by SM Reine
Donne was growling. I tried to turn to look at him, but Rage gripped my hair, forcing me still so that I could only look at him.
“Careful,” he panted. “Don’t stimulate him. Don’t—don’t tempt him.”
I wanted to argue that I wasn’t doing anything, but it was impossible to think, much less speak.
Donne’s hands wrapped around my breasts, kneading them in his palms. He teased the nipples out into hard peaks. Rage dipped his head and sucked one of them into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue. Their combined touch was electric.
Even with Donne on the brink of losing control, the men functioned together like they were a team. Like they’d done this before.
Maybe they had.
The idea made me jealous, but the jealousy was kind of hot. Who else could have been pinned between them, as I was? Had they shared Ravyn before? Maybe Desdemona? Or other random fans they’d picked up on their tour bus?
My head spun. “This isn’t—this isn’t fair, you guys. One of you needs to get in me, dammit.”
Rage chuckled breathlessly. That low, sexy groan only made my arousal worse. “You need to finish.”
“Finish,” Donne growled from behind me. His hand was wrapping around my throat again. Tighter this time. My breath became high and raspy.
I wanted to tell him to squeeze harder, to take my ability to breathe away completely. As my lungs struggled to expand, the pleasure only climbed to greater heights, between my legs and from Rage’s mouth on my breast. It was dizzying. Almost painful. The sweetest kind of pain I’d ever experienced.
My ability to speak had fled, though. Not just because I was barely breathing, but because my brain was melting.
Rage shifted his angle, and he hit a new spot—a totally different spot that made me snap.
I climaxed with a whine, unable to scream the way that I wanted to. The world turned white. My hearing went tinny.
The silence was beautiful.
And in that absolute mental silence, I glimpsed the same beautiful, pristine world I’d glimpsed on the bus.
I was ripped from my body by pleasure, connected to the universe at its most fundamental level, grounded only by the men pressed against me on either side.
Best orgasm ever?
Well, definitely top ten.
XIII
I wasn’t sure how long I rode on that high. It just kept rippling through me. Every time Rage moved a fraction of an inch, pleasure swept through me anew.
But I did come down eventually. Something that good couldn’t last forever.
“Holy hell,” a voice murmured. Donne was whispering into my neck.
Hearing him finally woke me up, chest heaving and eyelids fluttering. “What?” My head lolled against his shoulder. If it hadn’t been for the cage of his arms holding me in place, I probably would have fallen off the amp.
“We’ll have to do this again and see if it always has this effect.” Rage struggled to get the sentence out because he was so breathless.
My eyelids peeled open. I looked down to see that my skin was filled with glimmering sunlight.
Again.
I tried to sit up and pull away from the men, but I couldn’t. My arms were still restricted by the amp cables.
“Is this supposed to happen?” I asked.
“Yeah, Leah.” Donne’s lips tickled the back of my neck. He sounded so much calmer now that I’d orgasmed. Apparently, that had done the trick to tame his wolf—at least for now. “This is supposed to happen.”
“How do you know?”
Rage still had his arms braced beside me on the amp, as though he didn’t quite have the strength to walk away. “If it’s happening, it’s meant to happen.” He turned enough to see Donne over my shoulder. “Sex triggered her. Sex and werewolves. Why?”
“I don’t know,” Donne said. “You’re the high priest. You tell me.”
The rock star’s eyes filled my vision completely. It was too dark to make out the color, so they looked like vast pools of shadow. “What are you, Kitten? Why are the tarot witches forbidden? What’s it all mean?”
It hurt for him to ask me those questions. He was supposed to be the guy with the answers. He was supposed to be able to make sense of this crazy world.
But these men were guessing as much as I was.
As if smothered by my disappointment, my glowing skin dimmed.
Rage backed away, groaning as he adjusted himself in his snug leather trousers. I’d been satisfied, but he hadn’t. He was still sporting a very obvious erection.
I tried hard not to stare. It was probably silly to be worried about offending him when I’d watched Ravyn blow him the first night we met, but I still had a sense of decency.
At least, I used to have a sense of decency. But now the memory of what Ravyn had done had my mouth watering.
“You okay?” Rage asked. He wasn’t speaking to me.
“I’m in control,” Donne said.
We weren’t about to get slaughtered by a horny werewolf. That was great. The night was looking up.
Even if I was still tied to an amp.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Anything to protect Donne,” Rage said with a wry smile.
“But…” My eyes flicked down to his pants again.
Rage knew what I was looking at. His eyes sharpened. “That’s probably a bad idea, Kitten.”
Donne sniffed along my neck. “She’s getting aroused again.”
I could barely speak, my mouth was so dry. “It’s just…not fair for him. That’s all.”
Rage’s eyebrow lifted. “You want to be fair?”
Donne shoved me off the amp. I almost fell without my hands for balance, but he moved lightning-fast, catching me before I hit the floor. The instant of free fall was long enough to get my heart hammering.
“She’s right,” Donne said.
Rage suddenly looked deadly serious. He studied the werewolf’s face for a long time, as though considering something.
It seemed as though he liked seeing us on our knees.
“You know you don’t owe me anything,” Rage said.
Donne’s grip on me tightened. “Don’t make me reconsider.”
Rage sauntered up to us, loosening the braided cord that held his leather trousers together. “Fine.”
It was intimidating to kneel in front of a man who’d received many blow jobs in his lifetime—one of which I’d witnessed myself—when I’d only ever half-assed some oral with my ex-boyfriend, too shy to allow myself to enjoy the experience.
But now Donne’s hand was smoothing through my hair, the fingers of his opposite hand curving around my jaw, urging me toward Rage.
“Is it really okay?” I asked. My fingers were itching to reach out and touch him. The amp cables felt like they were burning lines into my skin.
Donne didn’t ask me why I was asking permission. We weren’t in a relationship, officially speaking; we had barely gotten a chance to speak with each other since we met. Yet he understood—just as I did—that there was something special between us.
I wasn’t going to use the word “mates” aloud, but it was wedged into my mind as I gazed hungrily at Rage.
“Yes,” Donne said. “You should.”
Rage’s eyes smoldered. His gaze had connected with Donne’s over my shoulder, and I felt like there was a conversation happening between them that I couldn’t hear. It was on a level far more intense and so much more meaningful than anything words could have said.
I squirmed in the ropes. “Untie me.”
“I don’t think we can trust you,” Donne said. “And you don’t need your hands.”
Staring up at Rage, a strange sensation settled over me, making my skin tingle.
This was so familiar. Not the amps, or the opening act blasting music on stage just a few hundred feet away, but the position of our bodies. Rage standing above me, and Donne and I kneeling at his feet, was giving me serious déjà vu.
We were just li
ke the picture on The Hierophant.
But Rage was no pope-like figure with his hands uplifted in holy positions. He was undoing his snug leather trousers, reaching inside, lifting out his erection.
I’d already seen him before, but now Rage’s swollen length was only a few inches away from me, waiting for satisfaction.
“Are you just going to stare?” he asked, voice low and gravelly.
Donne steadied me with an arm around my waist, hand spread over my lower belly. My breasts dangled as I leaned forward and licked Rage tentatively, running my tongue along the underside of the head. It was surprisingly smooth and firm.
Rage gave a grunt of satisfaction.
“Do it right, Leah.” Donne pressed me forward with the arm hooked around my back, forcing me forward an inch, two inches, until the head bumped against the roof of my mouth.
For an instant, it was hard to breathe. I felt like I was choking.
What am I doing?
Just three days earlier, the wildest plans for my week had been going on a short road trip to see a concert. Now I was backstage at another concert, trying to see how much of Rage’s cock I could fit in my mouth.
Donne’s grip eased, allowing me to draw back and breathe properly. The sound that Rage made at the caress of my tongue was incredibly rewarding.
The werewolf didn’t need to urge me forward again. With my arms still bound tightly behind me, I slid my mouth over Rage a second time, taking him deeper.
I could almost get all the way down on the third try, bringing the tip of my nose close to the abstract tattoo encircling the base of his member.
“Goddess,” Rage breathed.
With Donne steadying me, watching me closely, I set a rhythm in time with the music that the opening band was playing on stage.
I wished I could have had my hands. I twisted my wrists harder.
Donne dug his fingers into my side. “Stop it. You’ll hurt yourself.”
But I kind of liked the way it hurt. The amp cables digging into my skin pinched, and the sensation made me feel more alert, clearer-headed.
My behavior on the tour bus that first night could have been explained away by alcohol. I didn’t have any excuses now. There was nothing making me suck Rage into my mouth and run my tongue along the underside of the shaft except my desire to satisfy him.
It wasn’t subservience that brought me to my knees in front of Rage, though. It didn’t make me feel small or degraded or used.
I felt powerful.
This high priest was rendered helpless and groaning by what I was doing to him. He had to lean back against one of the amps to remain balanced.
The Hierophant burned brightly in my mind as I pleasured Rage. Two worshipers kneeling in front of a holy man. A spiritual triad. Just like the three of us.
“She’s burning brighter,” Donne said.
Rage struggled to speak. “Her hands…”
At the gasped command, Donne finally loosened the amp cables around my wrists. My shoulders ached at the sudden relief of being able to move.
Now that I had the ability to touch Rage, I wasn’t sure what to do. So I surrendered to instinct. One of my hands slid up his thigh, clawing along the leather, leaving faint imprints of my nails.
My fingers encircled his shaft. For the first time, I glimpsed my skin and saw that Donne was right—I was glowing again.
I couldn’t hear the opening act anymore. There was a different song playing in my mind—the call of destiny, Rage had said—and it wasn’t coming from some distant, wild place.
It came from deep inside of me.
Judging by the sounds Rage was making, he was getting close to finishing. I clutched at Donne’s hand. He squeezed me tightly.
“Now,” Donne said, and it wasn’t directed at me.
Rage came with a shout, hips thrusting forward, spine bowed.
My mouth flooded with his taste. It was salty, a tiny bit bitter, but not at all unpleasant.
Rage collapsed against the amp behind him, and I sat back on my knees. Only then did I notice that they were hurting from kneeling for so long.
With my ex-boyfriend, I’d excused myself to the bathroom to clean that up in the way that nice girls were meant to do, spitting it into a tissue and flushing it down the toilet. Now, I swallowed.
Donne cradled me in his arms, gazing down at me with bright, burning eyes. He didn’t look jealous or angry. He looked at me like I was a puzzle he still didn’t quite understand.
His hand smoothed over my cheek. “That shine—it’s beautiful.”
“Thanks?” I wasn’t sure how enthusiastic I should really be about some weird kind of magic that was making me light up whenever I did something sexual.
As if sensing my discomfort, Donne kissed me briefly. The feeling of his lips on mine pushed away everything else—the growing shame, the sounds around us, even my awareness of Rage.
It didn’t last long enough. I could have stayed in his arms like that forever.
But then Donne helped me to my feet. I was unsteady on my legs. I grimaced as I rolled my arms out, shoulders popping. “Am I going to get tied to something again?”
“It depends on whether you plan on trying to run again,” Donne said.
A woman rushed into the storage room. As soon as I realized we had company, I started trying to pull my dress around myself again, hiding my breasts and thighs.
I didn’t need to worry. It was only Ravyn, and she didn’t look surprised to see the three of us half-naked together. “There’s someone here who wants to see you guys. Rage in particular.”
“I’ve got a concert starting in about ten minutes. I’m not seeing anyone.” Rage shoved himself back into his pants, laced up the cord again.
“You’ll want to see this person. She has a tarot card,” Ravyn said. “And she says she wants to talk to you.” Her eyes focused on me. “Both of you.”
XIV
It was a little awkward to run around backstage with the taste of Rage lingering on my tongue. It felt like I had a neon sign on my forehead that broadcasted what we’d been doing to every member of the crew that we passed.
I completely forgot about the awkwardness once we reached the green room—which was not, in fact, green at all. It resembled a living room with comfortable furniture and posters of the many bands and sports teams that had visited the stadium.
The woman waiting to meet us was wore shorts under motorcycle chaps, a boob-hugging tank top, and a cropped leather jacket. She looked skanky and mean, like she’d screw your boyfriend then start a slap fight over it. And she’d definitely win. Judging by the scars on her neck, she’d won more than her share of fights before.
The guy at her side was stacked. I’m talking pure muscle. To put it nicely, I wouldn’t have dared try to slap back if the woman did screw my boyfriend, because it looked like this guy would rip my head off.
And when the new man looked at me, shock coursed through my body. His eyes were liquid gold like Donne and Graham’s.
He was also growling.
Donne shoved me behind him. “What is this?” he snarled. “A trap?”
The other werewolf made it halfway across the room before his female companion stopped him.
“Cooper,” she said sharply.
The instant she touched his back, he relaxed. “Sorry.” He lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. “We didn’t come to fight. It’s instinct. Sorry.”
Donne didn’t relax as quickly, and my touch definitely didn’t help. He only grew more tense.
“This is a bad time,” Rage said. “We’ve got a mating problem going on. If I’d known what you were—”
“I told your girl that I have one of the tarot cards,” the woman said. “You should have guessed I’d have a werewolf with me.”
She spoke with total authority, and a little bit of disdain. That was a dangerous tone to use with Rage. I’d felt his anger before. I wouldn’t do anything to risk having it turned on me again. This chick was playing wi
th fire and she didn’t know it.
But even though the air around Rage hummed with tension, he remained outwardly calm. He turned to Donne. “Maybe you should go check on your dad.”
“I’m not going to leave Leah,” Donne said.
“She’ll be safer if there aren’t werewolves fighting in the green room. I’ll watch her.”
“I don’t really need to be watched,” I added helpfully.
“Like hell you don’t,” Donne said. But he stepped back. “I’ll be outside.”
It was about a thousand times easier to breathe in the green room once Donne was gone, leaving only one golden-eyed, muscular, male model wannabe behind. And Cooper didn’t seem interested in me at all. He was ambling around the room, studying the posters.
Thank goodness. I wasn’t sure what I would have done if a third werewolf had decided he needed to mate with me.
Rage approached the woman and held out a hand. “Let me see it.”
The woman pulled a card out of her leather jacket. The fringe on her sleeve swayed as she held it out. Rage moved to take it, but she kept it out of reach.
“Look with your eyes, not with your fingers,” she said.
I drank in the sight of the card. She was holding it toward us back-first, letting us see the elaborate crimson design that also featured in The Forbidden’s marketing material.
It was identical to the back of The Hierophant.
“I’m Ofelia Hawke, and this is my mate, Cooper.” The word “mate” rolled off of her tongue easily. “I received this card a few months ago and I’ve been looking for other witches who have similar cards. I saw your posters. I assume you’re looking for people like me, too.”
“Which one is it?” Rage asked.
“That’s an awfully personal question.” Ofelia stuck it back in her jacket. “You aren’t one of the forbidden witches, Rage. You don’t have the glow.” She looked at me over his shoulder. “But you…”
My cheeks heated at the attention.
Rage took my hand, curling his fingers around mine. Apparently, we were touchy friends now that we’d swapped orgasms. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to reach the other forbidden witches. How do you know what you are?”
