Sacrifice

by Sadie Moss

  My legs move, wrapping around his lean, muscled waist. My body is humming, singing with desire, and I can feel Echo and Paris watching closely, their gazes burning into me just like Callum’s is.

  It will hurt. I know it will.

  He’s so big, and I feel small and fragile beneath him. I’ve never been with a man, and I know from stories I’ve heard from the women of my village that the first time can be painful.

  But this is a pain I want. A pain I crave.

  “Do it,” I whisper, my voice throaty and raw. “Please. Please, Callum, I need you so much.”

  Something shifts in his expression. Relief and fierce desire flood his features, and he doesn’t wait. He doesn’t question whether I mean it or whether I’m sure. He takes me at my word and gives me what I need.

  In one swift motion, his hips drive forward, surging into my wet channel and filling me so deeply I can’t quite tell where I end and he begins. There’s a shock of pain as something in my body breaks to accommodate him, and I whimper, clinging to his back and burying my face in his chest.

  He freezes like that, completely rooted inside me, and his lips find my hair, pressing soft kisses to the silky strands as he braces himself above me.

  Echo and Paris move closer again, and as Callum’s large cock stretches my inner walls, the three of them worship me with their hands and mouths, just like Echo promised they would.

  And as they do, the pain inside me morphs into something purer and sweeter, though no less intense. The sensation of Callum’s thick length spearing me is no longer painful. Instead, it feels incredible.

  I feel… whole.

  But I need more.

  I don’t know what it is that my body craves, but it seems to, an ancient instinct that knows how to do this. My hips rock against Callum’s, and as they do, my clit rubs against the base of his cock, making ecstasy spiral through me again.

  He follows my silent urging, and as his two brothers kiss and caress me, he draws his hips back and then slides in again.

  The movement feels good, even through the slight sting of pain, and I wrap my legs tighter around him, sighing with pleasure as he repeats the action.

  He thrusts in and out of me, the strokes as steady, powerful, and deliberate as the man himself. Losing myself in sensation, I allow my eyes to drift shut, indulging in the pleasure of all three men’s touch.

  I don’t know how long the four of us move together like that, my hands and lips exploring and tasting each one of them as my breath grows faster, sweat beginning to dampen my skin. When Callum makes a choked grunt in his throat, my eyes fly open, and I watch as the muscles in his neck strain and tense.

  His even thrusts grow choppy and fast, and one large hand holds my hip in a bruising grip as he drives into me again and again. Then he stops suddenly, grinding his hips into mine as his cock pulses inside me and heat floods my womb.

  He pulls out of me as his cock jerks a final time, a spurt of his thick, pearly white seed splattering across my lower belly.

  With his burning gaze locked on me, he drags his fingers over the thick strand of cum, rubbing it into my skin.

  As if he’s marking me.

  Giving me a part of himself just like he carries a part of me.

  My eyelids droop with arousal as I watch him drag his fingertips over my skin, and when he finally draws away, sitting back on his heels, the part of my soul that lives in his chest feels settled for the first time since Kaius split me into pieces.

  Callum leans down, surprising me by pressing a kiss to my stomach just above my belly button. Then he moves to the side, and as he does, Paris crawls over and settles his slim hips between my thighs.

  There’s a question in his gaze as he stares down at me, but the answer feels like it’s been written in the stars since long before I was even born. As if the magic of the universe has been conspiring for an eternity to bring us to this precise moment.

  Yes.

  He must read my response in my expression, because he gently nudges my legs wider apart and sinks into me. His movements are slow, more controlled than Callum’s. Every thrust changes the angle slightly, hitting places inside me I didn’t even know existed until now, and as he moves, Callum and Echo kiss me, one after the other.

  Paris slips one hand between us, his fingertips finding my swollen, sensitive bud, and he works circles around it to match his thrusts, making me ache with sweet desperation. He works me up to the edge and backs off several times, pushing me a little harder each time, until finally letting me fall into sweet oblivion.

  I cling to him, sobbing in hiccuping little gasps, as he comes with me, filling me up with his release.

  When he kisses me soundly and then withdraws, I don’t wait for Echo to move first. I reach over to my right and haul him toward me, and the roguish man with the short dark hair grins heatedly as he feels how ready I am for him. One finger slips into my still clenching core, and Echo’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

  “I can feel my brothers inside you, little soul.” His voice deepens, becoming a little rougher as he withdraws his finger, smearing a combination of arousal and cum over my thighs. Then he presses his hand to his chest, right over his heart. “And I can feel you inside me. Always.”

  My chest tightens, and I let out a shuddery breath as Echo’s cock presses into my core. I’m growing accustomed to the intrusion, but my body is still unused to this, and I can feel soreness developing between my legs.

  Still, there is nothing in the world that could make me tell him to stop.

  I need this, in a way I’ve never needed anything in my life.

  Echo’s gaze never leaves mine as he rocks against me, and although my body is exhausted and overstimulated, heat begins to grow inside me again. It’s a slow build, but Echo doesn’t seem to mind in the least. He’s patient and attentive, giving me everything I need as his brothers frame us on either side, pressing kisses to my flushed, feverish skin.

  He completes me, calming the storm in the third and final piece of my soul.

  And when I finally shatter around him, he whispers words of praise, his forehead pressing against mine as he buries himself deep in my core and gives himself over to me.

  I come hard and keep coming, falling into blissful pleasure that swallows me up, blacking out my vision and tugging at my consciousness.

  My body jerks and writhes, my arms flailing as I search for something to hold on to…

  But there’s nothing there.

  My jerking legs kick the covers off as I wake with a start, and my eyes fly open, my breath catching in my throat.

  The room is empty.

  I’m still wearing my nightgown, although it’s twisted around my thighs and waist, clinging to my skin and damp with sweat.

  My core is still clenching hard from the remnants of the orgasm that woke me up, and a low noise falls from my lips, half frustration and half arousal.

  A dream.

  Farse, it was just a dream.

  A wave of relief floods me, and I quickly reach down to yank the covers back over myself, trying to ignore the way my entire body feels flushed with arousal, my skin overly sensitive to every brush of the fabric against it. I pull the blankets up to my chin and stare up at the ceiling with wide eyes.

  It was a dream. I’m sure of it. I know the connection between me and the three messengers is strong, but I’ve never seen or felt anything that would make me believe they can invade my consciousness on purpose or vanish like ghosts into thin air.

  This vivid interlude wasn’t caused by the men. They didn’t use magic or the weave to invade my room while I slept. This was a product of my own imagination, my own subconscious desires.

  But I’m not sure that’s any better.

  16

  I enter the dining room the next morning to find I’m the last of the household to rise from bed, though I shouldn’t find that surprising. After waking up with my heart pounding and core throbbing, a mess of hot need, I barely slept another w
ink that wasn’t immediately shattered by my leftover desire.

  In the dining room, Callum stands gazing out the window, his massive arms crossed over his chest. Sunlight beams through the glass to strike the strongly carved lines of his face, and he doesn’t shift his posture as I enter the room. Echo slouches in his favorite seat, his demeanor the complete opposite of his brother’s. Where Callum is all hard lines and rigid angles, Echo is easy curves and languid ease.

  Paris beams and jumps to his feet, striding toward me with that sensual smile I’m coming to know so well. He takes me by the arms and draws me toward the table. “Little soul, you’re awake!”

  I fight the urge to cringe away from his touch. All I can think about is the way those long, delicate fingers played over my body in my dream. The moment he touches me, my body turns to warmth and chaos. I flash back to his hips between my legs and his mouth hot and devouring. But now that I know it was just a dream, embarrassment floods me at my body’s reaction.

  It wasn’t real.

  So why does everything feel different this morning?

  With his hands still gripping my elbows, Paris nods toward the kitchen. “Help me cook breakfast?”

  Grateful beyond measure that the bond we share doesn’t allow him to read my mind, I shove away all thoughts of his naked torso and nod. “All right. You waited for me?”

  The tall messenger throws an arm around my shoulders and leads me into the kitchen, where the counter is covered in waiting ingredients. “Well, to be perfectly honest, I rather liked having you in my kitchen with me. I’d love for you to be my assistant as often as you would like.”

  “I don’t get in your way?” I ask suspiciously.

  “No.” Then he seems to consider for a moment before he adds, “But I wouldn’t mind if you do.”

  There’s something in his tone that catches me off-guard, and when I look up into his clear blue eyes, I see a softness in them that’s never been there before. As if, just like Echo did in the courtyard yesterday, he finally sees me.

  And maybe he doesn’t hate what he sees after all.

  We set to work cooking together, falling into an easy rhythm as he guides me through the process—but all the while, my dream is never far from my mind. I’m sure Paris notices my distraction, though he never comments on it. I busy myself doing everything he asks of me, and for a time, that’s enough to shove away the desperate need still pooling inside me.

  As we’re finalizing the meal, I sense someone at my back and turn to find Callum standing so close I can feel the warmth coming off his skin. I shriek and drop the wooden spoon I’m holding right onto his weathered boots.

  Little bits of egg splatter across the leather, and he frowns. “What the farse is the matter with you?”

  “Why do you walk so quietly?” I rasp, my heart seeming to invade my throat.

  Dragging my gaze away from his too-intent stare, I bend down to retrieve my spoon. My knees shake from being this close to him. Nish, I hope he can’t see that. After the way he dominated me in my dream, I can do nothing but picture him shoving me against the wall, turning me around, and running his large hands over every inch of my body.

  Tearing my dress off piece by piece.

  Making my whole body ache with nameless need before he finally gives me what I beg for and takes me right there while the eggs sizzle in their pan and Paris watches.

  “It’s how I walk, little soul. You’d better get used to it since we’re to be stuck with each other for eternity.”

  He watches me as I straighten, and I can tell he’s able to read my emotions well enough to discern that something has me off-balance. His eyes are narrowed like he’s trying to solve a riddle. Me.

  He and Paris share a glance over my head, and in that moment, I think maybe all three of the men have solved the riddle. That they all know what I think about—what I dream about—in moments of weakness.

  Still moving silently as a shadow, Callum turns and strides out of the kitchen, and I sink against the counter, clutching at the edge of it to stay upright. I’ve lost all control of my knees. The strong, musky scent of his skin still lingers in the air, and it’s wreaking havoc on my body.

  Paris’s face pinches with concern, and he comes to me, his fingers brushing my shoulder. “Are you all right? I know he can be—”

  “Arrogant? Forceful? Cruel?” I offer, though inwardly I continue the diatribe with powerful, beautiful, dominant. And none of those words sound like insults in my head.

  But I keep those thoughts hidden. Paris thinks Callum has scared me, and I don’t convince him otherwise.

  Better they think I’m terrified of them than know how much I want them.

  I carry a tray of fresh biscuits to the table, determined to push the dream firmly out of my mind. I can’t control what my mind does on its own time. Callum, Echo, and Paris are gorgeous, and any woman in her right mind would want to see them naked. I can explain the dream away as a natural reaction to their sheer magnetism or convince myself it happened because I’m so lonely here in this new world.

  But none of that can explain away the rush of need that flows through me when Echo looks up from the table and gives me a playful smile. “Those smell delicious, little soul. And I don’t care if Paris baked them. I’m giving you all the credit.”

  Without meaning to do so, my gaze drifts to his full lips. I can feel the soft kiss of that mouth so vividly on my skin, and I remember the way he entered me but never looked away from my eyes. Yesterday’s near miss at a real life kiss feels even more bittersweet now.

  Farse.

  I want him. I want all three of them. The pieces of my soul contained in each of them draw me to these men, but it’s more than that now. It’s deeper. Stronger.

  As if it wasn’t enough to crave their touch with my entire being, I’m developing feelings for my messengers too.

  Later in the day, we travel deeper into the city to run some errands. Paris has a list of produce and meat a mile long to stock the kitchen with, while Echo needs new boots and a knife sharpener, and Callum grumbles something about just needing to get out of the house. For what’s probably the first time since I came here, I agree with him.

  The walls are closing in on me too. I’m sure for Callum, it’s more that he can’t stand my presence. But for me, I need some breathing room away from the memories of my dream with a little more space between all of us.

  “You don’t have to do anything for Kaius today, do you?” I ask Echo. I’m walking beside him with an abnormally large gap between us while Paris and Callum cut a path through the crowded street up ahead.

  Echo doesn’t seem to notice how strange I’m acting, which is surprising considering we could fit three people between us on this one-lane road.

  “Not today, thankfully,” he tells me, sounding pleased. “We serve at the pleasure of our god, so our lives mirror his. He goes through periods where he’ll call on us every day, give us missions, send us chasing all over the realm. Then he’ll be silent for a time, and we’ll get a reprieve.”

  “How long have you been at his every beck and call?”

  “A long time. For my entire existence—a thousand years or so. Maybe longer.” He shrugs carelessly. “It’s easy to lose track.”

  I can’t even begin to imagine being alive for that long. But I suppose someday I’ll lose track of the years of my existence too. But I’m tired of feeling overwhelmed by the vastness of my new world, so I keep my focus on Echo, stepping a bit closer to him as I glance up at his face. “And you’ve been together the whole time? The three of you?”

  “Unfortunately,” he jokes, but there’s affection in his tone.

  “You love each other.”

  It’s not a question. I’ve seen it in them since the day I first arrived.

  “Like brothers. Hate each other like brothers too,” he adds ruefully. “More than a few times, I’ve been certain Callum would kill one or both of us. And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t come to blows w
ith both of them over arguments I’ve long forgotten now. But I would do anything for them. I would die for them. And no matter how angry we may get at each other, our value to Kaius has saved us from each other’s wrath a time or two. The four of us are a unit. A team.”

  My brow furrows, and I cock my head at him. “The three of you.”

  He blinks. “What?”

  “You said ‘four.’ But there are only three of you.”

  His face goes slack for a second, completely devoid of expression. Then he chuckles, shaking his head as an easy smile tugs at his lips. “Oops. One thousand years of existence, and I still can’t count. But yes, the three of us are close.”

  There’s something odd about his easy dismissal of his mistake, but I don’t press for any further explanation. He’s glancing at the shops and people around us, and I can feel him closing himself off to me again. I don’t want that to happen, so I shift the subject.

  “So what exactly do you do for Kaius?” I ask, though I’m not sure he’ll answer me honestly on this point either. They’re all cagey about their role in Kaius’s kingdom. Every detail they’ve given me so far has been vague at best.

  “A little bit of this and that,” Echo says, and I practically roll my eyes at his evasiveness. “We chase down souls or artifacts he desires. Fight in battles on his behalf. That kind of thing.”

  “Battles? Are there many wars in this realm?”

  “A fair few. The gods are a fickle bunch, though I’m sure you could tell that just in the few minutes you were in Kaius’s presence.”

  I laugh, although goose bumps rise on my skin at the memory. “You aren’t wrong.”

  The city is as alive today as it has been both times I’ve ventured there. I trail behind the men as they do their shopping, jumping like a startled deer every time one of them brushes against me. I’m irritated at myself, and I’m seriously considering wearing two dresses tomorrow in the hope that more fabric between us will lessen the effect of their touch.