by Montana Ash
The female assassin was as beautiful as she was fierce-looking, and Ryker knew Max had created her – Sabre – as a means of catharsis. He had now read everything Max had ever written and he knew Sabre was everything Max wished she could have been when she was younger and on her own; strong, honourable, loyal, and invulnerable. Max had once told him that Sabre was there to watch her back. It still brought a twinge to his gut when he thought of that lonely, lost girl Max had been before she had stumbled across him and their Order. So alone and afraid that she believed her characters would be her only proof that she ever existed. The thought was almost laughable now. Max’s true legacy was unfathomable.
Intelligent thought fled after that as Max proceeded to reduce him to a writhing mass of need on the ocean bed. How she maintained enough presence of mind to keep the elements stable and under her command while she was engrossed with making love to him, he had no idea. And he couldn’t say he really cared as she finally began to lower herself onto his rigid shaft. Despite the fiery inferno of desire raging through his body, he forced himself to stay still as she lowered herself excruciatingly slowly.
“Fuck, oh fuck. Yes!” Max cried, head thrown back in abandon.
Max’s foul mouth had Ryker releasing a strangled laugh. It had taken him and the Order a good few months to finally give up on trying to clean up her somewhat profane mouth and decidedly dirty vocabulary. Max swore a lot and he knew to most it probably wasn’t the most attractive trait for a female to have, but it was just part of who she was. She loved words – was damn good with them. She was an author, after all. Besides, his mouth was just as bad and sometimes situations just needed a good fucking swear word.
Max began to rock, taking him in and out of her body at a leisurely pace. Her breasts bounced with every movement, turquoise eyes glittering with lust and challenge and enough heat to flay him alive. He placed his hands on her hips – but didn’t grip them – content to let Max do her worst. Or best, rather. But it turned out, his tenuous control was pathetically easy to snap. A simple clench of tight inner muscles was all it took to have Max flat on her back in the blink of an eye. Ryker lifted her legs high in the air so her ankles rested on his shoulders, as he pushed back into her, pounding fast and furious. He chased after his own orgasm relentlessly, but he wasn’t selfish about it. No way would he leave his woman behind.
Reaching between their sweaty, labouring bodies, he sought out the source of her pleasure. He swore when she clamped around him, stronger this time, before arching her back as her orgasm barrelled through her. Max didn’t hold her pleasure back – those days were long past – and she screamed out her desire, her breath catching in her throat. Ryker let out his own roar as he came inside her, his pumping hips and continued hardness pushing the limits of her orgasm so it bordered on painful. He knew because he was feeling the same thing. Breath coming in harsh gasps, Ryker barely had the presence of mind to roll to the side so he wouldn’t squash his love.
“We totally crushed that. High five,” Max wheezed out, holding her hand up.
Despite his exhausted and satiated state, Ryker laughed, raising his hand high enough to give her a companionable slap before grinning at her.
“What?” Max asked.
Ryker shook his head, “Nothing. It’s just you. You are so awesome.”
Max snorted, stretching languidly and causing his idiotic body to stir once more, “I could have told you that.”
“I know you could. But it loses a little something when you say it yourself,” he informed her.
Max rolled her head to look at him once more, “I’ve never found that to be true.”
Her words caused him to snort out another laugh, “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Max simply shrugged. “What can I say? I have a healthy self-esteem.”
Ryker smiled, managing to move enough to peck her swollen, well-kissed lips. “I love you,” he informed her, as he did at every possible opportunity.
He saw her melt a little, oceanic eyes becoming misty. “I believe you,” Max answered. “And I love you too,” she then whispered.
And wasn’t that a special kind of miracle? Ryker thought. To not only have someone to say those three little words to, but to also have that someone believe them? It may have taken Max a while to say those words back to him, but it was now a daily occurrence. Ryker knew she had felt hesitant to say it even when he could feel her love for him pulsing brightly through the bond. It hadn’t bothered him – well, not too much, he admitted. Just knowing that Max had felt them had been more than enough. The idea of making herself vulnerable and opening herself up to rejection had been particularly terrifying for her. Luckily, he’d had her largely figured out by then and had let the initial big moment pass with nothing more than an ‘okay’. The smile he’d received had told him he’d nailed it. It had been a perfect moment in time for both of them.
Movement to his left caught his eye and he barely refrained from screaming hysterically. Please, Mother, I beg you. Don’t let it be. Out loud he said, “Babe? Please tell me there isn’t a great white shark watching us have sex beyond that wall of water.”
He saw her dark eyebrows rise in surprise before she rolled her head to the side, “It’s just Bruce.”
Ryker’s sigh sounded long-suffering even to his own ears, “Just Bruce,” he repeated. “My life was so boring until I met you.”
Max grinned at him, “You’re welcome.”
FIVE
Lark whistled as he made his way out of the bathroom in the gym. He had just showered the sweat from his body after indulging in a dance session. An extended dance session, he thought, a little smugly, looking toward Ivy who was already showered and dressed and sitting on a bench waiting for him. He winked at her, preparing to push his arms through the sleeves of his black tee. Ivy’s answering smile was slow and hot, as if she too were remembering their workout. He puffed out his chest a little, inordinately proud of how he had put his flexibility to good use.
The door banging behind him had Ivy up off the seat, sickle in hand in the blink of an eye. Almost immediately, she relaxed, sitting back down and Lark knew Beyden must be behind him. Although Ivy was making good progress with the other members of the household, some discomfort and hesitancy remained. Lark wasn’t worried. Time would ensure Ivy became a part of the team – a part of the family.
“Hey, man,” Lark turned and smiled before tugging his shirt on leisurely. Beyden was one of the few who had seen the myriad of scars crisscrossing his back. Not that it would have mattered if it were anyone else. Lark was pretty sure he was over hiding the evidence of his brutal childhood from his new family. He had always told himself he had no real problem with the scars – that he wasn’t embarrassed or shamed by them. The only reason he hid them was to spare his friends feeling any discomfort or awkwardness. But now that he had Ivy and she spent a good portion of every night caressing, licking, and kissing his scars, he realised he had been hiding an important part of himself from his team. They already knew everything about him and they accepted and loved him just the way he was. And an integral part of making him the man he was today, was his upbringing. No – there would no longer be holding things back for the perceived sake of others. He knew they would hurt and rage for him but he also knew he would not see embarrassed gazes or uncomfortable shuffling. Ivy had proven that and put those final fears to bed.
Beyden didn’t answer as he walked over swiftly. Lark was beginning to feel concerned when Beyden quickly swiped out his foot, hitting Lark’s ankles and bringing him crashing to the ground. Less than a second later, Lark found himself flat on his back with Beyden perched heavily on top of him.
“Dude! What the hell?!” He huffed, trying to push Beyden’s considerable bulk off his body.
“I thought we could have a chat, you and I,” the amber-eyed Spaniard said, casually making himself more comfortable upon Lark’s chest.
“What? Chat? Now?” Lark gasped out, completely bamboozled over the sudd
en turn of events.
“Yes. Chat. Now. About you defiling my sister,” Beyden responded.
Lark felt sure his eyes nearly bugged out of his head, “What?! I’m not defiling your sister!”
“That’s right,” Ivy interjected from the sidelines where she was nonchalantly sharpening her sickle now. “I’m defiling him.” Her lips twitched into a small but decidedly wicked smile.
“Not helping, my love,” Lark managed to gasp out. Breathing was beginning to become a problem. Probably had something to do with the six-foot-four giant currently taking up residence on his chest! “Since when do you have a problem with me dating your sister?”
The big idiot on top of him crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, “Since I want to hear your intentions; where is this going? Are you thinking casual hook-up or marriage?”
“Marriage?!” Ivy positively screeched, the disdain and fear in her voice made the word sound like a curse rather than a commitment.
Lark rolled his eyes at the panic plain on his lover’s face. He had no intention of proposing anytime soon – if at all. Not that he had a problem with the institution of marriage. In fact, if Ivy wanted to, he would have her down the aisle in a heartbeat. But she didn’t. And he was content to do whatever made her comfortable. He knew his woman and he loved everything about her – even her commitment-phobic ways.
Seeing her dark eyes still wide on her gorgeous elfin face and her chest rising and falling quickly, he figured she was about one ‘m’ word away from hyperventilating. “Ivy, I –” he began.
“Don’t! Don’t you dare say it!” she exploded, gripping her sickle like a lifeline.
Lark huffed; the stoic woman could be just as dramatic as the rest of her species when the right button was pushed. And this was definitely one of her buttons. It – wait a minute, he stopped his thought process, is that a smirk I see on Beyden’s face? His friend wasn’t much of a smirker but the way his lips were tilted up to one side and the glint of humour but also satisfaction in his whiskey irises looked remarkably like a smirk. He squinted his eyes at his friend, only to receive a wicked wink. And that’s when it hit him; Beyden wasn’t trying to bust his balls. This was about his sister. A form of torture between siblings.
Beyden might look and sound sweet but he had a devilish streak a mile wide. Beyden’s teasing and pranks leant toward subtle, but they were always damn thorough. If he weren’t on the verge of suffocating, Lark would have found more pleasure in the two acting like normal siblings. He loved that his friend could now spend more time with the sister he was once so close to. But as it was, he was having a little trouble breathing. Besides, Ivy was already up on her feet and backing away.
“I mean it, Lark. Don’t you dare propose! I’ll say no. In fact, hell no!” she practically shrieked before fleeing the gym.
Lark simply sighed. A lot of men would have been insulted or angry or hurt over such a forceful and negative reaction from the love of their life. But not him. He wasn’t worried in the slightest. He trusted her love for him and knew she felt the same – despite her meltdown. Lark didn’t blame her for her reaction. Being in a relationship, being in love, having someone to rely on? It was still shiny and new to her. No, he didn’t blame Ivy; he blamed her brother.
Lark growled and pushed ineffectually at Beyden’s bulk, “Dude! That was low. You couldn’t have left me out of this sibling-torture thing you have going on?”
Beyden raised a dark brown eyebrow, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. This is about you and me and my brotherly duties.”
“Bullshit! You’re reaping your vengeance from any number of Ivy-inflicted incidents. Don’t deny it. I can see it on your face.” He quickly bucked his lower body, hoping to surprise the beast paladin and unseat him. The guy didn’t move so much as an inch and Lark growled feeling like an ant with an elephant holding it down.
“What are you doing?” Beyden asked, looking curious and completely clueless.
“I’m trying to get you off me!” He was beginning to feel embarrassed. He knew he and Beyden were usually evenly matched when they sparred. Where Beyden had the muscle and the strength, Lark had the speed and flexibility. But get him down and get Bey’s big butt on him and Lark knew he would always be the loser. There was no beating those muscles – unless you were Ryker or Darius. The three men were fairly close to being the same ginormous size. Ryker topped Beyden in height ever so slightly, but Beyden was far broader. And Darius was shorter than Bey, but had the same stocky build. It always amused him to see Darius standing next to his much older and much more powerful brother. Dex was not only shorter than his baby bro, but also far leaner. In fact, he was only slightly more built than Lark himself and he figured even the powerful ex-warden of the air would have a hard time bench-pressing Bey.
“Huh,” was Beyden’s ingenious response. “You’re right; I was just teasing Ivy. She told Cali about how much she liked my baby-butt. Told her she wanted to touch it, bite it, or blow raspberries on it all the time because it was the smoothest, cutest little bubble-butt she had ever seen.”
Lark gasped out a laugh, quickly choking on his own saliva. The disgruntled look Beyden gave him had him quickly closing his mouth. He had been about to admit that he and Ivy had shared many such conversations about his booty when they were on their chade road trip.
Beyden huffed, “Yeah, laugh it up. It’s not funny. Now every time Cali walks past me, her eyes go all dewy and she says, ‘aww’, all dopey-like. It’s embarrassing,” he muttered.
“I’m sure it’s just the hormones. You know – baby brain and all that,” he offered, trying to be supportive. “So, you don’t really have a problem with Ivy and I, do you? I came to you about it before …”
“Well, kind of.” He seemed to think about it for a minute, before surprising the hell out of Lark; “I mean, what about besties before testes?”
“What?!”
“You know – bro’s before hoes,” Beyden clarified.
“Testes? Bro’s?” Lark repeated, not sure if he found the entire conversation hysterical or extremely disturbing. “You’ve been talking to Axel again, haven’t you? What have we all said about that?” Lark lectured, sternly.
“Um, that Axel is a sick and twisted influence and to smile and nod when he offers advice,” Bey recited by rote. Then he shook his head, a small frown appearing on his forehead, “No, wait. That’s what we say about Max.”
Lark blinked once. Twice. And then hysteria won out and he found himself laughing so hard he heard actual snorts. Beyden was quick to follow, his booming laugh echoing in the large, high-ceilinged room. It took them a few minutes to calm down enough so Lark could actually speak;
“Dude, not that I don’t love you. But do you think maybe we could have this conversation without you potentially causing me a pneumothorax?”
Beyden scrunched up his nose, “Huh?”
“Get your big butt off my lungs!” Lark finally yelled.
“Oh, shit! Sorry!” Beyden’s eyes widened comically as if only just realising he was sitting on Lark. “Here, give me your hand,” he offered, reaching down and yanking Lark to his feet without waiting for his assent.
Lark went from being squished to flying through the air in seconds. If he didn’t have the grace of a dancer, he was positive he would have face-planted on the mats. Shaking his auburn locks from his eyes, he eyed his friend sternly.
Beyden had the good grace to look sheepish, “Sorry. I thought you were ready.”
“Uh huh. I bet,” Lark responded, drolly.
Beyden surprised him by turning serious once more, “Seriously, Lark. I couldn’t be happier for you and Ivy. I know you truly love her and I’ve never seen her happier. Not that everyone can tell, but she loves you too, you know? I know people think she’s a bad, scary ranger with no feelings and –”
Lark grabbed Beyden’s arm, quieting him. “Hey. Do I look like ‘people’ to you?”
Beyden’s bronzed cheeks flushed and he
shook his head, “No.”
“Damn right I’m not,” Lark confirmed, watching a small smile grace his new brother-in-law’s cheeks. Glad that was settled, Lark moved on, “What are your plans for the day, now that you’ve successfully tortured my girlfriend?”
Beyden rolled his shoulders, “I’m heading into the Lodge to check on things.”
Lark frowned at that. Tensions were running high in their little community with the whispers and rumours becoming more and more ridiculous every time they passed from one ear to another. “I thought Ryker said no-one goes anywhere alone anymore.”
Beyden scoffed, “Ryker has turned into a mother hen.”
Lark couldn’t help smirking – it was an apt description. Ry had always been defensive and even somewhat possessive of the people he had taken under his wing. Not that the man himself would admit to being any kind of saviour or protector. But ever since they had formed their Order and Ryker had officially become their Captain, the man’s protective tendencies had ramped into high gear. Ryker would say it was due to the turbulent times they were in, but Lark knew the real reason was because the big, scary potentate was loved-up and all sappy because of Max. Being in love and happy tended to make you want the same for those around you – Lark could certainly attest to that. Now that he was with Ivy, he wished his few remaining single friends could find the same happiness and contentment which he had. Especially after all the drama Bey had been through, and the heartbreak of Axel’s past.
Getting back to the matter at hand, Lark decided to begin attaining his payback from becoming a Beyden pancake. He widened his eyes and darted a quick look behind Bey, clearing his throat. He had the immense satisfaction of seeing his tall friend freeze and gulp audibly;
“Crap! He’s behind me, isn’t he?”
Lark nodded his head gravely and Beyden closed his golden eyes, lips moving soundlessly. Lark barely suppressed his laughter – the man was praying. Bey took a deep breath, shaking out his arms as if he were about to face a challenge to the death, and slowly turned around. The apology fell from his lips when he realised no-one was there – least of all their protective, yet surly, Captain. The beast paladin spun back around quickly, a beefy arm reaching out to grab but he was too slow this time. Lark was already on the move, side-stepping and slapping the hand away. Laughing, he said;
