by Angel Lawson
She a goddess, stripping away her clothes and walking to me like a shimmering sun. The heat of her flesh calls to me and all I want is to quench my thirst, to drink from the well of her everlasting soul. I hate the tears that roll down her cheeks.
I will soothe her pain as she heals my wounds.
Once whole, I promise I will lead her down the path to victory, helping guide Morgan to her fullest potential. That is why I’m here—and why the gods chose me eons ago.
I touch her, feel her, and know that I will claim her--no, we will claim her--and triumph over the evil that dared to tear us apart.
Chapter 33
Morgan
“I am so sorry,” I tell him. “I am so sorry it took me this long to get here.”
“Babe, this is not on you. Not one bit.” His fingers stroke down my arm and the energy between us flares, like a smoldering fire being stoked back to life. “I knew you would find us. I had no doubt. I bided my time and saved my energy for when you would arrive.”
“You knew?”
“I knew.”
I kiss his mouth. “Now that I’ve got you, all of you, I’m going to make everything better.”
There’s no coyness behind my statement, no doubt in what I have in mind even though my belly is filled with nerves, and I anxiously glance at the other two men. But Damien, even in a weakened state, is the least judgmental being I’ve ever known. He senses my apprehension and says, “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out together. We always knew one day it would come to this, didn’t you?”
I nod, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. “I’ve dreamed about it. More than once. I just thought it would be all of us.”
He touches my chin. “It will be. It’s how we’ll take the Morrigan out once and for all, but for now, we need to heal, grow our power so we’re ready to fight. Understand?”
I do, and I let him position me so I’m pressed against his belly and chest and I’m relieved with I feel his hard length. I exhale, feeling steady for the first time in days. There’s no doubt I’ve been running on fumes, and this is only confirmed with the surge of power when Damien touches me.
I feel his lips on my ear and he says, “I’m going to take care of you, while you take care of Sam, okay?”
I look at Sam. My sweet, adorable Sam. His eyes are blackened, red marks ring his neck. He’s even skinnier than Damien because he had less meat on him before they were locked up. I’m tentative when I reach out to him, terrified I’m going to hurt him even more.
“Touch him,” Damien whispers. He’s begun moving his own hands, skimming them down the curve of my hips around to my belly. I shiver and he kisses my neck, causing my nipples to tighten and point. I ghost my hand over Sam’s face, his swollen neck, and smile when his eyes flicker open. There’s an innate conflict—I want to sink into the pleasure of Damien’s touch while also focusing on doing the same for Sam.
I’ve never been an amazing multi-tasker.
“Morgan?” His voice gritty and hoarse.
“Hi.”
“What…” he has no voice and the thought of what caused it breaks my heart. Screaming? Begging? Fucking Casteel and his sadistic bend. I press a finger to his lips.
“Don’t talk, okay? Just let me take care of you.”
His eyes shift over my shoulder and Damien says to his brother, “It’s time.”
Sam nods and licks his dry, cracked lips.
Damien’s hands wander to my breasts. I press my ass closer to his ridiculously hard cock. I’ve missed his body and his touch so much that I have to fight back a cry of relief from feeling him close to me again. I rest a hand by Sam’s head, establishing myself in the middle of a Sam-Damien sandwich. Good thing I’m hungry, and I’m not the only one. These men have been starving for days. Not just for food and water, but for the essence of what keeps them alive: Me and the connection I bring to them.
With every ripple of pleasure Damien gives me, by tweaking my nipples or kissing my shoulders, I do the same for Sam. I take my time with him, rousing him gently, licking his skin and lathing my tongue over the red marks on his neck.
I skim my hand down his stomach, toward the soft hair below his belly button and nearly cry when I feel the hard length waiting for me. “So you’ve got a little left in you after all, don’t you?”
His eyelashes flutter, giving me a view of his beautiful green eyes. “For you? Always.”
I lift on one elbow and arch my neck to get a better look at Damien. He’s watching me closely. I beckon him over and kiss him on the mouth, feeling a second set of hands reach for my body. An intense shiver rolls through my body and I know that it’s time.
Chapter
Sam
Her lips taste like salt. Her breath, like the very essence of life. It’s through hooded eyes that I watch Morgan, sitting above me like a queen. Her breasts are perfect, her stomach soft, and the beckoning patch of heaven between her legs call me like an angel’s song.
I’ve spent weeks rotting away in that filthy cell, wondering if I’d ever have the pleasure of seeing her face or touching her body once again.
I never should have questioned it. I never should have doubted.
I know immediately, instinctively, that we have moved to another level in our relationship. She’s here to heal; I feel the aches slipping away with every touch, the bruises fading. I see Damien’s hands. I watch my own. I feel. I feel. I feel, and know what will bring down the bitch sitting on her throne.
I am sure that Morgan always thought that we would be the ones that would save her—she had it wrong. She’ll be the one to redeem us all.
Chapter
Morgan
We move fluidly. Damien follows me as I move to straddle Sam. I kiss his mouth, then his chest, lingering over his sensitive, brown nipples. I feel Damien behind me, hands firmly on my waist, as I make my way downward, grazing my teeth across Sam’s sharp hip bones. He’s still weak, but he watches me, hand clenched on my shoulder. When I’ve shimmied down every inch of his body, I rock forward on my knees, offering my backside to Damien. He doesn’t hesitate, gripping my cheeks and spreading them wide.
Although it seems impossible, I focus on the hard and eager shaft between Sam’s legs. With one hand on my head and another on the base he guides me toward it and I lick the tip, tasting the familiar saltiness. He shudders when I do it again and I cry against the heat in my mouth. I never knew if I’d see them again, and to have the honor of helping bring them back to full strength is almost too much.
I lick and suck and nibble and stroke, never missing a beat. Not even when I feel the pressure behind me, when Damien rubs his fingers between my legs, making sure I’m slick and ready. Not when he slips his cock between the slick folds at the entrance to my core and eases himself inside. I gasp from the sensation, never knowing—never understanding what it could be like.
Like every encounter with my Guardians we’re in tune, in synch, with the pace and tone of our movements. Sometimes it’s about fun. Other times it’s about anger, rage, or pain. Now it’s about healing—unifying. Damien and Sam fill me in two different ways and I’ve never felt so complete.
Damien settles for a minute, giving me time to adjust to the sensation and balance it takes to handle both of them at once. When I feel I’m ready I rock back, moving my mouth and hand at the same time. It’s a slow movement and Sam props up on his elbows, fully alert and watching intently.
I like the way his eyes feel on me. I love the way Damien pushes in and out, slow and steady, hyperaware of my needs. We set a rhythm, the three of us, and soon we’re a chorus of groans and pleasure. With every connection our bond rekindles and power reestablishes. I sense movement next to Sam, the shifting of the blankets, and Clinton, who’d been out like a rock, slowly wakes.
His gray eyes take in everything, lingering on my exposed breasts, on my mouth as I work Sam into a state of sheer delight. He watches Damien who grunts with every thrust.
“Damn,” he mutters, fire ig
niting behind his eyes.
I lick my way up Sam’s cock and release him, keeping the friction with my hand. Sudden nerves take hold. Two men I can handle, but three? I have no idea what to do or how to do it. But I shouldn’t be nervous, because instinct takes over and I reach for Clinton, ready to bring this circle closer.
Chapter
Clinton
Gods above, after centuries of life, after plagues and battles and endless wars, I know for certain I’ve died. The Morrigan finally got me. Killed me in her filthy dungeon. I know this because an angel that looks like my soulmate is before me.
It makes sense that she’d be naked. Stripped of everything but her magnificent body. Sam’s dead too, I’m sure of it; the look on his face as she runs her tongue up and down his cock is nothing short of bliss.
Damien’s breathing comes hard, louder than a standard fantasy. I see the sweat on his chest, the exertion on his face, the red marks on Morgan’s hips from where he grips and holds her as he pounds into her relentlessly.
Even in death I grow hard at the sight of her, at the sight of this majestic scene, but dreams slip into reality when she glances my way. Her dark eyes peer into whatever remains of my soul.
Without the slightest hesitation, she reaches for me. I blink, my ears rushing with blood. Real. This is real. She is real.
I shake away the pain of the dungeon, the death and destruction fostered by a ruthless dictator, and stare at the members of my family. They’re alive and rekindling the power that will end it once and for all.
Morgan beckons and I come.
Chapter 34
Morgan
Clinton wastes no time and moves toward me, kissing me hard on the mouth. The blanket falls, revealing his erection. He may have been asleep but he’s ready now. Sam nudges my hand, encouraging me to go to him. Damien whispers in my ear, “Fuck him. Give him your light and love, Morgan,” and pulls out, leaving me crying out with sudden loss.
The despair is short-lived. Clinton is more than up to the task, lifting me over his lap until I’m straddling his hips. I have no desire to wait, lowering myself onto his throbbing erection. Damien moves to one side and Sam, stronger now, does the same. They stand next to me and while Clinton and I quickly set a pace, I reach for both of their glistening cocks as they each fondle my breasts. I feel them everywhere. Inside, outside, down every limb. I feel the heat and power from their hard, pulsing cocks. I hear the want and connection in their labored breathing. I’m raw and ready, charged and feeling the surge of power coursing through me—through us. Sam clutches my shoulder, Damien pulls my hair, and Clinton, he stares at me with such intensity it’s insane I ever thought I’d live another day without them.
We’re one.
We’re together.
We’re powerful.
In the real world, spirits don’t collide. Bodies do not work on the same time and space. But in that little cavern the three of us reach a level of pleasure, one where we stop being three different souls and forge into one ultimate power. The orgasm races up and down our bodies, tickling our senses, fraying each and every nerve. I feel it in Clinton’s final thrust, hard and pulsing. I hear it in Sam’s throat, his breath caught from his ecstasy, a groan so deep it makes me tremble. I sense it in the thick, white spurts of Damien’s cum, warm and sticky all over my hands and arms.
And it rocks me to the core, every inch of my body, across my skin—deep in the very essence of my heart. My head spins and I grow numb, my senses on complete and utter overload.
But it doesn’t matter. Three sets of hands catch me, cradle me, and love me unconditionally.
Together, we’re a united force, and I dare anyone to attempt to come between us.
Chapter
Dylan
The castle shudders. The stone shifts underfoot, like a giant sighing in relief. Casteel groans, blood trickling from the wound on his chest. Just as I have no doubt what shook the castle like an earthquake, I have no doubt the Morrigan will be here soon, looking for the cause.
Casteel makes one last effort to raise his hand at me, but I feel the buzz, a glorious, powerful buzz, and I swing my blade, lopping off his hand at the wrist. He howls in pain and swears, “She’ll castrate you for this, Sentinel. All of you.”
He grips his wrist, blood flowing quickly from the wound. He crawls toward the fire—cauterizing is his only option. The Morrigan can save him or look for me. It’s her choice. There’s another rumbling, this time cold and bitter, a storm coming from the higher parts of the castle.
Time is running out.
I run from the room, the smell of burnt flesh followed by screaming pain chases me down the hall. I turn in the direction I came in. I know where the dungeons are. I spent weeks down in the dark pits beneath the castle. Another tremor ricochets off the walls, nearly knocking me off my feet. I right myself and continue down the stairs, following the vibrations. They’re down here. I don’t know where and I don’t know how my girl pulled it off, but she got them together. She found her mates and opened conduits of energy and power. I feel it. I know it.
Now I just have to figure out where they are so I can get us all the hell out of here.
Chapter
Morgan
Wow.
That’s all I can think or even feel. I coil my hand into a fist and then open it, nails elongating into sharpened points. I relish the surge of complete power flowing through my bones.
Wow. Fucking. Wow.
Three Guardians at once and I know they took it easy on me, there could be more, and like an addict wanting a hit, there is no doubt in my mind that if we survive this hellhole, it’s something we’ll explore again. Next time we’ll do it at home, slowly, taking our time.
My skin tingles, even now that my breathing has returned to normal and my cheeks have lost the flaming heat of exertion. The men laze around me, catching their breath and going through the final stages of healing. The power that ran through me to them and back again was nothing short of epic. Together we are at full power. What will happen when Dylan joins in? Or Bunny?
If we even allow him to return.
I completely understand now why the Morrigan did what she did—why she kidnapped my men. What I don’t understand, even more than before, was Bunny’s betrayal. To what end? What was his point?
A knock on the door breaks me from my thoughts and I stand, wrapped in nothing but a blanket, and cross the room. I glance back and see my Guardians shift into alertness.
I open the door and Nevis stands on the other side. Bunny lurks nearby, keeping watch. He’s placed a rune of protection on the door. He’s trying—or at least pretending that he is.
Nevis’ eyes dart from me to the men, who have relaxed, aware we’re not under any threat. “Feeling better?”
“Absolutely.”
“I brought you something.” She reveals a folded-up outfit in her hands. I shake it out, and realize it’s my suit from back home. I smile and take it from her. “I have something for them, too. Can I bring it in?”
“Thank you. And of course.”
I step aside and two men enter the dwelling, carrying stacks of clothing and boots. They hand an outfit to each of my three guardians and have two extra. The material is familiar. I walk over and hold my own next to it. The fabric matches, everything from the weave to the stitching. I’ve seen them before—in the closet of the training room in the basement of The Nead.
“How did you get these?” I ask.
“Our people have served the Queen since the beginning—regardless of what realm they reside in.” I study her hair. Her face. I think about the way she carries herself. Her strength and the lack of fear she has, despite her position.
“You got these from Davis and Sue.” I look at my Guardians. They seem as surprised as I do. “I knew there was more to them than just…”
“Servants?” she says. “We’re the heartbeat tying the two realms together. We’ve bided our time for centuries. Toiling away, working for the Morrig
an, waiting for the day our savior would come and free us from oppression.”
“Me?”
She nods. “Davis and Sue are impressed, which isn’t easy. They’ve known it for some time.”
The enormity of the moment slams into me, and if I hadn’t just juiced up on Raven power, I’d probably crumble under the pressure. Nevis and the people down here think I’m going to save them. I look at the grim expressions on the Guardians and realize that is wrong. They think we’re going to save them.
Which, I guess, is exactly what we had planned. There’s just more at stake than I ever knew.
I steal a glance at my men, who are in the midst of dressing. In a low voice I say, “I’m going to need your help.”
Nevis’ eyes twinkle and she curtsies. “At your service.”
*
I ignore the questioning looks from my men as I take one of the extra suits and carry it outside. I’m already dressed, and I slide my sword into the sheath on my back. Bunny stands near the house, alert though obviously exhausted. I walk over to him and note that the purple shadows under his eyes are deeper than before. I expected him to get at least a contact boost from my encounter with the others, but instead he looks worse.
Good.
I toss him the suit and he catches it.
“What’s this for?”
“We’re getting out of here. Thought you may need it.”
He stares at the fabric in his hands. “You want me to go with you?”
I take a step closer. “Not really. But I need you.”
“I need you, too.”
Without the slightest bit of hesitation I slap him across the face. Hard. Gods, that felt good. “You’ll do everything I say. Follow every command. Each direction. Without question. Do you understand that?”
