by Jasmine Walt
“Not yet,” Alistair warned. Dareena protested as her mates pulled away from her at the same time. But then Drystan turned her around, kissing her hard as he pulled her on top of him. He propped himself up on the pillows, then slid his hands under Dareena’s bottom and slowly lifted her onto his cock. Pleasure filled her again, but before she could move, she felt Alistair’s hand at her bottom, his fingers slick with oil.
“Are you ready?” Alistair breathed into her ear. He slipped one finger inside her, then another, and she whimpered as he stretched her hole, preparing her. At first his fingers felt uncomfortable, even with the oil, but Drystan shifted beneath her, and a spear of pleasure shot through her as his groin pressed against her clit.
“Yes,” she said, her voice breathless. She perched on a knife’s edge, caught between fear and anticipation.
“Relax,” Drystan soothed. He reached up to stroke Dareena’s face, then pulled her down for another kiss. As he stroked her tongue with his, Alistair pushed the head of his cock inside her. Dareena hissed as he slowly filled her, inch by inch, then just as slowly, withdrew.
He went on like that for a little while, Drystan remaining perfectly still beneath her while Alistair took his time, allowing her body to become familiar with this new way. He was not quite as long as Drystan, but much thicker, so it took time to get used to being penetrated this way even though she had done it with Drystan. But like before, her muscles slowly relaxed, and the pain faded, replaced by a deep-seated, pleasurable ache.
“There we go,” Alistair said as she moaned, rocking back into him. The motion made Drystan’s cock slide even deeper into her, and it felt so good, Dareena’s eyes rolled back into her head. The sensation of having both of them inside her at once was indescribable. She felt fuller than ever, and every time she moved, the pleasure was doubled.
“That’s it,” Drystan growled as she moved faster against him. They followed her lead, thrusting harder, filling her again and again, until she was clinging to Drystan for dear life, her nails biting into his shoulders as her body quaked beneath their carnal onslaught. Drystan’s mouth was on her breast, Alistair’s on her neck, licking and sucking and driving her mad. Stars exploded in her vision as she came, harder than ever, and her screams echoed off the walls.
But the brothers didn’t stop. Her screams only seemed to spur them on, and just as she was coming down from the high, another orgasm came up to meet her.
“Yes,” she cried as waves of pleasure crashed through her, beating in time with their thrusts. “Please,” she panted, reaching behind her to slide her hand into Alistair’s hair. “Come for me.” She turned her head and sank her teeth into his bottom lip.
“Dareena,” Alistair groaned, his eyes closing. His cock pulsed inside her as he came, and a few seconds later, Drystan joined him. Intense satisfaction filled her as their groans of release filled the air, and she smiled down at Drystan as he arched his hips into hers, pumping her full of his seed.
“If you weren’t already pregnant,” he said, when his body relaxed beneath her, “you most certainly would be today.”
Alistair and Dareena both laughed at that. Sated, the three of them cleaned each other up, then snuggled together under the covers and debriefed each other about what had happened while they were separated. Alistair and Drystan were impressed with how Dareena had handled the elven delegation and agreed with her sentiment that they should be given small reparations, given how rich they were now and how the elves were not at fault in this war.
“I wish I could have been there to greet them with you,” Drystan said, “but I will be with you when they come back to the table to renegotiate.”
Dareena ran a hand down Drystan’s bare chest, enjoying the way his crisp hairs teased her palm. “I smell the scent of a woman on you,” she said, leaning in for another whiff. Sure enough, there was a feminine scent clinging to him, nearly washed away by their lovemaking, but not quite. A flash of jealousy hit her even though Dareena knew Drystan would never so much as look at another female. “Who was it?”
“Our new oracle,” Drystan said with a smile. “When I went to visit the dragon god, he told me he’d already chosen one, and that I would know her by a dragon-shaped mark on her skin. On my way back from the cave, I ended up chasing off a group of bandits who’d taken over a small village. One of the women was held captive, and when I freed her, I saw the mark on the back of her neck.”
“Really?” Alistair said, sounding delighted. “I assume you brought her back with you.”
Drystan nodded. “I brought her to Targon Temple first, to introduce her to the temple staff. We ended up staying the night with the acolytes, because there was so much work to do there.” A scowl drew over his face. “The lesser priests abandoned their posts after the imposter was taken, and though the acolytes did their best to keep things running, much was in disarray. Rofana will have quite a bit of work to do when she returns.”
“Rofana,” Dareena repeated, testing out the name. “What is she like?”
“A headstrong redhead, like a tamer version of Tariana,” Drystan said with a smile. “She’s a healer as well. I think you’ll like her very much. I’m bringing her before the council today. You should come and meet her.”
“I shall,” Dareena decided. “Did you learn anything else when you visited the dragon god?”
“Not much more than what he already told Lucyan,” Drystan admitted. “I did ask him about the warlock god, Rumas, and he believes that King Wulorian has alienated his patron god by slaying his predecessor, as we suspected. He said he would reach out to the warlock god and try to speak to him, but that he could make no promises.” A curious look crossed Drystan’s face. “It would seem the gods are not on speaking terms, or at least not regularly. The dragon god seemed upset about that.”
“I wonder if the dragon god is not lonely,” Alistair said thoughtfully. He tightened his arms around Dareena from behind, pulling her against his warm body. “He may watch us from afar, but it isn’t as if he speaks to us regularly, and if he doesn’t speak with his sibling deities either, I wonder who he interacts with.”
“The dead, probably,” Dareena said. “The dragon god watches over us in both life and death, after all.” She turned in Alistair’s arms to face him. “Tell me about your raid,” she said.
Alistair gave her a brief overview of the attack on the temple. “Aside from that mishap with the ward, everything went smoothly,” he said. “I feel terrible about what happened to Tinor. The amulets we gave the soldiers to counteract warlock magic can do nothing against the elements, so he was very badly burned.”
Dareena smoothed Alistair’s hair back from his forehead so she could kiss it. “I’m glad you stayed with him. It is never a bad thing to want to remain by the side of your friend, especially in times of trouble.”
Alistair smiled. “Part of me worried you would be angry, but I should have known better. You’ve always been patient and understanding. I still remember the day I was late for our date because I was helping the wounded, and instead of scolding me you rolled up your sleeves and pitched in.”
“And afterward, you brought in musicians to serenade me with the most wonderful music,” Dareena said. She sighed, remembering how her heart had fluttered when Alistair had taken her in his arms and danced with her for the first time. “I wish I could roll up my sleeves more often,” she admitted. “I hate standing on the sidelines and doing nothing.”
“You are not doing nothing,” Drystan admonished her. “You are growing the heir to our kingdom, and the one who will finally break the curse. Besides, you tried your hand at politics yesterday, and did quite well. I am sure we can find similar things for you to do that don’t involve physically taxing yourself or putting you in harm’s way. It’s about time you became more involved in the operations of the Keep, anyway.”
Dareena smiled. “I would like that, though I have stayed busy with the wedding preparations. I am very happy you found the oracle—having he
r perform the ceremony, once the people accept her, will go a long way toward validating our union.”
“I imagine the council is going to balk at the idea of a female oracle,” Alistair said dryly. “Then again, they’ve been balking at everything recently.”
“The dragon god assured me he would leave no doubt in the people’s minds that Rofana is the chosen one,” Drystan said. “I am quite looking forward to seeing what he will do.”
“How are you settling in with your new ladies-in-waiting?” Alistair asked. “If I’m not mistaken, it seems like you are warming up to them. Have they been helping you with the wedding preparations?”
“Yes,” Dareena admitted. “Though I am not certain I agree with their sensibilities. They think many of the things I like to do, such as sitting in the kitchen to eat my meals, or personally overseeing the redecorating, are beneath someone of my station. They also think that I am being too modest with the wedding. I initially wanted a large wedding to prove those naysayers wrong. But now that I have had time to think on it, I am not certain it is wise, in such difficult times, to have a lavish ceremony. I would prefer something smaller.”
Dareena thought Drystan, the pragmatic one, would agree, but to her surprise, he shook his head. “In this case, I agree with your ladies,” he said. “The public will expect us to have a great big to-do—these ceremonies are just as much, if not more so, about pleasing them than us. They will be disappointed if we try to minimize what is to be a grand affair.”
“I agree,” Alistair said. “Besides, it’s not every day a woman gets to marry three dashing princes,” he added with a wink. “You should make the most of it, and spare no expense.”
Dareena laughed. “Yes, how very lucky I am to have to deal with three husbands.” She was lucky to have them, she knew, and she wouldn’t trade any of them for all the riches in the world.
They snuggled for a little bit longer, then rose to meet with Shadley. Dareena hoped to hear news from him on Lucyan and Ryolas—they had expected to hear from them by now, but no letters had been received.
“Lucyan and Ryolas are fine,” Shadley said once they were settled in. “According to the latest report, Ryolas is still searching for his sister, but has found some promising leads. Lucyan has infiltrated the enemy—he tried out for a special position being advertised in the paper, and is in training at what we believe to be some kind of warlock spy school. It is too dangerous for him to send any missive, but my operatives assure me he is perfectly safe.”
“Spy school?” Alistair laughed. “Of course Lucyan would get himself mixed up in something like that.”
“I hope he’s being careful,” Drystan said, looking worried. “It would be all too easy for the enemy to discover his disguise, and then they would have a dragon hostage.”
“Lucyan is far too smart to be so easily caught,” Dareena said. She was worried as well, but she had faith Lucyan would be all right. He had gotten into Elvenhame and rescued her and Alistair, after all. She knew how clever and resourceful he was. “I imagine he is discovering useful secrets that will help us defeat the enemy.”
“That is our hope,” Shadley said. “He should be meeting with my agents any day now, and we’ll find out what he’s learned then. In the meantime, they have been buying as many amulets and gadgets as possible and sending them back to us. I have also had them digging into warlock techniques and abilities, so we have a better idea of what we are dealing with, and what we might expect in open warfare.”
Dareena nodded. She hoped that Lucyan would emerge soon, and that he and Ryolas would find Basilla. She remembered what the elven princess had said about her aversion to metal, and hoped that she did not suffer any lasting damage from what was already a trying ordeal.
21
The next day provided very little in the way of sleep or relaxation for Lucyan. During the day, he trained hard with the others, keeping his eyes peeled and his ears alert for any useful tidbits he might find. But when night came, Lucyan stayed awake long after the sergeant called lights out and checked that they were all tucked in their bunks. Once he was absolutely certain no one was awake, he quietly crept from his bed and to the sole window in the quarters he shared with five other recruits. The cacophony of snoring coming from their beds silenced both the sound of his footfalls and the tiny squeak of the hinges as he pushed up the window.
Putting his nose up to the opening, he took in a deep whiff. The night air came rushing to meet him, bringing a whirlwind of different scents—freshly cut grass, night-blooming flowers, the tiniest hint of manure, and, of course, magic. There were also the scents of various people, but none were particularly strong. Convinced no one outside could see him, Lucyan quickly climbed through the window, then closed it behind him.
With a black cloak wrapped around him, Lucyan approached the castle on silent feet. He’d memorized the routines of the exterior guards and knew exactly when change of shift was, so he was able to sneak in easily using a servants’ entrance. Wards set around the perimeter were activated at night, but he’d filched one of the amulets worn by the night guards, and passed through them without incident.
Once inside, Lucyan headed straight for the scrying room. He avoided all common areas of the castle, where nobles might loiter, drinking or fornicating or doing gods knew what else. Luckily, the guest rooms and living quarters were mostly on the upper floor, so there was little risk of running into anyone. He peered through the cracked door of the scrying room at two sleepy warlocks on duty. They didn’t seem to notice him, and Lucyan had half a mind to go in there and torch the place. But there would be no coming back if he did that, and he still had work to do.
He inspected the other doorways in the corridor. One was marked “supplies,” and the other said “library.” The supply closet was locked, but the door to the library gave easily, and Lucyan entered. He grinned in delight at the rows and rows of shelves waiting for him, and quickly lit a candle sitting on one of the tables and began to peruse the books. With any luck, he would be able to find a cure for Basilla’s affliction.
Unfortunately, the collection of spell books was not as comprehensive as he hoped, and an hour later, Lucyan had still not found anything. It didn’t help that many of the books were written in warlock runes, and while Lucyan could decipher them, he was by no means a master. Frustrated, he riffled through the file cabinets and struck gold. In the third drawer, he found a compendium on recent advances regarding magical constructs and spells crafted specifically for wartime. Flipping through, he found that someone—presumably Lord Byrule—had already annotated it. The pages were riddled with notes that said things like “promising” or “too complicated for emergencies” or “requires recharging.”
“Thank you, old chap,” Lucyan murmured to him as he tucked the file beneath the waistband of his trousers. The notes would be quite illuminating once he had time to read them thoroughly—this would tell him which spells and devices the warlocks were likely to use in certain situations. There were even separate sections for dragons and elves. Hoping that no one would miss it, he snuck out of the castle, then climbed up a tall tree growing right next to the wall encircling the perimeter. With any luck, there would be a spell in the file that could wake up Basilla.
Lucyan walked to the edge of a thick, sturdy branch hanging over the wall, then sucked in a deep breath and jumped. The drop was a good hundred feet—far too steep for any human to safely manage, but Lucyan managed to land in a crouch at the bottom. A bolt of agony shot up his left foot, and he collapsed sideways, gritting his teeth against a groan as he gripped his ankle. Forcing himself not to make a sound, he adjusted the broken bones, then sat quietly with his back against the wall.
As he waited for his ankle to heal, he wondered if perhaps he should not return to the barracks and just be done with this spy recruit charade. But no… he still had not discovered the details of this important mission Lord Byrule was sending him and the others on. He only knew that he was to be partnered with Le
ager—the third best in their class. He was smart as a whip, though with a streak of cruelty, and absolutely brutal during sparring classes. Lucyan couldn’t wait until he could get the bastard alone so he could beat the tar out of him, but that wouldn’t happen if he ran off now.
Lucyan rotated his ankle, testing it out. When no pain shot up his leg, he got to his feet and gingerly put weight on it. It was slightly sore, but strong enough to take his weight, so he swiftly made his way to the safe house on the other side of town. He took cabs to three separate sections of town, then went the rest of the way on foot to throw off anyone who might be following him. Once he was certain no one watched him, he approached the house and knocked on the door, using the agreed code.
Ryolas opened the door, looking relieved to see him. “Have you found a cure?” he asked once he’d ushered Lucyan inside the house. “Anything to wake up my sister?”
“Perhaps.” Lucyan sat down at the table and pulled the compendium from beneath his clothes. He motioned to Draxton, who stood guard outside Basilla’s door, to join them. “I think the answer may be in here somewhere. Come, help me search.”
He divided the compendium into three stacks, and they carefully combed through, searching for any mention of sleeping spells. There was a lot of information to go through, and thirty minutes in, Lucyan’s eyes began to blur. He really did need to get some sleep…
“Found it,” Draxton crowed, jabbing at the paper he was reading. “There’s a spell here called ‘unending sleep.’”
“Sounds about right,” Lucyan said as he and Ryolas crowded close to read the entry. It was listed under “miscellaneous techniques” in an appendix. There was a counterspell neither of them could use, but the entry did say that, in a pinch, two very strong magnets applied to each side of the sleeper’s temples could also be used to awaken the patient.
“Doing so could result in slight loss of memory,” Ryolas read aloud. He scowled. “I don’t like the sound of that.”