Gods and Trickery: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Unfortunate Magic Book 3)

by Candace Wondrak

  Although…it did seem like Zyssept was trying…

  She wouldn’t think of the old god right now. Who was foremost on her mind was Vale.

  Dear, sweet, logical Vale.

  He’d seemed to completely overcome the trepidation he’d felt about her in the beginning. His hands roamed her body, tweaking her nipples into hard points, caressing her hips and her lower back. They’d once thought their need for each other stemmed from the spirit of Hunger, but it wasn’t a spirit’s influence. This was utterly and completely her. The only thing the damned spirit had done was open her eyes to what she wanted, quelch her fears of taking it, having both Vale and Tamlen.

  And now, Bastian, though the chevalier was still in the hall with Zyssept.

  Lena moved her legs, straddling Vale’s lap, never once breaking their liplock. She pressed her chest against his, grinding against his erection to tease him. After he broke away to whisper her name in a breathy voice, she knew she had to have him this very second. She would wait no longer.

  She reached between them, positioning the tip of his cock at her opening, slowly sinking down onto its length. Lena sighed as he filled her up, arching her back as she bit her bottom lip. If there was a heaven, an afterlife, she imagined this would be a part of it. Nothing but Lena and her men, and maybe a giant bed where they could all fit. Not unlike the giant bed the demon had created for her across the Veil.

  She supposed she should tell the others about it, but maybe Zyssept had already beaten her to it. They all seemed to have grown super close these last few days, which simply blew her mind.

  Vale leaned his forehead on hers as his hands gripped her hips. He fell backwards onto the lounge seat, which made it much easier for her to rock her body and pump him in and out. She touched his chest, traced his runes, shivering at the magical tingles zapping up her arms. His skin was flushed, and the expression of love, lust, and desire on his face made her work harder. Her chest constricted, her stomach burned, each time they looked at her like that.

  Like she was a powerful woman, not a girl mage who couldn’t control her powers. Like she was a beautiful woman, not a mousy girl beside her best friend. Looks like that made her feel special, wanted and loved. It was a feeling she would never get used to, nor did she want to.

  It made her happy, sappy as it was.

  His cock slid in and out of her easily, her hips rocking faster the moment she felt Tamlen start to kiss the back of her shoulder. Tamlen swept her hair aside, pressing his lips to the nape of her neck. Lena let out a moan. His hand moved around her, finding the small nub of flesh at the apex of her legs, rubbing it as she moved along Vale’s cock. With Vale’s hands on her legs and Tamlen’s focused on pleasing her, her body had no choice but to come. As the orgasm dominated her, she practically screamed out, falling back onto Tamlen’s wide chest as she tried to steady her breathing.

  Below her, Vale’s cock stiffened as his cum shot inside of her. When he pulled out, the white stuff oozed from her, both his and Tamlen’s, right onto the chair. Lena didn’t even care. She was too deliriously happy to have her men back.

  Not moving from Tamlen’s chest, Lena could feel herself growing drowsy. She could fall asleep right here, if she wasn’t careful. Letting sleep take her was the last thing she wanted to do, though. She still had to have her reunion with Bastian.

  “Tamlen, Vale,” she pouted. “How much do you love me?”

  Both men gave her dubious expressions. It was Tamlen who answered, “To the stars and back, why? What do you want from us?”

  “Would you both get dressed and send Bastian in? With everything that happened here, in his first life, I want to make sure he’s okay staying here.” And have some private time, because Lena knew Bastian preferred their time together one-on-one and not three-on-one.

  Vale was the first to nod and comply; Tamlen gazed at her for a while, though he did not move until Lena leaned off his chest and sat on her own. She sent a wide smile their way as they got dressed. Both cocks were still semi-erect, and she wanted nothing more than to keep them here, but she would not be so selfish. This place held many bad memories for Bastian; she would see to it he felt as comfortable as he could here.

  And if…if he did not wish to remain here, she’d let him go, as much as it hurt to think. Lena would not subject anyone to torture, and definitely not Bastian. After what happened, after being buried alive, the man deserved so much more than that.

  After Vale and Tamlen were again dressed in their shiny new armor—she’d have to ask them if the castle had extra sets lying around, or if they commandeered them from some other helpless guards—they left the room. She leaned back on the lounge, not bothering to cover herself. She’d be as bare as a baby when Bastian walked in. Except totally not like a baby. More adult. Sexier.

  At least she hoped so.

  She was alone only for a minute before Bastian walked inside, averting his hazel stare as a blush instantly crept up his neck and to his cheeks. Lena chuckled, finding his reaction adorable and unjustified, considering all they’d done before. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen her naked, nor was it the first time he’d looked at her after she’d been with the others. It was simply one of his cute little quirks.

  “Bastian,” Lena purred, sounding far more sensual than she thought she could be, “you can look at me, you know. I don’t mind if you stare.” In fact, she’d rather he stared at her slack-jawed than turn away blushing.

  He was slow to move to her side, sitting near her. “I’m sorry. It’s only I…sometimes forget where we are, what we are.” Bastian bit back a grimace. “I am…not myself, I think. This place brings me far too many memories.” His melodic, Sumerian accent was easy to listen to. How he rolled his Rs, his accent catching on the ends of certain words. She could listen to him speak all day.

  Lena leaned on him, on his armor. It was cold and stiff, but she didn’t pull away. She held onto him as she said, “If you don’t want to be here, I won’t force you to be. You can go, if you like.”

  “No. Once again I will declare I will never leave your side again,” Bastian hurriedly said, turning to face her, gloved hands grabbing the sides of her face. His eyes, a light, speckled hazel, sat in skin darker than any Rivainian, darker than a farmer, who spent each day out in the sun. His hair was a pure, pitch black, short and curly. The cleft in his chin drew her stare to his lips.

  He was more than handsome. He was sexy in every single way a man possibly could be. Sex on two legs, with an accent. Truly, it didn’t get better.

  Bastian leaned in, his lips brushing hers as he added softly, “I will never leave you, Celena. Never.” He closed his eyes for a split moment. “Please, just…be patient with me. Being here, with the royals, it is hard.”

  “The only royal here is Cailan,” Lena said, not wanting to talk of such a man while Bastian’s lips were so close. Henrik was in the dungeon, and she’d let him rot there. He’d tried to kill her, and it was something she couldn’t forgive. Not now, not when she knew all hope was not lost.

  He grimaced. “So Zys told me.”

  How in the world Zyssept knew, Lena hadn’t a clue. As an old god, what did he know? Was he all-seeing and all-knowing? Could he see the future? The past? In spite of wanting to ignore and forget about Zyssept, she found herself strangely curious.

  “I think I can control him,” Lena said. “I think it might be good for this city to have a mage queen. Hard, but good.” She paused before joking, “And if not, we could always kill him.” When Bastian stared at her, his mouth ajar, she chuckled, grabbing the hands that still held the sides of her face. “I’m kidding, Bastian. Kidding.”

  Bastian closed his mouth. “I see your sense of humor has not gotten any better in the last few years.”

  “Ouch.”

  The smile that spread on his face was slow and easy, and it warmed her core. This was her Bastian. Her love. Her, she didn’t realize until after raising him, first love. She’d loved him for years, she si
mply never knew it. Her feelings for Vale and Tamlen helped her to realize it.

  Bastian tilted her face, bringing her lips to his. This embrace was a slow one, as if it were their first all over again. Their mouths were tentative, and his lips were sluggish to part to allow her tongue entry. She wanted to drape herself over him, but it was mighty difficult, given the armor he still wore.

  Armor that was not his chevalier armor. Armor he didn’t look right in. Lena wanted to find him his old armor, because clearly he hadn’t been buried with it. If the King had sentenced him to die, odds were the armor remained somewhere in the castle. Maybe she could finagle Cailan into helping her find it. But those were thoughts for another time.

  “We should take off your armor,” Lena whispered, to which Bastian instantly agreed.

  The man needed no help, and he was much faster at dropping the plate mail than Vale or Tamlen. He was free of all metal and clothing within two minutes, his cock standing at attention. When he rejoined her on the lounge, Lena ran her hands across his chest. He was a hairier man than both Vale and Tamlen, but it did not turn her off. If anything, it made him manlier, sexier, hotter.

  For a while, they simply embraced, drowning in each other’s touches, passionate kisses exchanging at a ridiculously high rate, like they’d never get enough of each other. Lena knew enough now to never take anything for granted; she would make each kiss as though it would be her last.

  “Bastian,” she murmured against his throat, licking him, nipping him. “You know I love you, right?”

  The man grinned, flashing his white teeth. “I do, but I am always more than happy to hear you say it.” He kissed her shoulder, trailing his mouth to her chest, taking a nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking and rolling, hardening the dark pink skin into a pebble. After a minute, he moved to the other, doing the same. Lena shivered in his grasp, running her fingers through his hair, holding his head against her.

  He was very good with his tongue. He was so skilled with his tongue that the pleasure she took from his actions almost made her forget about the collar around her neck. Almost, but not quite. It sat heavily on her, moving each time she drew a breath.

  Once she’d had enough of his tongue play—which truly, she’d never have enough of it—she flipped herself around, giving him her back, her ass in the air. Bastian needed no further instruction. Hands on her lower back, he held onto her as he pushed his cock inside, moaning once when he was fully in.

  “Being inside you,” he whispered, husky, his voice raw, “is the best feeling in the world.”

  Lena breathed out sharply, hearing him say such a thing made her stomach burn and her thighs clench, which only made him hold onto her harder. She wanted to say something back, comment on how she loved him being inside of her, but all words were taken from her throat as he started to thrust, slowly at first, gaining intensity and roughness with each sway of his hips.

  The only things she could speak were “Oh, Gods” and “Yes.”

  Her arms shook with each thrust as Bastian pounded into her from behind, nailing her to the lounge that was already wet with the juices from her earlier escapades with Vale and Tamlen. It did not take long for the pleasure to overtake Bastian. He grunted as he came, fingers gripping her sides harder as though he could not control his muscles. His body tensed, his cock spewing his seed before he collapsed on top of her.

  Being between Bastian and the lounge wasn’t the worst feeling in the world, though she’d had a few more comfortable ones in recent memory. The man was full of muscle, his arms, stomach and legs chiseled and sculpted by the gods themselves. He was heavy.

  Bastian kissed her shoulder. “Lay with me, for a while.” He pulled out of her, reclining back on the lounge in much the same way she had been when he first walked in.

  How could she say no to such a request?

  Lena crawled over him, draping herself along his chest, resting her cheek on his pectorals. Her fingers traced the muscles on his lower chest, the small squares that made his abdomen so hard and solid, the V-shape that led to his dick, which was still semi-hard. He was an impressive specimen of a man. Really, they all were.

  She was beyond fortunate to have found them. Er, or raised them. Whether or not her spells had anything to do with Zyssept—and even though necromancy was a black and outlawed magic—Lena was pleased, happy with her choices. She would not trade any of them for the world. She needed nothing else; as long as she was with them, she would be content.

  “You’re sure you’ll be all right here?” Lena asked.

  Bastian’s chest rose and fell with a single sigh before he said, “It will be difficult, but I would do anything for you.”

  “Will Cailan recognize you?” She thought. “Or can Zyssept make it so no one can?”

  He was silent for a long while, nearly too long. So long she started to wonder if she’d even spoken the question aloud, or if she’d simply thought it. He eventually said, “I’m sure Zys will take care of it.”

  Lena moved so she could gaze up into his eyes. He watched her heavily, his left arm snug around her back. “You truly trust Zyssept?” She refused to call the old god Zys. It just seemed…too weird. Too familiar. Too close to almost-crossing-the-line territory. Once she started calling him Zys, who knew? She might start to actually like the bastard.

  And it was something she wouldn’t allow, even if he’d brought them all back together.

  “As the others said, I think he’s trying.” Bastian rubbed his jaw with his free hand. “When he came to the farmhouse…it was actually not the first time we met.” His eyes flicked to her, and her expression, which was a curious and demanding one, forced him to say, “He managed to bring me across the Veil, right after I ran away. After the first kiss, when I was still fighting my feelings for you.”

  The news slapped her like a rotten fish—it was wholly unwelcome, it was utterly unexpected, and it shocked her. “He brought you across the Veil? But you are no mage. Only mages and Demons can cross.” And spirits, she mentally added. “And, last I checked, you may be an eradicator—” See: a warrior who Sumer’s Empress had carved with a tiny, secret rune on the back of his neck, a soldier who could stop mages from even using their powers. “—but you are no mage.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t change the fact he did just that.”

  “Why?” It was the question ringing through Lena’s head at a mile per second. Why would Zyssept bring Bastian across the Veil? Why, why, why?

  “He was…threatening me, I think.”

  Lena’s fists clenched as they lied atop his chest. “I knew it.” And she did know it—she knew the old god was evil, knew he was bad. She would not fall for any of his—

  “No, he was angry with me for running from you, for hurting you.”

  Okay, that she wasn’t expecting to hear. Why in all of Rivaini did Zyssept care if she was hurt? Yes, she had been extremely upset after Bastian literally leapt out of the nearest window after their first embrace, but she was an adult. She could handle feelings…even if she’d wanted to cry, at the time.

  Hmm. Maybe she did cry.

  Still. Just because Zyssept didn’t want Bastian hurting her didn’t mean shit. It meant nothing. Nothing any of her men would say to her would make her feel differently. Zyssept clearly had gotten into their heads while she was away. He was an old god of death; he could be pulling figurative strings and making them say all this to her in a misguided effort to win her to his side.

  As if.

  “I can see the skepticism on your face,” Bastian said, studying her. “While it has not been enough time for me to state that I would trust him with you, he has come a long way from what he was merely days ago.”

  Lena spoke straight to his chest, frowning, “It sounds like you’re all on his side, like you all want me to choose him.” Did these guys not understand that if she chose to be with Zyssept, it also meant she’d agree to be his wife, theoretically becoming a goddess herself? As if the possibility of absolut
e power wasn’t frightening enough, she’d also have to be with him. Sleeping with a god? Not something on her bucket list.

  “I want you—we all want you—to be free to choose what you want. If you would be happy with Zys, then, yes. I would have you choose him. Perhaps you would be able to guide him, just as you mentioned for the Prince.”

  Guide him. As in steer him toward the path of goodness? Lena would be awful at that. She might’ve been nothing more than a sorrowful, regretful mage before, but now she was more aware of her power. Now she did not view necromancy as such a sin. Now…the darkness was tainting her.

  “It seems I am in between a rock and a hard place,” Lena muttered. Neither option seemed like a winner. Both would suck. Was there an option C?

  He traced circles on her back, the gesture a soothing one. “Spend some time with him, make the judgement for yourself. He is…committed to chasing you, no matter how far you run, so I believe it would be best to stop running and face him. Then you can make your decision.”

  “Fine,” she said, “but I don’t trust him.”

  Bastian merely chuckled below her, and she responded by smacking him in the chest. The smack probably did more damage to her palm than it did to him; the man was rock-solid, beefy and bulky in a way only true warriors were. Out of her three men, he was perhaps the strongest.

  She refused to give into Zyssept, regardless of how beguiled her men were.

  By the time Cailan returned from the procession, Lena was dressed once more, sitting in her study with Anne, sipping tea from a replacement set. Anne had sent other servants to clean the lounge, though she had no idea what could’ve possibly happened to get the hard, white stuff all over one particular seat. Whether it was due to her naivete or Zyssept’s magic, Lena didn’t care.