by Mari Carr
“Make your pledge,” Giovanni ordered.
In the Masters’ Admiralty, the orders and commands of a territory admiral and the fleet admiral were law in all things, but especially when it came to the trinity marriage. His admiral had spoken the words. His own pledge was just part of the ritual. Refusing to say them wouldn’t undo the marriage.
He couldn’t walk away. He was married, though the union technically conditional until they went to the Isle of Man to confirm their marriage at Triskelion Castle, but that was just a formality.
Antonio cleared his throat, and then made his pledge. “I pledge on my honor as a security officer, as a son of Rome, and as your spouse, to love, protect, and keep you for all of your days.”
He said the words, but he couldn’t bear to look at his wives as he did so. Instead, he looked out the window, at trees and sky, this land that was as much a part of him as his name.
Rome had lost its princess, but with his marriage—uniting three powerful territory families—his father had ensured that the Starabba family line would continue. That they would remain here on this land, and in this house. Antonio would become admiral. If he was very lucky, maybe Rosa would be named admiral and he could play the role of enforcer for her, the way he’d been meant to for Sophia.
Rosa said her vows, her voice soft and melodious. Viola sounded a bit nervous. He should want to put her at ease, to make her feel safe.
He should want that, but he didn’t. He didn’t care for her.
Not the way he cared for Karl and Leila.
“Rise,” Giovanni said solemnly.
Antonio pushed to his feet, then turned and bowed to his trinity. He wasn’t good with words, but for their sake, he tried to make a somewhat flowery speech. “Forgive me. I have duties that I must see to.”
Given their shocked expressions, his attempt at flowery speech hadn’t gone well. Damn.
Rosa recovered first. “Of course. And I have an affair I need to end properly.” Her throat worked a little after she said it.
Antonio had a vague memory of Sophia telling him that Rosa was in a serious relationship with Toma Rossi. The Rossis were another powerful family.
He wondered if Rosa and Toma had thought they’d end up together. Maybe the plan had been that he would be their third.
Antonio turned to his father. “I must take Karl and Leila to Dublin for a few days. I will return when I am able.”
The ammiraglio nodded. “I understand. You are a credit to Rome, Antonio.” Then Giovanni turned to Rosa and Viola. “Ladies, perhaps you will accept my hospitality, and join myself and my trinity for a meal and cocktails.”
Antonio forced himself to nod to each of his wives, but he didn’t meet their eyes. Then he turned on his heel and walked out of the central hall, leaving that sinister gold light behind, retreating into the cool darkness.
By the time he reached the second floor, he was running.
As Antonio stood outside the door to Karl’s room, his chest rising and falling rapidly, he could hear Leila and Karl’s hushed voices, then her soft laugh.
His fists clenched. His heart ached.
Lifting his hand, he knocked.
His first instinct had been to return to his room. It was a ridiculous impulse, a ridiculous response to being placed in his trinity. He’d always known this day would come. And yet he’d wanted to beat his fists against a wall, to roar out all his rage until his hands bled and his throat was raw.
Instead, his feet led him here.
Karl opened the door, smiling when he saw him standing there. “Leila and I were just packing for our trip tomorrow. An easy task, considering neither one of us owns a damn thing.”
Antonio nodded. He realized Karl’s comment was meant to be funny, but he couldn’t force the appropriate reaction, couldn’t smile when he was so…furious, so trapped, so desperate.
Karl gave him a curious look, his brows lowering.
Antonio needed to school his features, to find a way to calm the tempest his father had set loose inside him.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
Then…he threw the lock.
Leila was perched on the edge of Karl’s bed, a half-empty knapsack next to her. “Antonio?” His name was a question. Like Karl, she could see more than he wanted her to.
Bile clogged his throat. He’d been placed in his trinity. He couldn’t tell them…wouldn’t. To admit it would make it true.
He wasn’t interested in truth right now.
Antonio wanted to escape—this house, his unwanted future, his lack of control.
He was spiraling, spinning so fast the world was one giant blur.
All he could see, could focus on, was them.
Karl.
Leila.
“We were just talking about tomorrow’s trip.” It had become Karl’s habit of distracting them from troubling moments by turning the conversation to something safe, something mundane.
That wouldn’t work this time.
“Take off your clothes.”
Antonio’s command reverberated in the room with the same effect as a nuclear explosion.
Leila’s eyes widened.
Karl stepped closer to her in a move Antonio interpreted as protective. The other man’s brows furrowed. “What?”
“You heard me. I won’t say it again.” Antonio stood in front of them, not moving, not breathing. He wasn’t sure what he would do if they refused. God, he wasn’t sure how he’d respond if they questioned him about his motives.
He was a raging bull, and his father had just waved the red flag.
Leila was the first to move. She stood and, in one fell swoop, pulled the soft cotton T-shirt she was wearing over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Jesus,” Karl whispered, his gaze locked on her chest.
Antonio stepped in front of her, his hands reaching out to grip her firm breasts, cupping them, squeezing.
Her eyes drifted closed as she whispered his name.
He bent his head, sucking a taut nipple into his mouth. Leila’s fingers curled into Antonio’s hair, holding him to her. He recalled Eric’s questioning in the hospital, the way she’d admitted to needing rough sex.
Antonio bit her nipple, increasing the tension until she moaned.
“Antonio,” Karl said. “Wait.”
He released Leila’s nipple, a small pop sounding, before he turned toward Karl, his eyes narrowing when he saw the man was still dressed.
Antonio reached over, gripping Karl’s upper arm, drawing him closer. “Don’t say no,” he warned him. Antonio needed to get a handle on his anger, on the despair that was drowning him. It had no place here. Not with them.
Karl cupped Antonio’s cheek, the touch surprisingly gentle in the face of the hostility in Antonio’s tone.
“No one is saying no. What happened, mijn vriend?”
Antonio shook his head, his lips pressed tightly closed. He understood enough Dutch to recognize the words “my friend.” Regardless, he couldn’t tell them what had just happened, couldn’t admit to them he’d been bound to two others.
He’d explode under the impact of that reality.
When it was obvious he couldn’t talk, Karl simply nodded.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Antonio whispered, the sound gruff, raw. He was promised to two others.
Karl still touched his face. “You’re wrong. This is exactly where you should be.” Then he leaned toward Antonio and kissed him.
Unlike the first kiss he and Karl had shared at the mouth of the cave, this one couldn’t be described as anything less than a power exchange. Their tongues stroked, and Karl, aware of the violence rumbling inside him, gave him exactly what he needed.
A release.
Karl bit Antonio’s lower lip, drawing blood.
The tangy, bitter taste set his body aflame, so he deepened the kiss, held him tighter, harder.
Leila drew nearer, reaching between them, unfastening Antonio’s pants, th
en Karl’s.
As he and Karl continued to fight for control of the most brutal, passionate kiss in history, she freed their cocks, wrapping her hands around them, stroking their hard flesh in her tight grip.
“Fuck.” Karl was the first to break away, his breath coming in hard gasps as Leila pumped them harder, faster.
Karl reached for her wrist, pulling her away. “Geliefde, sweetheart. Please. Have mercy.”
Antonio tugged her hand away too, but not because he wanted mercy. He didn’t. He wanted to burn, to bury himself deep inside her, inside both of them.
He pushed his pants down, stepping out of them after toeing off his shoes. His shirt was the next to go.
Leila and Karl watched, neither of them moving to follow his lead.
Antonio narrowed his eyes, when they continued to look. “I won’t wait any longer.”
Leila responded first, shrugging out of the rest of her clothing.
“Get on the bed,” Antonio said. “On your back.”
With every command he barked, he saw the split second of hesitation on her part as she considered the request before responding.
Leila wasn’t the type of woman who was commanded or dominated. He’d bet his family’s entire fortune that she was used to being the top. He couldn’t give her that. Not tonight.
Hell, not ever.
He had never been a possessive lover, never felt the need to stake a claim so deep no one could sunder it.
He felt it now.
Leila crawled onto the bed, lying on her back, waiting for him.
It was beautifully submissive. A gift.
Karl took two steps toward her before stopping, looking at Antonio. He tilted his head slightly, in a way that proved he too, was willing to obey.
Antonio lifted one brow, his gaze raking Karl’s still-dressed form.
Karl gave him a ghost of a grin before shedding his clothing.
They were beautiful.
There were faded bruises on Leila’s chest, her wrists. Red marks revealed the skin that was still healing on Karl’s legs and ass.
Antonio struggled to catch his breath. A voice in the back of his head screamed he shouldn’t be here. He had no right to take this, not after what they’d suffered.
Not after he’d just been called to the altar.
Karl and Leila weren’t his. They’d never be his.
His heart wouldn’t accept that, so he shut the voice down.
“What do you want, Antonio?” Karl asked.
Everything I can’t have.
The words came unbidden, and though he didn’t speak them aloud, Karl read the turmoil in his face.
“It’s okay.” Karl reached for him, but Antonio took a step back. If he was going to leave, it had to be now. If either of them touched him, he’d never be able to walk away. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. His father and the Masters’ Admiralty be damned. He’d almost died for these two once…when he didn’t even know them. He’d do it again gladly.
Antonio shook his head. “I…” He swallowed heavily.
Leila opened her legs, drawing their attention to her. “Don’t stop.” Then, the gorgeous, sensual, perfect woman took control, running her fingers along her slit, the slick juices of her arousal coating them, before pushing two inside her pussy.
Karl muttered a soft curse, while Antonio felt the last vestige of self-control slip away.
He placed one knee on the mattress, between her outstretched legs, dragging her hand away. She resisted, fighting to keep her fingers exactly where she wanted them.
“Mine,” he said, his tone dark, filled with warning.
Leila licked her lips. “Prove it.” Her words were a taunt—and exactly what he needed.
Like Karl, she read his need for control, and though it went against their natural inclinations, they were putting themselves in his hands.
After losing their freedom to Ciril, this complete trust was the greatest gift he’d ever received.
Antonio’s mind whirled over all the ways he wanted to take them, all the things he wanted to do to and with them.
In the end, he realized what he wanted most—tonight—was them. Just them.
He looked at Karl, and knew the other man wanted the same.
Karl moved to the head of the bed, sitting in the middle, his back against the headboard.
“Roll over,” Antonio said, his hand on Leila’s hip, helping her twist until she was on her hands and knees.
She crawled toward Karl, who was stroking his thick erection. Leila looked over her shoulder at Antonio. He smiled at her hungry look.
“Take him into your mouth.”
Leila didn’t need to be asked twice.
Karl ran his hand through her long blonde hair, the touch full of genuine affection. The two of them shared an unbreakable bond, solidified by the time they’d spent in the basement. They had pulled each other through the horrific experience. And for the past few weeks, they’d taken the time to allow their bodies to heal.
Tonight, they’d try to mend their broken souls.
Leila ran her tongue along the underside of Karl’s cock, from root to tip, as he leaned his head back, his eyes drifting closed.
“Mooi,” Karl murmured.
Beautiful.
Antonio agreed. Leila was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Leila took Karl into her mouth, moving slowly, taking her time as if she wanted to savor the moment.
Antonio watched for several minutes, captivated by them.
When he couldn’t stand separate from them a second longer, he shifted on the bed until he was kneeling behind her. Placing one hand on her hip, he used the other to guide his dick to her opening. Antonio pressed the tip inside—and then froze.
“Condom.”
Leila released Karl, shaking her head. “Safe. Clean. I don’t want anything between us.”
Antonio didn’t either. He moved forward in one slow, steady push, until he was completely buried in her tight, wet heat. He forced himself to remain still, to give her time to adjust.
“Leila,” he murmured.
“You know what I like,” she said, using her hand to stroke Karl, whose gaze traveled down the length of her back and locked on the place where Antonio and Leila were connected.
“You’re still recovering.” The words felt as if they were pulled from Antonio, viciously, as he was torn in half—desperate to take her hard, claim her, mark her, yet overwhelmed with the desire to protect her, coddle her, make love to her.
“Please, Antonio. Ota minut. Kova.” She was slipping back into Finnish.
He leaned over her, his chest pressed to her back. “What did you say?” he whispered in her ear, his hot breath provoking a shiver.
“Take me. Hard.”
Antonio looked up into Karl’s face, seeking guidance—or perhaps permission.
Do it, Karl mouthed.
The leash slipped. Antonio straightened, then gave in to her desires…and his.
He fucked her as all the desperation, desolation, and need clawed at his insides. Through it all, he said her name, and Karl’s, over and over.
Leila continued to stroke Karl’s cock, but Antonio wasn’t sure if that was for his pleasure or merely her way of holding on.
Karl’s fingers threaded through her hair, guiding her mouth back to the head of his dick. “I’m close, liefde.”
She responded, sucking him back inside.
Antonio wasn’t the only one who needed to claim her.
Karl came within seconds. Antonio slowed his thrusts, watching Karl’s face as he came. His cock swelled thicker, his arousal growing at the sight.
Leila drank down every drop, holding him in her mouth, even as her flushed cheeks betrayed how close she was as well.
“Leila. De mijne. De mijne.”
Mine.
Karl cupped her face, slowly disengaging. “Let me see you come,” he said to Leila, before looking at Antonio. “Both of you.”
Antonio
resumed his previous pace, driving deep, hard.
Leila cried out, coming after half a dozen strokes. Her pussy clenched, tighter than a vise.
Antonio had never felt such pleasure. Such pain.
His hands gripped her hips tighter, tugging her ass toward him on every forward swing.
Her first orgasm gave way to a second, and this time, he was helpless to resist, to stop himself from falling as well.
Pulse after pulse of come filled her as he jerked roughly, calling out her name, then he whispered, il mio.
Mine.
Karl cradled her head against his chest as Antonio remained behind her, buried within her warmth. He couldn’t withdraw, couldn’t pull away.
Leila took the decision away from him, moving until his softening dick fell away.
Then she turned toward him, giving him the sweetest of kisses.
Her Italian was better than he realized.
“Il tuo,” she whispered. “Entrambi i tuoi.”
Yours. Both of yours.
If only that were true.
Leila stirred sometime in the middle of the night, her eyes trying to adjust to the dark. For the past few weeks, she’d awoken night after night with a jerk, in a cold sweat.
The terror she was able to keep at bay during the day sought its revenge in the black of night, coming at her threefold, thrusting her back into that basement, naked, wet, freezing.
Her first lucid thought was, I’m not cold.
Then she realized she wasn’t afraid either. It wasn’t a nightmare that had woken her up. It was the large hand that brushed her breast, touching her sensitive nipple.
She glanced over at the owner, smiling when she realized Antonio was awake and looking at her. She didn’t have to twist the other direction to know that Karl was still asleep. She could hear his easy, rhythmic breathing.
“Nightmare?” Antonio whispered.
She shook her head, amazed by that fact. Leila had recently accepted that she’d never enjoy a peaceful sleep again.
There was a sliver of moonlight shining through the curtains. It provided enough light that she could see his face. While she felt relaxed, thoroughly pleasured, it was clear something still tormented him.
