by Ariana Nash
Venali downed his drink, set the empty cup on the side table beside the couch, and began to unbutton his shirt.
Conor couldn’t have looked more desperate if he started drooling. He hadn’t looked at Trey like that in the library.
Trey liked to think of himself as something of a professional when it came to pleasure. He’d been around, visited more than a few beds in each settlement he’d passed through, learned some tricks along the way. Sure, it had been a few years since those escapades, but he still had it in him. At least, he’d thought so, until Venali. Now he felt like some damn virgin hovering on the outskirts while Venali and Conor eye-fucked each other.
Venali pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside, catching Trey’s intense glare in the process. Lust sizzled low, stealing any pretense of control.
Venali crooked a gloved finger, like Trey was some pet to be summoned. Heat pulsed through Trey’s cock, clearly happy to oblige. He took a step forward. Whatever happened, when he woke tomorrow, he could blame it on the drink. Another step. Then another, bringing him close to Venali’s naked back. His smooth skin held a golden sheen, the kind Trey ached to bite, especially those muscular shoulders and arms.
Venali looked down at Conor again. His back flexed, lean and powerful. Trey moved before he’d thought ahead and swept Venali’s hair up in a knot around his fist, holding it firm. No longer able to resist, he bowed his head and tasted the curve of Venali’s neck, stroking his tongue over one tiny spot and then sucking gently, pinching the skin between his teeth.
Venali shivered. “Yes.”
Maybe he said yes for Conor, Trey almost didn’t care. He tasted like sunlight and something spiced and warming. Trey swirled his tongue, wanting more, and nipped lower, biting at the male’s shoulder.
Venali lifted his head, resting it back, allowing Trey to nuzzle behind his ear and flick his tongue along the edge of Venali’s tapered ear. Venali moaned. Lust spritzed Trey’s skin. He could go back to hating Venali when this was over, but right now he needed him, needed to feel this coldhearted, powerful bastard shudder beneath his touch and beg for more. Trey usually preferred the more submissive role, but not for this sentinel. There was no way he was bending for him.
Trey dropped his hands to Venali’s hips, feeling Venali’s twitching. The male’s trouser waist had already dropped an inch over his hips, likely due to Conor loosening off his fly. Trey pushed them farther down, sliding the belt over Venali’s rounded ass and then palmed both buttocks, digging his thumbs in, caressing and kneading the warm, pert skin as he swirled and kissed a path down Venali’s back.
Alumn, Venali had a body meant for worshipping. Trey had known it. He’d seen it months ago when they’d fought in the same battle, and saw it again on the moor when Venali had fired his arrows and killed the bandits, but to taste and bite and dig his fingers into that silken hardness was more than he could have imagined. He couldn’t get enough, and yet strangely, it was enough.
Conor’s hand reached around and opened and nudged Trey’s thigh for attention. His fingers opened, revealing a small pot of oily cream. Whatever it was originally meant for, Trey quickly gathered its new purpose.
He dug his fingers into the slippery cream while kissing his way up Venali’s spine, then pushed his middle finger down the valley of Venali’s ass, sinking it deeper until finding that tightly rippled circle of muscle. Gently probing made Venali arch his shoulders back and drive his ass toward Trey’s finger, his need obvious. Trey suckled Venali’s shoulder and circled his finger some more, delicately approaching the center, but as Venali’s groans grew ragged, he eased his finger into the puckered ring. He was damned tight. Too tight.
“Relax,” Trey whispered, easing his finger in and out in a quick beat, not going deep, deliberately avoiding the spot he knew Venali wanted him to stroke. As willing as Venali clearly was, penetrating too soon would hurt and no amount of lubricant was going to ease that.
Venali’s breaths raced, his body a writhing thing in Trey’s hands. Conor was clearly working on his cock and Trey felt that little nudge of jealousy again. He couldn’t do it all, and right now, he was content enough preparing Venali’s ass, because he planned to own it as soon as Venali was ready.
“Strip,” Venali ordered, but not to Trey. Conor stood, catching Trey’s eye over Venali’s shoulder. They had the sentinel trapped between them, Trey’s finger was well-placed in the male’s hole while Conor likely had his hand on Venali’s erection. The lust aglow in Conor’s eyes was a whole new level of pleasure, making Trey growl with need. He stretched Venali open, easing in a second finger, making him grunt and clench. This time Trey did stroke forward, caressing that puckered nub.
“Fuck!” the sentinel gasped.
Then Conor was turning around and bracing himself over the couch, his naked back glistening beneath the lick of oil light.
Trey looped an arm around Venali’s neck, catching the sentinel off guard. Venali had Conor spread and wet before him, and now Trey had Venali locked against his chest. “You want this?” Trey asked, trying to whisper and utterly failing. He’d growled the words.
He stroked his finger inward, running his fingertips over the nub of nerves inside Venali’s passage. The sentinel’s hips tilted, his cock would be poised against Conor’s ass, but it was Trey who held them both back.
“Say it,” Trey growled. “I have to hear you say the word.”
“Yes,” Venali hissed, like he hated it, him and everything happening, but consented anyway.
Trey freed him. Venali shuddered and grabbed Conor’s hips with one hand, his own cock with the other. Venali’s ass clenched as he pushed himself into Conor’s hole. Conor spat a curse and arched, thrusting his ass back, stealing another gasp from Venali.
Trey had watched enough. He tore his own fly laces loose and freed his neglected erection, stroking some of the lube around the crown and giving himself a few greedy strokes.
Still dressed, there was no need to strip off, he had what he wanted spread open and puckered up. Venali was too damn tight still, but Trey eased in, rolling his eyes as that sweet, slippery tightness enveloped him, inch by careful inch. Venali grunted. It was the sweetest damn sound he’d heard in months.
Trey eased out and pushed in. He did the same again, losing his grip on his fast unraveling control. And then Venali began to thrust into Conor, rocking back onto Trey’s cock, spilling waves of pleasure through him. He’d been ready to grip Venali’s hips and take him hard, but having Venali set the pace switched Trey’s mind to a whole other level of wrecked. Venali’s hole sucked on him, like tight, hot lips, and it was all Trey could do to hold onto some control.
Conor’s see-saw breaths came faster than Venali’s, who seemed to have a better rein on himself, although he was slipping free too.
Perspiration gleamed across Venali’s golden shoulders and dripped down his spine. Trey stroked his thumb up the slick muscles, digging in deep, making sure Venali knew whose cock pulsed into him.
Conor’s panting grew tighter, faster, pleasure about to trip him over the edge. Trey clutched at Venali’s hips, easing himself out of the maddening rhythm before the sounds of Conor losing his seed triggered the same in Trey. He was close too.
“Fuck!” Conor shuddered. Venali clutched at his thighs and thrust hard, once, twice, slapping skin against skin. Trey staggered back a step, keeping his hands well away from his own erect and twitching member. It wouldn’t take much to come, a few more strokes, a few more images of Venali thrusting hilt deep into Conor’s ass, making Conor choke out his grunts, and Trey would be lost.
Venali held Conor down, his hand spread on his back, fiercely claiming. He was lost now, his lips pulled back into a sneer, his body arched over Conor, hips pumping mindlessly. He came hard, tight ass clenching, thrusting forward, teeth gritted. Alumn, Venali was raw and hard and more animal than elf, and Trey was so close to bursting, he was going to lose it without another touch.
Venali whirled suddenly and ca
me at Trey like a wolf attacking its prey. The sudden approach drove Trey stumbling backward. He hit a wall and then Venali was on him, his mouth forcing his open, his tongue thrusting and taking. His gloved hand gripped Trey’s swollen cock and it was too much all at once. Pleasure snapped free, jerking Trey’s hips and tearing a cry from his smothered mouth. He came so damn hard he might have fallen if Venali hadn’t been holding him pinned against the wall. Pulses freed his seed all over Venali’s fine gloves, smoothing Venali’s thumb as he brushed Trey’s tip. Pleasure turned to oversensitive pain, making Trey hiss. And then Venali backed off, splendid in his flushed nakedness, his cock semi-hard and his blue-green eyes alight with ecstasy.
He chuckled, the sound sending pleasurable after-pulses through Trey’s cock, and turned away to beckon Conor to follow him.
Trey watched, breathless and numb, as Conor hurried after him through a door Trey presumed to be a bedroom. Moments later, the sound of water hissed an invitation from behind that door.
Trey puffed out a heavy breath and dragged a hand down his face. He felt wrecked, like he’d had his soul set ablaze. And he felt something else, too, like maybe he’d like more of what Venali gave, but then wouldn’t he be just like the others hanging onto Venali’s arm, like the male Venali had kissed in the library? Trey was not falling into that come-hither trick with someone who clearly cared more about themselves than anyone else.
He’d sated that urge, and after tucking himself away, he scooped his coat off the hook and left.
Pain thumped behind his eyes and down the back of his neck. Trey wanted to bury himself beneath the sheets until the next dispatch was due. Too much of whatever Venali had given him to drink mixed with wine. But he distinctly recalled agreeing to walk in the sun with Alador and the elder was not someone you stood up.
He showered again, dressed in fresh clothes, and headed for the atrium only to find Venali and Alador already there, deep in conversation. Apparently, this was working Venali. He didn’t spare a glance at Trey. Wrapped up in the same Ashford-sigil-marked leathers as when they’d met on the moor, he was back to being the rod-up-his-ass sentinel he’d always been. Except, Trey’s rod had been up his ass. Trey delighted in recalling that memory now, using it to fuel a smile as he closed in on the pair.
“Trey,” Alador greeted. “Walk with me, it’s a glorious day and you look as though you could use some of Alumn’s blessed light.” Alador turned back to Venali. “Take a scouting party and patrol the borders. I’m sure it’s nothing, but further investigation will determine that.”
Venali dipped his chin and left, ignoring Trey like they hadn’t fucked each other raw last night. That was fine with Trey. The last thing he wanted was Venali’s group of fans getting it in their heads there was anything between Trey and their fearless harem leader.
“Trouble?” Trey asked.
“No, just some unusual finds. Some of our goats have been mauled, but unusually for wolves, they’ve left the carcasses. Could be nothing. Venali will take care of it.”
Alador led Trey out of Ashford, into the gardens, where other elves roamed, soaking up the sun. “A wonder isn’t it…?” the elder said. “We live like our ancestors before us, free to do as we wish beneath Alumn’s rays.”
Alumn was smiling down on them this morning, shining her rays, making butterflies flit and dance. The fact that she was both dragon and elf didn’t seem to have deterred anyone here from enjoying her wealth of nature and light. “It’s certainly new.”
“We have vast plans for Ashford. Other villages too. The humans are graciously helping us with electrics and plumbing. But the changes take some adjusting.” Alador clasped his hands behind his back and lifted his face to the sun. “Eroan mentioned in his note to me that you’ve spent some time training Order assassins.”
Trey nodded. “I did. Until it became clear we—they were no longer needed.”
“I have prides of Order assassins, like you, who find themselves without a trade. When you’ve trained your entire life to kill, it can be difficult learning to tend potatoes.”
“Yes.” What else was he supposed to say? Surely Alador didn’t want a solution from Trey? Didn’t he have council members to talk such things over with? “Eroan has coped by… Well, by going off in search of other battles, I think.” That wasn’t really coping, he realized. Maybe assassins wouldn’t ever cope. That was how things were with them. They each had to find their way in this new world, a world none of them were prepared for.
Alador nodded. “He always did have restless feet, that one. A little like you.” The elder smiled knowingly.
“I was a messenger before joining the Order. Wandering is in my blood. More so than killing.”
Alador smiled fondly. “Of course. When do you plan to move on from Ashford?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“I have some notes for Eroan. Will you see they get to him?”
“He’s not likely to be back for a few months at least, but I’ll see your notes are waiting.”
“Good, good…” Alador walked on, content to soak up the sun. “I wonder if you might help me with a more sensitive matter. I have some concerns about my assassins, but also regarding Venali.”
“Oh?” Trey hedged. This could get awkward real fast.
“This period of adjustment has hit some of our kin harder than others.”
A cloud sailed over the sun, instantly chilling the air and darkening the gardens. Alador stopped on the path. His entire body stilled, turning from friendly elder into ancient assassin in the space of a blink. “I’ve seen a great many things in all my years and I know better than most that some of us are better equipped to deal with change than others. You’re one of those who adjusts. You’ve seen tragedy, as have we all, but it has not eroded your light.”
It had eroded something in Trey. He smiled less, laughed less, danced less, but he got by. Moving on helped. “I’m not sure what you’re asking of me.”
“Just that… Some of us need a steadying hand before we steer ourselves into darkness.”
“Some do. Yes. And this has something to do with me?”
“Doesn’t it?”
Trey was obviously missing something. Alador couldn’t know about last night, unless Venali had told him, and that didn’t seem likely given the icy reception. “Alador, what is it you think I can do for your assassins in a day? I’ll be gone tomorrow.”
The elder nodded. “Battles are lost and won in a day.”
What battle was he referring to? “If this is somehow about Venali, he seems perfectly capable of surviving any battle thrown his way.”
Alador flinched, actually flinched. There was definitely something missing here. “He does, doesn’t he.”
“Venali has plenty of acquaintances to fall back on. Whatever you’re asking, I don’t think I’m suitable.”
“Of course.” He smiled sadly. “I’m sorry I mentioned anything. Please enjoy the rest of your stay, Trey, and give my regards to Eroan when you see him. Perhaps he might like to visit us again soon?”
Trey nodded and let the elder walk on, just as the sun poked through the clouds again, washing the land and the shining walls of Ashford in warmth.
There was no dagger in his door at sunset, so perhaps the assassins weren’t partying tonight, or maybe Trey wasn’t invited. He decided to avoid the library and instead chose to rest for the trek ahead of him. He was due to take the north trails along the coast and visit the next settlement. It wasn’t far, but the terrain was harsh. He’d need to be well rested and fed before leaving.
He slept restlessly that night and woke to a gray and rain-filled view from his window. Lacing up his traveling boots, he repacked his pack, threw on his coat, and headed for the main desk to collect his messenger bag.
A substantial crowd had gathered around the tree, watching someone high up in its branches tie a ribbon to a branch. Another colored ribbon meant another death. Adding ribbons to the tree was once a daily occurrence across the l
and. These days, it was much rarer.
Conor was at the desk. His mouth flirted with a smile on seeing Trey, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“What happened?” Trey asked.
Conor lifted the dispatch bag on the desk and retied the buckles. “We lost an assassin last night.”
Trey looked again at the group around the tree, recognizing some of the faces from the library. Venali wasn’t present, but Kalie was, her head lifted to the light, tears wet on her cheeks.
“Bandits?”
“No, she, er…” Conor handed over the bag. “She was found in her room,” he said grimly. “She’d taken her blade to her wrists.”
An assassin had taken her own life? The horror of such a thing sent a chill through Trey. He’d never known of an elf willingly sending themselves to Alumn’s garden. Shock stole his voice.
“Safe travels, Trey,” Conor nodded. “Check in when you’re next round this way?” He offered his hand and Trey clasped it hard in his own. Conor’s eyes held too much of a glossy sheen.
“May Alumn’s light guide you,” Trey replied.
Conor squeezed his hand, let go, and busied himself behind the desk.
Trey heaved his bag onto his shoulders, whispered a prayer to Alumn, and headed out of Ashford, into the rain.
Snow caked the ground when Trey next returned to Ashford. Bundled up in furs, he was well-equipped for winter, but entering Ashford’s warm atrium with its glowing open fires and decorated walkways instantly lifted his spirits. The decorations were a human custom, apparently. Colored strings hung from door-to-door, marking their winter celebration. It was a testament to how far they’d come that the elves of Ashford were content to let the humans have their festival.
The female at the welcome desk didn’t seem to know any Conor. After handing over his bag, Trey settled into his room, stripped out of the winter gear, showered, soaked hot water into his bones, dressed in a sweater and trousers, then set out in search of any familiar faces.