Fate's Fools Box Set

by Bell, Ophelia

  “You don’t conjure your own clothes?” I asked, picking a shirt up off the back of an armchair and holding it up. I studied the threadbare fabric, frowning at the design that filled the front of it. It was the same design that he had tattooed on his chest: a pair of abstract black wings with a brushwork spiral in the center. Were those letters? I felt like I should know what it meant, but it wouldn’t come to me.

  Rohan grunted and hugged a pillow to his chest, face pale and drawn. “I do, but I like the permanence of some things too. Things that are crafted, not conjured, have more meaning. That’s my favorite shirt, by the way.”

  My eyebrows went up as my head popped through the top of the shirt. The thin fabric draped over my breasts and smelled a little like charred wood and citrus . . . like him.

  “Should I find something different? I don’t have my own clothes. I usually conjure them, but it seemed like a waste of energy under the circumstances.”

  Rohan quirked his lips into a half smile, gaze fixed on my chest. “No, I like it on you. Wear whatever you want. Just take it off when you get back in bed.”

  I glanced down with a smirk. The shirt came almost to my knees, but stretched tight across my breasts. My hard nipples tented the thin fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. Once upon a time, I’d have been self-conscious about this level of exposure, but I liked the attention now that it was coming from him.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, I stroked his head, pushing a bit of power into him. His stomach growled again in response, but his sallow complexion brightened a bit.

  “I’ll be back in a few,” I promised.

  On my way back down the hallway, I had a chance to take in the house. It seemed all the bedrooms were situated in an arc around the eastern side of a huge outer courtyard with windows overlooking the bluffs to the west. Rohan’s was the farthest from the center of the house, and I passed three other doors, one of which was open and displayed a cave-like room with an abundance of lush green plants and wooden-slatted shutters opened to the sunset.

  That must’ve been Keagan’s room. A handful of instruments were propped throughout the space, including a mahogany electric bass guitar as well as an enormous upright bass.

  The next bedroom was empty with only a neatly made bed and a chair and wardrobe in opposite corners.

  The last room was behind a closed door. I guessed it belonged to the mysterious Maestro they’d mentioned a few times.

  A short set of steps led down into the sunken living room. I paused at the top step, blinking at the rearranged space. When I’d left, it’d been a disaster, but it now looked perfectly serviceable, albeit lacking several pieces of furniture that had been there before. The window was still broken, a comfortable breeze trickling through. Beyond it was a pile of rubble made of the furniture Rohan had crushed.

  The heavy, quick thump of muffled music carried from the other side of the house as I explored, seeking out a kitchen. I poked my head into another room in the southern wing of the house and found what looked like a library with bookshelves lining three walls. From this room, I had a clearer view of the courtyard outside, which had a swimming pool surrounded by several lounge chairs and a hot tub at the far end. The top of a set of stairs leading over the edge of the bluffs peeked out from another corner.

  Turning back, I followed the music and finally found the kitchen just past a spacious dining room and through a swinging door. The music came from beyond another door at the back of a kitchen. I moved toward it and stopped, finally hearing the intermittent hammering over the sounds of a singer belting out an overwrought, angry song from the stereo.

  Hesitantly I opened the door and popped my head through, peering into a workshop with worn wooden workbenches lining the walls and the strong scent of cut wood wafting through. In the middle of the space, Keagan was hunched over one of the sofas Rohan had crushed earlier that day. His bare torso glistened with sweat despite the cool temperature, muscles bunched with the effort of his hammering, his collection of intricate tattoos rippling in response. The one covering his back looked like an enormous tree with stubby branches and pointed leaves, its roots disappearing past his waistband.

  I rapped my knuckles against the door when he paused. He whipped his head around, brown eyes lighting up expectantly.

  The second he saw me, his expression darkened, leaving me feeling distinctly unwanted. I suppressed the need to apologize for the intrusion.

  “He’s doing better,” I said. “Asking for food. I just wanted to let you know.”

  Keagan grunted his thanks and I retreated. As I was closing the door behind me, his gaze drifted and I caught a heated look before he was gone.

  Sighing, I turned back to the kitchen and aimed myself at the immense stainless steel contraption that had to be the fridge. I just couldn’t win with men, which I supposed I should’ve chalked up to simple lack of dating experience. Except none of the members of my family had what I’d have considered conventional courtships. Hell, “conventional” for us was everything but.

  It wasn’t that I wanted to pursue Keagan, but after having a guy’s dick inside me, I’d at least hoped for a warmer reception.

  I opened the fridge and stared inside, at a complete loss as to how to fulfill Rohan’s dietary needs. Should I cook for him? What did he like to eat? How much of it would he want?

  I grabbed a container and opened it, frowning at the contents. I sniffed and wrinkled my nose.

  “Ugh, what the hell do you guys feed yourselves?”

  A big hand wrested the container out of my grasp. “Not that week-old takeout, that’s for sure,” Keagan said, taking a few steps and tossing it into a bin.

  I nodded and turned back to study the options, self-conscious now that I had an audience. Finally I grabbed an armful of stuff and closed the door.

  Keagan was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed and I halted, then veered around him to deposit my choices. He gave the pile of food a dubious look and scratched his stubbled jaw. His dark brown hair was a wild mess with specs of sawdust clinging to it, a fine dusting of the stuff covering his forearms. The scent of the wood reminded me strongly of the ursa Sanctuary, and a pang of homesickness shot through my belly.

  “Unless you’re planning to make him a condiment casserole, this is not exactly dragon food.”

  I scowled at him, ready to tell him off when my gaze dropped to his bare chest and the tattoo on his left pec. It was a mirror to the one on Rohan’s chest and the design on the shirt I wore. It was a stark reminder that they likely had a relationship, and it robbed the wind from my sails.

  “I don’t know how to cook,” I confessed

  “Not at all surprising, princess,” Keagan said with a smirk. “You have the look of someone who’s been sheltered your whole life.”

  That stung because it was true. I didn’t want to share that the biggest reason I’d been so sheltered was because my parents worried that some cells might remain of our dead enemy’s organization, and that they might attempt to follow their leader’s orders posthumously. The ritual and the message I’d delivered on the Equinox would have subverted their orders, so I was safe now.

  That didn’t exactly help my current predicament, or the fact that I didn’t know what the hell a condiment was. I’d been so focused on trying to understand the hounds the past three weeks that I’d only done the bare minimum to integrate with the human world. And with a well of power flush from the Source itself, I hadn’t needed to eat more often than a few times a week and had made do with whatever pre-made food was on offer in the hospital cafeteria.

  Though perhaps my aversion to eating more often was exactly because of what was on offer there. It tasted like cardboard compared to the sumptuous meals I’d been served in the higher realms, all of which had been prepared for me by master chefs who served my parents and the rest of the Quorum.

  Keagan’s hands fell to his sides and his brows shot up. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You don’t know how to ma
ke a sandwich?”

  My mood brightened. I could do that, at least in theory.

  I darted a look around the kitchen and found the bread, and then after rifling through drawers, retrieved a knife and cutting board. Hyperaware of Keagan’s gaze, I managed to cut two uneven slices from the loaf, then looked uncertainly at the collection of items I’d taken from the fridge.

  “You want mayo first. And mustard,” Keagan offered as he moved to lean against the counter at my side.

  I found the items he’d mentioned, opening the lid of each and sniffing cautiously. They smelled savory and delicious, and I tipped the bottles over and squeezed generous amounts onto the bread.

  “Whoa, don’t overdo it. Just enough to cover each slice.” He reached out and halted my overzealous application of the mayo with a hand over mine. My breath caught at the heat of his palm against my skin and I pulled my hand away. My body flushed at the sudden awareness of his proximity and the memory of the orgasm I’d had earlier while he was inside me.

  I cleared my throat. “What next?”

  He wandered back to the fridge and opened it. “Catch,” he said, pulling out a drawer and grabbing a handful of items.

  He tossed each to me—a paper-wrapped parcel that smelled like meat, followed by a green, leafy bundle, two large tomatoes, and then a big, pale yellow block of cheese.

  I caught each item and turned back around, finally remembering some of the hospital food that had vaguely resembled what I imagined Keagan wanted me to make. This would no doubt turn out better than the tuna salad sandwich I’d had the night before, even if it was my first try.

  He returned and leaned one hand against the counter, close enough to inundate me with the salty scent of his sweat.

  “Are you going to supervise every step now? I think I’ve got this,” I said, darting a sideways look at him. The scruff on his chin was visible from this close. He didn’t wear a beard like most male ursa, but hadn’t shaved recently, either—though his dark, perfectly trimmed sideburns suggested he groomed regularly. I rubbed the back of my shoulder absently where his chin had rasped against my skin earlier that day.

  “I don’t want Ro to go hungry,” he said in a low voice. “Though I think he might argue that he could live on your snatch, if you offered it.”

  My body flooded with heat at that statement and it was all I could do to focus on slicing the tomatoes and laying an even layer on top of the meat and cheese I’d stacked on the first slice of bread.

  “I . . . ah . . . already did that. I guess he needs some variety.”

  Keagan stilled, and I caught him licking his lips out of the corner of my eye. I stacked lettuce on top of the tomatoes and set the second slice of bread on top of that, then pressed down. My triumphant smile faded at the smoldering look in Keagan’s eyes.

  As closed off as he’d been moments ago, this shift in mood made me dizzy. He leaned in close enough to brush his nose along my jaw and inhaled. My spine went rigid at the sensation. He didn’t even like me. Why the hell was he acting like I was his supper?

  “Fuck, you smell like him. Did you have a taste of him while he was gorging himself on you?”

  He was panting, ragged breath gusting against my cheek. Within me, a war raged between the need to reassert my boundaries and my ache for contact.

  “I returned the favor,” I whispered, my eyes fluttering closed when Keagan’s lips grazed my jaw. Close to my ear, he groaned, dragging in long gulps of air.

  “Did you like how he tasted?” he asked. He moved in a slow arc, looming behind me as he caged me in with his arms. He nosed my hair aside, grazing his lips along my shoulder at the edge of the opening of Rohan’s shirt. The sensation sent a tingle of pleasure through my body and I involuntarily pushed my hips back into him.

  “Yes. I think he liked how you tasted on me too.”

  He expelled a harsh breath as though I’d just punched him and grabbed my hip, yanking me back. Rough denim scratched at my ass through the thin fabric of the shirt, but his arousal beneath was unmistakable. The awareness of his hard length destroyed my ability to breathe, to think. My core clenched with a fresh desire to feel him inside me.

  “I wish you weren’t wearing his favorite goddamn shirt, or I’d rip it off you,” he growled. With his other hand, he gripped my breast through the fabric, hefting my flesh in his palm and flicking his thumb back and forth across my stiff, sensitive nipple.

  I gasped and pushed back against him again. “Aren’t you supposed to be a little more deferential, Keagan Sundance?” I said, struggling for something to level this sudden imbalance of power that seemed to have cropped up between us. He was a male ursa, and male ursa always asked before they touched.

  His hot mouth lifted from my jaw. “You guessed my clan . . . You are perceptive, princess, I will give you that. But you should know that us Sundance men have a reputation for breaking rules. I’m not in the mood to ask right now.”

  He slipped the hand that held my hip backward, hooking it beneath the hem of my shirt. His fingers delved between my cheeks, sliding forward through my soaked folds and sending a shock of pleasure straight up my spine.

  My response burst from me on a sudden exhalation. “Why not?”

  “Because you’re going to beg me for it.”

  12

  Keagan

  My head nearly exploded when I slipped my fingers between her legs and they sank into slick, fragrant heat. She pushed back against me with a moan that made my blood run molten and my need to hear her beg to be fucked even more insistent.

  She was right; I should have been more deferential to her, particularly given her status as the daughter of one of the ursa clan leaders, but having felt her tight pussy around my cock destroyed all sense of propriety. I wouldn’t do it without her asking first, but I’d do everything in my power to make her as desperate for it as an ursa female in estrous.

  But she wasn’t just an ursa, which was painfully apparent by her more fragile frame and pronounced curves. She looked human, had the eyes of a dragon, the voice of a turul, and the sex drive of a nymph. So far the only ursa feature had been this pussy that had so easily accepted my cock earlier. I had no doubt it could have taken Rohan at full size, despite her insistence that she’d been a virgin less than a month ago.

  Not that I’d ever experienced shoving my cock into an ursa female’s pussy before, but they were known to be more than accommodating to the point that bachelor pairs who serviced them routinely had to use their fists to sate their cravings. Our cocks were reserved for servicing our mates alone, so we had to bide our time and use other methods to satisfy the females who hadn’t chosen us, but who still needed our skills as lovers and our ability to channel their excess fertile magic back to Gaia.

  I’d done my duty before my pilgrimage, partnered with an old childhood friend. But my experience with females before today was limited to only a handful of assignations in the Sanctuary—just enough to understand how to draw an orgasm from a female with my fingers and tongue. In the five years since I’d left, I’d restricted my encounters to other males, my instinct to seek out a male partner stronger than my need to fuck a female. After I hooked up with Rohan, it’d just been us.

  Gaia’s tears, did I need to fuck Deva now, though. My cock ached within the confines of my jeans. Her pussy had already soaked my fingers and she quivered under my touch, but her jaw clenched stubbornly.

  “Rohan’s hungry. You wouldn’t want to make him wait, would you?”

  I closed my eyes, inhaling another deep breath of my friend’s scent still clinging to her. Rohan’s appetite was no mystery to me, and I had a feeling he wouldn’t begrudge me this, particularly when he’d reap the benefits later. She had said he enjoyed tasting me on her.

  “Princess, he will thank me for this, I promise.”

  I teased my fingers forward and groaned when I found the swollen bud of her clit. I stroked her in a tight circle, enjoying the way her head dropped and her nails dug into the wooden
chopping block countertop, leaving crescent-shaped grooves.

  This goddamn shirt was in my way, but I knew how much Rohan treasured it. It was an original Fate’s Fools shirt commemorating the show we’d met at. Rather than rip it open to get at her, I dropped my other hand beneath the hem and slid up her stomach to cup her bare breast. She felt like heaven in my hands, the warm, heavy globe of her breast spilling over one palm while the slick, swollen folds of her pussy coated the other in her arousal.

  And she wasn’t running away. On the contrary, she whimpered a nearly incoherent plea before biting her lip to suppress it.

  “What was that? I didn’t quite hear you,” I murmured in her ear, tweaking her nipple and shifting my fingers back between her thighs again to plunge two digits into her tight sheath.

  Deva let out a sweet cry of pleasure and pushed back against my hand. Her muscles clamped around my fingers and I came a hair’s breadth from begging her to let me in.

  “Nothing,” she breathed.

  “Do you want me to stop?” I asked, adding a third finger and picking up the tempo of my thrusts. Her pussy accommodated the added invasion easily, yet somehow managed to feel just as tight. My dick screamed for relief, but until I heard her say it, I wasn’t so much as unzipping.

  “N-no,” she said.

  “Do you want me to fuck you?”

  She let out a frustrated groan. “No!”

  I laughed. “I don’t need to be a turul to know you’re lying, but all right. Maybe you need more.”

  I dropped my hand from her breast and slid it between her thighs, finding that sweet, hard bud again and rubbing. At the same time, I plunged my pinky in alongside my other three fingers and pushed deeper.

  Her pussy clamped tight around my hand and she shuddered, her body heating enough to make me sweat. A warm wave of Rohan’s scent wafted off her, and I bit back another urge to beg her for access. Their combined scents were driving me mad.

  Needing a distraction, I removed my fingers from inside her, then dropped to my knees and pushed one of her thighs up. Her glistening folds spread before me, pink and wet and completely bare.