in a swirl of blue light. Magic.

  My breath stuttered as I watched him collect and then freeze the water molecules into a long, thick ice cube.

  “The cold is where my expertise lies,” he said, his blue eyes locked on mine. “Some people despise the cold but when you pair it with heat … it makes things scalding.”

  Kill took the ice cube and, his eyes still locked on mine, slid it along my heated folds, making me gasp and cough with the sheer rush of sensation. He stroked me several times, drawing little screams from my throat, and then he replaced the cube with his hot tongue.

  And oh.

  Oh.

  Temperature play.

  I quite liked that.

  Killian warmed up all the places he'd just cooled and then … slipped the ice cube inside of me.

  My scream of pleasure drew Arlo out of the bathroom, still wet and dripping but this time with hot water from the shower. Steam rose from his skin as he stood there and watched Killian follow up with his fingers inside of me, chasing the cool slide of the ice cube.

  “Don't butt in—not today,” Killian growled, just before he leaned down and kissed my clit with gentle swirls of his tongue. His left hand held my bucking pelvis down as I thrashed and turned my head, biting the pillow hard. “I won't share today.”

  “Like it's your choice to make,” Arlo snapped, but he didn't come any closer, watching from the doorway to the bathroom, leaning his big muscular form against the frame. Without his glamour on, his skin was brilliantly silver, his eyes green as emeralds, his horns shock white and wicked sharp.

  His eyes met mine and he threw on this infuriating smirk, wrapping his big hand around his cock and giving it a squeeze. He worked himself nice and slow as Killian brought me to the edge of an eye-watering orgasm and then pulled back, breathing against my heated cunt with hot … warm … then cool breaths. Ah, a true Lord of Winter.

  The ice cube was melting inside of me, cool water trickling out of my pussy and dripping down my ass. The sensation was almost enough to drive me to climax all on its own.

  “Killian,” I gasped, and I felt his laughter against me as he stood up and looked down, an imposing figure with dark hair and pale eyes, stubble guarding the slight smirk on his lips. “Finish me.”

  “I wanted to make sure you got a taste of the full package before you made your decision,” he said, stepping between my legs and taking hold of my ass in his long fingers.

  The two men exchanged glances and Arlo growled low in his throat, pumping his shaft with tense knuckles, the ink on the back of his hands dancing with the violent motion of his fingers on his cock.

  “Let's see what it is you're so frightened about,” Killian taunted, turning back to look at me, meeting my gaze with a look that was both ice-cold and red hot. I couldn't explain it, but the duality was beautiful, like the sun and the moon, summer and winter, light and dark. “Le Gardien?”

  “Fuck me,” I whispered and threw my head back in the burst of a brilliant white-hot orgasm as he entered me, his long hot dick thrusting against the cool sensation of the ice cube. I came around him, squeezing tight, water trickling down my cheeks as I flailed and thrashed against the bed, digging my fingers into the blankets.

  Killian waited for me to finish before he started to move, thrusting against the cool ice cube with his scalding cock, melting it faster, mixing up all the new sensations together into this bundle of energy that coiled tight and ready in my belly, waiting to explode again. I wouldn't be long to a second orgasm.

  The fae man buried between my thighs spoke low, sweet words in French, their gentleness at odds with the violent nature of his thrusts, the frenzy of his body as he buried himself deep within me. His face blurred in my vision as I struggled to hold back tears of sheer unadulterated pleasure. I'd never felt anything like this before … not as the Veil Keeper … not as Ciarah … just never.

  “Fuck,” Arlo snarled, moving over to the edge of the bed, his member quivering with need as he grit his teeth and looked down at me. “I know you've cast a fucking spell on me. Take it off.”

  “You're a …” I tried to choke out the word fool,
but it wouldn't come out right. I was too busy enjoying the pleasure rippling through my body. No more words would come, so I spoke with my body, reaching out a hand and snatching Arlo's thick, hard shaft with an iron grip.

  He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes widening as his hips thrust forward into my hand.

  “I swear to the Keeper, this has to be a spell or some shit,” Arlo muttered with a strangled moan as my hand slid the length of his dick and knocked his own fist out of the way.

  “Frère,” Killian growled, pausing and glaring at Arlo while I writhed underneath his strong hands. Damn it, don't stop now! “Shut your trap or leave. Your words don't even make sense. You swear to the Keeper? Here she is, with her perfect hand wrapped around your cock. Don't be a damn imbécile.”

  There was a tense moment between the two fae men, as they remained locked with their angry eyes on one another, Killian's dick buried deep inside me and Arlo's hard shaft in my grip. The moment didn't bother me at all, though. I found it … fascinating. Despite still teetering on the edge of my second orgasm.

  Curiously, I watched Arlo's face as he seemed to be wrestling with himself. Kill's words had forced him to accept the choice he'd already made. That we all knew he'd made. He was my Lord of Spring, through and through. He just needed to get used to it.

  With lazy motion, my hand stroked up and down his rock-hard length while I studied the two of them. Killian was just a fraction taller but Arlo was a lot broader across the chest. They were both … perfect. Mine.

  I saw the moment Arlo cracked, breaking his staredown with Killian and casting his angry green gaze over my body, pausing on my tight nipples straining against the light cotton of my tank top.

  “Très bon,” Killian grunted, adjusting his grip on my ass before thrusting back into me.

  The breath puffed out of me and I felt a sultry smile creep over my face as I settled in for the ride, not for a second letting go of Arlo.

  Killian murmured something more under his breath in French, too quiet for me to make out, before exhaling a long, ice-cold breath as he leaned in close to kiss me. The air between us sparkled with frost and my body shivered violently as his hot mouth descended to mine.

  Arlo, for his part, did as he was told. Kept his trap shut. Aside from the occasional moan, he simply stood there and let me jerk him off while his wild, angry eyes remained glued to the in and out of Killian's cock in my cunt.

  Killian kissed me like I was the only woman on earth. Like I was the center of his universe. Like I was his fucking goddess.

  I loved every damn second of it.

  Delicate lines of ice crept from Kill's fingers where they gripped my flesh, coating my skin like lace and provoking another shiver from me as Killian groaned.

  “Ma déesse,” he breathed as I clenched around him, that second orgasm back with double force. This time though, I wanted to drag him with me. Arlo too. Nothing would make this moment more satisfying …

  Kill touched a frigid fingertip to the searing heat of my clit and I gasped aloud, pleasure rolling through me as I let myself go. My muscles fluttered and tensed around his hardness, holding him captive and demanding he join me.

  “Merde,” Kill swore, fighting to hold on but eventually giving in with a few hard thrusts.

  Meanwhile my hand milked the climax from Arlo, whose hot seed splashed across the icy cold of my exposed belly as he came with a primal sounding grunt.

  The sounds of our labored breathing filled the room for a long moment before Killian, almost reluctantly, withdrew from me and tucked his junk back into those pants that had never made it past his ass.

  “We should get downstairs.” He frowned. “I can sense the wolves have already arrived.”

  “Fuck,” Arlo spat, picking up a towel from the floor and wiping off his dick before shimmying into a pair of jeans. “Shower's yours, Keeper. You'll want to wash well. The smell of sex on a woman drives the wolves a little … wild.”

  Well, for the Horned God to be calling someone else wild, it almost made me curious to see. But I could already feel the slickness of Killian's come dripping down my ass and if there was one thing both my selves agreed on, it was that that was not a sexy sensation.

  Killian bent back over me, snaking a hand into the back of my hair and claiming my lips in a passionate kiss. His tongue met mine in a torrent of emotion and desire, until I was breathless and more than a little tempted to demand an encore performance.

  “So,” he whispered when he broke our kiss. “Do I get the job?”

  Cheeky boy, one of the me's in my head chuckled and my lips lifted in a grin. “I'll consider you for a callback.”

  Killian narrowed his pale blue eyes at me and trailed another line of ice down my bare thigh as he stood back up, as a promise or a reminder, it didn't matter. He'd made his point.

  I lied there on Arlo's bed a little longer, watching Killian retreat out the door, then turned my attention to the bestial asshole again. Somehow in that short time he had replaced his glamour and now stood there with his massive, ink stained biceps crossed over his chest as he glared at me.

  “What?” I demanded and he rolled his emerald eyes.

  “Shower, Keeper. Now. Before those mangy mutts catch your scent.” He jerked his thumb to the bathroom door.

  “What would happen if they did?” I asked, standing from the bed and making my way over to the bathroom.

  “I'm no seer, so I can’t predict the fucking future. But in the past …” Arlo shrugged his toned shoulders. “Well, suffice it to say the result wasn't good.”

  His words rang with truth, and none of the usual aftertaste that implied a deliberate deceit. There was a lot more to the story, for sure, but I guessed the past didn't matter when compared to the future. After all, my past was nothing more than a shattered mirror. It was my future that would find those missing pieces though.

  Or, at least I hoped so.

  #

  Raucous sounds of male laughter filtered up the stairs to me, and I smiled. I recognized Reece's laugh without question. It was like the rustling of autumn leaves and it warmed my soul to hear.

  The little tryst with Killian and Arlo had ignited something within me, and I felt a burning need for more. Oh, that callback for my Lord of Winter was going to come much sooner than he realized. For my Lords of Spring and Autumn, too. My body felt as though it was just now awakening from an endless slumber and it demanded to be worshipped.

  “Gardien,” Fionn greeted me as I pushed through the swinging door to the bar area where the party was already in full swing.

  “Fionn.” I nodded to him and accepted the red plastic cup from his hand. There was something familiar about that cup. The cherry red of its exterior, its white interior, the foamy amber liquid it held. It flittered across my mind like so many other memory bubbles before it, but I didn't care enough to chase after it.

  “I hear y'all had a productive day, meetin' da Sage?” Fionn enquired politely, but his eyes were tight and pinched, like he was poised on the edge of a breakdown.

  “I did,” I murmured, taking a sip of my drink and being pleasantly surprised by the taste. My sketchy memory had warned that it would taste bad, like old socks steeped in dishwater, but this drink was delicious. Like honey, and jasmine, and sunshine?

  “Fairy wine,” Fionn supplied when I hummed my approval and licked my lips.

  “Ciarah,” Reece grinned, coming up beside his father and raking his gold-brown eyes over me. “You look—” Whatever he'd been about to say was cut off by Fionn's sharp elbow to Reece's gut.

  “You mind your manners around Le Gardien du Voile boy,” Fionn warned. “She ain't like these Willing Hunt girls, y'hear? She be our goddess and you damn well better treat her such.”

  “'course.” Reece seemed unphased. “But even goddesses must want t'hear how smokin' hot dey are, no?”

  Fionn's eyes bugged out at what I could only assume was what he considered impertinence on his son's part, but in that moment I was
just Ciarah, and as far as I could tell, Ciarah loved hearing how smoking hot she was.

  “Reece.” I greeted him back with a grin. “So this is a fae-biker party, huh?”

  The whole Wild Hunt was in attendance—I could tell without needing to count—along with just as many scantily clad women and at least two dozen wolves. Don’t ask me how I knew they were wolves, I simply did.

  Across the dimly lit room, a pair of bloodred eyes locked on mine and a shiver ran down my back. If my wings had been out, they would’ve trembled under Rafe’s intense stare, but I wasn’t ready to show all my cards just yet.

  Still, I’d been careful when selecting my new clothes to ensure all of my tops had a bare back, just in case I needed to free my wings unexpectedly. Not that I had any issues baring my breasts, but my fuzzy memory spoke of modesty and reminded me that humans weren’t comfortable with casual nudity.

  “Dat it is, sweet t’ang.” Reece nodded, sliding an arm around my waist and leading me over to the pool tables where Amelie stood leaning on a cue while she watched Rafe’s beta try and fail to sink a ball … What was his name again? Marcel?

  “Your dogs, Gardien,” Reece announced with a glint of disgust in his eye as he looked at Rafe, “as you requested.”

  Those dogs in question all rumbled a growl at Reece and I laid a hand on his rock-hard midsection to stop him from retaliating. Amelie caught my eye and winked, a small smile playing at her lips like she was enjoying the animosity.

  “Thank you, Reece.” I smiled up at him and he scowled down at me. He knew full-well he was being dismissed, but he didn’t like it.

  Too damn bad.

  Something inside of me was urging me to make friends with the wolves and that wasn’t something I could do with a scowling autumn fae hovering over my shoulder and tossing insults at them.

  “I’ll get you a fresh drink,” he muttered reluctantly, taking my surprisingly empty cup from my hand. I hadn’t even noticed myself drinking it.