by Jean Johnson
Her first climax of pleasure?
Her toes curled in her boots. Her hair felt like it wanted to stand on end. She wanted to stand on Wolfer’s back, beat her chest, and holler her joy to the world, all right! Breathless, trying to still cling to his back with leg muscles that felt like worn-out leather, she pushed herself upright. He slowed to keep her balanced, and she clenched her teeth as another wave of wet, hot lightning swept through her flesh with the shift in position. Another rolled through her, and another; each one arched her back and then relaxed her into straightening . . . and into hitting that point once more.
It wasn’t easy, keeping silent in her pleasure. At least the experience was dying down. Wolfer swerved away from the sand and the surf. He trotted up through the shifting, dry part above the high-tide line and clopped onto a flagstone path that wound its way inland, up into the heart of the island between the two small mountain ranges. Blushing as she calmed down, Alys focused on recovering her composure while he carried her up into the forested hills. It wouldn’t do for him to notice her reddened cheeks, after all.
He might even ask her why!
FOUR
Her thighs were feeling rather sore from clinging to Wolfer’s equine-shaped back by the time he trotted up the last incline and stopped in front of a high stone wall. The section of wall stood not far from an even taller, broad tower. It was an imposing edifice of pale gray granite, carved along the tops of the crenellated ramparts with eight-point stars. Alys could tell there was a doorway in front of them, only because the stones had been cut in a split arch shape. There were no handles, nor even so much as a bellpull.
At a snort from Wolfer, she dismounted—awkwardly, since there was no convenient boulder nearby—and tugged down her skirt. He quickly reverted to his human form, cleared his throat, and stepped forward with an upraised palm, muttering under his breath. The stone-faced doors swung open just far enough for both of them to enter then swung shut behind them again as she hurried to follow him.
Alys moved forward, gasping in pleasure as she took in the intricately carved donjon wing before them and the easternmost courtyard between gate and wing. Wolfer, letting her pass him, found himself sniffing at the air. He turned around, sniffing again . . . and blinked. He recognized that scent. Aroused female. He hadn’t smelled that since . . . since—well, since last night, but then it had been his sister-in-law, and he had politely ignored it. Before Kelly’s arrival, the last time he had smelled that scent had been before the brothers’ exile. But this wasn’t the scent of his twin’s wife. This was . . . this was . . .
This was her scent that was so musky-aroused. Alys’ scent!
He hadn’t imagined her shuddering on his back toward the end of his run down on the beach. The way her thighs had clutched him with urgency, then relaxed with satiation. Or the aftershocks of her pleasure, once, twice, thrice, and maybe even more. Kata, she found her pleasure on my back! Little innocent Alys . . . on my back?
Not so innocent anymore! Wolfer stared at her, half deeply shocked, half deeply aroused . . . and completely hard. He was very glad she was still too busy taking everything in to look at him, too busy to even walk very far into the courtyard—he couldn’t have walked after her if his life depended on it. Not with a normal gait.
By the time she finally faced him, her whole face alight with her delight, he felt halfway back to normal. Except that, smiling like that, she was achingly beautiful to him. The sight of her beaming at him caused his loins to thicken and heat again, even as her joy stole the breath from his lungs.
“It’s beautiful, Wolfer,” Alys praised breathlessly. “I’m so pleased you could stay in such a beautiful home, even if it is an exiled one.”
He looked anywhere but at her. “My, ah, sister-in-law insisted on it. It was bad, when she first got here—but it’s very nice, now. No weeds, no cobwebs . . .”
Alys nodded, finishing silently what he hadn’t said. No more invasions from forbidden beasts . . . at least not at the moment. She pushed aside the guilt at that thought with the astonishment of another, eyeing him quickly, uncertainly. “Did you say sister-in-law?”
“Yes,” he admitted on a rumble. “Saber married eight days ago. And Dominor was kidnapped six days ago, and Trevan was injured trying to rescue him that same day, but he didn’t succeed. The Mandarites who visited us still have our brother, too; they’ve taken him across the sea to the East, beyond our reach.”
“Oh!” She gave him an anguished look. “That’s awful!”
“That’s the Prophesied Disaster,” he returned grimly. Then shook his head. “He is still alive; that much we know. Come—everyone will be glad to see you. It’ll give us something else to think about, and something pleasant, at that.”
Closing the distance between them, he caught her hand and led her into the east wing, at the point where it split into two extra wings. No one was within sight or sound, not even when they reached the great hall. Alys tipped her head back, looking at the arching, plaster-moulded dome of the ceiling far overhead and at the walls with their rippling, slowly changing shades of patterned paint, marveling at what she saw. Wolfer turned around, then called out, his bass voice ringing on a single, sung note.
“Evanor!”
“Yes, O deep-voiced Brother?”
“Ev, we have a guest,” he stated, knowing their “communication” mage would hear him, now that Wolfer had his attention. “I’d like everyone to greet her; we’re down in the great hall.”
“ ‘Her’?” Evanor exclaimed in his ear, via that magic vocal trick of his. Silence followed that single exclamation—silence, to Wolfer’s perspective. He could easily imagine the earful his brothers and sister-in-law were receiving, however. Indeed, not half a minute later, the thundering of many sets of running feet converged on them from all directions.
Alys shrank back against Wolfer as she heard people running toward them. He wrapped an arm around her, giving her a little hug of encouragement. It was much the same as he used to do back when they were young and some new adventure of his brothers’ had unnerved her. She would hang back in a longish moment of uncertainty before gathering up her courage and joining them, and that little one-armed hug of his always helped make her feel better about joining whatever the activity might be.
She was still taking comfort from his touch when a woman with strawberry gold hair, shoulder-length and lighter than she remembered Trevan’s hair to be, skidded up to the balcony one level above on the left, almost flinging herself over the edge as she peered down at them. This must be the sister-in-law. Squinting, Alys could see above and through the carved stone banisters that she was wearing a cheerful green tunic, brighter than the dull green of one of the gowns Alys had left behind . . . and trousers, of all things! She’s wearing trousers, like a man!
Shocked, intrigued, Alys watched the woman yank herself back from the railing as more came into view. An auburn-haired man she remembered fairly well, if not quite as grown-up looking as he was now, burst into the hall. He skidded on the polished flagstones, eyed her and smiled, his hazel eyes not showing any signs of recognition as he strolled forward.
“Well, hello, lovely lady! Who do we have here?” Koranen enquired warmly, lightheartedly, as he eyed her without a single trace of recognition in his gaze.
The other redhead in the family, the one with the sun-streaked copper-blond curls, came in from yet another archway. “Greetings! Greetings! Welcome to Nightfall, fair maiden; I trust there is something we can do to ensure your stay is a most pleasurable one?”
That was Trevan, smooth to the last. From his equally curious look, he didn’t remember her, either. Wolfer growled under his breath at his brother’s flirting, but only for a moment.
Another brother entered the hall, light blond with brown eyes, still wiping his hands on a towel. Evanor, she recalled. He frowned softly at her; Alys struck a chord with this twin, it seemed, but he obviously couldn’t quite yet place her.
The woman with the shoul
der-length strawberry hair joined them, the eldest of the brothers at her side. His hair was the same old gold shade as Alys’, but straight where hers was vigorously curled. Saber, Wolfer’s elder twin. He blinked and frowned at her, opened his mouth, and shook his head. And one more arrived, though not the brother she remembered preferring to shun the day. Rydan wouldn’t come to greet her until after sunset, she was sure. The youngest of the eight siblings was another matter.
“Alys!” Morganen hurried forward, arms outstretched.
Alys tore herself away from Wolfer’s embrace and flung herself into his arms. “Morganen!”
Her throat choked on words, eyes stinging with tears threatening to shed. He hugged her to him and made soothing sounds, letting her know he understood. Letting her hold him, the one person who had helped her all he could by giving her lessons in her magic and giving her support and advice, though he had been literally thousands of miles away, naught but a reflection in pool or mirror for too many years.
Wolfer narrowed his eyes; he didn’t like what his youngest brother was doing, not one damned bit! A sharp elbow dug into his side, cutting off the growl forming deep in his throat. Shifting his gaze, he met Kelly’s aquamarine one, saw her arched, curiosity-raised brow, and locked it down inside, absently fingering Alys’ braid on his wrist. Alys finally drew back from Morganen, wiping at her eyes, as the others moved forward with exclamations of belated recognition. She responded to each of the grown men she had once played with as children.
“It’s so good to see you all! Trevan, Wolfer told me about your injury, and I’m glad to see you’re well.” She gave him a brief hug. “Koranen—you’ve finally filled out!” An embrace for him, as he blushed; he was the last of them to physically mature, though technically he wasn’t the youngest; his twin was, but she had already greeted that brother. She turned to the others. “Evanor, Wolfer told me about Dominor; I’m so sorry.”
The blond member of the brothers accepted her consoling embrace, blinking a little at her honest, deep sympathy. Hugging her back, he released her without saying a word. The loss was still fresh for him; even more so than for the others, since it was his twin that was missing.
“Saber! I can’t believe you’re married!” she exclaimed, embracing the last of the brothers gathered in the hall, equally as brief as the rest, except for Morg. Stepping back, she held out her hands to the last one in the group around her, the only one not familiar. “And you must be Saber’s wife; I’m Alys—I used to play with these men when we were all young.”
“I’m Kelly, and I think I’ve already heard of you,” Kelly added, glancing at Wolfer and his bracelet. She peered past Alys at the hall. “Did you come alone?”
“I’ve . . . run away from home,” Alys admitted. She glanced anxiously at the others. “I asked Wolfer if I could stay, but this is your home, too. I just . . . I don’t have anyone else to go to and nowhere else to stay.”
“Her uncle was attempting to sell her in marriage to the highest bidder,” Wolfer growled, explaining it to the others. They exclaimed at the outrageous statement. “There’s more!” he added, cutting through their noise. “She says Broger is the new Count pro tem of Corvis . . . and that our Uncle Daron has been dead since two months after we left Corvis lands. Our letters from Uncle these past three years have been nothing but lies.”
“It’s true,” Alys agreed, informing all of them as they muttered darkly . . . except the one who already knew. The one who had counseled her to be patient, and to wait for the right time. Now it was finally time. Her voice hardened, tightened in a brief surge of courage. “My uncle has a lot to answer for.”
“Well, your uncle sounds like a horrid, chauvinistic, thoroughly impolite person,” Kelly asserted, taking Alys by the shoulders and turning her toward one of the archways. “And you probably have had a long journey and are in need of a bath and a rest and some food and proper Nightfall hospitality. Now that I’ve got these bachelors and their home whipped into shape, that is,” she added, drawing Alys away from the others. “Did you have any baggage, any belongings?”
“No, just what I’m wearing.”
Kelly eyed Alys’ clothes and shook her head. “Well, you’re in slightly better shape than I was when I arrived; I was in my nightclothes. Burned nightclothes, at that, but it’s a long story—you’re lucky I can communicate now, too. Morganen fixed me up with this nasty-tasting stuff called Ultra Tongue, some sort of potion that thankfully allows me to speak and read Katani and any other language I’ve encountered so far. Don’t you worry; we’ll get you fixed up right away: clothes, potions, food to eat, a bed to sleep in. You’ve got a fuller figure than I do, but I think I have a few things made up that you can fit into. Saber’s been fattening me up ever since I arrived.”
“You’re very kind,” Alys murmured in gratitude, liking the woman, even if she was a bit more take-charge than Alys was accustomed to seeing. Her uncle didn’t put up with that in his servants, and he hadn’t remarried after his wife had died, which was before Alys had had to live with him, so everyone, including Alys, had been a servant to him.
At her comment, though, Alys heard more than one of the brothers snort with suppressed laughter behind her. She craned her neck and looked over her shoulder. Several of them had turned away, covering their mouths, hugging their chests, their shoulders quivering, their cheeks turning red. Only one wasn’t laughing. A pair of wolf-gold eyes remained fastened on her, all but devouring her.
The heat in his stare reminded her of the heat in her body, galloping on Wolfer’s equine back at the edge of the sea.
Mmm. Heavenly.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Kelly agreed, eyeing the somewhat younger woman sunk almost to her nose-tip in steaming bathwater. They were in the west wing, near the split in the Y-shape of the wing, and not that far from Wolfer’s chambers. The redhead had finally wormed all of the verses of the “Song of the Sons of Destiny” out of her husband in the past few days; his was more or less completed, and now they had seven more to go through. If order of age was anything to go by, Wolfer was next in line to fall for a woman. And if the looks he had been giving the woman in the bath and the growl he had given at this young woman hugging his youngest brother were anything to go by . . . Wolfer was definitely the next one in line to fall.
Or perhaps he has already fallen, Kelly thought with a touch of amusement.
This particular suite of rooms had a small room dedicated to bathing and changing clothes, with shelves lining its walls; another door led into what she liked to think of as a half-bath of sink and water-flushed facilities, or what the Katani of this world liked to delicately call a “refreshing room.” It also possessed a bedroom with room for a bed, one of the padded, carved couches all the furnishings seemed to be styled in, a table, dressers, and a few bookshelves. Those were currently cluttered with knickknacks she hadn’t found a better place for yet, and which would probably get stuffed into another guest chamber somewhere else in the castle, if the room’s new occupant didn’t want them.
“So, tell me, Alys; how did you meet the brothers?”
Alys smiled and surfaced far enough to talk. “I was three. My parents had moved away from their family home, because my eldest uncle Broger—the one I was forced to stay with after my parents died almost ten years ago—well, he lived there, and my father didn’t like him. So we moved down to a freeholding near Corvis lands, and one day my parents had to do some business with the Count and Countess. I remember being in the courtyard and walking around, looking at everything. At one point, I fell and scraped my knee and started howling. And Wolfer—he was eight or so—came along, picked me up, hugged me, and gave me a piggyback ride to make me feel better. Since we lived so close, about two miles through the woods and meadows the short way, ten miles along the roads, I just . . . kept asking my parents to take me over there so I could play with them, until—”
“Until your parents died and you had to go live with your uncle?” Kelly asked for confirmatio
n. Getting a nod, she handed over a pot of soft soap and a terry cloth scrubbing rag.
Alys eyed the nubbly fabric warily, then exclaimed with delight as she tried it out.
Kelly did a little bit of calculating. “If Saber and Wolfer are twenty-nine . . . that makes you twenty-four?” At Alys’s nod, Kelly said, “Ah. I’m twenty-seven . . . and I should warn you, not only do I occasionally have a redhead’s temper, I’m also from another universe entirely.”
Alys blinked and looked at her, startled by that revelation, and Kelly shrugged.
“On my world, a place called Earth, magic doesn’t work very well. And out of ignorance, the less-enlightened masses tend to fear it. Machines do everything for us, not spells, which makes magic scary, you see. I was almost killed by some people who were afraid I might be an evil witch, just because I liked to do different things than they did, things they didn’t understand, even though there really aren’t any real spells or witches of any kind where I come from. More or less,” Kelly amended, thinking of her friend Hope, and Hope’s claim to psychic sensitivity. “But I’m here now, and Saber and I fell in love, and I’ve pretty much completed the first verse—at least, we all pray and hope I have—of the Curse of Eight Prophecy.”
“Really? Then you’re . . . you’re the one who was supposed to bring a Disaster at her heel that would ruin all of Katan?” Alys asked her. “It was all anyone would discuss when the brothers were exiled.”
“No,” Kelly corrected, tipping her reddish-gold head, “my presence in Saber’s bed allowed us to notice an incoming disaster-in-disguise in time to meet and deal with it. Katan refused to aid us in dealing with it. The ‘And Katan will fail to aid’ part of Saber’s verse was grossly misinterpreted by everyone: by the Katani, by the brothers . . .