Defiance

by Sadie Moss

  “Farse! Paris!”

  My hands are in his hair, mussing up the soft blond strands, when he finally pulls back and looks up at me.

  “I like it when you curse, little soul. The words sound so good coming from your sweet mouth. I don’t know what brought you into our path—and certainly it wasn’t your god or mine—but I’m so glad we found you. There’s not a soul in the world who could fit us better than you.”

  My heart is pounding hard in my chest, my body aching, and it takes my mind a few extra seconds to process all of his words. But as they begin to penetrate my dazed brain, emotion wells in my chest.

  I take his hands and place them over my breasts again, resting my smaller ones over his larger ones, showing him just how I like to be touched as I rock against him, letting my body speak for me.

  He’s hard as steel beneath me, and when he rolls me onto my back, I mourn the loss of his thick length against my clit. He undresses me, and I don’t even bother pointing out that the cabin is just a few short paces away.

  He’s right. There’s no one here to see us but the wind and rocks and trees, and I want them to see. I like the idea of showing the universe that Paris is mine and I’m his.

  Two slick fingers slide down the seam of my sex, gathering the wetness there before moving up to circle lightly over my clit.

  He kicks off his own clothes while he teases me, his mouth finding my breast again as his fingers move in an unrelenting pattern, drawing whimpers and moans from me.

  When I think I can’t take it anymore, he stops, leaving me nearly sobbing with anticipation. I blink up at him, finding his emerald eyes focused on me.

  Then, a half-second later, our positions are reversed. Paris is on his back and I’m straddling him again, his heavy cock sandwiched between us.

  “I want you to ride me, Sage,” he says, his voice smooth and low as his hands fall to my hips. “I want to watch you come like you did under Callum’s tongue, with the sun behind you and the wind in your hair.”

  A surge of arousal moves through me at his words, and I move against him, feeling my own arousal coat his shaft. His eyes darken, his fingers digging into the flesh of my hips. He makes no move to take the lead though, so I do, reaching down and wrapping my fingers around his cock.

  All of these men are so big and muscular that they make me feel small and delicate. Sometimes I hate it—like when I’m training with them in combat. But right now, I farsing love it. I love how even my hand feels small as my fingers encircle him, unable to even meet around his thick girth.

  I would worry that he’ll never fit inside me, but Echo has already showed me that’s not true.

  My body will stretch to accommodate him, allowing him as deep inside me as his brother was.

  The thought sends a rush of heat through me, and I rise up on my knees, my movements only slightly awkward as I line him up and sink back down. I’ve never done this before, but the way Paris is watching me makes me feel like there’s nothing I could do wrong, so I don’t let doubt or worry invade my thoughts.

  Instead, I focus on the fullness, the feeling of tightness as Paris impales me to the hilt, his hips arching up from the ground to meet mine.

  “Now ride me,” he breathes, his voice strained. “Let me see you chase your pleasure.”

  I still don’t know quite what to do. His hands are gripping my hips hard, but he makes no move to dictate my motions.

  Chase my pleasure, he said.

  So that’s what I do. My eyelids are drooping, arousal dragging them down like heavy weights, but I don’t let them close. Instead, I focus on Paris as I rest my hands on his chest, bracing knees on the ground for balance as I roll my hips experimentally.

  His cock shifts in and out of me a few inches as I move, and his deep groan lets me know he enjoyed it. I did too, so I repeat the movement, rising a little higher this time to get more friction. I remember the way Echo thrust into me when we coupled in the alley in Aeheamel, and I pick the rhythms I liked best, mimicking those with my own hips, using my thigh muscles to slide up and down Paris’s length.

  It feels good.

  It feels farsing amazing.

  My teeth clamp around my lower lip, biting so hard it’s almost painful. My fingers curl into Paris’s hard chest, my nails leaving little half-crescents in his tanned skin.

  “Gods, you’re gorgeous, Sage,” he rasps.

  His own hips match my movements, making each thrust harder and deeper. Then he releases my hips and moves one hand, finding my clit with the pad of his thumb and teasing it in time to our rocking motion.

  “Oh… Farse… Paris!”

  My mouth drops open, my whole body shaking as my release washes over me, ecstasy sparking through my blood as I come hard. My rhythm stutters, my muscles losing coordination as my brain momentarily shuts down.

  Breathing hard, I grab Paris’s hands and bring them back to my hips, wrapping them around my curves.

  “Show me what you like,” I pant. “Let me see you chase your pleasure now.”

  His blue eyes flash, and his fingers sink into my skin. Then he does take control, lifting me up and bringing me back down hard. He sets a fast pace, finally holding my hips steady as he bucks up into me from below.

  The moment when he comes is one of the best things I’ve ever seen in my life. His lips pull back in something almost like a snarl, his muscles straining and his abs contracting as he pulses inside me. A low groan rumbles in his chest, and I swear I can feel the vibrations of it traveling through my own body from where my hands rest on his pecs.

  He shudders twice more as the orgasm works its way through him, and when he finally relaxes, he tugs me down to drape over his chest.

  I don’t resist, going limp against him with his cock still buried inside me. Our breathing falls into an easy synchronicity as his hand traces idle paths up and down my spine. My cheek rests just below his shoulder, and my eyelids fall closed as I breathe in the aroma of him, letting the masculine scent that’s all Paris drift deeper into my nostrils with every inhale.

  I want to absorb everything about him. His scent. The way his body feels beneath mine in this moment of sated bliss. The feel of his fingertips on my skin.

  “Paris?” I ask lazily, turning my head to press a kiss to his sun-warmed skin. I think the chilly breeze is still blowing, but I can’t feel it. My body feels infused with heat, warmed from the inside out by exertion and arousal.

  “What is it, little soul?”

  He tangles his fingers in my hair as he speaks, sounding just as sleepy and dazed as I am.

  “You’re not going to make me fight you again, are you?”

  I feel the shift in his body beneath me, tension gathering in his muscles again. He’s quiet for a long moment, still stroking my hair. Then he slips a finger under my chin, gently lifting my head so he can meet my gaze.

  He’s smiling, but there’s a seriousness in his eyes that contradicts the rest of his expression.

  “I don’t want to. I want to carry you inside and ravish you again. Make you come as many times as I can before Callum and Echo get back.” His smile grows seductive, then falters a little. “But we need to keep training. I meant what I said—I push you because I care about you.”

  He gathers one of my hands in his, bringing it to his lips to kiss my fingertips. Then his gaze finds mine again, his eyes softer and more open than I’ve ever seen them.

  “And I do care, Sage. So much.”

  22

  I lie awake that night, gazing up at the ceiling as the moonlight shines through the window and shifts upon the boards with the shadows of swaying trees. The pale glow casts a spell over the magical cabin, making it look like a whole different world. At times, I can sense the weave inside the walls, pulsing and tingling as if it’s a living, tangible thing watching over me as I sleep.

  Outside the window, snow flurries drift past like falling stars on a backdrop of velveteen sky, but inside the cabin, I’m as warm as a summer’s nigh
t.

  I’m lying between all three of my men. For the past few nights, they’ve gathered around me in bed without ever discussing our sleeping arrangements. Of course, one bed means if we didn’t sleep together, some of us would be sleeping on the floor, so it isn’t the fact that they’re sharing the bed with me that surprises me. I’m used to that.

  It’s just that each night they’ve drifted closer.

  It began with Echo’s hand on my hip a few evenings back. Then Callum’s fingers tangled in my hair, or Echo’s fingers became wrapped in mine. Now tonight, they’re all three so close that their bodies touch mine all around me. Paris is spooned against my back, his arm draped over my waist, while Callum lies behind him, one big hand carefully resting against my head. It’s a world apart from the way things were back in Ironholde, and their presence—and their obvious need to touch me and be close to me—comforts me more than I ever thought possible.

  I can’t quite wrap my head around any of this. How did this happen? How did I end up connected so deeply to three messengers of the gods?

  I roll over, careful not to jostle Paris’s arm, and start a little when I find Echo awake beside me. He’s on his side, an arm tucked beneath his head as he watches me in the dark.

  “I didn’t realize you were still awake,” I whisper, my voice barely audible in my attempt to not awaken the other men.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” he replies in his own low whisper. He brushes the knuckles of his free hand over my cheek, a smile touching the corners of his lips. “It’s more fun to watch you. You think with your eyes.”

  “I do not,” I argue, covering both my eyes as heat flushes my cheeks. I like the idea of him watching me, but not so much the idea my thoughts are free for other people to deduce from my eyes.

  Echo gently takes my hands and pries them away from my eyes, kissing first one hand, then the other, before he tucks them both against his chest. “You do. But not everyone can read you like us.”

  “Us. You think Paris and Callum can read my thoughts in my eyes too?”

  Echo grins and moves closer, the mattress dipping beneath his body so that I roll toward him. “Of course. We’re a unit, you know. My brothers and me. Our bonds are more powerful than anything. But somehow, you came into our lives and forged a path into that bond. You’re a part of our unit, our bond, now.” His dark gaze sweeps over my face, and his thumb caresses the palm of my hand where it’s still pressed against his chest. “You may even have become the most important part.”

  “I never wanted to come between the three of you,” I say, wincing. “I don’t want to ruin your bond.”

  “It’s not like that, little soul. You haven’t come between us,” Echo assures me. He slides an arm around my waist, pulling me against him, while Paris still sleeps against my back. “You’ve become a part of us. Made our bond stronger. You’re ours, Sage. For eternity and beyond.”

  My heart warms at his words. He’s only voicing the exact thought I’ve had so many times—that I belong to them. And that they, somehow, belong to me.

  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Leaning into him, I press my lips to his. We kiss like this for several minutes, lazily and slowly, as if we have all the time in the world. I can tell he wants more—and the tingle low in my body speaks the same language—but for now, cocooned in the shadows of the cabin, pressed up against Callum and Paris, we just enjoy the taste of each other.

  Suddenly, a low, vicious growl rips through the silence.

  My eyes fly wide open as my entire body tenses.

  Echo tears away from our kiss at the same time Paris’s arm tightens on my waist. Behind him, I see Callum lift his head.

  The four of us lie frozen, still and silent for a few seconds until we hear another low rumble. Then the men leap to their feet as quickly and soundlessly as if they’re made of nothing.

  I scramble off the mattress and hold my hand out for my dagger as Echo grabs his sword and my weapon from where they rest beside the bed. He hands my blade to me, and we circle up, the four of us facing outward with our backs together as we carefully slide our weapons from their sheaths. Someone’s sword snags against the sheath with an audible shnick, and my fingers tighten on my dagger’s hilt as something snarls just outside the cabin.

  Callum holds up three fingers, then gently counts down.

  Two fingers.

  One finger.

  When all that’s left is his closed fist, the men pull at the weave in unison, tearing down the magical walls of the cabin. Our makeshift shelter vanishes into the ether as if it never existed.

  As I take in the landscape around us, my blood freezes.

  Snow still falls daintily from above, dotting the fur of at least a dozen giant hounds surrounding us.

  Kaius’s hunters.

  I knew the hounds would find us eventually. Since the day we decided to hole up on the mountain to begin my training, Callum has spoken of their arrival as a definite eventuality. A when, not an if.

  Even so, I’m stunned by how many men have been sent to take us in. Kaius is clearly holding nothing back now. I can only imagine how furious he is that we’ve evaded capture for so long.

  There’s a split second of calm in the moment after the walls disappear, as the hounds stare at us and we stare back at them.

  Then chaos breaks loose.

  Fur and fangs launch at us from every direction. Even circled up as we are, we’re severely outnumbered beneath the tidal wave of hounds.

  I take advantage of their coordinated attack and drop to the ground, whipping my blade up toward their descending paws. It might not be the smartest move, considering the way they rain down on me with sharp talons and heavy feet, but I wrap the weave around my blade and quicken my movements with magic, severing a dozen front paws in the time it takes for them to notice I’m under their feet.

  I catch a sharp claw to my side and cry out as it rips into my dress and farther, tearing my skin. I roll away from the blow as warm blood flows down my side, slashing at a few outlying paws before I leap to my feet.

  The men are ducking and weaving around the hounds as magic sparks from their own weapons. But the hounds have magic too, so they fight back with just as much quickness and power. We can’t defeat these beasts with the weave—we have to beat them by taking them by surprise.

  I can’t exactly repeat that crawling-beneath-their-feet trick I just did, I tell myself as I hit a hound’s face with the broad side of my blade, sending him flying back beneath the force of the weave. I’m the smallest of all of us, but I’m still too big, and I’ve already been sliced open once.

  But… my blade could do it. Alone. It’s small enough to move between their legs unseen.

  Could I even make that happen?

  I jam the tip of my blade in an attacking hound’s eye, and surprise fills me when I feel it puncture the orb. So tendons and eyes are vulnerable. I tuck that bit of knowledge away for future use.

  In order to attempt to control my knife using the weave, I’ll have to be without a weapon in a clearing full of vicious, snarling attack dogs. So I do the only thing that immediately comes to mind: I shout, “Cover me!” before I wrap the weave around every inch of my knife and throw it into the fray.

  Without asking any questions at all, Echo and Paris dart toward me, placing themselves firmly between me and the hounds as Callum continues his battle.

  I’m connected to my knife via the strands of power, watching the blade zoom through the battle in my mind’s eye. It’s a bit like watching Callum’s magic mirror inside my own mind, except this time, I’m able to make adjustments using my connection through the weave.

  My blade becomes a vicious slicing entity. With only my mind, I take out paws one right after another. The men go in for the kill—breaking the hounds’ necks—but there simply are too many to keep this up. We’ll be overwhelmed eventually, and once they take one of us out, the rest will fall like trees toppling in a forest.

  Finally, one o
f the messenger hounds sees what’s happening, and he plants a giant paw on my blade. I let out a shocked gasp as the connection is lost. More than half of the hounds are on the ground, moaning and growling, but that still leaves half of them ready to tear our throats out.

  “There are too many to kill!” Callum calls, shoving the hound off my dagger with a full-body blow. He scoops my weapon off the ground and tosses it to me hilt-first as the monster scrambles to its feet. “Run! Hit the weave and keep going!”

  23

  I obey Callum’s shouted command without hesitation.

  Reaching for the weave, I tug on the strands quickly, flying through space as I feel the men around me doing the same. My heart hammers in my chest as I try to determine whether we’ve been followed. Did a hound latch on to one of the men like last time?

  Please, no.

  We could probably take down a single hound—farse, we’ve done it before—but if one follows, it might help the others track us. And we can’t afford another fight like the one we just escaped.

  We travel as fast and as far as we can before Callum finally stops. I stagger a little from exhaustion as we come to rest in a clearing in an unfamiliar forest, but I raise my dagger immediately, on-edge and alert for any threats.

  None come.

  The night is quiet, and the air feels heavy and thick. An owl hoots in the distance, but I hear no snarls, no barks or growls.

  Paris lifts his chin as if searching for the same sounds I am. Then he shakes his head, letting out a breath. “We’ve lost them. For now.”

  “We should keep going,” Echo comments, his head swiveling back and forth as his gaze tracks over the darkened trees around us. “We won’t be sleeping again tonight anyway, and we need to put as much distance between ourselves and Kaius’s hunters as possible.”

  “Agreed.” Callum nods once, then turns to me. He scans my body quickly, and his shoulders stiffen. “You’re hurt.”