"You're going to have to come over here by the fire, Wolfboy," Lauryl told him. "I don't want to get your bed wet."
"Wolfboy?" Slade questioned, his lips twitching with amusement, eyes sparkling.
"I wish you hadn't called me that in front of him," Glade groaned as he forced himself up. He came over to the fireplace like an aged man with arthritis. "Now he's going to irritate the hell out me by using that name every chance he gets."
"I wouldn't think of it," Slade said then winked at Lauryl before adding, "Wolfie."
"See?" Glade mumbled.
"Sit down on the stool and let me pour the water down the back of your shirt while Slade gently pulls it away from the wounds," Lauryl told him in an expressionless voice although her eyes were dancing as merrily as was Slade's.
It didn't hurt him as badly as he feared it would but the procedure was no walk in the park. He had to bit his lip twice to keep from crying out as the material was eased from his tender flesh. When he was bare-chested, he realized he was sweating as though he'd run a race full-out.
"Let me get your boots, Wolfie," Slade said, hunkering down in front of his twin.
"How 'bout I kick your hateful ass into the fire, Fur Back?" Glade countered.
There was a light knock at the door then it opened to reveal Amélia. She came into the room and held a small jar out to Lauryl. "This needs to be applied lavishly upon the wounds." She gave her son a gentle look. "Lay down so your lady can attend to you, Gladeson." She then looked to his twin. "I would like a word with you in the corridor."
Glade lay facedown on the bed with his hands buried in the pillow under his head. His long legs were slightly parted. He barely noticed Lauryl tugging off his socks but the moment he caught a whiff of the pungent odor of the salve, he tensed.
"I'll try to be as gentle as I can," his lady told him.
"Are we alone?" he asked. With his head turned toward the wall, he wasn't sure.
"Your mother and brother are in the hallway," she replied.
He struggled to turn over so he could look up at her. He held an arm up to her. "Kiss me, then, before they come back in."
Lauryl would have obliged him but the door opened again and Slade strolled in. "Need any help?" he asked.
Glade sighed heavily and lowered his hand, digging his fingers into the pillow. "You always did have the worst kind of timing, bro," he groused.
"Looks to me like I returned in the nick of time," Slade said. "You were told to keep your hands to yourself, remember?"
Lauryl saw Glade silently mimicking his twin's words and smiled. She grinned as she dug her index and middle fingers into the salve and scooped up a big glob. "Ready?" she asked.
"As I'll ever be," Glade answered. He took a deep breath. "Let's do it."
She knew she was hurting him but there was no help for it. The wounds on his back were deep and would remain with him because of the wolfsbane that had been applied to the thongs of the lash. She was as gentle as she could be but his tight grip on the coverlet beneath him told the tale of his suffering.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
"Not your fault," he replied through clenched teeth.
"Aye, but it is," she said. "If I hadn't tempted you ...."
"He'd have found a way to tempt you," Slade said from across the room. "Either way, the outcome would have been the same, lass."
Lauryl looked around at her lover's twin. Not only were the two men identical in form, their voices were the same, as well. It gave her an eerie feeling and when her gaze met Slade's, she was sure it wasn't just their outward appearances that were alike. He was looking back at her with an expression that left no doubt in her mind about the light in which he was viewing her. She looked quickly away.
"There," she said. "I'm finished."
Glade was sweating profusely from trying to keep quiet as she'd slathered the salve on his wounds. He sat up and twisted around so he could lean against the headboard.
"Put this on," Slade said, coming toward him with the shirt he'd been wearing.
"I don't think so," Glade said, shaking his head. "Besides, it has your stench on it."
Slade narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying I stink?" Before his twin could answer, he thrust the shirt at him. "Nevermind. Just put it on."
"No," Glade stated emphatically.
Lauryl stared at the bare chest of the man standing beside her then looked at Glade. Even the pattern of growth was nearly the same from one man to the other. It was a bit intimidating standing there between two muscular, half-naked men.
"Put the gods-be-damned shirt on so you can escort your lady to her room!" Slade insisted.
Glade's eyebrows shot up. "What?"
"Mother's orders," Slade said. "With my shirt on, the guards will think it's me and you can stay awhile with Lauryl." His gaze bore into his brother. "But only if you swear you will not touch her in a sexual way."
"Mother ordered this?" Glade wanted clarified.
"Aye. She believes you two deserve to be together and need a few minutes of privacy. Just don't abuse her good nature, Gladeson."
Lauryl and Glade exchanged a look but neither argued the situation. Glade was off the bed in a heartbeat despite flinching and sucking in a pained breath and was dragging the shirt on despite a body quivering in agony.
"Be careful of the wounds," Lauryl warned him as she helped him pull the shirt down over his broad shoulders.
"Be back here in under an hour," Slade said as he lay down on his back on his twin's bed. "And I meant it when I said don't be putting your hands where they don't belong, Gladeson."
"Aye," Glade mumbled as he opened the door and with a hand to the small of Lauryl's back, ushered her from the room. He closed the door gently behind him.
They didn't pass any guards on their way up to the floor on which Lauryl's chamber was located. Once on that floor, no one seemed interested in Prince 'Slade' escorting the hell-hag to her room as the servants went about their business. The lovers were able to enter Lauryl's bedchamber and lock the door to curious eyes without a single challenge.
"I am shaking," she said as she turned to him.
"Aye, me too." He took her into his arms and just held her--eyes closed to the delicious feel of her against him.
"We don't have that long," she said and reached for his hand, drawing him to the bed.
"W…what are you doing?" he asked, brows drawn together.
"Loving my man," she said.
"But Slade said…"
"For you not to put your hands where they don't belong," she said and crossed her arms before grabbing a handful of her shirt and yanking it over her head. "He didn't say anything about my mouth!"
Before he could argue with her, she pushed him down to the bed and he sat down with an oomph of surprised breath, barely noticing the pain in his back for his heart was racing and his blood thundering in his ears. He was staring at the swell of her breasts in the confinement of her bra and his shaft pushed painfully against his pants as she knelt down in front of him, put her hands to the buttons of his fly and began to work the studs.
"Lauryl…" he protested but she had him undone and he became lost in the mesmerizing depths of her beautiful eyes as she looked up at him.
"You talk entirely too much, Wolfboy," she said and wrapped her fingers around him to draw him out. She lowered her head.
The sweetness of her mouth, the flick of her tongue, the pull of her lips upon him was nothing less than utter heaven and he found himself leaning back, bracing himself with his elbows on the bed as she drew expertly upon his swollen flesh. He let his eyes drift shut and concentrated on the powerful emotions that were roiling through his system. What they were doing felt too right to be wrong. He pushed aside any niggle of guilt that might have compelled him to feel remorseful and gave himself up to the pleasure that was so keen, so intense it made him shudder.
Swirling her mouth around and around the head of his cock, she lowered her mouth inch by delicious inch
until she took in as much of his hard length as her throat would allow. Rolling her tongue back and forth upon the underside, she clamped that swollen shaft to the roof of her mouth to suckle it hard.
"Holy gods!" she heard him whisper and he jerked, his hips arching upward.
Sliding one hand beneath his balls she began to knead him in rhythm to her draws upon his flesh, pulling hard and with force on his stony erection. Her other hand she wrapped around the base of his cock and squeezed tightly.
"Lauryl!" he gasped as his elbows slipped out from under him. He was panting, dragging breath raggedly into his lungs and his hands hovered over head, his brother's directive not to touch her keeping him from burying his fingers in her hair.
She was torturing him with her warm, wet mouth, tormenting him with her expert tongue and Glade Aeolian was putty in her soft hands. He could not have stopped her had he wanted to and as his lust built higher and higher and the need to release his seed grow closer, he jerked his hands down to grab the covers, twisting them violently in his fists as he began to thrust his hips up and down.
Lauryl smiled around his cock and increased the pressure of her mouth upon him. She heard him whimper, groan, felt him stiffening as his climax hovered right on the edge of exploding. She slid her lips up and down his hard shaft and felt the bed beneath them begin to shake with the force of the tremors gripping her lover.
"Please," he begged and she looked up past his heaving chest to see his head pressed back--throat exposed, chords standing out--as he strained to reach that illusive place where delight reigned.
The culmination of his lady's forceful sucking upon him finally erupted with such a powerful release Glade had to thrust a balled fist to his mouth to stop himself from howling with the sheer pleasure of it. His cum shot like a cannon blast from his steely cock and spurted down the willing throat of the lovely woman whose throat was working to swallow the copious stream. One of her hands squeezed his balls gently while the other pulsed at the base of his cock and the sensation combined with the sucking from her mouth was so exquisite, so potent he felt himself shattering with pure bliss. His limbs turned boneless and he sagged into the mattress, a low, keening sound of surrender issuing from his parted lips. Drained, he could not have moved had the bed been set afire. Not even the pain of the wounds in his back registered with him. He felt numb all over, completely depleted.
Licking away all trace of his spent seed, Lauryl finally raised her head and came to her feet, her hands braced on his spread knees. She looked down into her lover's sweaty face. His eyes were squeezed tightly closed and he was gasping for breath, the vein in his neck throbbing madly, his chest heaving and he had never looked more luscious to her.
"Think you can sleep now, my wolf?" she asked.
He merely growled his answer, so used up he could make no other sound. The fingers of one hand plucked tiredly at the covers then relaxed. Within the span of three heartbeats, he was asleep.
Grinning to herself, Lauryl gently shook his legs. "Oh, no you don't. Wake up, warrior. You have to go back to your room."
He groaned but grudgingly opened his eyes, confusion glittering in the green depths for a moment before he put a shaky hand to his exposed cock. "You abused him something fierce, woman," he said and began stuffing his tired--but very content--little soldier back into the confines of his pants.
"That was nothing compared to what I will do to him when we can truly be together as we should," she warned. She held out her hand. "Come on. We've taken as much time as we dare."
He gripped her hand and allowed her to draw him to a sitting position. He felt lightheaded from the force of the pleasure she'd meted out, sighing with regret as he stood but when he would have put his arms around her, she stepped back.
"No touching, remember?"
"I held you before," he complained.
"Aye, but I wasn't as aroused as I am right now and I'm likely to hip-throw you to the floor and straddle you if you so much as breathe on me."
"Ah, Lauryl…" he moaned. "I am sorry. I…"
"There will be time," she said, cutting him off. "Now, you need to return to your room before someone comes looking for you."
Reluctantly, he made his way to the door--aching to stay, needing to stay but knowing he could not. He turned to her but she stepped back and shook her head. He sighed, opened the door and left her, his heart feeling empty.
Slade looked up from the bed when his twin entered. He cocked a thick dark brow. "Everything came out all right, I hope," he drawled.
"In spurts but thank you for asking," Glade said, finally feeling the pain of his wounds and wincing as he began taking off Slade's shirt.
A chuckle erupted from Slade's throat as he moved off the bed. "Don't thank me. Thank Mother," he stated. "She thought a bit of talk was what you needed."
"Aye, but my lady was not satisfied," Glade complained as he held the shirt out to his brother.
Slade took the shirt and slipped it on, grimacing as he felt wetness on the back. "You bled on the fucking thing," he groused as he shrugged it on.
"Sorry," his twin mumbled, hanging his head.
"Aye, well it serves you right that your lady is probably pleasuring herself right now because you couldn't ease her," Slade taunted, stomping over to the door.
Glade's head snapped up. "Women can do that?"
"Of course they can. And better than we can service them, little bro," Slade replied with a snort.
"But how?"
Slade shook his head. "If you have to ask, you are dumber than I thought." That said, he opened the door and strolled out, laughing.
Glade slumped down on his bed and sat there trying to decide how Lauryl could possibly pleasure herself. When realization of how it must be done hit him, his face turned as blood-red as his wounded back.
Chapter Twelve
"You will be all right, then?" Lauryl's mother asked.
"I will be fine but you need to leave before the sun starts to sink," Lauryl said. "Get as far from the compound as possible so I won't worry about you."
"Your lover's people will not attack us," Queen Torreya said. "Barren swore as much but it would be best if we were gone from here before the rise of the moon so there will be no temptation."
The other Daughters of the Night were already astride their mounts, waiting for their Queen to join them. All eyes were averted when their sovereign leader put a loving hand to her daughter's cheek.
"You really love this man?" the Queen asked.
Lauryl nuzzled her mother's palm "With all my heart."
"Then find a way to be with him."
"I will," Lauryl swore. "I have a plan I believe will see us together soon."
Queen Torreya nodded. Without another word or show of emotion, she turned on her heel and walked to her mount, swinging into the saddle easily. She took hold of the reins and turned the mighty beast, drumming her heels into the horse's side.
Lauryl stood just beyond the drawbridge and watched her clan riding out. It was a deafening sound for there were over two thousand Hell Hags leaving the Faolchúnna fortress. Dust rose behind the pounding hooves. She remained until all she saw was a plume of powder in the distance then she sighed and turned away to enter the stronghold. Behind her passing, the drawbridge began to lift, sealing the Faolchúnna in for the rise of the moon.
He was scratching at her door again and she got out of bed and went there to sit down.
"I am here, beloved," she said, stroking her palm upon the door, leaning her head against the panel.
He whined and she could hear him sniffing.
"Only one more night, milord," she said. "Then we'll be able to…"
To what? She thought. They could not be together as the Fates meant them to be until Rolanda was no longer an issue. Aye, they could eat together, talk together but she doubted they would be able to meet again as they had earlier that day.
He whined again--no doubt intercepting her mental thoughts.
"We'll
find a way, Glade," she promised. "Before the gods, I swear we'll find a way."
A loud yowl of soulful agony came from beyond the portal then she knew he was running away, out into the night to rid himself of the pent anger and frustration that was filling his mind and body. She got up and ran to the window, wanting to see him as he took to the courtyard but though she looked carefully from one frolicking Faolchúnna to another, she did not spy her lover. She wondered to where he had fled.
In his wolf form, Glade Aeolian sped down the stairs of his ancestral home and out into the night, exiting the fortress from a doorway his lady could not see from her window. He took to the greensward in a blur of thundering paws and leapt a stream, dug furrows in the earth as he climbed a small knoll and went racing into the cool evening. All he could think to do was exhaust himself and though ripples of pain undulated down his back and he ran, he ignored it. He wanted to run until he could run no more then collapse in a heap to pant and whimper and hopefully sleep awhile without the torment of his thoughts plaguing him.
High up into the mountains beyond the citadel he went until he was on the very crest of the ragged ridge. There he stopped, put his haunches to the ground and threw back his head to howl at the moon. Beyond him was the wide, glittering sweep of the Sea of D'athraigh with its crashing black waves. In the moonlight, the ebon surface of the water sparkled with a million moon-shot diamonds. And further out, the Isle of Cinnteacht sat like a hunched toad upon a rock.
What he wouldn't give to travel to that legendary place and see for himself if what the tale spinners said was true--World's End resided there. But the island was forbidden to his clan, a trip there punishable by death if the traveler managed to return.
Staring hard at the dark lump far out in the water, the Faolchúnna warrior could not help but wonder if there was some kernel of truth behind the myth of World's End. Why make a law and strictly enforce it if the place was merely a legend?
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