by Jory Strong
I cannot last much longer, Draigon said, stepping back from Savannah.
Nor can I.
Kye forced himself away from Savannah’s body. Coming around so they were both facing her. “We would have you see us as we truly are before we join completely with you.”
Savannah tensed but didn’t look away from them. Her stomach flip-flopped and her pulse spiked. She’d wondered if what she saw was what they really looked like. “I’m ready,” she said, bracing herself. Praying she wouldn’t react negatively and hurt their feelings.
The stones on their wristbands seemed to swirl and come to life. The air behind their backs shimmered as though thousands of molecules were suddenly gathering in one place. Behind Draigon, the phantom mist sparkled like a glittering, gauzy fabric. Behind Kye it was a deep brown cloud. Until finally the particles became solid forms. Wings.
Savannah laughed. Filled with joy. Awe. Love. Humor.
“Wingman and Batman. I don’t know how I do it, but damn I’m good when it comes to nicknames.”
She stepped into them. Made Draigon shudder as she ran her fingers over his red and gold-veined feathers. Made Kye do the same as she stroked the velvet suede of his dark chocolate wing and whispered, “I thought you two were gorgeous before, but now… I just want to wrap myself up in you and stay there.”
Draigon took her hand in his. “I believe Kye and I can accommodate you.”
Kye took her other hand and they led her to the bed, stretched her out between them and resumed their earlier assault, using their hands and mouths in a coordinated attack that left her breathless, pleading, shivering by the time Kye rolled to his back and took her with him, pulled her onto his cock, his soft wings spread out like a glorious dark brown comforter, his hands going to her buttocks, opening her for Draigon.
She gasped when Draigon’s fingers rimmed her back entrance, her channel clamping down on Kye’s cock in a fist of feminine heat when the oil they’d used on her before spread across her tight hole, lubricating her, sending fiery lust radiating outward, inward, so she groaned, pumped against Kye, felt the oil trickle downward, sensitizing every place it touched, reaching her cunt, his penis, and making them both pump and strain.
Kye’s cock jerked with a dark, unfamiliar pleasure as Savannah’s channel tightened when Draigon began pushing into her, his penis stroking Kye’s through the thin barrier separating them. Hurry!
Draigon groaned in response. Pushed deeper. Said, Position her wrists, and Kye threaded his fingers through Savannah’s so their bands touched, lifted their arms above their heads so Draigon could join his hands to theirs, his bands to theirs when he was finally fully seated. Their cocks both inside her. The three of them joined completely.
For a shimmering moment they held still. Fought against the demands of their bodies and the feverish need to move.
They savored their first complete coming together. But all too soon Savannah’s internal muscles rippled against cocks pulsing in time to the crystals on Draigon and Kye’s bands—Ylan stones ready to migrate, their power intensifying the connection, making it impossible for Draigon and Kye to remain still any longer, to do anything but finish what they’d started, to thrust and counterthrust, to claim their bond-mate in a wild rush of passion and love and release. A shattering climax that left them slick with sweat, melded together and yet completely open to each other, mind-to-mind, heart-to-heart, soul-to-soul. So intimately connected that at first Savannah thought the feelings rushing through her, nearly overwhelming her with their intensity, were an outpouring of her own love, a reflection of how much she’d come to need Draigon and Kye. But then Kye’s voice sounded in her mind, sent her heart thundering again when he said, We need you as well, Savannah. Never doubt it.
She met his gaze and remembered all the times she had seen Kye and Draigon standing together in a curious silence. Almost as though they were talking to one another without saying a word. Now she knew differently. You can read each other’s minds, she said. Not sure how to direct her thoughts.
We open and close our thoughts at will, Draigon said.
Fuck! Savannah said, jerking at hearing his voice though she should have anticipated it.
He laughed in her mind. A husky masculine sound as his hips pumped slowly, his cock now against the crevice of her ass. The feathers of his wing a sensuous teasing along her side. If you desire a fuck then I am certain Kye and I can rise to the occasion.
Savannah’s heart flooded with a fresh wave of love. Draigon’s quick humor and playful response making her laugh.
Kye pressed a kiss to her lips. This is our binding day and we would not disappoint our mate in any way.
She shivered, aware of his cock full and ready again, slick against her belly. Of Draigon’s penis, now equally engorged, pressed against her buttocks.
She had a million questions and yet the urge to join completely with them pulsed through her like a unifying heartbeat. A call that originated from the bands on her wrists and couldn’t be refused.
Savannah glanced at the bracelets then, her cop mind processing what she was seeing, recognizing why they’d insisted she accept the bands, why this was called a binding ceremony—even if she didn’t immediately know how some of the stones from Draigon’s and Kye’s wristbands could have shifted to hers.
We will explain in as much detail as you desire. Later, Key said, his hands going to her hips, urging her to shift, to claim his cock again.
Savannah didn’t resist his urging. Her fingers stroked the soft underside of his wing as his penis slid home. We’ll talk on the way to the ranch. I promised Grams we’d be back in time for dinner, she said, waiting until Draigon had also joined his body to hers before teasing, reminding them of an earlier conversation, so now would be a good time to prove you don’t need to eat Prairie Oysters in order to go the distance and keep your bond-mate sexually satisfied.
Kye laughed while Draigon muttered something about primitive, backwater planets. But then both of them were touching her, not only with their hands and lips but with their emotions, their thoughts. Filling her with more than just their cocks. Giving all of themselves even as their voices whispered in her mind, promising to protect and pleasure her as was their right, their duty. Their privilege.
Epilogue
Jeqon d’Amato contemplated the results of the DNA matching with a mix of hope and uncertainty. He was a scientist, but he did not exclude the possibility that the Goddess’s wisdom and vision were at work. Reshaping Belizair in a way that was more pleasing to Her.
Once the Fallon had been a great race of winged shapeshifters. But arrogance and jealousy, pride and prejudice had destroyed them, splintering them into a multitude of races that were lesser than what they had once been, scattering them until only the Amato and Vesti remained on Belizair.
The first of the human women bonded to both a Vesti and Amato male were close to giving birth, the much-anticipated event the reason he had the Council house and laboratory in San Francisco to himself.
The others had already gone to Winseka, preferring to be ahead of the births than to risk missing them. And now that he had the results of the DNA matching, he would join them soon.
Jeqon was not alone among the scientists in wondering what abilities the children of these matches would have. The tests they were able to perform on samples obtained from the fetuses showed the distinctive markers of both races—the presence of the genes responsible for the feathered wings of the Amato and the suede, bat-like wings of the Vesti.
Since all of the women carried twins, many concluded there would be one Vesti infant and one Amato infant. And since the wings would not manifest until after birth, when the wristbands were put on and a portion of the parent’s Ylan stones migrated to the children’s bracelets, there was no way to prove or disprove, to know for certain what these children would be.
Jeqon thought perhaps the children would be more. He thought perhaps they were the first small step in the return of the Fallon. He prayed
to the Goddess and her consort Ylan that it was so.
It had taken the threat of extinction to redirect the attention of the scientists to Earth. To make them consider the gene pool there among the humans who were the descendants of the Fallon. And in doing so, they had found hope for the unmated males. For Belizair itself.
Jeqon moved to the window of the Council house and looked out at the San Francisco bay, wondering if the discovery of the two human males carrying the Fallon gene sequence offered the unbonded women of Belizair a true hope or a false one. If it offered his sister Zantara a chance at happiness or a pathway to more despair.
The Ylan stones in his wristbands hummed against his skin, resonating with energy, an indication his sister would soon arrive on Earth. He folded the paper containing the results of the DNA matching and put it in his pocket as he turned from the window and made his way to the transport chamber, praying to the Goddess for guidance as he did so. For forgiveness. For a setting aside of the anger between Zantara and him.
The Hotaling virus had done more than threaten those on Belizair with extinction, it had raised old hostilities and torn apart families. He and Zantara had never been as close as some siblings, but they had been on friendly terms—until the virus struck.
Their society was one that valued free choice, free will, but even so, women who bore and raised children were revered. And to be unable to do so…
Zantara was not alone in finding herself without hope, struggling with despair and feelings of worthlessness, anger. Bitterness. Jeqon could understand these feelings, had tried his best to console her, to offer what hope he could. But in her pain she had struck out at him for his friendship with Komet d’Vesti of the Araqiel. In her pain she had inflicted heartache and misery on others, had insisted Adan’s eldest brother, Zeraac, who she had pledged herself to, be tested and then when he was found to be sterile, had cast him aside—only to turn around and go to their uncle in protest, to try to set aside the mate-bond when Komet and Zeraac claimed the human female Ariel and took her to Belizair.
Jeqon stopped outside the transport chamber, the resonance vibrating through his wristbands telling him the portal sequence was nearing completion. He braced himself, prayed once again for guidance from the Goddess and the Consort. Wondered again if Her hand wasn’t at work, recasting the Amato and Vesti. Reweaving the fabric of their world, strand by strand. Mate-bond by mate-bond.
The doors opened and Zantara stepped out. Her eyes meeting his. Glistening with tears as she stepped forward and extended her arms, touched her bands to his in a traditional greeting. I have made my peace with Zeraac and gained permission from the Council to serve as one of their agents here. To seek out unwanted children carrying the Fallon gene, and should any be found, to help raise them until they are old enough to be matched and taken to Belizair of their own free will.
Joy poured through Jeqon, her words the very omen he had prayed for. You have arrived at the perfect moment. Draigon, Kye and their human bond-mate, Savannah, have found a young female named Holland who has the Fallon marker. He paused then switched to the spoken word, “She is not an infant or child. She is thirteen Earth-years and her life has not been an easy one.”
Zantara did not hesitate. “Tell me where I need to go.”
Jeqon gave her the coordinates and watched as she returned to the chamber. The bands on his wristband humming to life as she transported.
Only when the vibration had stopped did he return to the laboratory and pick up the telephone. Smiling when Draigon answered after enough rings to suggest he might have been occupied, his growled hello confirming it.
“Zantara is on her way to assist with Holland,” Jeqon said. “I have not shared this information with her, but the human male named Kelleher is a match for her.”
About the Author
Jory has been writing since childhood and has never outgrown being a daydreamer. When she’s not hunched over her computer, lost in the muse and conjuring up new heroes and heroines, she can usually be found reading, riding her horses, or hiking with her dogs.
Jory welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
Also by Jory Strong
Carnival Tarot 1: Sarael’s Reading
Carnival Tarot 2: Kiziah’s Reading
Carnival Tarot 3: Dakotah’s Reading
Crime Tells 1: Lyric’s Cop
Crime Tells 2: Cady’s Cowboy
Crime Tells 3: Calista’s Men
Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis I anthology
Fallon Mates 1: Binding Krista
Fallon Mates 2: Zeraac’s Miracle
Supernatural Bonds 1: Trace’s Psychic
Supernatural Bonds 2: Storm’s Faeries
The Angelini 1: Skye’s Trail
The Angelini 2: Syndelle’s Possession
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