Echoes of Her Soul: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Soul Tenders Book 2)

by Serena Lindahl

  She had pushed the blankets off sometime during the night, and they settled at her waist. The nightgown was nearly translucent, something he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed the night before. He must have been exhausted. Her breasts were large, an abundant handful. Her nipples were dark and not tiny, the perfect size for sucking. He imagined his tongue sweeping over the dusky peaks and his mouth dried.

  He groaned silently and swiped a hand down his face. His cock was awake now, hard and ready. He wanted to bury himself in her softness, disregarding everything they had agreed and discussed the night before. He still had some mysteries left to learn. What sounds would she make when he sheathed himself inside her? What color would her eyes be when she fell apart in his arms? His groin tightened painfully.

  Ian traced a finger across the flesh revealed where the flimsy nightgown pulled to the side, unable to resist touching her. He loved the area right below her collarbones and above her breasts. He adored every spot on her body, but he could admire this one when she was dressed for the day. Her skin tone was magnificently bronzed, a darker line indicating where her tunic collar stopped.

  She shifted in her sleep, her lips opening on a sigh and he slid closer to her, enfolding himself in the heat her body gave off. She wasn't cold like other women he'd been with. No, her body burned. His brows drew together as he questioned whether she was always this hot or if her temperature was a byproduct of the bonds blazing inside her.

  His fingers trailed down the edge of her nightgown above the swell of her breasts. He enjoyed the contrast of their skin colors as he was darker than most Megrerians. Her chest expanded as she breathed in deeply and his own breath caught in his throat. She was magnificent, cloaked in the shadows of night and flushed with a dream.

  Her heartbeat quickened under his fingertips, and he raised his attention from the feast of her breasts to her half-open eyes. She regarded him curiously, fully aware although she'd just woken. Her gaze swept over the expanse of his bare chest and the blankets riding low on his hips. Thankfully, they covered his waist, partially hiding his obvious erection. He rested on one arm, his head propped on his hand.

  "You're lovely, Lass. I could look at you for the rest of my life and not tire of your beauty." His voice was roughened with sleep and desire.

  She turned to her side to face him. Her hand rose, and she swept her palm up the muscles from his abs to his chest. He shivered as the heat of her hand trailed over his torso. His free hand rested on the curve of her waist, magnificently delineated as the slope between her hips and ribs. He might like men as well, but he would never tire of the beauty of a woman. Their curves were a masterpiece. He had been aroused with only the outline of her body in the lantern light of her bedroom from afar. That desire was nothing compared to running his hands over her magnificent peaks and valleys.

  "You're beautiful as well," she whispered. Ian almost scoffed at her words, but he saw, and felt, she believed them entirely. Her awe was written as clearly on her face as it was on his. Her gaze snagged on the paler form of her hand as she outlined the shape of his lean muscles, tracing a fingertip between the ridges of his abdomen. His flesh shivered under hers, his hand clenching on her hip as he fought the urge to pull her body to his and mold their shapes together. His eyes closed at the reverence on her face, hiding one source of stimulation to maintain the tenuous control over his ardor. The tentative press of her lips against his unraveled his composure in a second.

  Chapter 9

  Kiarra

  Ian didn't believe me when I told him he was beautiful. But he was. He wasn't as bulky as Mason, but each muscle was clearly outlined. His chest and stomach were smooth except for a trail of dark hair below his navel leading under the blankets. His straight hair flopped over the side of his face, and he closed his eyes as I continued my tentative exploration. I had fallen asleep shortly after him the night before, and my dreams had been filled with images of all my men. To wake up with Ian's fingers trailing over my skin ignited my body with intense pleasure, the likes of which I couldn't find in a dream.

  I had to crane my neck forward to press my lips against his, but the effort was worth it. His mouth was hot and firm. Whatever war he had been fighting within himself surrendered to me the moment I kissed him. He growled deep in his throat, and the palm which rested on my hip clenched. In one swift jerk, he pulled me toward him, pressing my body flush against his.

  I loved the sensation of his hard, lean muscles against my softness. The firm evidence of his desire pressed against my stomach through the blankets lumped between us. I burst into flame. My yearning heightened almost painfully, and I yanked on the obstructions between us, needing to be closer to him. He ground into me, his mouth moving wildly over mine. He was so hard, his lust so palpable; I melted in a flood of sensation.

  His tongue coaxed my lips apart, and I willingly surrendered to his assault, meeting him with a shared passion. The hand which had been trapped between us moved around his waist. A trickle of awareness speared through him, his body tensing almost imperceptibly. When my arm only wound around his lower back, he relaxed and continued plundering my mouth. His kiss wasn't tender like Mason's or patient and knowing like Clay's, it was tempestuous. The storm of need climbed within him and my longing built in response. My hips thrust against his hardness and I flung a leg over him, fitting myself against him as tightly as I could. I ached.

  All rational thought fled when his lips moved from my mouth and trailed along my jaw and down my throat. I whimpered when he tongued the cord of muscle at the side of my neck and licked the rapid flutter of my pulse. I had never realized certain parts of my body were so sensitive. Tingles of fire and awareness traveled from each touch of his body against mine, coalescing into a blazing ball in my lower abdomen.

  He held a tight rein on his passion. He was always aware of my pleasure and my comfort, even as he mastered my body. He breathed against my throat, his large hand still curled around my neck. The throb of his manhood against me echoed the almost excruciating pounding in my sex.

  I remembered my question to Clay the day before. The restrained passion made me ache, yes, but I worried their bodies would hurt more. Something that was usually soft turning so hard seemed painful. My mind tossed words around even as I lost myself in a haze of lust. I had read all the descriptions and listened to the boys and girls trade other terms. Manhoods and members sounded weird. Penises and organs were too clinical. I knew a guy named Dick, so that wasn't appealing. Cocks were also roosters, but I liked the word. The term was powerful and blunt like I imagined penetration would be.

  "Ah, Lass, you do tempt a man," Ian groaned against my collarbone. His breath panted, and my nightgown stuck to me, wet from my sweat. Ian's flesh burned against my skin or I was overly heated myself this morning. Yesterday morning, I woke nearly frozen. This morning, I was in danger of setting my sheets on fire. My breasts heaved, my nipples scraping against his chest with each breath. The tender peaks tingled, and I moaned in response.

  "And you tempt a woman, Ian." My hand trailed up his back, eager to explore the muscles I couldn't see. He tensed again, more noticeably this time. I pulled back to meet his eyes. "What's wrong?"

  He sighed, his dark gaze unfathomable. "Tis nothing, Lass." One side of his mouth lifted in his trademark crooked grin. "Well, not nothing, but I fear I am not as beautiful from the back as I am from the front."

  My frown grew. "What do you mean?"

  His chocolate eyes searched mine, his broad shoulders shrugged, and he twisted away from me. My breath caught in my throat. "Oh, Ian." Passion forgotten for the moment, I rose to my knees, and he turned over on his stomach, baring his ravaged back to me.

  Mason sported a couple scars, little nicks from knives or swords, but his healed wounds were nothing compared to the mess of Ian's back. The marks were old, but they crisscrossed every inch of available skin from his bottom rib to just under his shoulders. If my hands had wandered a little lower last night during my massage, I would
have encountered the jagged and ridged flesh. The scars were so monstrous; I couldn't believe he had survived their healing. Tears gathered in my eyes. Embarrassment traveled along the bond and anger replaced sympathy.

  "No, Ian, I don't want you to be embarrassed or ashamed. Who did this to you? How dare they? You must have been only a boy."

  Ian sighed again, his face buried in the pillow. "I was seven when I obtained these particular scars. My mom died when I was three, and my dad went insane after that. My uncle moved in with us, and they delighted in torturing me. My brother was older than me, but he didn't pay much attention." He shrugged his shoulders, and my anger increased. I was enraged at the brother who ignored his sibling’s pain, but I was also furious at the two cowardly men who tortured a young boy. My hands clenched, my fingernails biting into my palms. Releasing the death grip upon myself, my trembling fingers traced the furrows and dips cut into his skin.

  "They whipped you," I whispered when the translation of the scars bled past the rage in my mind.

  "Aye," Ian said softly. I slid down next to him and pulled his body to mine, holding him tightly. He relaxed in my embrace, and I let my feelings filter along our bond toward him. My anger, my frustration, my need for him, my growing love - I let him drink them in. Controlling the flow of my emotions was an experiment. He shivered in my arms and held me tighter, receiving the message I had difficulty translating into words.

  "Did they pay?" I asked in a tight voice.

  "Aye," he responded, his tone lacking emotion.

  "Good," I asserted. "I hope you don't harbor any lingering guilt over what happened. They deserved whatever they got. I would kill them myself if they still lived."

  His appreciation of my sentiment traveled along our bond to me. We held each other tightly for several moments, long enough for the pain and tension to lessen. Finally, he pulled back from me and kissed my nose tenderly. "If I stay in this bed any longer, I'm not going to stop until I have you naked," he teased.

  "I'm not against the idea," I reminded him with a grin. "You men are the ones who have decided you are going to wait." I rose from the bed slowly, ensuring the morning light traveled through the sheer nightgown. I wore nothing underneath. His eyes heated and darkened again as they skimmed from my head to my toes. He growled at me and attempted to grab me, but I giggled and ran towards the bathroom, snatching clothes at random from the wardrobe along the way.

  I looked over my shoulder as I reached the door. Ian sat in the middle of the bed like a sculpted masterpiece, his lean muscles flexing. His dark gaze was fixed firmly on my backside.

  "Nope," I said as I opened the door. "You have all made the decision, and you’ll stick with it. Even though it might kill me," I added more silently. I shut the door behind me, but not before I heard Ian's short burst of laughter. I was happy to have drawn him from his memories.

  Chapter 10

  Seb

  Seb had endured a restless night. He worried about Kiarra's reaction to his proclivities. Passing the responsibility to Ian might have been cowardly, but his insecurity had reared its ugly head. Soon after they'd discussed intimacy with Kiarra, he’d learned he was the only one who hadn't yet received a real kiss from her. He hoped the only reason why was because the opportunity hadn't arisen, not because she liked him less than the others. He was the least muscular and not as handsome. The possibility hurt.

  He contemplated his baser desires as he pulled on his tunic and breeches for the day. Like Reed, he hated the robes. They were confining and unflattering. His House Advisor had informed him that he'd appreciate the robes more as he got older and flabbier because he'd care less what the girls thought. Seb didn't agree with his prediction. He would always want Kiarra to look at him with longing in her beautiful turquoise eyes, no matter their age.

  Noise from the bathroom he shared with Reed drew his attention. He didn't mind the setup. The other men were of a similar mindset. Seb hadn't visited Clay's room, but their quarters were simple. They each had a small section off their sleeping room which catered to their specialty. Seb's nook sported a detailed map of the city and a desk large enough to spread blueprints on. A calendar of the growing season in all areas of the kingdom decorated the opposite wall. The sleeping room itself was small. The bed could accommodate two, but it was hard and uncomfortable. The functional nightstand and dresser were the only other items in the room. The quarters were barren and straightforward. Their Advisors informed them they could remake their rooms how they wanted, but also mentioned they might have to relocate when Kiarra ascended to the throne.

  Despite the barrenness of his own room, Seb liked the setup. He appreciated knowing Kiarra was on the other side of the inner door, Reed was next door, and Kiarra's common room acted as a cozy meeting place. He could enter the sitting room via Kiarra's connecting entry or by using the circular hall which surrounded all their suites. Until Kiarra was more comfortable, they were all arriving through the external door.

  Reed poked his head into Seb’s room. "Are you excited about your morning with Kiarra?"

  Seb, still perched on the edge of the bed, rubbed a hand over his face. Mornings had never pleased him, and the last few days had been particularly stressful. Their Advisors said their personal belongings should arrive today or the day after, though. He was looking forward to having his own books, ones he had read so often they were nearly illegible in places.

  Reed stepped further into the room when Seb didn't answer. "What's wrong, brother?"

  Seb shrugged, the action burdened by emotion. "What if she doesn't like what I like? She's kissed every one of you now, a real kiss. I haven't gotten one yet."

  Reed sat next to Seb on the bed. He took Seb's questions seriously; one of the reasons Seb loved him. His brother wouldn't disregard his concerns. He would give him honest advice or opinions. "Let's start with the easy question first. I'm certain she hasn't kissed you yet because the opportunity hasn't presented itself. I guarantee your status will have changed by midday."

  Seb smiled at his brother's insistence. He hoped so, but he wouldn't push her. Ian was right. She was innocent, and she was precious. He wouldn't rush her despite the burning need which overcame him every time they shared a room together. The desire for her was unrelenting and had been since the moment he first saw her.

  Reed shoved a hand through his hair. Although freshly brushed, it already retreated to its familiar anarchy. Strands stood straight up and curled around on Reed's head. "As for the other question - are you asking because you think you can't be happy without engaging in those activities or are you worried about scaring her off?"

  "I don't need it, Reed, I just like it. If Maggie hadn't been so insistent, I might never have realized what I liked. I'm ahead of the curve in a way. What if you lose your virginity and discover you possess a taste for something different?"

  Reed shrugged. "I guess it's a possibility, but I think I’m a pretty straightforward man. I have a reasonable idea of what I want. Kiarra is a strong woman, Seb. She probably doesn't understand what she likes yet, either. Maybe she'll anticipate your time in her bed because you offer something different from the rest of us - as far as I know anyway. As long as you communicate with her and respect her, something I don't doubt you will do, everything will be fine. I have concluded Kiarra feels similarly for all of us but in different ways. It has taken me some time to become accustomed to the arrangement, but I trust in her sincerity. Be honest with her, brother."

  Seb took a deep breath. Reed was right; he was always right. It didn't lessen his worry, however. He savored regular sex like almost every man, he assumed, but his longtime girlfriend had encouraged him to experiment. During their mutual discovery, he'd found a few activities he enjoyed immensely. He wasn't worried Kiarra would be less than perfect for him. He feared she'd prefer her other men's more normal inclinations to his.

  Reed hugged him, and they exited Seb's room to meet the others in Kiarra's common room. The table was covered with enough food for ever
yone. Ian had passed on their desire to share a meal with Kiarra in the morning. She had readily agreed, and the maid had been informed. The spy himself already sat at the table, sipping black tea. His face appeared peaceful and well rested, so much so that Seb glanced at him twice.

  "You spent the night in her room, didn't you?" he asked, the certainty arriving with the words. He had sensed Kiarra's desire through the walls this morning; the intensity woke him from an already shallow sleep. He had considered she might be dreaming, but the contentment on Ian's face suggested she hadn't been alone.

  Ian cocked an eyebrow at him. "Do you have more spy in you than I thought or did her emotions wake you?"

  "I didn't sleep well," Seb admitted as he poured a cup of tea and added a spoonful of honey. The door to Kiarra's room was still shut, this time all the way, so he assumed she was getting ready for the day. "I did feel her desire this morning, followed by fury. Why? Did you do something to piss her off?" He didn't think any of her matches would intentionally anger her, but the fluctuations had been too obvious to miss.

  "She learned something that made her angry." Ian shrugged, his eyes shifting away. Seb's brows lowered.

  "What? Did you tell her about me?"

  "Aye, but I told her that last night, Greenie. Don't fear. She is curious, but not scared or even worried. You'll have to explain, however. She's innocent."

  "That is not new information," Seb retorted. His brother was listening, although he didn't add to the conversation.

  Ian sighed. "No, she's really innocent. Her first kiss was on the cheek to the Merchant less than a week ago, and she has never even pleasured herself."