by Lee Savino
“Yes.” I turned from him. “This morning I woke alone.”
“Lady—”
“You left me in a guardroom!”
“It was not our intention. We planned to start the fight as a diversion and return to smuggle you to safety. Gaul was ready for us, and, in the heat of battle, we left you in the only place I thought you’d be safe. I knew our fight was futile. I hoped we might weaken the mage, so you could escape.”
“You could’ve died. I didn’t ask you to do that.”
His arms came around me, “Yseult—”
“No,” I tried to wrench away and could not. I clawed at his hold.
“I am sorry we left you. It was my decision, and mine alone.”
“You took the decision from me.” He treated me like I was weak.
His lips touched my ear. “How can I atone?”
“I don’t know.” My chest heaved against the pain squeezing my heart. “I don’t know.”
His lips touched my shoulder; he nuzzled my hair.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
Gently he turned me to face him, but I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I can’t... be with you.” I waved my hand in the direction of the cave.
“Be ours?”
“Be weak.”
“Yseult.” He lifted my wet hair away from my face. “You are not weak. You are not frail. You left your home. You faced the mage. Are you truly afraid of this?” He tipped up my chin. “Of us?”
“I don’t... I should not fear anything. I haven’t felt fear like this since my training as a novice.”
He cocked his head, his large hand sliding under my hair to my nape.
“I am a witch no longer,” I whispered. “Not in the way I was. I am…”
“Weak?”
“Powerless.”
“To us you wield great power.”
“You don’t understand. All my life I trained to be a witch, and now I am one no longer. I am only a spaewife.”
“Only?” His fingers flexed against my neck. “You came to us, barefoot, clad only in a shift. You were our captive, and even then, you saved us.”
“I am weak,” I whispered.
“Strong enough to be our mate. Strong enough to love. If you are willing.”
His fingers withdrew. He backed away, and I almost cried out and followed him. “We will not force this. We will let you think on it.”
“Tristan,” I called. He paused in the entrance. “Please... don’t leave.”
“We made our choice. We will wait for you to make yours.”
I wish I could say I followed him right away, pulled him into my arms and pledged myself right there. The truth is, I took my time, pacing on the edge of the water, then standing still. My reflection had not changed. I still looked like a maid in the blush of youth. I could return to the witch’s path, redo my training, become powerful again. Fight the mage, commune with my sisters and live... alone. Or I could remain a spaewife.
Or perhaps, I could do both. I had always walked my own path, and now, I had four men to help me.
A deep breath, and I willed myself to leave the pools. My shift clinging to my damp body, my feet bare, my wet hair stringing about my face, I padded back to the cave. Echoes of men’s voices greeted me. They’d stoked up the fire and lounged around the hearth.
As soon as I stepped into the room, all eyes came to me, and I halted. Magnus sprawled on the rug, Ivar seated close to the fire, using a stick to poke some roast meat. Lars idly played with one of his braids. Tristan leaned on the hearth stone, his face half in shadow, half in light. All waiting, it seemed, for me.
Four men. Goddess, would I be enough?
Magnus moved first. “Lady,” he breathed. I stood like a statue as he came forward and knelt before me. Mine to command, and me as nervous as a virgin, as a bride on her wedding night. Which was... laughable.
I was Yseult. Witch, spaewife, woman. No man made me nervous—unless I allowed it.
I smiled down at the great warrior. He returned my grin, and barely waited for me to shake back my hair before lifting the hem of my shift. He pressed his face against my belly, turning this way and that before sliding lower, breathing in my scent.
He lifted me easily, carrying me to the couch. I reached for him, but instead of falling between my legs and rutting, he parted my knees and licked my center. My body arched, my mouth falling open to be greeted by Lars’ kiss. He and Ivar took turns claiming my mouth as Magnus worked below, their hands stroking my breasts until I cried out. The two on either side fell away as Magnus reared up over me, setting his cock into my sopping center, and slamming into me. I writhed in the throes of pleasure as he worked his hips, deep thrusts that sent me to the edge of ecstasy. When he was done he pulled out and Ivar and Lars took me together, hard and fast, one behind and one before. Lars cradled my chin as I licked at his cock.
They spent themselves together, and I lay over the edge of the couch, panting. Tristan still waited by the hearth.
Coming to my hands and knees, I crawled across the rug to him. Kneeling at his feet, I clutched his legs and tipped my head up, arching my back, and making my flesh an offering.
“Take me,” I breathed. “I am yours to command.”
He reached down and touched my cheek. I closed my eyes and rubbed my face against his hand, my fingers busy parting his clothes. My fingers circled his thick cock, my mouth watering. I waited for him to press me forward then licked and sucked to my heart’s content, my body aching to please him.
All too soon he cupped the back of my head and drew me up, kissing my forehead and hitching me against him and sliding home. I wrapped my legs tight around his hips, keeping him close as he moved inside me. His large hands gripped my bottom and I held him tight, my arms about his shoulders and my inner muscles gripping his cock. He was mine, I would keep him. I would never let him go.
He shuddered out his pleasure and laid me on the couch. I laughed, and kissed him, pulled Ivar close and kissed him too.
Lars joined me on the couch, nuzzling me.
“Keep us, Yseult,” he mumbled. “We will make you so happy. We will protect and cherish you always. Do not send us away.”
“Never,” I whispered fiercely. “You are my heart.” And I laughed and laughed as he kissed me with his ticklish blond beard.
Tristan came with a wet cloth and I grinned at him as he cleaned me.
“What now?” I asked, feeling rested and more refreshed than I had in an age.
“Whatever we want.” Lars cupped my left breast and Ivar reached down from his perch on the arm of the couch to play with my right.
Magnus stood before me, staring at my bare form and absently tugging on his cock. His brow wrinkled.
“Wait,” he said. “When is it my turn to have her alone?”
The End
To my author friends – The Not RH authors Golden Angel, Aubrey Cara, Miranda Martin, Renee Rose, Ava Sinclair, Rebel West and Lili Zander. You earned your nipple tassels! Also to Miranda aka Mommy Is A Book Whore, for her fabulous last minute editing
And to the readers and fans in the Goddess Group, and everyone who bought this book. XOXO
Thanks for reading! –Lee
An Excerpt from Night of the Zandians, by Renee Rose and Rebel West
Want More Reverse Harem?
Please enjoy this excerpt from the upcoming reverse harem book Night of the Zandians, by Renee Rose and Rebel West.
Night of the Zandians - Chapter One
Riya
The Zandians require brides.
Prince Zander--no, King Zander now that he’s taken back his planet--stands in front of all of us, human and Zandians alike, and makes his intentions for repopulation clear.
I gaze around at the throng gathered in front of what used to be the palace. Everything seems so vast and empty under a bright sky, devoid of any cloud cover. The Zandian sun reflects of the white marble stone that makes up the rubble, nearly blinding me.
Ho
w can such a small group possibly ever rebuild this planet, dedicated as they--we-- are?
The devastation in Zandia’s capital is so absolute that it makes me sick to my stomach. The crumbled ruins of once-majestic buildings, now heaps of marble rubble and twisted metal, look as gruesome as any bloody wound I tended during the battle.
I shouldn’t care--it’s not my planet. My planet was raped and ruined a thousand years ago by the Ocretions, but Zandia’s been dangled in front of us humans like Shangri-la. A place we’ll be able to be free.
Supposedly.
But what Zander’s saying now puts ice cold fear into me.
A shiver runs down my spine and I can’t stop my gaze from flicking to the giant Zandian warrior across the plaza.
Tarren.
The one whose firm thigh I straddled when I sewed up the gash splitting the side of his face. He’s standing with two other Zandians and--sweet mother Earth--they’re all looking at me!
A lock of my thick black hair blows into my face on a hot, dry wind that smells of nothing except ash, and I brush it back with impatience, then wipe more dust from my strong thighs, bare beneath my short tunic. I haven’t had a chance to wash or change since the battle--I’ve been tending the wounded non-stop. The warrior beside Tarren lets his gaze slide to my bare legs and heat crawls up my neck. I should’ve found a pair of leggings before this meeting.
“If you wish to receive a land and homestead grant, I suggest you form a group, find a female, and ready yourselves to petition,” King Zander declares.
My stomach knots. Find a female.
I’m not an idiot. I know what that means for me. For the other human females of breeding age. We’ve just become breeders. We’re probably no better off than any breeding slave in the galaxy.
My mouth goes dry and I have to will myself not to look across the plaza at the warrior again. Will he and his friends come for me? Claim me? How will it work? Do I have to be willing, or can they just carry me off?
King Zander has said we’re no longer slaves, yet there’s nowhere else we can go in the galaxy where our freedom will be recognized. In other words, we have no choice but to accept whatever the Zandians offer.
And it sounds to me like my only option is to become a Zandian bride.
I scrunch up my hands at my sides, not because I’m making fists to defend myself, but to stop my fingers from shaking.
I don’t want to be claimed by one alien warrior, much less two or three. Or--stars forbid--more!
I barely hear the rest of the announcement, and when the gathering breaks up, I seek out Lily. She’s a human mated to a Zandian and sister to the king’s mate. She might know more about what I can expect.
Already the air in the plaza crackles with sexual tension, as if the king’s proclamation has every warrior ready to fight to claim a female.
There are no more Zandian females--at least none who are unmated--so the females Zander referred to are human. Former slaves, like me.
Oh hell. I tug my tunic down as if I can make it grow to cover my bare thighs.
Several Zandian warriors eye me from across the cracked plaza. I really should have changed my clothes before I came out. I suddenly realize how provocative my boots must look below bare legs.
On the training pod we females were protected by warriors like Lundric, who has a human mate. I was able to dress for pure comfort and ignore any interest my bare skin garnered. After what I’ve endured at the hands of the Ocretians, I preferred to keep myself apart.
I find Lily, but she’s talking with her mate. I sense warriors closing in on me from all sides.
Fuck.
Like a coward, I run.
I head straight for the makeshift med bay where I’ve been working all night. It’s a stupid place to go, but I haven’t been assigned a new room yet, and I don’t know where else to hide.
As soon as I’m there, though, the memory of treating Tarren’s wounds comes rushing back.
The way my core heated standing so close to him. The way he gripped my buttocks when I stabbed his cheek with the needle.
I lean against the metal wall of the crashed ship which became my headquarters to steady my breath.
I’m not interested in the male. I’m not interested in any male.
Of course, it may not matter what I’m interested in.
King Zander wants the planet repopulated.
As soon as possible.
TARREN
“Looks like you’ve already picked out our mate.” My cousin Jax follows my gaze to the dark-haired beauty streaking across the plaza. It’s all I can do not to chase her down, toss her over my shoulder and carry her back to our quarters right now.
Without saying it aloud, Jax and I both know we’ll apply as a team with our other cousin, Ronan. We’re family and we stick together.
Jax wears a bemused expression. He glances around the desolate wasteland of rubble, so different from the planet we left as children, just before the invasion. “She’s a good choice. With the boots she’s sexy as hell, but she looks sturdy enough for--”
He stops when my fist wraps in his tunic. “She’s more than a vecking breeder,” I growl.
Jax holds up his hands. “All right, all right. She’s way more. Looks smart. She’s the medic, right?”
“Riya.”
She looked at me earlier and blushed, just as she had when she treated my wounds last night. When I had my hand under that short tunic to cup her tight little ass. Veck. I’m hard just thinking about it. “Her name is Riya.” Her name sounds exotic and delicious, like she looks.
“We need to claim her,” I tell Jax, and scowl. I don’t even know why I’m saying this--I don’t want a female. But I’m sure as veck not letting this one slip through my fingers, either. “Before another warrior does.” My fists close at the thought of some other Zandian with Riya.
“I think she’s already yours, cousin.”
I want to throat-punch Jax for his characteristic light-hearted and positive outlook.
“No. You need to charm her. You and Ronan. She’ll be afraid of me.”
Jax eyes me, not missing that I’m holding something back. “What did you do to her?”
“What did I miss?” Ronan comes up in a hurry, panting as he jogs. “I was on guard duty onboard the palatial pod and just got relieved.”
“What did you miss?” Jax rolls his eyes. “Just about the most life-altering thing you can ever imagine. Great day to be lazy.”
“Go veck yourself.” Ronan punches him in the arm. “Tell me,” he demands, more seriously this time, picking up on the tension in the courtyard.
“It appears,” Jax says, his voice collected, “the three of us are going to share one mate. A human. From what the king just announced, it sounds like Zandians can apply as a team, which must include a female, to receive a homestead here.”
“Hot damn!” The thrill in Ronan’s voice is evident. “It’s about time! I’ve been dreaming of a nice little Zandian homestead since the planet rotation we left. And a female to share? That just sweetens it all the more. This is the best news I could imagine!” He throws his arms around our shoulders. He laughs out loud. “This is the best day, cousins!”
“You don’t care that we all have to share one mate?” My voice comes out more forcefully than I intend. Yes, we’ve shared females, the three of us, in random encounters, and we all enjoy it that way. But long-term, a mate with whom we are expected to bond and protect? It seems complex and troublesome. What if I want to kill them both every time they touch Riya?
There’s no doubt in my mind now that she’ll be our female. I’ve been dying to claim her lush little body from the moment I saw her out on the battlefield trying to drag the wounded in by herself.
She’s fierce. And the way she lifted her chin when I threatened to warm her ass for leaving the safety of the downed ship was adorable. A little warrior exists behind that alluring peachy flesh of hers.
And then there’s those vecking t
highs…
Stars, if I don’t get to be the one to pry them open and taste her honey first, I might throttle both my cousins.
Ronan smiles, and I scowl again. Ronan is always so...excited about things. It irritates the veck out of me. “I never thought I’d be lucky enough to get a mate.” Ronan shrugs. “I don’t mind. I share everything with you two, anyway. Why not our future?”
Easy for him to say. With his ever-present smile and jokes, Ronan has a way of making friends with any and every being in the galaxy. Naturally Ronan wouldn’t mind anything.
“Which female do we get? Is it the one with the bare thighs?” Ronan leans to look in the direction of the med bay. “Is she...ours?”
I’m simultaneously relieved and pissed that Ronan’s already picked the same female Jax and I agreed on. At least we won’t argue, but I hate that he’s been drooling over her. But it is interesting that all three of us have zeroed in on her. What does it mean? Probably nothing, other than we share the same taste in women.
“We don’t know yet,” I snap. “We don’t know how the females will be distributed. I assume we have to make her willing, but who knows? They may use Daneth’s gene matching technology like they did when they bought the king’s mate.”
All three of us bare our teeth at the thought of not getting to make this choice on our own.
“She smells...good.” Ronan smiles.
“When have you smelled her?” I growl, jealousy flooding my veins.
“Calm down, cousin!” Ronan elbows me. “I’ve never seen you act so possessive before. Don’t worry, I’ve not mated her in secret. I happened to pass her just now and I noticed her.”
I grunt, ignoring the relief that courses through me. Not that it matters. If I have to share a female, I’ll have to accept the fact that she is all of ours.
“Her name is Riya,” I force myself to say. “And I think you two should go and talk to her.”
Ronan shoots a quizzical glance at Jax.
“Something happened between them,” Jax fills in, although I’ve told him nothing yet.