by Skye, Sariah
I dusted my hands off and stood, taking the nearest guys’ hands: Xander, and Trystan. “All right, now let’s really go home. We’ve got a life to live and I have an asshole brother to get to know.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
“Xander—my god!” I moaned loudly, just about at the top of my lungs I was sure as Xander gave one last long, firm thrust, forcing my orgasm to crest over the edge and explode. White blinded my vision as my fingers dug into his shoulders, not caring that I just smeared something slimy all over his back.
He let out a long grunt as he reached his own apex, arching into me as I enjoyed the aftershocks of the first damn orgasm I’d managed to have in about twenty-four hours.
Hey, to a damned Priestess of Avalon that preached life, love, and sex, and a woman engaged to four sexually driven incubus demons—that was a long time. It was worth it, though, because I came…hard.
“Holy shit…” Xander panted, collapsing his sweaty body on top of me. I grimaced as something squished between us, and I finally pried my eyes open… and laughed hysterically.
“What?” He demanded, his face twisted in a confused frown.
“Dearest, you have a little—” I reached up my hand and tried to wipe away the blue paint on his forehead, but it was futile. He had purple paint drying in his jet-black hair, slicking half of it back and half in his eyes, his shoulders were totally covered in white. Then I noticed my hand was covered in dripping purple paint; I knew I was probably no better.
Xander’s blush emerged even through the smears of black on his cheeks. “Ah, perhaps fucking in my studio wasn’t the best idea after all.”
“Oh, I don’t know… it’s kinda hot. Sorta dreading where I’m going to find paint though over the next few hours…” It was Monday and we were determined to get away from Galahad. We didn’t think he’d come find us in Xander’s studio, hoping he’d respect Xander’s creative vibe. He actually had enough respect for the guys that he realized there were limits for even him. We hoped, anyway.
So Xander and I escaped from Galahad’s… antics… and had collapsed in a fit of desire on the long piece of canvas that covered the hard wood floor. It was actually pretty hot, because he proceeded to torment me with his paintbrushes. I returned the favor, essentially grabbing handfuls of paint and smearing it on him. Xander was basically covered head to toe in a rainbow of colors, and I knew I was too. I could feel it in my hair.
He withdrew himself from me and I instantly missed him, I was still sensitive and craved his heat and weight of his body, but he took my hand and sat me up. He snickered, glancing down at the canvas we’d rolled all over. It was a mess of paint in no particular fashion. “Now every time I look at this I’ll think of you, dearest,” he said, with his sideways grin, leaning in and brushing his lips over my neck.
“That should be kinda disturbing but I find it sort of hot instead,” I insisted, and Xander replied with a light laugh.
“I’m sorry I’m taking you away from Bash today, huh?” Since we’d been home these past two weeks, I’d been reluctant to assign specific date nights with the guys, but they each wanted one, so I agreed as long as they agreed to be flexible.
“It’s okay, he’s working in his nerd lab for now,” I replied, with a shrug. “Working on something for… Galahad.”
At the mere mention of my devious, sneaky, underhanded brother, Xander sneered severely.
“Oh we’re going to get him, mark my words,” he grumbled, and I nodded intently.
So… turned out the legends about Galahad being this noble knight with expert battle skills, who was dashing and charismatic? All true.
But that was Galahad the knight. Galahad my brother? Kind of a dick.
He was fully invested in tormenting my men, as punishment for not only having to listen to us “getting it on” while trapped in the sword, but because they were still continuing to bang his sister, and he needed to catch up on twenty-five years of brotherly-protective behavior.
It was not flattering.
So far, Galahad had plastic wrapped the toilets, switched Mathias’ ingredients around in the kitchen, put something in Bash’s laundry to make it itchy, and poked holes in the coffee filters so the coffee was full of sediment.
That was the last straw, the guys were on the warpath now.
“We should probably get cleaned up,” Xander finally said, with a laugh, swiping his finger down my breast and swirling it over the nipple, spreading a drop of pink paint that had been smeared over my chest. And even though I’d just gotten off not more than five minutes ago, white hot lust shot straight through me and I gave him a look of depravity. Leaning forward I pinned myself over him, ignoring the squish under my knees, and caught his lips in a hot kiss, my hand flying to his neck to pull him in tighter. I was about to kiss him senselessly—again—when there was a loud crash from somewhere in the house, followed by a lot of incredibly pissed off, loud yelling.
“Galahad! So help me god when I find you, I’m going to kill you!” Mathias shouted at the top of his lungs.
“Well,” I said blandly, slumping against Xander instead of kissing him. “At least we know where Galahad is not.”
Xander snickered, leaning in for an embrace as he buried his face into my neck. “I’m sorry, Avie, I love you endlessly but your brother is a complete fucktrumpet and I sort of want to kill him.”
“Fucktrumpet?” I pulled back to give Xander a funny look, but I couldn’t fight the laugh that erupted. It echoed off the walls so loudly I was pretty sure I gave us away. “Oh god that’s good! But completely correct. Because he is noisy and annoying like a damned trumpet.”
Xander snorted, nodding in agreement. “Exactly. You know I never thought I’d miss that damned wizard until he wasn’t here. I just know he’d be giving Galahad a run for his money.”
“Probably. According to my dad, half the reason he doesn’t care for Rhys much when they were in their late teens in Camelot, Merlin was employed for Arthur and of course Galahad was around too, they used to torment the knights all the time—our dad especially. He claimed he was a bad influence on Galahad.” I laughed sharply. “I think he has it backward.”
Xander nodded vigorously. “Rhys is devious but he has his limits. Sort of…”
“Don’t worry though,” I said, grinning deceitfully, rubbing my hands together like some kind of evil cartoon villain, “Trystan and I worked up something that should get him back, at least a little.”
Xander arched a brow, grinning. “Ah… this oughta be good.”
“Oh, it will be.” I slapped him on the knee gently. “We should probably go find Mathias before he goes on a rampage.”
“Probably. It might take me a while to get this paint out of places there shouldn’t be paint, though,” Xander said in an exaggerated whisper, giving a disgusted grimace, shaking his backside. “Ew.”
“That’s your fault,” I insisted, giving him a raspberry. He chuckled, and we helped each other up. Xander disappeared into the bathroom, returning shortly after with a pile of towels. We helped wipe each other down of the paint, even though quite a bit still remained. It was going to be fun explaining that to everyone else but… eh, whatever.
Mathias yelled again, and I winced, hurrying to put on my underwear, black leggings and a blue t-shirt that said, “Sarcasm level: expert” on it. I piled up my hair on my head, jamming one of Xander’s art pencils through it to hold it up, hiding most of the paint that had dried in it. I stormed downstairs with Xander in tow, and Bash and Trystan were already there, planning revenge and talking Mathias down.
Trystan was the first to notice our presence. He gave a naughty smirk in our direction and snickered. “Get into a fight with a canvas, Avie?”
I choked back my laugh. “That is… surprisingly accurate.” Xander just shrugged his shoulders, then grimaced seeing the mess of spices and shattered glass all over the floor.
“What did he do?” He demanded, visibly disturbed by the mess everywhere.
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br /> “He mixed up my ingredients. I just cinnamon-ed the spaghetti sauce, and salted my damned coffee.” Mathias crossed his thick arms over this broad chest, his lower lip sticking out in a bit of a pout. White powder covered his neatly-pressed, tan slacks and his black button-up shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. I snickered at his appearance.
“Aw, I’m sorry my brother is such an ass. Did he spill the spices too?” I inquired, pushing past the guys and wrapping myself around him. He hesitated to sneak his arms around me, but he eventually relented.
“He didn’t. I got pissed and threw them,” Mathias admitted flatly, and I buried my face in his arm to hide my laughter. Finally, I glanced up at his pouting face, and I couldn’t hide my smile.
“So, you threw a tantrum.”
“Essentially, yes,” Mathias admitted. “Seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”
Xander let out an exasperated sigh. “I’ll get the broom…”
“I’ll update the shopping list…” Bash offered. “And add ‘something to kill Ava’s brother with’ on it…”
“Good plan!” Mathias called back.
“So, where did he go?” Trystan inquired, with a gentle smirk quirking his lips.
“I threw chili powder at him and he said he was going to take a shower,” Mathias replied, and Trystan and I gave each other an eager grin. Mathias cocked a brow at us, and asked, “What?”
“How long ago was that?” I inquired, and Mathias shrugged.
“I don’t know. Ten minutes?”
Trystan clapped his hands together and laughed evilly under his breath. “Anytime now… Porter be sure you have your camera ready. This is going to be good.”
“Huh?” Bash asked blankly, but we didn’t need to elaborate. We were met with thundering footsteps down the hallway on the third floor and down the stairs as Galahad emerged into the kitchen, looking red faced with anger… complete with bright, lime green hair.
Mathias was the first to snicker.
“Who did this?” Galahad demanded in frustration, grasping at his long hair that hung in green strings down his shoulders. He was dressed in sleep pants only and he fumed.
Bash burst out in loud laughter, followed by Xander.
“You look like a deranged Christmas ornament that’s been tossed in a woodchipper!” He claimed, pointing and laughing.
“This isn’t funny! This stuff I did to you wasn’t permanent! It was harmless!” Galahad glowered deeply at all of us. “Who did it?”
I pulled myself out of Mathias’ arms, and folded them over my chest, giving him a smug look. “Surprise, brother dear. Revenge is sweet. Don’t interrupt my sexy-time, dammit!” I scolded, shaking my finger at him.
“I helped!” Trystan piped up proudly, and Galahad gave him a glare too.
“But—” Galahad stammered, unable to speak full words. He growled in my direction, pointing a finger at me. “You, sis. You’re dead.”
“Ha! Try to catch me asshole!” With a dramatic flick of my hand that would make Rhys proud as hell, the air shimmered around me and I vanished into thin air with my invisible magic and darted away as he charged at—well, nothing.
“I wish I was still an only child!” He taunted, hoping I’d protest or laugh. I didn’t, but I did scramble backwards into the living room, hiding my laugh as he looked around frantically, trying to find me.
A little yip sounded from my feet when I realized I accidentally stepped on the tip of Lizzie’s tail. I put my finger to my lips to hush her, but she stood, and started sniffing the air around me.
“Ah-ha!” Galahad began to charge but Mathias reached out one of his large arms and pulled him into a headlock.
“The only reason I haven’t annihilated you myself is I’m waiting,” Mathias spoke ominously, glaring down at him.
“For what?”
“Waiting until I can officially refer to you as my brother, and I can carve on your tombstone, ‘death from angry brother in law… please send directly to the lowest pits of hell,’” Mathias said, with a devious grin.
“Why not now?” Trystan asked.
Mathias shrugged. “Brother in law sounds better than ‘my sister’s betrothed or some shit.’”
“Oh come on it was all in fun! This was just cruel!” Galahad protested in a childish whine.
“And hilarious!” Bash stood in front of him, snapping pictures with his camera phone. “I’m going to go update the void web. ‘Sir Galahad du Lac of the Round Table. Part asshole, part green-haired troll.’”
Galahad snarled in his direction but couldn’t escape Mathias’ grip.
The sound of a pop and a burst of smoke interrupted our fight, and Rhys emerged, grinning widely, with a surprising addition.
“Arthur?” I asked, cocking my head at the new arrival in our house.
“I’m back! Did you miss me?” Rhys asked, batting his lashes innocently at everyone.
“Actually… yes,” Trystan replied, pointing at Galahad. “Your friend here is a menace.”
Arthur, who looked surprisingly demure and normal in a pair of black sweats and a t-shirt smiled gently. He appeared healthy, rosy-cheeked, and no pallid purple remained on his face. I dropped my magic, surprised to see him looking so well. “Galahad has always been that, I assure you.”
“Traitor,” Galahad retorted bitterly, as Arthur turned to me.
“Avalon… I asked Mer—Rhys—to bring me here so I could officially apologize for not only everything I did, but thank you for everything you and your protectors have done,” he said calmly, with reverence as he spoke. He bowed low at the waist, and I let out a sharp noise.
“Balls, King Arthur just bowed to me. I’ve seen it all now,” I retorted in awe.
“Now you get where I’m coming from,” Mathias quipped.
“Because of your intervention, and your bravery, lives were saved, and spared, and the real threat to Camelot has been eliminated. I should have known better, of course, but I wasn’t in my right mind,” he added sardonically, and I laughed shortly.
“No, you were not,” I replied, with a shrug. “But… it’s over now.”
“Yes. And now that I’m better thanks to you, and Merlin, and the witches of Avalon,” Arthur began, as the guys milled in slowly, settling about in random places: the sofa, the chairs, wherever, “Mordred feels safe in returning, and I can go back home. But not to rule, to advise, and to be advised, and work together with the knights and Avalon to keep things fair and just. How they always should have been before Nimue’s influence.”
“That sounds good,” I replied.
“Right.” Rhys smirked, and patted Arthur rather forcefully in the shoulder, making the legendary king choke a cough. “Sorry,” Rhys said, with an innocent grin.
“Ava just so you know, there will always be a spot for you at the Round Table. You and your protectors. I’d be honored if you’d join me once in a while,” Arthur said, and I glanced at the guys who wore expressions of surprise.
“We’ll see. We have some things to do first, but soon that will work, I’m sure,” I replied, and Arthur lowered his head in accepting reverence.
“In the meant time, is there anything I can do for you, Avalon? Anything at all, no matter how big, to show my appreciation?” Arthur inquired. My gaze tracked over to the green haired Galahad, and I grinned deviously.
“What?” He demanded, then went wide-eyed. “Oh no. I know what you’re thinking. Arthur—don’t do it!”
“Can you… take Galahad with you for a little bit? Like two, three weeks maybe, shove him in the stockade and let people laugh at him, or lick him or something? He’s been terrorizing us for the past two weeks since the battle. I think being locked in that sword made him a jackass, like being locked in the Avalon vessel made Rhys crazy,” I said, and Rhys shrugged.
“It’s true…”
Arthur smiled widely. “Oh, I think that can be arranged. Consider it double punishment, Galahad, for all you used to do to my knights,” A
rthur explained, and Galahad’s mouth dropped open.
“Oh hell no… you wouldn’t…”
The guys all tittered laughter, and Rhys blinked out, and next to Mathias and Galahad. He set his hand on Galahad’s arm. “Nice hair, dude. You look like a very confused stoplight,” Rhys said blinking at him in confusion. “I’ll just take him to the portal, and port him to the dungeon. Does that work?”
“It does,” Arthur said, with a laugh.
“Excellent.”
“Oh come on—I was just kidding! Come on, Avalon!” Galahad protested.
“Just wait ‘til your father hears.” Arthur shook his head, clicking his tongue. “He’ll be so disappointed.”
“Oh come on, you’re going to tell my dad on me? Jeez, Ava, you’re br—” Galahad’s words were cut off by Rhys snapping his fingers, rendering Galahad immobile except for his breath and eyes.
“I’ll be back.” Rhys blinked once across the room with Galahad and placed his hand on Arthur’s arm.
“‘Til we meet again, Priestess of Avalon.” He gave another, low sweeping bow.
“Until next time, King Arthur.” I gave him a quick smile, and Rhys winked at me, and blinked both the legendary King Arthur and Sir Galahad away, and the guys and I were left alone for the first time in… what felt like forever.
I turned to them and smirked. “So… what should we do?”
“I have a real good idea,” Trystan replied, with a heated gaze and a dirty smirk.
“So do I!” Rhys blinked in again, this time alone, and I gave him a defeated look. “What? Time moves slow there, I was basically there just long enough to dump the trash and come back. So… what are we doing now? Movie night? Oh, can we watch that one again! With the shrubberies and the coconuts and shit? God that was funny!” Rhys asked, clapping his hands excitedly.
Mathias smiled slowly. “I guess. As long as you promise to hang low tonight and no peeping. Stay in your room, or down here, at least. Please.”
“So… I don’t have to go?” Rhys asked, with a hopeful, pleading expression.