Shadows and Shade Box Set

by Amanda Cashure

  Fingers in, thumb working my clit, and my pelvic floor going to town.

  “You can go back to arguing with me now,” Chaos says.

  “Why?” I gasp.

  “Because you didn’t finish telling me how stupid the bet is.”

  I pause, leaving my hand exactly as it is as I focus enough to say, “Alpha was pretty close just now – if you’d given him five more minutes, I think you would have won your bet.”

  “Maybe,” he says, making me jump because he’s pretty much leaning over the crates and over the top of me.

  “Shit, how long have you been there?” I gasp.

  With a shrug he says, “About thirty seconds, but clearly, I’ve interrupted something.”

  “No,” I snap, my hand still down my pants and a finger still inside me.

  He arches a smug eyebrow, climbs up, and sits cross-legged on top of the crate, then waves a ‘keep going’ hand towards me.

  “They’re going to be a while,” he says.

  I just look at him, eyes wide in shock, my hand slipping up until it’s only just tucked inside my waistband.

  “This doesn’t break our bet… and they can interrogate someone for hours, so we should make the most of it.”

  “You’re just going to watch?” I ask, a little conflicted.

  Because I was enjoying my alone time and would happily go back to it if he wasn’t here, but since he is here, he should join in and not play creepy-peeping-Tom. From my stomach to my knees feels loose and quivery, and I can’t seem to stop the slow clench that shoots with sensation even though my gaze stays on Chaos’, and my hands remain still.

  “I’m going to watch,” Chaos says, leaning to his left against the larger crate.

  He’s getting comfortable, I realize, and I’m the show.

  So I go back to my original state, lacing my fingers behind my head and closing my eyes as if going to sleep.

  “Just so you know,” he says, his tone low and husky… which is damn hot on Chaos’ usually playful voice. “I’m pretty sure I can help you break the others. Alpha for sure. If we work together, and we get one of them to lose their restraint first, that’s a win for both of us.”

  “Just so you know,” I say back, trying to sound lazy, but instead sounding like I’m still aroused.

  Because I am still aroused.

  Which makes me say something my brain would otherwise have intercepted from my mouth – because it wasn’t even something I’d considered before this moment.

  “I plan on getting you all to lose your stupid bet. One at a time. Without the others knowing.”

  He groans, and I have to crack an eye open just to soak up the expression on his face.

  “You four take bets and pacts and promises and stuff far too seriously.”

  “Pacts and promises – yes. Bets not so much. Bets are just for fun.”

  “I can think of some other fun stuff. Not right now, because your brothers will be back in here any minute now.”

  “No, they won’t,” he says, that wicked seductive quality back in his voice. “Hours. They’re going to be busy for hours. I know these things.”

  Hours?

  The things I could do in hours.

  My traitorous hips roll ever so slightly, seeking contact. And Chaos doesn’t miss the movement. I close my eyes and try to keep my voice steady as my heart hammers and my imagination moves Chaos closer. The draft that skims from the door, across the sand, and over my cheek teases me with desire. I want that to be his breath. Him on top of me.

  “Which one of us are you thinking of?” he asks.

  “You.” I don’t even hesitate because it’s true.

  I also don’t realize my hand is back down my pants, seeking myself out, until he groans.

  And he groans because I’m touching myself – which shoots an incredible fiery thrill through me that’s impossible to clamp down on.

  But I should clamp down on it. This is more than a little intimidating.

  The distinct sound of fabric being adjusted and his breathing growing heavy shatters that train of thought – because whilst my eyes were closed, he’s freed himself from his pants.

  Has his length in his hand.

  Eyes lowered on me, hot with need.

  “Keep going,” he coaxes, and my hand moves over my clit as if obeying.

  That brush of pleasure that paints its way through me makes up my mind. I want this.

  This is happening, I decide as I tease my clit with my fingertip.

  Chaos inhales just a touch louder than usual.

  I dip my fingers lower between my folds and swirl the moisture back to my clit. This would be so much better with him inside me. That thought comes out as a gasp, then a moan. My hips are grinding, and fuck, do they want something to grind against.

  My other hand slides down over my hip, into my pants, trying to find some way to get in on the action.

  “Take those off,” Chaos says, his tone soft and deep, but the words are firm, and my hands obey.

  The rush of slipping my clothes off myself, lying bare in the open, with his eyes on me, makes me almost giddy.

  But I don’t open my eyes, enjoying the places my mind is going… Okay, maybe just a few peeks at his hard length before some push or brush or thrust of myself traps all of my attention on what’s happening in my core.

  I want this so badly I’m trembling.

  The crate creak as he adjusts or moves or something – I don’t care.

  I spread my legs a little.

  “Wider,” he rasps. “Let me see.”

  I do, not because it’s an order but because the desire in his tone is so chuckin’ hot.

  So I bend my knees and tilt my hips and make sure he can see with some thin thread of awareness… but most of me is just tumbling through bliss as I push two fingers inside whilst my thumb works over my clit.

  Fuck. They could all walk in right now, and I wouldn’t stop.

  And just thinking about that makes me hunger for more. Makes my ass tense and my pelvic floor vibrate.

  So close. My thighs tense, and my feet push against the blanket underneath me. So close. The build of my orgasm is winding tight, ready to spring.

  I’m going to fucking come, I realize. With him watching me.

  “Oh, fuck,” I cry out, my back arching in the flood of sensation as the coiled spring chuckin’ breaks.

  Snaps.

  Shatters.

  Not caring that hands are on my thighs, that someone else’s fingers are inside of me until the pleasure sparks and that damn blown-to-pieces spring decides it can go all over again.

  I gasp, my eyes flying open to meet the deep blue expression of one incredibly aroused Seed of Chaos.

  “Keep going,” he says, no Chaos in his tone.

  Just pure seduction.

  I’d say something, like agree with him, except I can’t talk right now. Just moan. Lots and lots of back arching, toe curling, moaning.

  “Fuck the bet,” he groans, forcing my legs apart and lowering himself.

  Feeding himself into me.

  Even the soles of my damn feet tingle, the second orgasmic pull pushing me against him – setting our pace. My legs wrap around his hips as my core screams at me for more.

  More.

  Until more spills into, “Fuck – yes!” and I quiver in an uncontrollable mess under his thrusting.

  His rushed breathing… and the pure muscle of his arms in my hands… and the way those blue eyes don’t lose focus from mine… those things keep me rocking underneath him. Wanting more, but fuck knows of what because I’m chuckin’ broken.

  Deliciously broken.

  His arms quiver, struggling to hold himself up as he pulls out. Pumping himself hard and finishing on my stomach – all the while looking at me like this is just the beginning.

  He leans in and presses a soft kiss to my chest. Then, panting, he lowers himself towards me again, aiming for round three.

  “Fuck no,” I groan.
<
br />   He smiles at me like he was fishing for that exact reaction before rising to his knees and pulling his shirt over his head. Every muscle glistens with sweat, hard abs and chuckin’ perfect chest.

  So… maybe I could go again?

  He drops his shirt onto my stomach, moving it in a practiced wipe-and-scoop motion, before tossing it aside and collapsing beside me.

  “Fuck the bet,” he mutters.

  “I won’t tell if you don’t,” I manage to say. “Though I bet you their break order is Darkness then Allure then Alpha.”

  “No way,” he says, his voice a little too eager compared to my exhausted efforts. “Allure will be next.”

  I hold my hand out for him to shake and start formulating ways to make Darkness break.

  Now forget the details of what you just read.

  None of it was real.

  It never happened,

  and it never will.

  Pissed-off Former Prince

  “This is not happening,” I mutter as we ride hard from Tanakan Prison toward the Potion Master’s domain.

  We – my two brothers, my inner demon, and me. At least the rain has stopped.

  This is so happening – Thane mutters.

  “I wasn’t talking to you, or even about you,” I growl.

  He doesn’t respond.

  I was talking about the last CataclysmSeed, who crawled herself from the bowels of Tanakan and back into my life. This is the Seed I spent years hunting for, that Thane killed for, and that I thought we had left dead and buried in our past.

  But I can’t share any of these details with Thane. He isn’t ready for the truth of who we’ve become or what we did.

  Of what we lost – our family, our kingdom, almost everything that made us whole.

  Everything but my brothers.

  And we might be wearing a Sigil that affords us some control, but there are no benefits to pointing out this truth.

  Eyv is the Saber who took our child, our first mate, and is now hunting the mortal that our power has chosen to bond to.

  We’ve ridden as hard as we possibly can, but we’re still miles from Eydis’ domain. We can’t ride any harder, so our only hope is that Roarke can keep her safe until we get there.

  “Keep riding,” I mutter, but against my own desires, I slow my mount.

  My brothers do the same around me. They need a rest and some time to walk, then we’ll speed up again.

  I’d rather run – Thane says.

  “Still not talking to you.”

  You’re talking to yourself – like an idiot – and I’m planning on making you sound like an idiot every chance I get – he says, a light chuckle playing on the tone of his projected voice – the sound gets right under my skin.

  But things don’t just get under my skin. They dig in, fester, boil, and feed into an explosion of temper and regret.

  “I’m planning on ignoring you every chance I get. And if you’re not careful, I won’t introduce you to Beautiful at all,” I snap. “You kept your head down while the BeastSeed was a problem – but that doesn’t mean you’ve earned your voice now.”

  The horses slow, storm clouds rolling overhead, the path getting narrower and harder to manage, and it’s pretty clear by the clashes and rolling thunder in the sky that this storm isn’t going away.

  Thane makes an agreeing rumble that mirrors the thunder in my ears. Then he paints the perfect silhouette of Beautiful with her hair limp from the rain, her clothes needing to be removed, and my hands all over her body.

  I groan.

  That’s okay, don’t introduce us. I’m still there whenever you are – he says, a predatory edge to his hungry imagination.

  He reaches the point in his wild daydream where he could take her shirt off, but doesn’t. Could carry her to the nearest surface, but doesn’t.

  My core sparks. He knows we can’t have her, he knows the point where creating a loophole in the Sigil burned into our chest turns dangerous. He knows we need to be restricted, forced to Stop-and-Think, and he’s agreeing with it, and that has me balling my fists in a sudden rush of anger.

  Because she should be ours. But we can never have anything but longing and the battle to keep her alive. Whatever it takes.

  We’ll ride through the night and the next day, this white-hot power of mine fighting for control, and we will find her safely in the care of a century-old Potion Master with answers. Once everything is back in order, I can find a balance between the fear and anger inside me. The same balance, I hope, that will also keep her safe – but close.

  And then we can resume our plans for bringing the Crown to his knees.

  “Brother,” Seth says, his horse dancing across the road to get close to mine. “I’ve realized something rather interesting about our new Pentad.”

  I offer him my best spit-it-out-or-I-will-hit-you face.

  “You broke the all-male, all-female tournament rule,” he says.

  Kiss him – Thane rumbles, because Seth’s right.

  But, simply because Thane has volunteered his opinion, I slap Seth up the back of the head.

  “Hey, what was that for?” Seth demands.

  “Thane told me to do it,” I answer.

  “Thane!”

  Thane laughs through my vocals, saying, “I told him to kiss you.”

  “Ew, I’d rather the slap,” Seth says.

  Thunder cracks again, the clouds split wide open, and the storm descends on us once more.

  It will slow us, but nothing will stop us.

  Eighteen Paces

  “Get down,” Roarke orders, dismounting and drawing his sword at the same time.

  I swing clumsily from my saddle, stumbling but not letting that slow me from wrestling my cloak off and pulling one of Killian’s blades out of my bag. It takes longer than it should, because I’m too busy searching the dark windows of the Potion Master’s cottage for whatever danger has pushed Roarke into warrior mode. And I’m working with one arm – my other is broken, splinted, and strapped to my chest, and it’s a serious pain in my ass.

  “Keep behind me,” Roarke says, grabbing his horse’s reins. He guides the animal, having it walk just ahead of him. Shielding us both.

  “What is it?” I hiss.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  “I smell the desire to do harm. It’s heavy, and it’s watching us.”

  Of course he smells something – we can’t chuckin’ see anything. The sun set hours ago, and the moon has no hope of peeking out from behind the heavy clouds. It’s not raining here yet, but it is somewhere, and, our luck, the storm is heading this way.

  I take my gelding’s reins and follow the Seed of Allure, my only companion. Which is for a very good reason, but it scares the crap out of me, because normally it takes all four of the Elorsin brothers to keep my mortal ass in one piece. Adopted brothers, but a deadly team just the same. I prefer not being in pieces – although the way Roarke is stalking forward, I feel like being torn to pieces could be an impending fate right now.

  We’re five days into our limited window of Release Seal time and being constantly attacked is really slowing us down. Two days, give or take, until my guys will be fighting a magical urge to ride back to the White Castle. We’re playing on borrowed time, but I guess that doesn’t matter if we’re dead in the next few minutes.

  His feet are steady, all confidence and calculation, and I hurry to keep up. I wish I could look everywhere at once because there’s danger – Roarke knows it – but I can’t chuckin’ find it. There’s nothing obvious on the narrow veranda. No one by the stream or on the ominous black boulders just visible beyond the building. Not even movement from the breeze. But there has to be something, because nothing is hardly going to get Roarke’s attention.

  And there are so many shadows.

  Too many.

  Danger was to be expected. With Roarke and I moving through the forest alone – I’m surprised we made
it this far before we found trouble. Like the Seeds that have been slowly escaping – or being released – from Tanakan Prison and trying to hunt us down. Pax, Seth, and Killian went to investigate that, while we rode to Potion Master Eydis and, hopefully, answers.

  Instead, we’ve found trouble.

  What’s it going to be this time? A rogue ShatterSeed like the bandit who was trying to hide in the ochre caves, or a TruthSeed like the one that had no effect on me in Lackshir? Asanta – still trying to kill me so she can claim Seth? Or this Kyra that they’re all so nervous about? The only gap in our long list of threats is the spot once held by BeastSeeds, Sabers who can control animals, including Pax’s wolf while he’s being pig-headed and primitive. But what else is out there?

  Roarke’s feet are light on the ground; they don’t even leave a print in the dead grass. His sword is at his side – fingers flicking against the hilt, making the thing twirl in his grip and reflect the almost non-existent light.

  He takes a deep breath, feeling or smelling for something, then fixes his gaze on the stream. “This way,” he whispers, walking toward the narrow path along the edge of the water.

  I’ve got no choice. The magical Chaos-messed-with-my-life bubble that I’m trapped in means I have to follow Roarke wherever he goes. Even if he’s hunting for danger.

  Which he is.

  He leaves his horse behind, and I step away from my gelding, dropping the reins too.

  The only sounds are from the stream, with little red fish jumping and making light explode over the surface, and the pebbles on the path that crunch smooth stones against smooth stone under my steps.

  Roarke is so quiet – I need to work on that. The air grows heavy with decay and rot.

  We round the bend, and my world narrows to the twisted and broken body of a woman draped over a boulder. Her long white hair hangs limp and stark against the pitch black stone. Her white robes are soaked down the chest in blood that’s dried out and hardened around a gaping wound. The hole, the way the body is stretched and strewn – it looks like someone ripped her heart out.