Interwoven

by Rene Folsom

  When Vulcan reaches the bed, he unhooks me from my binds and tosses me over his shoulder like I weigh no more than a feather. With a not-so-playful slap to the ass, he grips my thighs and takes me into the bathing room.

  My eyes are overwhelmed with the brightness of the lights, their glow bouncing off the white walls. It takes several seconds of rapid blinking for me to finally adjust to the onslaught. Everything looks so clean, so pristine, and I wonder who has to work so hard to keep it this clean.

  I’m not dressed, but the guys still take their time as I’m carried to the tub. Graham sits in the middle, waiting to receive me. He’s wearing his most devious grin, and his glacial eyes deepen to an almost black as he focuses on me, on my bare flesh. He’s in a mood. He gets like that when he feels he hasn’t had enough of my time.

  “Why the serious face, Graham?” I ask, my voice echoing off the palatial tile walls.

  “Tell me you are mine, Zhavia.”

  I don’t hesitate to oblige. “I’m yours.”

  I’m handed over to his arms before being slid down his body to stand on my feet. I feel the others at my back, each one stepping into the bath. I’m surrounded on all sides, each brother kissing a part of my body. Graham is nipping at my lips while Drake nibbles on my shoulder. Vulcan is at my left breast, and William is on the right. Seneca, my quiet, serious dragon, likes to stand and watch, preferring to control me when we are alone. Out of all of them, he is the most selfish.

  My mind breaks away from the dream, confused and embarrassed. I don’t know where the fuck that came from, nor why it felt so strangely intimate as if it were real.

  Graham and Drake are no longer with me like they were before I fell into a deep sleep. Yet, the room isn’t dark anymore, light from candles assaulting my senses.

  Voices.

  Echoing voices.

  The blur of candlelight flickering in the distance.

  None of it is tangible.

  None of it is real, despite the deep words I can feel rumbling through my bones.

  “This is a mistake.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because what you’re saying makes no sense.”

  “I was there, too. We all had the same interaction with her.”

  “No. It was a dream, one Drake orchestrated.”

  “I didn’t do all of that. Some of it was her, too.”

  “Then how does she know about the tub, and that Graham is into restraints?”

  Tub? Restraints?

  The voices are correct—none of this makes sense. I can’t grasp the words that are floating around me. Why the heck would they think I know about their tub?

  “It doesn’t matter that she can hear me.”

  “Yeah, how is that?”

  “She could have some magic in her family. Maybe an ancestor or something. She was able to hear my dragon, and we just walked into her dream. What more of a sign do you need?” It’s Graham speaking.

  “Right, and I don’t turn into a ten-thousand-pound fire-breathing dragon when the sun comes up.”

  “You don’t. You morph into a ten-thousand-pound fire-breathing asshole.” This sounds like it could possibly be Vulcan. I haven’t had much interaction with the brothers, but I’m starting to recognize their voices.

  It’s their collective laughter that rouses me, forcing my muscles to move ever so slightly. Their voices are muffled, almost like they are trying to whisper, staying quiet enough that they think I can’t hear.

  But I can. I hear every word even if I don’t understand a lick of it.

  I haven’t the faintest clue what they are talking about. The images bouncing around in my head don’t seem to fit, like puzzle pieces that have been mixed from one box to another—times five.

  I don’t make a sound, though, and do my damndest to keep my breathing steady. If I’m going to learn anything, it won’t be with my charm.

  My head feels like it weighs a ton, but I don’t dare move it. I have no intention of giving away that I’m awake, nor do I have the energy. It isn’t always apparent who is speaking, but as they continue to converse in murmurs, I can hear their feet pacing back and forth along the length of the plush carpet.

  “It won’t work. I tested it out on Greann when she arrived, and her hair is red as well.”

  Their words are sinking deeper and deeper into the muck of my subconscious as each moment passes. Red hair? What does all this have to do with the red?

  “Well, what the fuck happened with Greann?”

  “Nothing really. I mean, I may have been human for the first five minutes of dawn…”

  “That doesn’t mean shit.” This voice is new, angrier. It must be one of the other brothers I haven’t met.

  “It could mean something.”

  “Or it could just mean that you managed to get five minutes in the dawn. The prophecy is full of shit. There will never be a sacred six. Our sole purpose in life is to find a mate, fuck her, and get her heavy with our offspring. It would be stupid of us to focus on breaking the curse. The only thing we should worry about is making sure we’re compatible with our selected.”

  Breaking what curse?

  My mind is too muddled to make sense of what they’re saying, but I continue to listen.

  I’m always a glutton for punishment. Curiosity killed the cat… and all that jazz.

  “We’re compatible with everyone.” The smoky voice of Drake drifts across the room. It’s the same one I heard in my head while I was eating.

  “No, Drake, we’re not. We can’t sire offspring on just any female. This is why Mother trusts you the least. We need to keep the bloodline pure.” I haven’t figured out if this is Seneca or the other brother William.

  “Fine, Seneca. But I still think it’s worth a try.”

  That answers my question of which brother is speaking.

  “Try what? She’s a servant. The selection with Greann has already taken place.” Seneca speaks up, his gravelly thick voice rings with finality.

  “Maybe so, but two of us were missing.” It’s Drake again, so the other voice must belong to William—or I’m confused beyond belief, especially considering the brothers all sound so similar. “It has to be redone now that we’re back. I’m confident Mother will oblige, especially since we are all present now that the five of us can be present.”

  “It’s possible, but you know how she is,” Vulcan interrupts.

  “I came into contact with the servant when she fell out of the tree in the gardens,” Graham explains to his brothers. I know it has to be Graham. He was the only one to be near me at the time.

  “What the fuck was she doing in the gardens?” William snarls.

  “Trying to escape, or at the very least, plot her escape, from what I can tell. I followed her most of the way. She didn’t see me… well, not until I was on two legs at least.”

  “No, of course she didn’t see.” After a pause, there’s a loud smack of what sounds like skin against skin, followed by a loud grunt. Vulcan is the one to grunt, his body closest to me, which leads me to believe he was the one who was slapped by a brother. I couldn’t even imagine hitting a man the size of Vulcan. “Only she did fucking see you.” His voice is a deep rumble that shakes my bones.

  “She didn’t know it was me. Hell, I’m shocked she didn’t faint on sight. Most humans would.” It’s Graham speaking again, increasing my confusion with each word out of his mouth.

  “She’s not like the rest of them,” another brother blurts out, though I can’t quite figure out who. “No other servant would dare face our wrath, least of all Mother’s.”

  Someone in the room grunts. I continue to stay as quiet as possible. There’s no way these men would talk like this if they thought I was conscious. It might be sneaky of me to eavesdrop on their private conversation, but considering one of them had the audacity to knock me out, me listening is the least of their worries.

  “We were nice enough to get her stable duty. If she hadn’t been riding your h
orse, Graham, none of this would have happened. Mom and Greann wouldn’t have been none the wiser. She would have continued with her duties not even knowing there are dragons about.” Seneca complains. He of the five seems the least likeable.

  I must be hallucinating with all this dragon talk.

  “Why are we all trying to deny the fact that she could be the one?” Drake questions.

  The brothers sound so familiar, it’s hard to tell who is weighing in. Still, Drake has proven to be the type to look at a situation from all corners—assess the issue without any prejudice. Even though I still don’t know him well, I can only assume he is the one weighing in on the conversation, especially since it took a minor glance to see there are, in fact, five men in the room with me. His tone of voice is beyond serious. It’s clear he is trying to push his point on his brothers, yet I’m still left in the dark as to what he’s attempting to say.

  The one? I feel like it is going too far now. There isn’t some magical one meant for all five brothers. That makes about as much sense as the stupid selection process. Plus, dragons shouldn’t be fucking real. They’re nothing but stories. Their kind, along with their magic, have been publicly dormant for so very long, if they ever even existed. Yet here I am, having to deal with the fact that this is real. This is all really happening to me.

  Dragons always seemed like folklore humans used as a way of putting fear into children—a way to keep our kind inside the boundaries of our camps.

  God forbid the boogieman get us if we dared to step our little feet outside the boundaries of our camps. If the Great Awakening hadn’t sectioned us out like packs of ducks, we would’ve never even thought twice of defending our own.

  With these powerful men speaking about me as if I’m not here, I feel trapped inside my own personal nightmare. Maybe I am still dreaming. It would make more sense than what these muscular, brooding men are discussing.

  “There’s only one way for us to find out,” Seneca says with a rumble to his voice—one that screams dominance and might.

  “How do you suppose we do that?” William asks.

  I’d also like to know the answer to that. I’m not who Drake assumes I am. I honestly don’t know if I want to find out what’s going through their minds or what I will need to do to prove I’m just a lowly servant. Will they be able to tell I want to escape? Surely not. Still, I keep my breaths slow and methodical so they can’t tell I’m eavesdropping on their conversation.

  “That’s an easy question to answer, bro,” says one of the brothers. “In order for us to find out if she’s truly the one, one of us needs to kiss her. And not just any kiss—this needs to be real. We need to want it just as much as she wants us.”

  My breath catches in my throat, worry choking me. What do they expect to happen… that I’m going to come to life as a princess like Snow fucking White?

  “Plus,” the brother continues. “She’s been listening to us talk this entire time, anyway. If she wasn’t on board, she’d be smacking us upside the head by now.”

  His last few words were spoken so close to me I could feel the heat of his breath feather over my cheek. Without another thought, my eyes pop open to come face to face with liquid gold.

  Seneca.

  That bastard.

  “Which one of you are up to the task?” he asks, and I flinch at the thought of him offering my lips to his brothers like I’m a piece of steak ready to be devoured.

  “Over my dead body,” I whisper, only it came out as more of a growl than I intended.

  Laughter erupts from the other side of the room where both Vulcan and Graham stand… their red and blue eyes at war with each other as they continue to find humor in my plight.

  My legs wobble as I attempt to stand, yet I show no weakness. My eyes shine with my wrath and my arms cross over my chest to show just how strong I can be. The brothers now know how much I dislike being their puppet—a toy for their own amusement.

  “Oh yeah. I definitely volunteer for this challenge, brothers,” Vulcan says, laughter still evident in his tone.

  To say I stand my ground while Vulcan stomps toward me, his eyes set on mine like a lion on the prowl, I would be lying. As soon as he steps foot in my direction, I back up two. I hit the wall behind me as it catches my retreating form, allowing the red-eyed monster to continue advancing on me, his heat and power suffocating every last breath I can muster.

  My heart stops and my breath gets stuck in my throat when he halts mere inches from my face. A sound escapes my mouth, but my breasts are pressed against a hard chest when one of his arms slices around my hips and he yanks me to him. The air in my lungs escapes on a hiss as his other hand fists in my hair, twisting tightly. It’s painful, as if he’s punishing me, but as the sting travels over my scalp, its followed by an altogether different feeling. I don’t know what it is, but my body submits. He tugs my head back with a slight tilt. When his mouth comes down on mine, it’s hard, and I’m right where he wants me.

  His lips are like spark to stone, fire to rock, igniting my detached insides with a force so strong there’s absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.

  A loud moan escapes me as Vulcan kisses me passionately. A feeling I never thought I would experience in my lifetime courses through my veins. This kiss is not gentle. It’s greedy and demands my attention.

  And I hate myself for liking it. I hate myself even more for returning the kiss, pressing my body into his, and feeling every inch of him like he’s the sole reason for my next breath.

  “What the hell?”

  The female voice screeches at an ear-splitting volume from the doorway, causing Vulcan to roughly push me away like I’m the enemy.

  “What have you done to them, you tramp?” Greann yells as she storms toward me, the door still open for all outside to hear the commotion. “Do you seriously think you can seduce my mates? Is this the payment I get for rescuing you from death for trying to escape camp?”

  I’m still too stunned to talk, my lips tingling from the aftermath of Vulcan’s kiss. I’m also beyond words that Greann would seriously think I have the capacity to answer such questions.

  “The lady of the house is correct. You should be ashamed of yourself, servant!” The elderly reprimand comes from the hall before I have a chance to lay my eyes on none other than the mistress of the house, the mother of the five brothers, Madame Kincaid herself.

  And without a shadow of a doubt, I realize…

  I’m royally fucked.

  12

  Vulcan kissed me.

  He kissed me while all his brothers were watching.

  I would rather be damned to hell before I admitted to anyone it was my first kiss. It’s not like they need to know anyway.

  And, of course, true to Zhavia karma, Lady Greann and Madame Kincaid walked in on what was supposed to be the most memorable moment in my life. Well, if anyone cares to argue, I’m guessing this moment will stick with me for all eternity… but it won’t be because of the overpowering feeling of lust like it should be. No. Instead, this day will be tucked away in a file cabinet in my brain under the most significant failures of my life.

  I’m a failure. I always will be a failure. And kissing one of the royals of House Kincaid is like the final lick of flame to fuel my cremation. They don’t put bodies six foot under the ground like they used to in the past. All the ancient cemeteries have long since been desecrated and burned, a feeble attempt of our governing faction to rid the lands of the plague while creating new burial sites—or make more room for more. No one knew which.

  “You will be punished,” Madame Kincaid scolded, spittle flying from her wrinkly lips as she spoke, her finger pointing at me, the tip of her nail mere inches away from my face. Her breath smelled like stale food and an earthy, almost melancholy aroma.

  “She deserves more than a simple punishment, especially since she’s in royal presence without her cap,” Greann adds, her voice bordering on hysterical. “I want her gone!”

  For the fi
rst time in days, my heart is pounding with fear. If there’s anyone who has the ability to send me back to the camps, it’s Madame Kincaid, especially if she takes Greann’s side.

  “Greann,” Vulcan shouts. “We are the reason she is here. There’s no need to take it out on her.”

  “There’s always a reason to take it out on the help, Sir Vulcan Kincaid. After all, they are incapable of making sound decisions from one moment to the next.” Greann’s voice is sweet—so very sweet—to the point of causing a toothache. For her to act like she’s better than me makes me want to punch someone. We came form the same camp. We were cut from the same cloth. She has no right to speak down to me like she is, yet I know arguing with her would be useless. She’s the chosen. She is the lady of House Kincaid.

  My attention coming back to the conversation at hand, I cringe as she smiles up at Vulcan, her hand landing possessively on his chest as she inches closer to his lips. I’m reminded of just a few days prior when Vulcan sauntered out of Greann’s room, a smug and rather satisfied grin on his face. It was clear as crystal he had fucked her then, and it’s beyond obvious he is being captivated by her demanding charm now.

  “The lady of the house has spoken. It is final. This traitor will be punished!” Madame Kincaid says with force, her voice echoing off every surface of the room and making my bones quake with every syllable.

  “I’ll run!” I blurt out, causing everyone’s eyes to narrow in on me. With my hands clasped and filled with nerves behind my back, I dance back from one foot to the other until I hit the wall behind me. I’m still questioning my sanity over the words that spilled from my lips before I could filter them. I’m already elbow deep in this mess of a sinkhole. Might as well keep on sinking strong. “I will. I’ll run. You’ll be the first house in ages to lose their help due to an escape.”

  My threats are weak. Even I know as much. But I wouldn’t be Zhavia if I collapsed without a fight.

  Greann laughs, her titter a shrill sound through the room, making the atmosphere seem even more annoying than it was mere minutes before. “Do you honestly think that’s a threat?”