Wilderwood

by Halli Starling

  By all the gods gone she was gorgeous. Hair unspooled to the middle of her back, arms and hands and throat bare, her face buried in Roderick’s neck as he clutched at the back of her shirt. His head was tipped back against the wall and pretty moans spilled from his lips, his eyes screwed shut in obvious pleasure. She’d pushed him into the wall and made a picture fall from its hook, and the glow coming off her sin marks was reflected in the picture frame’s glass. And in the mirror in the corner, in the shadowed panes of the windows.

  “You can put your fingers in her hair,” Bel said quietly, closing the door behind them with a click. “She likes it.” They stepped up to the entwined couple, watching as Octavia lifted her head and pinned them with a russet-orange stare, one that bled black around the edges of those impossible irises. Bel could see the faint bruise Octavia had sucked into his skin, the shine of her spit lingering in the room’s cool air. “Don’t you, darling? You like being touched. You need it.”

  Octavia flashed Bel a fully fanged smile. “I see you heard Roderick’s call.”

  “I did.” They stepped closer. Bel could feel the heaviness in the air; it sat on their tongue like honeyed mead, sweet and thick. Octavia glowing like a beacon, Roderick panting and pawing at her….it only heightened Bel’s own desires. “I suppose we ought to take advantage of what might be our one night of peace before all hell breaks loose.”

  Octavia silently held out her hand and Bel took it. How could they not? They loved Octavia. Desired her. Trusted her with every ounce of their being. Roderick was the one they wanted to ensure was comfortable. That he had an understanding of what he was getting into. With an easy touch, Bel ran their gloved hand down his arm and when Roderick blinked heavy eyes at them, they smiled. “Are you here because you wish to be?”

  His blinking picked up pace. “What?”

  “Roderick, look at me.” Bel gripped his chin in their hand, turned that beautiful face to them. “She’s captivating, isn’t she? My darling Octavia.” Octavia hummed at her, pleased, one fang poking over her lip. It almost made Bel’s heart stop, that look. “Did you two talk?”

  “A little.” Roderick’s lips parted as Bel brushed their thumb over his cheek. “If you’re worried I’m in over my head, I’m not. I’m not some blushing virgin.”

  Bel laughed. “I never said you were. But born vampires are a particular kind of lover and Octavia and I know each other’s bodies well.” Octavia snarled softly at them, but it only made Bel’s grin grow. Roderick’s eyes widened slightly but his attentions didn’t waver between the two before him. “But you’re new. Delightful, yes, but new. I would never expect anything from you.”

  “You say stop, and we stop,” Octavia said, wresting back a sliver of her self-control. She and Bel had this conversation with new lovers and every time the reaction was different. Right now Bel figured Roderick was confused but this was due to trying to think through a haze of lust. If his trousers bore any statement on what was happening, that is. “And I don’t bite. You needn’t worry.”

  Roderick shook his head. “What if….” He swallowed hard, tried again. “What if I want you to?”

  Octavia ducked her head, glanced at Bel. This was not the first time a lover had asked for her bite, but it was up to Octavia. “Not now, not like this,” she said softly, all tension easing from her face. Bel had seen the hunger there when they’d entered the room but Octavia was a tightly wound spring, a coil of control. Roderick didn’t have enough history with her to know just how much temptation Octavia resisted on a daily basis. That control was practically etched on her bones.

  “All right.” Disappointment flickered over Roderick’s face and Bel couldn’t blame him.

  “Tavia.” Bel pulled her close; not trying to take her away from Roderick but wanting her near. “You can show him.” They thumbed at Octavia’s bottom lip and someone sighed. Bel wasn’t entirely sure who.

  Octavia shook her head quickly. “No, I don’t - “

  “I know you don’t need it. I’m offering.”

  Something like a whimper rose up from the depths of her throat and the one pale, slender hand still on Roderick squeezed his forearm. Roderick hissed in response, gripped Octavia’s hand tightly in his own. Bel watched Octavia flit through a dozen different decisions before pulling them to her, fingers now wholly engaged with the complicated buttons on Bel’s jacket. “Off.” She turned to Roderick, desperation heating her voice. “Over to the bed, but behind me.”

  Octavia loved little more than being cradled between two lovers. And Bel had sampled her bevy of delights many times but something about the consistent pressure of two bodies on hers wore Octavia down almost as quickly as Bel’s mouth. And once sandwiched between them on the bed, Octavia started kissing Bel as Roderick moved into place. Bel almost chuckled at the way the man jumped to follow Octavia’s orders. They bit back on a murmur of good boy, saving that morsel for another time.

  If they all made it out of these next few days alive.

  There was nothing quite like being taken apart by Octavia’s single-minded focus and Bel relished in the attention, the feel of her lips. “Tavia. Please.”

  Octavia shifted, gripping Bel with one hand and Roderick with the other. “Watch closely, Ranger,” Octavia purred, making both humans shiver. The other thing Octavia kept closely under wraps was how damn powerful she was. She could influence thoughts, heighten sensitivities, make a simple kiss feel like the end of the world and the best fuck all wrapped up together in a neat bow. Nothing compared, however, to the euphoria of her bite.

  Bel was damn near panting and didn’t care that Roderick was watching them with bright, curious eyes. They let Octavia place another lingering kiss on their mouth, then tip their head to the side. Bel’s braids swung with the movement and they saw Roderick’s fingers twitch against his thigh.

  “I’ve missed you,” Octavia moaned against Bel’s neck, pulling another shudder from deep within their body. “I’ve missed you so fucking much, Bel.”

  Roderick swore softly, pressing hard enough against Octavia to move them all. Bel let the motion carry them down until Octavia was all but shoved into their lap while Roderick held her, his big hand spanning her waist. And then that daring man put a hand on Bel’s knee and they grinned. “Watch.” Bel met Octavia’s eyes and nodded.

  Octavia’s strike was like a snake but instead of poison, adrenaline and desire pulsed in Bel’s veins. Octavia’s bite was better than sex. And the only time sex was better than those fangs in their neck was if Octavia bit them while pulling pleasure from between their thighs with her devilishly clever fingers. She had one hand on Bel’s neck, holding as if to claim. Bel melted.

  The brief bit of pain didn’t matter. The way Bel’s head fell back, the way Octavia pushed them down into the mattress, her body covering them so sweetly. Bel could feel everything, every drop of blood Octavia pulled from their vein, every brush of clothing and skin and hair; could hear Roderick’s needy moan from somewhere in the distance.

  And then Octavia was licking the bite closed, nosing at Bel’s jaw. “Are you all right?”

  Bel blinked, trying to claw their way through the haze that had settled over their mind. “Yes. My gods, yes.”

  They watched through heavily hooded eyes as Roderick slid his hand over Octavia’s jaw, cradling her face, turning her to him so he could kiss her. One of his hands spread over her stomach, holding her in place. Bel found themself a little breathless at the sight above them, lovers entwined so tightly it made them ache with want. Octavia moaned into their kiss and Bel watched the flick of Roderick’s tongue turn the kiss messy. From the sounds they were both making, they were enjoying learning the shape and feel of each other’s mouths.

  Bel could have lain there all night and watched them. They were gorgeous together. And Roderick was apparently quite good at taking instruction; soon his fingers were in Octavia’s hair, dragging her head back, exposing her throat. The jolt of adrenaline down Bel’s spine at watching Octav
ia give in so easily was electrifying. The vampire could snap them both in half in less than a second and yet she was so open to their touches, to the set of lips wandering over her skin.

  They got to their knees, hooking two fingers into the waist of Octavia’s riding trousers. “Need you,” Bel whispered against her jaw.

  “Wait.” Roderick’s voice was a little breathy but those eyes and hands were steady as he stared at Bel. And then he smirked at them and something swooped low in Bel’s gut. “No blushing virgin. Not my first threesome, either.”

  Bel chewed on the inside of their cheek to keep from grinning. Well, well. The Ranger was full of surprises. They leaned in as Roderick did, their lips meeting as Octavia ran her hands over them both. The vampire made a strangled noise in the back of her throat as they kissed; even with their eyes shut, Bel could see the light from her marks behind their eyelids. “One night before all hell breaks loose, then?” they said softly as Octavia pushed them both down to the bed once more.

  ***

  Roderick was unarmored, clothed only in heavy trousers and a simple, buttoned shirt. And Bel’s clothes were armor, but theirs meant dealing with fussy buttons and hooks. Never a stitch or clasp out of place on her Bel. Octavia loved them for their fastidiousness, their practicality. It cast what lie deeper into such stark, beautiful relief.

  “Watch,” she said so softly Roderick instinctually leaned in. All the better to hear her. “Watch me undress them. Watch where my hands go. Watch Bel’s face.” And she leaned into Bel, saw those eyes flutter shut at her touch. Bel’s inhale shook a little and she felt it lodge in her chest. The want. The desire. “Oh, Bel.”

  Together they pulled at hooks, slid out clasps. She didn’t just feel but could almost taste the weight of Roderick’s desire. By the thinnest thread he held onto his control and Octavia could smell it in the air, thick and heady. Bel’s coat and vest and shirt fell away, leaving only a modesty wrapping for their chest. Bel understood their body, was comfortable in it, and she couldn’t blame them for binding what they’d once referred to as “both beautiful and annoying in the same vein”.

  But now, like this, she could touch. Roderick would have to ask, and he would, but Octavia’s hands and lips and tongue were always welcome on Bellemy’s skin. Even then, she had to glance up and wait for Bel’s nod. When she got it, she pounced. She covered Bel’s body with hers, pressed her mouth just below the already fading bite. Octavia got lost in Bel’s skin, the way they grabbed her arms and held on, head thrown back in bliss.

  “May I?”

  They both froze and looked over at Roderick. He’d moved closer. His eyes were hot on them, flitting back and forth between their bodies, their faces. He wanted. “Yes,” she said.

  Bel nodded. “Please. We want you here.”

  Roderick gave a low moan, his hands outstretched to them. But he waited. “You’re both so beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze hot, heady. Dark eyes gone darker under the influence of desire. Octavia pulled him closer still. Encouraging his touch. Callused fingertips were gentle on her shoulder, on Bel’s neck. He touched her like she would break and he touched Bel like they’d rattle apart under too-soft caresses.

  As gentle as he was, nothing Roderick did lacked purpose. Octavia could feel his intensity, trapped and fluttering, beating its wings like his heart slamming against his ribs. His hand was at her face, at Bel’s face and he leaned into her, his lips a perfect fit over hers. Somewhere in the distance Bel groaned their approval and then he was gone, kissing them with equal passion.

  “You two are going to take me apart and I’ll be glad for it,” Roderick said, his voice hoarse.

  ***

  The portal shimmered and Luther felt its strange energy worm into his brain, snake behind his eyes. Above him the branch on which Bemora was perched creaked as she dug her talons into the wood. Little bits of shredded bark floated down and, irritated, he brushed them off his shoulders. The creep of blood moss around his feet was growing rapidly, inching up the tree, scraping along boulders, decimating any plant matter that stood in its way. He knew they needed to wait but he itched to do something. Anything.

  He glanced up at the feathered woman above him. “Should we let them in?”

  Bemora blinked her unnatural, cat-slit eyes at him. “And you were the one chiding me for wanting to rush,” she purred, hopping down to stand beside him. “Perhaps we should. The Queen never forbade that.”

  Luther nodded. “And then we would know if changes are needed. The portal’s magic is weak but it would let two or three through.”

  “And if something goes wrong?”

  He shrugged. “Then nothing changes. We move forward as planned.”

  She stared at him unblinking. A shiver crept down his spine. He’d spent too long in her presence and he could feel her like an infection. “Do it. But you take any blowback. I’ll not have Svronna after my head.”

  Luther fought back a fanged grin. “What’s she going to do if the portal fails? Try to come find me?”

  The look Bemora gave him could have felled a giant at fifty paces. She’d already turned cows to acid with her spit, so it wasn’t completely out of the question even though giants didn’t exist. “Don’t tempt Fate, young one,” she growled, feathers sticking up like porcupine quills. “Open the fucking door.”

  This wasn’t the main portal - the one the Queen would use once the equinox came - but was a supplementary one meant for her Dark Watchers. Bemora’s ties to the Faelands gave her enough insight to know where they were stationed on the other side of the portal. That connection would fade the longer she stayed in this realm. So, when she’d brought him news tonight that Dark Watchers were near, Luther jumped at the chance.

  Blood moss and deathtwig grew best in places where terror and tears fertilized the soil, and the town of Wilderwood was about to see horror unlike anything of this world or many others. And because the Queen needed this area to be weakened, the path was clear: the more terrified the townspeople, the more blood moss and deathtwig would grow, establishing a stronger and stronger connection to the Faelands.

  And when the moment came when the barriers between this world and his adopted one shattered, the Queen would walk through and claim all. It had all been hers once, after all. It was only right she have it back.

  But a head start couldn’t hurt.

  The token he’d stolen from a countess’s neck a few years ago - the same one that let him slip out of sight, the same one that had let him through to the Faelands to become the Queen’s emissary - was plucked from around his neck and held out. Tendrils of blood moss and skeletal fingers of deathtwig began to grow vertically in midair, creaking and groaning as they sought to connect with the power in that little shard of glass. Glass and mirrors were windows and doorways, and what little of the old ways were left in the world still seeped through their cracks. He fought not to shift as the fingers of deathtwig scraped like bone against his legs, the blood moss curling up, spiraling to grasp his forearm.

  They slowly intersected, dark red and purple and ebony like obsidian, and the moment they touched the glass, the portal shattered.

  In the haze of blinding light he made out three shapes. Like wraiths they slid forward, with no clink of armor or heavy footsteps to signal their approach. Perfect warriors, all three of them. Featureless even behind their blank oval masks, dripping blood and magic from where black-red roses were stabbed through their hair and faces and torsos.

  Horrific. Monstrous. Gorgeous.

  And once through to this world, the portal was gone. Used. The Queen might not be happy about it but she could not deny their foresight, he thought giddily as he leaned forward to inspect one of the Dark Watchers. “They seem intact,” he said, blond hair flying loose as he turned to Bemora.

  “We’ll know soon enough,” she said, slinking around the small group. “Where should we start? The farms? The blacksmith?”

  Luther grinned nastily. “The tavern. At daybreak.”

&nb
sp; Fifteen

  It was easily the best sex Roderick had ever engaged in. He’d quickly lost track of hands and mouths, only able to understand who moved where when a warm or cool hand touched him. He got lost in all the sensations his partners were pulling out of his body, as if they could manifest pleasure simply through touch.

  Lying back on Octavia’s monstrous bed, sweat cooling on his skin, he watched Octavia lick her fingers with a satisfied smile as Bel fell beside him, spent. Watching the very naked, very gorgeous vampire have energy left over after she’d fucked them both was something his cock was rather interested in. He blew out a breath, felt Bel shake with laughter beside him. “Something funny?” he grumbled as he threw one arm over his eyes, another out to curl around Bel.

  “Your body seems to think you’re up for another round,” Bel purred as they traced idle patterns over his chest.

  Roderick groaned. “Shush, it’ll hear.”