Sine raked her nails over his back and uttered breathless, husky pleas for more. She demanded they move faster; they obeyed. She begged them to fuck her harder; they rammed into her until she all but crawled out of her skin.
‘Sìne.’ Éorik’s fluid thrusts devolved into mindless jerking. ‘Dah, I come.’ Head dropping back, he groaned throatily and plunged himself inside her to the root, his grip hard on her hips.
‘Orik.’ Sìne rocked her hips, short, frantic motions that spoke of her need.
Licking his lips, eyes heavy-lidded, Éorik slipped free with a reluctant hiss. He stared at his seed dripping from her behind. ‘What a lovely sight.’ He twisted onto his back, and pushed his head past Sìne’s knees, inside the triangle of space between their spread thighs.
He licked the place where shuttling cock met stretched cunt.
Sìne’s body bowed. ‘I–I’m going to come. Please. Please make me come.’
Beowyn groaned. ‘Bring me, sweet puss.’ His hand kneaded her buttock then his claws scored against Éorik’s chest. ‘Our husband craves my seed in you. Will you not please him?’ He bent his head to croon in her ear. ‘He likes the taste. Will you not sate him?’
‘Jesus Christ. Fuck me.’
Holding her steady, he powered into her. Her bottom smacked against his thighs, and the sting merely enhanced the sensations shooting down his stem and gathering at the base of his spine, a roiling inferno of tingly heat. Her body clenched in a violent spasm. Sheath swelling in a damp burst of musky cream; she clamped down on his staff.
She whimpered and bit his neck.
The crackle of pain shunted him over the glorious precipice, and his sac squeezed and pulsed as Éorik dragged the flat of his rough tongue over the sensitive wrinkles. Face creased in agonised ecstasy, Beowyn’s cock erupted, the pumps of his hips mirroring the blissful emptying of his loins.
They collapsed into a knot of trembling limbs and heaving chests.
On the bottom of the pile, Éorik grunted. He shoved their groins off his face then curled himself around them.
Beowyn shifted to draw him closer. He draped his arm over Sìne’s quivering, sweaty back, and grinned with all the love in his heart.
Sìne sat between them, the sheets pooled at her waist. The mounds of her lovely breasts were bare, rosy nipples still hard, freckled skin flush and dewy.
Beowyn thought their darker skin seemed richer by contrast. His bright gaze regarded his mates with naked adoration and lust. So beautiful; hard and soft, light and dark, rough and smooth. He was uniquely blessed.
‘Uh, we’re, um, together then?’ Sìne fiddled with the chain at her neck. ‘Forever? That is what this means?’
Éorik clasped her free hand in his, and, still so wary, glanced at his King.
Beowyn laughed softly.
A shadow passed across Éorik’s face.
Within a heartbeat, he’d masked it, but his hand clenched around Sìne’s.
Chin wobbling, she managed better, eyes defiant and mean. ‘It’s no funny. This is no the time for your jokes.’
‘Lah, my One. In time, you will look back and laugh.’ He kissed her nose and had to force himself not to lick the splatter of tawny dots there. ‘You will remember how unsure you are of what we are, look at me, and question how you could ever doubt.’
She eyed him askance. ‘You’re quiet,’ she grouched at Éorik. ‘Help me.’
‘With what?’ His thumb moving over the back of her hand. He lifted it to his lips for a kiss. ‘What more can I ask for from my One,’ a wonder-filled glance at Beowyn, ‘than you already have?’
Watching them, Beowyn bit back his mirth as it distressed them so.
Overwhelmed, they were not as insightful at that moment as he. The perfection of their triad escaped them.
Éorik, rigid in his discipline and strict upbringing could not ask his husband for what he wanted, emotionally crippled and unable to push for attention, but Sìne was his mouthpiece. His female longed for his respect and affection, but was scarred, and saw Éorik as a safe harbour from which to explore someone she perceived as unknown territory. Perhaps she always would. Beowyn was all right with it. He did not want to fix them or change them because to him they were perfect in their imperfection. His affection for them was unconditional. You did not love a person to change them. You loved their weakness as fiercely as you loved their strength. He loved his Commander. He loved his One, wanted her beyond anything sane, and would push her beyond it had Éorik not been there to absorb the brunt of his passion. A hard male body which craved his untamed lust, and would emerge from the battle unscathed. Yes, Sìne could handle the beast in him, but it pleased him to protect and cosset her. She may not need it as much as time passed, might rail against his refusal to give her nothing but his softer side, but she would humour him because she loved him. And he? He received Éorik’s steadfast devotion, his endless support and protection. He was King ThunderClaw, the Great One, Alpha to his people, but in his heart, he lowered to bended knee for his Commander.
Beowyn had a family. Love. His people were safe and rebuilt Vayhalun, their faith in him unshakable. His Dyna renewed and revived, hailed as the greatest to have been. A bright and beautiful future with their cub and more offspring to follow loomed ahead.
They wondered why he laughed?
Joy filled the heart of him to bursting.
Beowyn took Sìne’s hand. ‘I am your husband.’ He faced Éorik and tugged his horn. ‘I am your husband.’
‘I am your wife.’ Sìne’s smile for him blinding. She faced Éorik. ‘And I–.’
‘Wait.’
Sìne flinched, stricken.
Éorik shook his head. ‘Before we pledge ourselves, I must tell you something.’ His eyes darted to Beowyn, wide and ringed with fear. ‘Something that happened when I was a cub.’
Breath hitching in his chest, the darkness of the past a heavy breath against his ruffled nape, Beowyn took his hand. ‘We must tell you.’
Sìne rubbed her upper arms, little bumps appearing on her skin. ‘This is about the scars. The ones on your back.’
Éorik’s jaw clenched to a brutal line of tension. His gaze fixed on the middle distance. ‘House SnowBlade has always been tied to ThunderClaw.’
‘Of course, we were the first to break tradition. We were rivals.’ Beowyn’s tone was fond. ‘Cubs who circled each other like feral beasts.’ He rubbed Éorik’s rough knuckles. ‘I knew we were supposed to be friends but,’ his voice lowered, and he nudged Sìne, ‘I thought him too uptight to be worthy of my notice. Yet I hounded him.’
‘Constantly.’ Éorik snorted. ‘Because I did not wish to play Volant with you?’
‘I wanted your attention. The others succumbed to my charm. You held yourself apart.’
‘I had my reasons.’
‘That you did.’
Éorik glanced at their female. Torment darkened his gold pupils. ‘My father was known as a powerful male, an honourable male. My mother–.’ Éorik’s mouth opened but nothing came out.
‘She was known as an incomparable beauty.’ Beowyn looked at his One. ‘Beauty which disguised a terrible sickness.’
Sìne’s eyes darted between them. They gleamed with tears. ‘She hit you.’
Beowyn wished he could say yes and let that be the end of it.
‘That was my father.’ Éorik rolled his shoulders. Wiped at his thigh. ‘I told him the things she did to me.’
Beowyn gripped his hand crushingly tight. He hoped the pain would keep the male here in the present–safe with them.
‘His father beat him,’ he gritted. ‘His cub had revealed his mother touched him in ways she should not touch any cub let alone her own. He reacted in a way no protector should.’
‘I never spoke of it again. My father spread about that I was a liar so no one would have believed me even if I had tried. I was considered a strange youngling, and had no friends.’ He shrugged, eyes cast down. ‘One day, I was in my den, and she
found me.’
‘Our fathers met to discuss business. Their plans changed, and they returned early. I accompanied them.’ Beowyn interrupted because Éorik had lost so much colour, he seemed near to swooning. ‘I grew bored with their discourse and decided to harass the one I pretended not to notice.’ Beowyn heaved a breath. ‘I saw what she was doing. I saw his face.’ He stared at his One and wondered what she’d think of him once all was told. ‘I used my claws intending to tear out her throat.’
Sìne did not move, barely breathed.
‘But I was a cub, and it wasn’t enough. She attacked me.’
‘When her back was turned, I helped finish what he started.’ Éorik’s voice was flat, dead.
‘We did not stop until she was strewn across the room in pieces.’ Beowyn shuddered at the memory. ‘A servant found us and fell into hysteria, drawing the rest of the den.’ He’d shook when his father had entered the room, standing in front of Éorik in an attempt to shield him from what he thought would be a fatal punishment. ‘I refused to cower. I told my father what I’d seen.’
‘My father went mad. He said it was a lie. Said that Beowyn lied.’ While recounting the evils done to him, he’d shown no emotion. Now, speaking of his sire condemning Beowyn as dishonourable, Éorik sounded outraged.
‘The marks on Éorik’s body spoke for themselves for no cub deserves such a cruel lashing. It mattered not in any case. My father saw us and knew the truth. He looked upon his friend, what remained of his mate and recoiled.’
‘They fought.’ Éorik appeared distant, lost in the memory. ‘It was the first time I had seen such a battle.’
Beowyn nodded. He too recalled the shock of it; the barbarity of friends fighting to the death. ‘ThunderClaw bested SnowBlade, and it was over.’
‘Until I grew old enough to challenge the males of my House and lead it,’ Éorik finished. ‘They knew what was happening. I saw it in their eyes.’
Sìne hadn’t moved. Her face was white as bone, and when Beowyn took her hand, he found it icy. ‘My one?’
‘You should have made her suffer.’
‘We were young and scared.’ He remembered the soft flesh shredding through his claws, the heat of sticky blood on his lips and fangs. ‘We succumbed to our basest instincts.’
‘You took care of each other.’ Sìne’s gaze bored into Éorik. ‘You think this changes how I feel?’
‘How can it not?’ He twisted his face away, eyes closing.
‘I am your wife.’ Gentle fingers turned his face back to her. ‘I love you, and I am your wife.’
‘Lah.’ His voice was hoarse. He lowered his forehead to press hers. ‘I wanted to hate you. I could not. I thought you were going to take everything from me–that you were going to take him. The one who had always been there. I feared you. So much, I tried to seduce you, thinking if I made you prey, he would no longer deem you special. Then I was stranded with Fergie.’ Tremors rippled through his body. ‘Through her, I came to see that you were not an enemy to defeat, but a gift to cherish. Your every smile and touch cleansed her taint. The way you care for your…for our cub. It healed me.’ His smile trembled. ‘But of course, for I am your One. I believe it destined.’
She gripped his arms. ‘Oh!’ Her jittery gaze sought Beowyn and turned watery when he nodded his agreement.
‘You may not have known it,’ Éorik continued, ‘but you do now. Now you must accept that you belong with us–you are our equal. See yourself as I see you.’
‘As we see you,’ said Beowyn gruffly.
Sìne threw her arms around them in turn. She sat back on her heels, wiping at her eyes. ‘I understand now why Anja was upset.’ She told them of the rapists and her judgement. They had already known, praised her between themselves, but had not wanted to upset her by stirring the memory of the kill. ‘I did no realise how deeply it affected her. She remembered that awful time.’
‘It was my first Act as Great One to impose death for rapists. It is a harsh law and the only death penalty on Vayhalun. Never will I change it.’
‘What if someone is falsely accused?’ Sìne threw Éorik an apologetic look. She likely thought of his father’s accusations of falsehood. ‘It does happen from time to time.’
‘If the Paladins are approached, the claim is investigated.’ Éorik kissed her palm, reassuring her he was fine. ‘We use memory analysis to determine guilt.’
She grimaced. ‘But you allow for on the spot execution. I did it, and I have to deal with it, but it does no sit easily with me how I judged him without waiting for an explanation.’
‘Was there anything he could say that would stay your hand for hurting a cub that way?’
She swallowed and shook her head.
‘There was no mistaking what you walked in upon. Even those who play rough have rules.’ Beowyn lifted his chin. ‘Those who play such games in my palace in full view during a crisis are either stupid or looking for death. My stance on the matter is well known and not to be contested.’
He held her gaze, issuing a statement and a warning.
On this matter, he would never bend.
Eyes cloudy with shadows, she jerked her head in a nod.
‘I was born strong. Like my father, I had charm enough to do well but be nothing more than House lead, a minor alpha. After what happened with Éorik, to keep him safe, I needed to be best at everything. The best of all males. I clawed my way to the top, and I will fight till my last breath to stay there.’ His breathing was laboured. ‘I feel I need to do this to keep him, you and our cub safe.’ He paused to itch the base of his horn self-consciously, surprised at how much he had revealed to her. It felt good. She was strong enough to carry the load with him. ‘You once asked if I resented shouldering such responsibility. Remember? Well, the truth is I must be best. I will never let go of that control. This will be who I am until I die.’
Sìne placed a palm on each of their chests. ‘You accept me as I am. My sarcasm, my moods, my family. God knows I will always do the same for you. Nothing you’ve told me changes that.’
‘That is all I needed to hear.’ The Commander had returned to his rich, nut-brown colouring. His throat bobbed. ‘Sìne, I am your husband.’ His voice quavered then firmed when he cleared his throat, a sweet smile breaking across his handsome face. ‘Owyn, I am your husband. I–.’
A pounding came at the door, then it flung open.
Sìne fumbled to cover their nakedness. ‘Rowan!’
Catching her to his chest, Beowyn clamped her arms down to stop her fussing and nipped at her mouth.
He was not ashamed of his body.
Those who saw Éorik naked were blessed, and his One’s figure was slim, but strong and flexible and all freckled smoothness–a delight to behold.
In any case, his human-kin was obviously too preoccupied to notice their magnificence. His gaze didn’t even linger on their dangly bits.
‘Is she here?’ Rowan’s head snapped side to side, eyes scanning. ‘Is wee bit in here with you?’
‘Of course, she’s no. You think we’d cavort around with her in the same room? I can no believe you think so little of us that you….’ Sìne’s ranting stalled, the bedsheets gripped in now whitened fists. ‘What do you mean is she in here? I left her with you playing Venturesome.’
When the male ran a trembling hand over his face, Beowyn tensed. ‘When last did you see her?’
‘She went with Patrick for supper.’ Rowan dragged the hand through his hair. ‘He turned to plate her some cake, turned back and she was gone.’
Letting Sìne slip from his crushing embrace, a cold, bottomless kind of fear settling on his chest, Beowyn surged onto his feet and searched for clothes.
Éorik turned to Sìne. ‘There are works happening, and it is dangerous, but most know her on sight.’ He slid off the sleeping platform. ‘She will be okay, but it is best we locate our little one.’
Bouncing until she reached the edge of the mattress, Sìne jumped down, struggling to ge
t into her tight leathers. ‘Go. Look. I’m right behind you.’
Chapter 40
Beowyn and Éorik peeled off in different directions, calling to Fergie, Patrick and Rowan with them.
Concubines flitted here and there, more like irritating, twittering birds than help as most of them wandered the halls wailing in distress, but I was grateful for their eyes and ears nonetheless.
Warrior Rä prowled about the place with their forked, blue-black tongues flickering, trying to taste her.
Fiercely cursed between explaining her scent was layered and embedded after spending her playtimes exploring her new home. Humid breezes from the wide open spaces confused any fresher trails they were able to discover. ‘Rök lairs are enclosed. The landscape of home world hot and unchanging.’ He hissed and glared out the broad and high open window. Sea spray drifted into the hallway as the ocean crashed into the rocks below. ‘Tracking is easier. Spoor is untampered or contaminated for spans.’
Sensing my growing anxiety, he stressed they scented no fear in the place she was last seen. It reinforced the assumption Fergie slipped away from her uncle on purpose, a child’s game, rather than having been taken by surprise and kidnapped. It relieved me of the sick twist in my gut every parent gets when their child vanishes.
The lack of information and news of any sightings had me edging closer towards hysteria. I swallowed to clear my throat, clogged with silent sobs. ‘Is Cobra helping?’
‘We hoped the hatchling was close. Cobra stayed to comfort Bravest, as he tasted our worry and began to fret. We will need him if Fergie remains gone too long.’ He hesitated then patted my head. ‘My nest-mate is good at tracking. He is a Master Hunter of Northern Province. He will find her if we do not.’ His inky black gaze settled beyond me, and his harsh features softened.
Lumen crawled on all fours. The woman looked at furniture and architecture standing high enough a three-year-old might hide or be trapped beneath it. ‘I’ll share my secret alien chocolate stash with you,’ she crooned into the cracks and crannies.
ThunderClaw: Science Fiction Romance (Alien Warrior Book 2) Page 49