by Jasmine Walt
“I know you’re likely confused,” Dareena said after several peaceful moments had passed. She looked up at him through hooded eyes. “You thought that because I let Drystan take my virginity, I chose him.”
“Well, that is the general presumption.” Alistair gently pushed aside a strand of hair that clung to her cheek. “But I imagine that is not the case, since you’re in bed with me now.”
“You imagine correctly,” she said, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. “You have to understand…just a few weeks ago, my only marriage prospect was an old man. Now, I have three young, virile, handsome dragons to choose from. If I am to make the right choice, I have to get to know all three of you, in every sense of the word.”
“In and out of the bedroom, you mean.” Alistair should have found the notion offensive, but instead, he chuckled. “You’re an oddly practical thing, you know.”
Dareena smiled. “I’m not sure if that’s meant to be an insult or a compliment.”
“I would never insult you, my lady.” Alistair reached between their bodies, then slid two fingers inside her. She arched against his hand, and a thrill went through him—she was still wet, still ready. “I think far too much of you for that.”
“What are you doing?” she gasped as he began to thrust his fingers into her. Her head fell back against the pillow, and Alistair grinned—those gorgeous eyes were already beginning to glaze over.
“Helping you get to know me,” he said suggestively. He leaned in to nip at her ear, and added, “Unless you have a better idea as to how you’d like to spend the rest of the afternoon?”
A breathy moan was his only answer.
23
Drystan panted as he weaved left, narrowly dodging Alistair’s well-timed punch. He was barely able to keep up with his younger brother as the two of them practiced in the sparring room, as they always did during their weekly training ritual. The jabs were coming in hard and fast, and Drystan had already taken two hits to the ribs and a glancing blow off his temple.
Of course, it wasn’t abnormal for Alistair’s punches to connect. He was the superior fighter. But they were barely two minutes into the fight, and Drystan already felt like they’d gone five rounds. Sweat poured off his forehead, stinging his eyes, and his shirt clung to his body. An inferno raged inside him, and while normally heat didn’t bother him, today he felt as if he were going to faint.
“Are you all right?” Alistair asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He dodged a swing from Drystan easily, then pivoted so that he was behind his brother. “You’re losing worse than usual.”
“Shut up,” Drystan growled. He didn’t know why, but his arms and legs felt heavy, as if moving through water. He spun on his heel and tried to backfist Alistair, but his brother ducked, then slammed his fist into Drystan’s cheek. Drystan stumbled back, stars in his eyes as pain radiated from his cheekbone. White-hot anger surged through him, and he swung again, putting every ounce of strength into the punch. His fist connected with Alistair’s jaw with a crack, and his brother went flying across the room.
“Alistair!” Drystan cried as his brother slammed into the wall, then slumped to the ground like a rag doll. The anger disappeared completely, leaving only horror behind as Drystan rushed forward to where his brother lay unconscious. “Brother, are you all right?” He grabbed Alistair’s shoulders and shook them. His blond head lolled, and for a moment, Drystan was terrified he’d gone too far.
But then his youngest brother let out a groan, his amber eyes fluttering open. “What in blue blazes was that?” he moaned, tilting his head back to look up at Drystan.
“Thank the gods.” Drystan clasped his hands hard as relief coursed through him. “I…I’m sorry, brother. I have no idea what came over me.”
“That was some punch,” Alistair said. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he studied Drystan’s face. “I can’t remember the last time you knocked me out, never mind sending me flying across the room. And just moments ago you looked like you were about to keel over. What’s going on?”
“I…I don’t know.” Drystan pressed a hand to his head. His temple was throbbing, and now that the adrenaline rush was over, his limbs were heavy again, like they were weighed down with wet sand. What was happening to him? There weren’t many illnesses dragons could be affected by, and none of them were natural. Had he been poisoned?
“Let’s call a healer,” Alistair suggested, and Drystan nodded. In their family, they knew better than to ignore strange symptoms. Their mother had suffered from something strange and unexplainable, but she’d brushed it off. They all knew how that had ended.
Drystan stumbled to the door, then called for a servant to fetch the healer. A few minutes later, a white-robed man arrived, a medical pouch on his hips as well as a basket of supplies on his arm. The healer examined them both, frowning, but found nothing.
“What exactly happened?” he finally asked.
“I’m not sure,” Drystan said. “I was sparring with Alistair, and I just felt so heavy, so tired. I could barely keep my arms up. Then all of a sudden, I felt this surge of anger and energy, and when I punched him…”
Words failed him, and he gestured lamely to the damaged wall. He couldn’t figure out how to explain this. It made no sense at all.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with either of you,” said the healer. “You seem quite healthy.” Then, he cleared his throat and awkwardly added, “Pardon me for mentioning it, but there’s now a Dragon’s Gift under your roof…”
Drystan cocked a brow, wondering why the healer seemed so reluctant to finish.
“There is,” Alistair said. “What does that have to do with my brother’s behavior?”
“Well.” The healer cleared his throat. “Everyone knows that the Dragon’s Gift makes her king more powerful when they mate. If either of you had, by chance…” He trailed off, his cheeks turning pink.
Drystan and Alistair exchanged alarmed glances. “We get the point,” Drystan said, sparing the man from further embarrassment.
The healer nodded, looking relieved. “The sweat, the pendulum swings between weakness and surges of strength—well, I’ve not been at leisure to study many of you, as I wasn’t yet a healer when our king was a young dragon, but I believe King Dragomir experienced similar symptoms when he finally matured.”
The brothers froze. “You…you’re not referring to the Change, are you?” Alistair asked.
Drystan stared down at his hands. Could he really be this close to shifting? Even now, he could still feel that inferno blazing beneath his skin, uncomfortably hot. Usually he could call his flames forth and dispel them at will, but he couldn’t seem to get rid of this blasted heat no matter how hard he tried to focus.
“There has to be another explanation,” he finally said. Male dragons didn’t mature until they hit their fiftieth year, and they were barely thirty.
“Of course, my prince,” he said smoothly. “Perhaps you’ve simply overtaxed yourself and need more rest.”
Alistair and Drystan exchanged uneasy glances as the healer went about mixing up some concoctions from his pouches of herbs. He handed Alistair a bottle of bright blue liquid. “For the pain in your ribs,” he told him—he’d determined in his examination that Alistair had cracked two of them when he’d slammed into the wall. “You’ll heal on your own, of course, but this should speed up the process. And this,” he said, handing Drystan a green bottle, “should help you with the tiredness and the temperature you’ve been running.”
Drystan and Alistair thanked the healer, then sent him on his way. They both downed the contents of their bottles in one go, and Alistair sighed in relief as the potion did its work. A cooling sensation swept through Drystan, energizing him and cooling his temperature enough to make it bearable.
“Do you really think you could be reaching your full maturity?” Alistair asked, pushing himself up into a sitting position.
Drystan frowned. “I suppose it’s possible, but if it
’s happening to me, why isn’t it happening to you?”
Alistair shrugged. “You had sex with her first,” he said. “Whereas I did it just yesterday. Judging by your reaction, it seems as though it takes a few days to set in.”
Drystan dragged a hand through his hair. “I thought the whole thing about the Dragon’s Gift making her mate stronger only applied when they were wed,” he said. “I didn’t realize it happened through…through…”
“Fucking,” Alistair supplied helpfully. “And Lucyan’s having his turn with her right now. I suppose we’ll find out in a few days if she has the same effect on all of us.”
“And just what does that mean?” Drystan demanded as he got to his feet. “That the Dragon’s Gift can strengthen any dragon she beds? That it truly doesn’t matter which of us mates with her?”
“I’m not entirely certain why you’re getting so bent out of shape about this,” Alistair said cautiously as he rose. “It isn’t Dareena’s fault that this is the way the magic works. Nor is it her fault that our mother birthed three of us rather than one.” A sad look crossed his face. “I suspect this is just as hard on her as it is on us.”
Drystan blew out a frustrated breath. “It’s just…I don’t want to have to let her go,” he said helplessly. “Even if she picked you instead of me, I’m not sure I could just walk away.”
“Same here, brother. Same here."
24
“Do you think this dress is all right, Rona?” Dareena asked nervously as she looked at herself in the mirror. She’d chosen a deep red gown with off-the-shoulder sleeves and a v-neckline. It only showed a bit of cleavage, but it was enough to get the point across and matched the dab of red lip stain on her mouth. There would be no room in Lucyan’s mind as to what she intended. And yet…
“I’m worried I’ll look like I’m trying too hard.”
Rona laughed. “There is no such thing when it comes to Prince Lucyan,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “I’ve seen the women he parades into the Keep—each one more decked out than the last. If anything,” she added, plucking at a stray thread hanging from Dareena’s sleeve, “you’re a bit understated in comparison.”
“Understated?” Dareena glanced in the mirror again. Perhaps she was being too modest—there were other, more daring dresses she could wear… “Should I change, then?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Rona said. “Sometimes less is more, and Prince Lucyan is the one who is trying to woo you, not the other way around. You look just fine.”
Dareena sighed deeply, releasing some of the tension in her body. “Thank you, Rona. You may leave now.”
Rona bowed, then took herself off to do whatever she did in the Keep when she wasn’t tending to Dareena’s needs. Alone, Dareena sat down at the small breakfast table where she took her meals and practiced with the flash cards Lucyan had made for her. She hadn’t had very much time to drill with them, especially after the brothers had so thoroughly exhausted her the last two days, but she tried to sneak in at least an hour every day, and she was beginning to improve.
“Come in,” she called when a knock came at the door. She reorganized the flash cards as Lucyan stepped into the room, looking as handsome as ever in a surcoat of deep blue and gold. His reddish-gold eyebrows rose as she stood up, and she felt another prickle of nerves as he looked her up and down. His amber eyes lingered on her chest for a long moment, and his full lips curved into a smirk that wasn’t altogether pleasant.
“So,” he drawled, kicking the door closed behind him. “Is it my turn, then?”
Dareena frowned. “Your turn? For what?”
“To bed you.” He moved closer, and Dareena swallowed at the dangerous glitter in his eyes. “You slept with Alistair yesterday, Drystan the day before, after I left you. Now that it is my day again, I assume I’m next in line?”
Dareena crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling defensive. “I thought that there were no rules as to how far we could go with each other,” she said. “Why are you angry with me?”
Lucyan laughed bitterly, perching on the edge of Dareena’s bed much in the same way she had when he’d first come to visit her. “It’s strange,” he said, shaking his head. “I never thought much about it, but now I understand how all those women felt when they said that they were just another notch in my bedpost. Just a few days ago, you were feeling guilty about letting me touch you—and now suddenly you want to sleep with all three of us?”
Yes—that was definitely anger in his voice. “Lucyan,” Dareena said gently, coming over to him. “You are not, and never will be, a notch in my bedpost. I am not trying to ‘collect all three princes,’ or anything like that. It’s just that I don’t know how I’m supposed to choose between the three of you if I’m so distracted by sex that I can’t truly judge or appreciate your personalities.”
“But that’s the thing about sex, Dareena,” Lucyan said as he took both of her hands in his. “Once you’ve had it, you always want more. Just look at you. Your entire life, you’ve been a virgin. Now, in a matter of days, you’ve had back-to-back sex with Drystan and then Alistair. And now you want me.” He yanked her into his lap, leaned in to sniff at her neck. “I can already tell you’re getting wet,” he murmured into her ear as he burrowed his hand under her skirts to squeeze her bare ass. “Do you really think that, after bedding me, you’ll achieve some kind of clarity? Or will you just want to fuck and fuck and fuck?”
Dareena gasped as he slid a finger into her pussy. “Lucyan,” she moaned, gripping his shoulders for balance.
“That’s right,” Lucyan breathed as he slid his finger out, then back in, adding another. “I think you’re a dirty girl, Dareena, and that you didn’t realize it until you fucked Drystan. I think, deep down inside, you know you’ll never get enough. You want me to fill you up, don’t you? To ram my cock inside you until it’s all you can think about, until you’re screaming my name as I fill you with my seed?”
“Yes,” Dareena moaned. There was something about the way Lucyan spoke, the way he pumped his fingers into her pussy, that was downright savage. She gasped when he grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back, then sank his teeth into the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met. A bolt of pleasure-pain shot through her, and her pussy clenched so hard around his fingers that he hissed.
“I’ve never fucked such a tight pussy before,” he growled. “Do you think you can take me?”
“I think you’re talking too much,” Dareena gasped, grabbing the front of his surcoat. She ripped it open, sending brass buttons scattering across the floor. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”
Lucyan threw back his head and laughed. “There’s my little spitfire,” he said approvingly. He gripped Dareena’s waist, then spun around and set her on the bed. “On your hands and knees,” he ordered. “Face the door.”
Dareena did as he said, her heart hammering with fear and excitement. “Don’t you think we should lock the door?” she asked breathlessly as Lucyan flipped her skirt up from behind. “If someone were to walk in…”
“Let them see,” he said, and slid his fingers back inside her. Dareena moaned, arching her back. “What would you do if Drystan or Alistair walked through the door?” His bare chest brushed against her back as he leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Would you scream and bring the blanket up to your chest? Or would you invite them over here to join us?”
“I…” Dareena’s mouth went dry at the thought of having two brothers in her bed. Her pussy throbbed as she imagined Alistair standing before her, gloriously naked, watching her and Lucyan as he stroked himself. Gods, was she going mad?
“I’ve never shared a woman with my brothers before,” Lucyan said, nipping at her ear. “We dragons are insanely possessive, even of our flings. And yet somehow, I think I would do it for you, if you asked.”
He curled his fingers inward, and Dareena cried out as he hit a sweet spot she hadn’t realized was inside her. “Yes,” she moaned, roc
king her hips back to try and increase the friction.
“Uh-uh-uh.” Lucyan pulled his fingers out. “I control the pace, not you.” He waited until she’d stopped squirming, then slid his fingers back in. “Good girl,” he crooned as she moaned again.
Lucyan spent the next twenty minutes torturing Dareena with his skilled fingers. Or at least she thought it was twenty minutes—after a while she lost track, her mind too muddled with lust to make sense of time. Over and over, he brought her to the brink of orgasm, and then pulled back, nibbling at her neck instead, or tracing the shell of her ear with his tongue. Her body shook with need—she was desire personified, eyes wild, skin flushed, hair a tangled mess. All she could think about was Lucyan’s fingers in her pussy, bringing her so close to orgasm and then taking it away again.
“Lucyan,” she finally cried, nearly delirious. “Please!”
“Please what?” He pulled his fingers out, then slid them through her folds to find her second sweet spot. “Shall I switch it up? Do you want me to play with your clit instead?” He pinched the sensitive bud, and Dareena screamed in frustration at the pleasure-pain that zinged through her.
“I want…I want…” she panted, trying hard not to strain against his hand as he played with her pussy. She knew that the moment she did, he would pull away—it had already happened three times.
“What do you want?” His mouth was by her ear again. “My tongue?” He licked at her earlobe. “My fingers?” He stroked her clit, his touch featherlight against her swollen flesh. “Or…” She felt something long and hard nudge itself between her ass cheeks. “My cock?”
“Your cock,” Dareena moaned. It took everything in her to hold still as he rubbed his shaft along her wet folds. “Lucyan, please.”