by Sadie Moss
Taking a shaky breath, I cup his face in my hands and draw close to him. “I love you.”
The moment the words are past my lips, something inside my chest eases. The lingering panic from the dream still feels like a vise around my heart, but the words I’ve been holding in for far too long are no longer crashing around in my chest, begging for release.
I’ve done it.
I’ve told them.
Callum’s green eyes darken. His shoulders loosen a little, as if he too has been holding something inside for much too long. The smallest, gentlest smile curves his lips as he runs one knuckle down the side of my face, tracing the curve of my cheekbone and the line of my cheek.
“I love you too, little soul. So much I don’t know what to do about it.”
Tears sting my eyes. I think that once, that fact drove Callum mad. It’s part of what made him so hard-edged and cold sometimes. He cared for me, and he didn’t know what to do about it.
But I hear no pain in his voice now. Only worship. Only tenderness.
So I show him exactly what he can do—what we can both do.
Leaning into him, I kiss him.
The smile on his face doesn’t vanish, even as he kisses me back. I can feel it against my lips, and it makes my heart swell with emotion.
Echo and Paris move closer on either side of me, warm hands caressing my body. For a wild second, I wish I could split myself into three people, just as my soul has been divided into three parts. I want too much all at once. I want to be with each of them, to kiss and touch each one of my men simultaneously.
But of course, my body remains whole, a single small form surrounded by their larger ones. So I do the next best thing, kissing one, then another, then another—flowing between the three of them like water, passed back and forth with no hesitation or resentment.
None of them balks at seeing me passionately kiss his brothers, and all of them continue to explore my body with their hands and lips until I feel weightless and dizzy.
I’m barely aware of my clothes coming off, too lost in the onslaught of sensations, but when I feel bare skin pressed against mine, it sends a new wave of desire coursing through me.
Pulling my lips away from Echo’s, I meet his dark eyes. They glint in the dim light of the cave, and his hair is tousled from my fingers. It looks good that way. I love it.
“I want you,” I murmur, dropping a kiss to the corner of his mouth as I reach between us and wrap my hand around him. He thrusts into my touch, and a heady feeling of arousal and power fills me, just like it did last time I touched him. I like being able to drive him a little mad.
“You have me, Sage. You have all of us.”
He punctuates his words by wrapping his arms around me and lowering me to my back beneath him. Rather than building a shack with the weave every night like the one they built outside Sierian’s realm, the men have created simple sleeping pads and blankets, and I’m grateful for the smooth surface beneath me as Echo settles himself between my legs.
Callum and Paris stay close on either side of me, their hands moving hungrily over my body as Echo slides inside me. His eyelids droop, nearly falling closed as he stills for a few heartbeats.
As if he wants to savor this moment.
I try to savor it too, letting myself note every sensation as goose bumps skitter over my skin.
But it isn’t long before the fire burning inside me grows too hot, too demanding. I shift my hips against Echo, silently begging him to move.
He gives a low, rough chuckle. “So impatient.”
I’m not sure if he’s talking about me or himself, because before the words are even fully out of his mouth, he begins to thrust, pulling out and then driving back in, filling me completely each time.
I wrap my legs around him, pressing my heels into his ass to urge him on, already feeling the beginnings of an orgasm curling low in my belly. Echo drops his head to kiss me, and when our lips break apart, Paris is right there. Then Callum claims a kiss, and I lose myself in the feel of being loved and devoured by all of them as Echo moves inside of me.
I can tell when he’s close. His strokes grow sharper and more erratic, and when he finally buries himself inside me and floods my womb with his release, he drops his head to murmur in my ear, “I love you, sweet soul.”
My arms wrap around him, and for just that moment, it’s only the two of us.
Completely connected.
He kisses me again, and when he pulls out of me, my body nearly howls in protest. But Callum is there before I even have to ask, and when his large frame settles over mine, I reach up to clutch his shoulders.
He presses slowly into my slick channel, and every inch feels like a promise kept.
When he’s fully rooted inside me, a smile breaks out across his face, altering his features in the dim light. I’m used to seeing Echo smile like this, and Paris too. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen quite this expression on the stoic warrior’s face. It transforms him, making him look younger and more innocent, almost boyish.
I love it.
The other Callum is still in there, of course, but this beautiful smile makes me think that maybe another piece of the pain and guilt he’s carried with him for so long has broken away, like a piece of stone crumbling away from a mountain.
I hook my hands around his neck and haul him down to kiss me as he begins to move inside me. I’m slick from my own arousal and Echo’s, and feeling Callum thrust hard and deep, sensing the tension coiling in his body—it pushes me over the edge almost before I’m ready.
A ragged cry falls from my lips as I arch against him, and my orgasm sets off his. He drives into me a few more times, emptying himself completely.
As we lie together in the aftermath, I’m aware of hands and lips still moving over my body. Paris and Echo reminding me of their presence.
I grope blindly to one side, too exhausted from pleasure to focus my gaze. Paris catches my hand, threading his fingers through mine.
Callum drops a kiss to the tip of my nose as he pulls out, then he rolls off me as I give a light tug on Paris’s hand. It’s all the urging my third messenger needs, and he moves between my legs, dropping kisses to my stomach, my breasts, my collarbone, then my neck as he works his way up my body.
I shiver under his touch, my nerves sparking back to life as I feel the head of his cock brush against my entrance. My body is still recovering from the two intense orgasms I just had, but it won’t be fully satisfied until I have Paris too.
My heart, my mind, and my body all need him. I crave him, just like I crave his two brothers.
For all the ways they’re alike and all the ways they’re different.
“I dreamed of this once,” I murmur softly as he lifts his head to gaze down at me, his body hovering over mine.
“You did?” His expression softens, and I can tell Callum and Echo are listening too. Echo’s lips have stilled where he kisses my shoulder, and Callum’s fingertips have paused on their path down the length of my arm.
“Yes.” I wrap my legs around his waist, sighing as he sinks inside me. “Of the three of you filling me up. One after the other. Of having you all.”
One corner of his lips tilts up, and he shifts his hips against mine, grinding against my clit and making me moan. “Do you want to know a secret, little soul?” His mouth drops to my ear, and he bites my earlobe gently before he whispers, “I dreamed of this too.”
Then there’s no more talking.
There are only a million sensations as he moves inside me, his kisses a counterpoint to Callum’s and Echo’s.
I don’t know how long we last. I lose track of time in a blur of lips and hands and whispered words. And when Paris finally comes hard inside me, I wrap myself tightly around him, arms and legs winding around his body as if I could absorb him into myself.
My body still raises a protest when he pulls out, feeling bereft and empty without one of the messengers inside me—but I tamp down the never-ending need I se
em to have for these men with a simple reminder to myself.
I have them.
They’re mine.
And I’m theirs.
Callum’s body warms me from behind, and I soak in the glow of their affection as we lie silent on the cave floor. That awful nightmare seems a long way from this moment, so I can look back on it with more logic and less of a visceral panic response. My men are alive and healthy in all the best ways, and the way my body feels right now is a testament to that.
I ignore Kaius’s appearance and the awful things he did to my men, focusing instead on the very beginning of the dream.
On the madman.
“The place where the moon goes down,” I murmur, my gaze fixed on my hands as they rest against Paris’s chest. The fingers of one hand are entwined with Echo’s, his thumb brushing idly over the back of my hand.
“What’s that?” Echo says softly, not bothering to open his eyes.
“I think we’re headed in the wrong direction,” I say. “We need to shift course.”
Callum’s arm tightens around my waist and his breath tickles my ear as he says, “Then we will shift course.”
His absolute trust in me fills my heart until it seems near to bursting, and I fall asleep feeling stronger and more hopeful than I have in a long time.
As if the four of us are capable of anything, as long as we do it together.
The sun is uncovered and shining brightly when we set out a couple of hours later. I can’t quite get used to the strange, stationary orb that hangs in the sky. On earth, and even in Ironholde, the passage of time is marked by the sun’s position in the sky. Here, there’s no way to mark that passage, and leaving the dark cave to find the sun exactly where we’d left it is jarring.
One of the moons is cresting over the horizon as we step into the daylight. I point at it, feeling more resolved than I did even last night. “That way. We’re heading toward the place where the moon sets.”
“We’ll travel using the weave,” Callum says, eyeing the horizon. “It should be safe enough, with more of an idea where we’re going.”
“What if the horizon changes?” Paris asks.
“The horizon will change,” I say, rolling over the idea in my head. “But the place where we’re going won’t. I’m certain of it.”
“We’ll likely be safer traveling along the weave too,” Echo adds. “Fewer chances for dangerous beasts to scent us.”
So we set off, traveling the super-charged weave with astonishing speed. I love the sensation of moving along the weave, with magic crackling against my skin and my fingers deftly plucking strands so strong that I feel as if I could do anything with them.
We let go of the weave at frequent intervals to get our bearings and ensure we’re still heading toward the setting moons. Luckily, we don’t hit any snags such as dropping the weave only to find ourselves elbow deep in sand pockets—though I’m aware of that possibility every time we leap onto solid ground.
Finally, we step away from the weave and catch a glimpse of something on the horizon that’s more than just mountains or stars.
A palace looms over the land ahead of us, a large mass of spires and towers backlit by the setting moon.
I let go of the weave running and skid to a stop, startled by the sudden appearance of the massive palace. On our last stop, the palace definitely wasn’t there. We’re atop a small cliff, high enough to get a bird’s eye view of the palace and its sprawling grounds.
“What’s that surrounding it?” Echo asks as he comes to a stop beside me.
An ocean of green spreads beneath us, all the way to the castle. I take another step forward and squint down at the strange structure. Another moon has begun its eclipse, and in the growing dusk, I can see several flickering torches along the front of the green structure.
“It’s a maze.” Rocks slide beneath Callum’s boots as he walks up to the edge of the cliff and surveys the landscape. “A very large maze.”
I squint into the distance, realizing that he’s right.
Then I recall another thing the madman said during his ravings.
“We have to fight our way to court. Fight our way to the palace. Through… the maze.”
Echo lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Of course we do.”
With no weapons and no clue what waits inside those massive walls, we descend the cliff face and head toward our next challenge.
14
The maze’s sheer size isn’t as obvious from up above, but when we reach level ground and begin our approach, it becomes clear that this isn’t some stately manor house’s hedge maze. Bricks and stones weathered gray by time peek through the thick ivy growing along the walls. The walls soar over our heads, ten feet tall at least.
By the time we reach the front gates that lead into the maze, the moon has fully covered the sun and cast the realm into twilight. It will be one of the shorter periods of twilight, based on experience so far. Torches flicker at intervals up and down the walls, stretching as far as I can see into the distance on either side of us. Even without that impenetrable line, I know there’s no way around—it was obvious from the cliffside vantage point.
The only way to the palace is through this maze.
Two suits of armor larger than any human flank either side of the large wooden gates, standing tall with both hands resting on real swords propped on blocks of stone before them. I can’t tell if the gates are locked, considering they’re nothing but smooth wooden planks from top to bottom. Torchlight illuminates the armored statues’ faces, though there are no carved features on the smooth rock beneath their helmets.
“How do we get in?” I ask, eyeing the ivy-covered walls. I can’t see any evidence of other doors nearby.
Paris walks to the large gates and looks them over, then presses a hand against the smooth planks. I don’t expect anything to happen, but the gates creak gently on their hinges, opening onto a dark, gloomy interior before they swing back into place.
“Not locked,” Paris calls over his shoulder, still gazing up at the abnormally tall entrance.
“We can’t just go in blind.” My nerves prickle as I look to Callum for his input. “We don’t know what kinds of challenges we’re going to be up against in there. We have no weapons.”
He nods, his thoughtful gaze roaming over the wall and gates before us.
“We have the weave,” Paris points out. “It hasn’t steered us wrong since our arrival.”
“I know.” Chewing my lip, I stare at the dark, silent maze doors. Something feels off. “Farse it all. I would feel better if we had weapons.”
“They have weapons.” Echo points at the armored statues. He strides across the bare dirt to the closest statue and then climbs the stone base. Perching along the edge of the rock, he reaches for the sword. The blade slides away from the statue’s hands with ease, and he gives it a few experimental twirls. “Good quality,” he says, catching Callum’s gaze as he tosses the sword toward him.
The broad-shouldered messenger catches it in mid-air with a grunt of approval. He surveys the blade, turning it in his grip so that torchlight glints off the silver edge. “Not bad. Not Ironholde quality. But decent.”
Echo climbs onto the second statue’s base to obtain the second sword, then leaps back down, brandishing it with a grin. He sketches a mock bow in my direction. “We have weapons, my lady.”
I laugh. “Two swords for four people. But still—that’s better odds than it was, I think.”
Callum jerks his chin toward the gates. “Come. The sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll reach our end destination.”
He takes the lead, using the blade of his sword to shove open one of the gates so that we can pass through. Echo catches it on the backswing and steps aside to wave me ahead of him, and Paris says, “Don’t mind if I do, thanks,” before cutting me off to enter the darkness beyond.
I laugh out loud and shake my head, sharing a smile with Echo. My heart is pounding from my chest, and I�
��m worried we’re walking into danger, but Paris’s light-hearted wit can always make me smile.
I also have a feeling he wants to be standing in front of me in case any danger strikes.
The gates swing shut behind us. Determined not to let the men face whatever threats we may come across alone, I draw up to Callum’s side. Echo and Paris press in beside us as we survey the long path ahead.
“Do you think we could use the weave to get through quickly?” Paris asks. He plucks at the strings, and a spark lights up the dim air. He hisses and drops his hand, shaking away the pain.
“Clearly not.” Amusement laces Echo’s tone.
“I don’t think it’s allowed.” My voice is hushed, and I look back over my shoulder at the now-closed gates behind us. “We have to defeat the maze to reach the castle. Show that we have the skills and prowess to pass through.”
“Agreed.” Callum nods.
I take a deep breath. The air inside smells of heavy growth and damp dirt, like a forest after a rain. A breeze blows from ahead, tickling the small hairs that frame my face. Something about the breeze speaks to me, and I latch onto the direction it comes from.
“Let’s go this way.” I gesture ahead, then move before the men can argue my logic. I don’t know what it exactly is driving me forward, particularly in this direction, but I’m going to follow the instinct. We have nothing else to go on, after all.
For a while, I follow the breeze, remaining tuned in to every change of pressure in the air and ignoring the intermittent quiet conversation from my men as they follow me. The paths stretch before us, empty and dim.
Even when the eclipse breaks in an hour or so and the sun shines overhead once more, I doubt its rays will even reach so deep between the abnormally tall walls. They seem to lean in on us, pressing down, blocking out more of the sky than they should. If it weren’t for the ivy growing heavy all over the maze, it would be easy to miss turns built into the walls. Easy to get lost.