Second Son

by Brenna Lyons

  Maybe when they left, he’d burn this ruin to ashes. It would be a kindness. Too many horrible memories lived in these walls.

  Michael led her to the room Rill, his chief of security, had used. It was the most spacious room beside the one Mik had chosen for himself. It was the most comfortable beside Susan’s and his own.

  He dragged the sheets and quilts off the bed and settled Danellan on the bare mattress. Michael dragged the top quilt from the stack in the cabinet and threw it at the pile of dusty linens. He returned to the bed with two more and started undressing Danellan.

  He wrapped her in the quilts and settled her on the thick pillows. “Stay here. I’ll see if I can find food.”

  Danellan nodded weakly and closed her eyes. Michael sighed. There was little chance of finding food here. If he didn’t, he would have to chance a trip to Lind and exercise one of his options.

  Michael didn’t like the idea of visiting a town so close to Jole, but he couldn’t let Danellan go another night without decent food. It had been two days since she’d eaten a filling meal. He clenched his teeth against the gnawing in his stomach. It had been longer for himself.

  The kitchen opened before him. Michael sighed and pulled open the deep pantry, prepared for the worst. He dropped to his knees with a cry of thanks. Box upon box of food and other supplies filled the room, enough for ten days — or more, if they rationed. He would start rationing himself tomorrow, but Danellan would have her fill at every meal, and they would feast tonight.

  Michael emptied a box of bottled goods onto a shelf and started choosing their fare for the evening. A kit and vegetable stew, dried bread, a jar of implin fruit slices in sucre syrup, and a bottle of lizor berry wine. If there were cheese and milk, he would have everything he needed to support Danellan through a pregnancy in the pantry.

  He stilled with his hand on the bottle of wine, plucking the missive from between the bottles. It was in Jole’s hand. Michael read it, swallowing his gratitude.

  Mik,

  Susan explained your motives. Home is waiting when you are ready to find it. Until then, if your lot sinks low enough that you seek shelter in this dungeon, may Fion grant you comfort.

  I checked the systems myself. The chimneys are not worthy of a fire; but this close to Lind, it would not be prudent in any case. The comfort systems should keep you well enough.

  I am waiting for your call. When you are ready, I will smooth your way however I can.

  Your brother,

  Jole

  Michael finished loading food and utensils into the box. He snatched the field stove Jole left for him. It would truly be a feast.

  *

  Danellan shifted, thankful for the warmth. Was that food? Surely, this old ruin wasn’t stocked. Warm metal teased her cracked lips.

  “Danellan,” Michael crooned to her. “It’s time to eat.”

  She opened her eyes, taking the spoon into her mouth. “Stew,” she whispered in surprise. “Where— How did you do this?”

  He raised the spoon, full again, to her lips. “My stores were undisturbed. No one comes here.”

  Danellan ate slowly, savoring the finest meal she’d had in almost eight weeks. After the stew and bread, there was implin in sweet sap and wine.

  Michael kissed her forehead and left her with yet another glass of the wine in her hand while he ate the remainder of their food, savoring each bite. When he finished, he filled a tankard with wine for himself.

  “Ready for a bath?” he asked her.

  Danellan chuckled and eyed the muscles straining against his tunic appreciatively. “And will I end up naked in your bed, Michael?”

  He sobered and took several deep swallows of the wine. “Do you wish to?” he asked in a husky voice.

  “In bed, yes.”

  “And when we’re not in bed?”

  She smiled. “Silin and lace.”

  He furrowed his brow. “Really? That is your wish?”

  “A dream,” she assured him. “I wasn’t meant for silin. I know that.”

  His eyes darkened, and he brushed the hair from her neck. “What makes you think that?”

  Danellan blushed. “My father was not a favorite of the king, and now I am without position,” she reasoned.

  Michael laid a teasing kiss on her throat. “I would dress you in silin.” He parted her lips and kissed her slowly, thoroughly.

  Danellan sighed and ran a fingertip down his chest. “You are in hiding,” she reminded him.

  He peeled the quilts off of her and panned his eyes over her body. “So are you, but we don’t need to be. I could take my place with my family — with you.”

  Michael suckled on her nipples, savoring them as he had the meal, as if he was starved for her body, though he had her only the night before. Danellan clenched her hands in his hair, pulling his mouth tight over her breast.

  He traveled down her body, the heat of his mouth making her nerves buzz and her core slick for him. Danellan closed her eyes, dizzy in a combination of her warmth and arousal, the food and wine. She groaned as he parted her thighs and buried his tongue in her. His soft beard tickled her thighs.

  “Michael,” she whispered. “Come inside. Please, come inside.”

  Danellan sighed as he removed her hands to her thighs. She shivered in anticipation as the sounds of clothing and boots hitting the floor reached her. Michael’s mouth left her, and the rasp of his tunic over his shoulders announced his readiness. She opened her eyes, drinking in the sight of him, fully naked and aroused, for the first time.

  She licked her lips, and his eyes darkened. She was right all those weeks before. There was nothing soft about his body. His muscles were chiseled into broad shoulders and a warrior’s torso and arms. Michael’s legs were molded by years of riding hottel — or perhaps war-buck. His cock was as tall and broad, reminiscent of the rest of him.

  Michael didn’t move toward her. He stood motionless until she finished her perusal and met his eyes. “Tell me,” he growled, tense as a jaglin ready to pounce.

  Danellan reached her hands out to him. “I’ve never known love like yours, Michael.”

  “Tell me what you wish,” he stated the ritual words.

  “Make love to me, Michael. Please, make love to me.”

  He nodded, crawling between her spread thighs like the jaglin she compared him to moments earlier. Michael looked between their bodies, seating the head of his cock inside her. He grasped her hips and met her eyes then filled her in a single thrust. Danellan’s cry merged with his. Michael moved slowly, withdrawing and filling her again and again.

  Danellan wrapped her legs around him, urging Michael closer as her climax neared. “Michael,” she begged. “Please don’t leave me this time.” She’d give anything to feel him stimulate her, to feel the hot wash of all of his seed inside her.

  He captured her mouth, his kiss urgent. Michael brushed his beard over the sensitive skin under her jaw, enticing her to give him more of her throat.

  “Marry me,” Michael whispered against her body. “Be my bride.”

  Her eyes flew open. “What?”

  His body didn’t stop or even falter in his tireless pistoning of hers. Her surprise laid her further open to the sensations washing over her. She bowed up to his thrusts.

  “Become my bride. Be my full mate,” he repeated. “Say yes, and I will finish inside you.” He nipped at her chin. “Will you scream for me, Danellan? When you release an egg for me, will you scream?”

  The throbbing in her womb intensified. Her legs tightened, and the play of his muscles radiated through her thighs and calves, stealing her ability to reason why she wouldn’t want exactly what he was offering. She gripped his arms, feeling the interplay of muscles beneath her palms. He was making love to her with his entire body.

  “Yes, Michael,” she cried out. “Please, yes.”

  He captured her head between his hands, meeting her eyes. “Be my bride. Tell me, Danellan. Do you want to be my bride?”


  “Yes. I’ll be your bride.”

  Michael captured her mouth, his hands sliding down her body and pulling her core deep around him. He was buried to his hilt, the soft fur of his sac teasing the bottom curve of her buttocks and the head lodging at the gates to her womb with every thrust.

  He released her mouth as Danellan screamed his name, a sexy smile curving his lips. Michael drove into her, his length pulsing as she gripped him.

  “Now, Danellan.” His voice was rough. Michael’s eyes closed, and his fingers bit into the swell of her buttocks. His cry of release was ragged, tortured. His release went on and on, wave after wave of heat massaging the gates of her womb.

  He thickened, and his cock bit into the natural notch her body afforded him then thickened further until he stretched her tight. A flood of his come seemed to radiate through her womb as he breached the gates.

  Her breath hitched as the answering shocks from her body warred with the heat of his seed. Danellan pressed up, a scream of ecstasy ripped from her throat as her egg sought a mate.

  Michael cried out and forced still more of his heat into her. His mouth was on hers, leaving to make torturous trails over her cheeks, ears, throat and shoulders, returning to capture her again and again. His voice sent sweet tendrils of hazy pleasure through her while he continued his exploration.

  “I’ve wanted you so long, Danellan. You’re mine now. Never leave me.”

  There was a desperation in his plea that made her ache. Danellan pulled his head to her, her tongue tangling with his.

  Michael lessened in her. He met her eyes uncertainly, probably embarrassed at his moment of vulnerability.

  Danellan stroked a finger along his lower lip. “I will never leave you,” she assured him.

  The sexy smile returned to his lips. “Am I still the best you’ve known?” he teased.

  She blushed and dropped her eyes.

  “Danellan?”

  She met his eyes and smiled weakly. “I’ve never—” Her blush deepened.

  Michael’s smile returned. “You’ve never dropped an egg?”

  Danellan shook her head.

  “Walla tea? Or did they withdraw as I have?”

  “There was only one who got so far,” she admitted.

  “And?” he prodded. “I cannot believe a man’s prowess would fail with you.”

  “My father dragged the soldier off of me and threatened to make him schaen without the typical surgery. After that, no man dared touch me.”

  “How old were you?” he asked in confusion.

  “Twenty.” She sighed. “I thought— I was legally an adult.”

  “Your father was a good man. He meant well, and I like that I was your first.”

  Danellan managed a strained smile and a nod. Her father was trying to protect her, but not from that soldier or from the chance of an unplanned child. She knew that when she heard Tranol’s plan for her. Cro feared his failure. He knew she’d mourn the loss of what Kell would steal from her if she had the experience. She sobered. He was right. She would miss it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Iric 30th

  Michael slitted his eyes open then gasped in surprise. Danellan stood in the doorway, dressed in one of the silin day gowns he had for Susan. The dress was deep purple and reached only a hand width down her thighs on the taller woman. His cock hardened, and she blushed in response. Danellan was born for silin and lace, but that dress—

  “What are you doing?” he growled. He couldn’t seem to banish the gravel from his voice despite his best effort.

  Danellan brushed her hand over the skirt, smoothing it over her thighs. “Our clothes are washing. I found these. Is there something wrong?”

  Something wrong? With that dress, everything is wrong. He pasted on a smile. “I’d rather have you naked in my bed.” As if that statement hadn’t nearly stolen my sanity when she said it the first time. Still, Danellan wasn’t Susan. Susan never wanted to be naked in my bed.

  She inched the skirt up, revealing her ivory thighs to him. “You don’t like silin?” Her voice was low and inviting.

  Oh Fion, how I want to feel her nipples harden through the silin. “I like silin. I’d like to remove it.”

  Danellan sauntered to him, her hips swinging in silent invitation. She stopped at the foot of the bed. Michael took a deep breath, feasting on the knowledge that her nipples were hard beneath the thin material.

  She hooked the hem with her fingers and eased the skirt up her thighs. Michael fisted his hands, resisting the urge to pull her over him. The dark curls that covered her mound appeared, and he bit back a groan. Susan never wore the gowns. They aren’t Susan’s gowns. Danellan can wear the gowns whenever she wishes.

  “Touch yourself, Danellan.”

  She hesitated, meeting his eyes uncertainly.

  “Come to me and show me how you bring yourself to climax,” he instructed her.

  Danellan circled the bed until she stood beside his chest. Michael reached out and spread her thighs so that he was looking up at her glistening sex.

  Her hand dropped down. She picked up her juices, leaving her slit and stroking her hood. She hissed out her breath slowly, her fingers coating the small nub with every caress.

  “That’s right,” he crooned. “Show me how to touch you.” Michael reached up and circled her distended nipples, smiling as she bit her lip.

  She met his eyes, hers half closed in pleasure. “How do you pleasure yourself, Michael?”

  His cock surged, as what she suggested became clear to him. “Would you like to watch?”

  “Yes.”

  Danellan licked her lips as he fingered his girth, wrapping his hand at the base and squeezing. He worked his way up his length slowly. Michael repeated the motion, growing rougher and faster with each repetition but resisting the urge to drive himself over.

  She watched him breathlessly. Michael moved his eyes from her rapt expression to her self-pleasure over and over. What would she do if he came for her? Would she follow him over in empathetic reaction? Someday, he would find out, but he had no intentions of finishing anywhere but in her depths today.

  “I’ve heard you do this,” she whispered. “In your blanket in the dead of night.”

  “Always dreaming of sliding into your willing body,” he assured her.

  Danellan let out a low cry of longing as a trail of his precome slid down the head. Michael scooped it off on the thumb of his free hand and took it to her mouth. She took it into her mouth and skated her tongue over him, drinking in every drop. Her moan of pleasure vibrated through his body. Her fingers moved faster, coating her hood with more of her honey.

  Michael lowered his hand, dipping his fingers in her. Danellan looked at his hand, her color high. He worked his fingers in and out slowly, his body aching for more. Her eyes followed the route his fingers took from her core to his mouth. Her body trembled as he sampled her honey.

  Michael wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her to the bed. He removed her hand from her core and pulled it into his mouth, cleaning each finger slowly much as he had with a cloth when he bathed her their first day at the ruin.

  He eased Danellan to her back and knelt beside her, cupping her full breast in his hand as he lowered his mouth to her core. “I want to taste you, Danellan.” Michael licked a path around her hood and inside her seam.

  She spread her thighs for him, and he drank from her deeply. Danellan tipped her hips to push him deeper, urging him on with pleas punctuated by breathless little cries. Michael stilled as Danellan wrapped her hand around his cock and shifted to encase the head in her mouth. Her tongue teased at the thick veins under the head, but the position was awkward for her.

  Michael dropped his hip to the bed and straightened his legs, guiding her body so that she was laid over his chest. Danellan took him deep in her mouth.

  “Yes,” he hissed. For a moment, he lay back and let her play on his arousal. Then he reminded himself of his original plan. Michael lifted her
hips and spread her knees around his face.

  Danellan pressed toward him, seeking his mouth. Michael thrust his tongue deep, swirling inside her and finding the sweet spot. She cried out against his length, moving him relentlessly toward the abyss.

  Michael increased his efforts, massaging the spot with the flat of his tongue and probing it with the tip. He wouldn’t complete in her mouth. His plan required that she carry his child before they left the safety of anonymity, before they left this ruin and returned to the world they fled.

  She released his length and screamed his name, her inner muscles contracting. Michael lifted her, settling her over his hips facing away. Danellan pushed up on her knees, and he guided his cock into her. She settled over him. Her body still spasmed, and her fluid coated his length. Michael bucked his hips, losing himself in pleasure.

  “Lay back,” he ordered gently. “I want your breasts.”

  Danellan lay back until her hair fanned over his chest. She pushed back on his length as Michael increased his pace. He cupped her breasts, flicking his thumbs over the silin-encased peaks. Danellan squirmed against him.

  “I’m going to come in you again, Danellan. I’m going to stimulate your egg for me. Only for me.”

  She groaned. “Yes, Michael. Never leave my body again.”

  “You’ll carry my child,” he breathed. “You’ll contract with me.”

  “Yes. A son. Please, Michael.”

  “No. A daughter as beautiful as her mother. Promise me.”

  “One of each,” she gasped.

  “Just one?” he teased, holding off his climax.

  “As many as you wish.”

  Michael roared out his possession of her. His seed filled her, and his cock locked him to her. Danellan whimpered, her hands fisting in the sheets as her body responded to him. He teased her nipples, and she cried out harshly.

  He smiled. “You are my bride.”

  She nodded weakly. “Will you still dress me in silin? We may never leave the bed.”

  “You may wear silin whenever and wherever you wish,” he promised. Susan never wore the gowns. She hadn’t wanted the gowns. They are Danellan’s. And at the moment Danellan tells him she is expecting— But, that day had not arrived yet.