Insatiable (The Curse of Avalon Book 3)

by Sariah Skye

  Insatiable

  The Curse of Avalon #3

  Sariah Skye

  INSATIABLE

  The Curse of Avalon #3

  by Sariah Skye

  © 2018, all rights reserved

  Cover and teaser designs by LKO Designs

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Just a quick note…

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Coming soon…

  Author’s Notes

  Pronunciation Key

  About the Author

  Also by Sariah Skye

  Just a quick note…

  This is a reverse harem romance, meaning one woman, multiple love interests, and no choosing at the end. Ever. Just like Ava, I couldn’t pick a favorite either if I tried!

  There is one scene depicting assault, and discussion of possible rape. If this is a trigger for you, please be wary.

  That said, enjoy! This is my favorite of the series so far, and I hope you love it as much as I loved writing it!

  xxx,

  Sariah

  Prologue

  Lachlan

  I crouched down low; even with my invisibility I still always attempted to keep myself as inconspicuous as possible, choosing to hang by the booths and peddlers selling wares than in the center of a crowd. A very large crowd; hordes of Camelot citizens, waiting anxiously below the turret window for their beloved King to address them.

  If they only knew.

  Judging by the dour expressions on some of their faces, not everyone was enamored. I was glad for that, but still disturbed by the number of eyes he was clearly pulling the proverbial wool over. Hopefully that would change.

  Arthur, wearing his crown, his cloak, and an uptight, snooty expression on his face emerged from a large doorway, covered with crimson velvet curtains. Immediately, the crowd below applauded and cheered; some of them begrudgingly so, but if their devotion wasn’t obvious, the lines of armored soldiers along the perimeter of the square would be ready to… encourage them to reconsider. I couldn’t believe it had come to this; this wasn’t a leader. This was definitely not the Arthur I knew.

  It’d only been a handful of days since I tumbled through the bizarre portal to Camelot, just in time to prevent Arthur from striking Guinevere. Arthur had never loved her as I had, but he wasn’t cruel. I still don’t know what changed. What could have happened to Arthur to make him this way?

  He didn’t know what hit him when I stealthed and kicked his legs out from under him. I encapsulated Guinevere in my shield and with a blast, knocked down the door, and everything else that blocked us to get out of the castle. I knew he’d know exactly who the culprit was, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting Guinevere and getting out.

  We’d escaped to one of the far-off villages, sneaking around at night, hiding in the woods or in dirty hovels for nearly three days before we arrived at a small village near the edge of the kingdom. Had this been on Earth, in medieval Britain, this village would be on the border between Camelot and Cornwall. But, since it was a contained realm, literally it just… stopped. There was a line of trees, and nothing beyond it.

  It was a village of Avalonian sympathizers; descendants of the witches who sacrificed themselves to keep Avalon safe, and out of Arthur’s clutches. You control Avalon, you control everything. If the realm were still here, the boys would have become Round Table knights, the girls would have become Avalonian priestesses. Since there was no Avalon here, they took it upon themselves to keep legends alive and tell the stories; they married and intermingled into an honorable society of rebels. Great spells and wards that would make Sebastian—one of my daughter’s boyfriends—proud, hid the little village from Camelot. They took Guinevere and myself in and that’s where we’d been… until now.

  Hearing of Arthur’s “great announcement” to the people, I needed to be there to hear what sort of garbage he was about to spew. And he didn’t disappoint. Like a true despot, he regarded the crowd, lauded in his “admiration” with a smug smile and stuck-up, careless wave. Not a wave that said, “I’m so appreciative you are here” but one that said, “Bow before me, cretins.”

  Arthur made a shushing motion with his hands, still smiling down his nose at everyone below him, both literally and figuratively.

  “Citizens of Camelot, I come to you today with great despair!” Arthur’s tone is condescending, and I can’t fight my sneer. “I want to address the rumors of impending battle. I am afraid it is true; the humans on Earth are threatening to tear a portal and release their army, threatening all we hold so dear.”

  There is a murmur amongst the crowd. Some people remain motionless and stoic, others are genuinely horrified.

  “A witch—the child of one of our own, has a vendetta against us. This child, as is her father are traitors, consorting with demons for her own selfish gains!” Arthur bellows into the crowd, and I fume. He’s speaking of Ava, and it’s all I can do to remain hidden and not attack. As to be expected, the people are chatting among themselves, visibly upset.

  “These humans have desecrated life, desecrated society…they hurt people because of their selfishness, they commit sins like they are nothing. They war with each other! They give into all lust and carnal feelings! They have turned against all the things Camelot has always held so dear! And now, they want to rip open the portals and bring their debauchery here!” From here I can see him narrowing his eyes, but he doesn’t realize that I know him too well; the slight upturn at the right corner of his sleazy mouth indicates he is lying through his teeth. But it is no matter, everyone is making noise now, and even the skeptics are starting to turn. “Is this what we want!?”

  “No! Hell no!” Many people are shouting now, angry fists in the air.

  “Never fear, people, never fear. For I have raised an army that is strong! Despite those that turn against us—my very own, dearest friend Lancelot is spearheading this movement! It is his bastard child consorting with demons, wanting to rip through the portals and tear down our walls, and take all the beauty that is Camelot for theirs! They want to do so by resurrecting sacred magic and turn it into lustful, sordid means to get their ways! Are we going to stand for it?” Arthur exclaimed loudly, clenching a fist. I just shook my
head. I have seen this type before over the years. Charismatic, trustworthy… mad. So many dictators, so many corrupt leaders. It’s hard to believe anyone swallows this crap, but Arthur is revered. Cherished. Adored. They’re eating out of the palm of his twisted, bastard hand.

  He holds out an arm, gesturing; I am surprised when a younger, dark haired man exits from the curtains. There is something vaguely familiar about him, something I cannot place even though I have never seen this man before in my life—but there is definitely something in him I recognize. “My son is guiding the army,” -–wait, a son? When did this happen? “—the army that will be led into the world of the humans! And where we were once pushed out, we again will take back what is rightfully ours!” Arthur grips the hand of his son and lifts it triumphantly in the air. The crowd below them, directly around me, erupt into cheers.

  But there is a glimmer of hope. Yes, the son looks familiar… but there is something about him. Something in his expression says he’s skeptic. He’s not buying fully what Arthur has to sell. How I know this? I’m not quite sure, I just know I’m right.

  Maybe there is still hope, if I can get to the son.

  Arthur continues on, regaling the crowd of his plans. I’ve had enough though, and with slight bursts of invisible magic, I manage to part the crowd gently, as not to arouse suspicion and start off for the exit of the castle.

  But something in me needs to turn around. To glance one more time at this son. I can’t see from this far, but I think he has Arthur’s eyes. When he smiles though—even though it doesn’t ring a truthful smile, something strikes in me.

  Oh my gods. It couldn’t be. I knew that smile.

  Not caring about disrupting the crowd with my magic—no one was paying attention anyway—I tear away, running, my chest tight and heaving heavy breaths until I reach the woods beyond the castle.

  If I’m right? If I’m right about who that man is—it means that, like Ava, my entire life has been a lie.

  I lean over, clutching my stomach as I heave. No… no it can’t be.

  But I know in my heart it is true. Because of this, I’m not sure if I can count him as ally after all and right now I fully understand how my daughter, Ava, felt when she learned she’s been betrayed and the life she once knew? She didn’t know it at all. And clearly, neither did I.

  Chapter One

  “Please, baby?”

  “No!” I stood up and started to walk away, pushing aside large, grabby male hands.

  “Come on! Just one more time? Please?” Another set of male hands pawed at me.

  I swatted at them, scowling. “No! Come on now, I’m tired! I can only take so much of this!” I started to stomp away but Bash raced in front of me and cut me off before I could storm out the door. He puffed out his lower lip, pleading at me with his icy, steel-blue eyes. His handsome face was delectable with his messy blond hair, the bearded shadow at his jawline just a shade darker. He grinned widely, pressing his hands together over his bare chest in a begging gesture, the musculature on his biceps and chest flexing in such a tantalizing way I almost gave in to him right then and there.

  Almost.

  Narrowing my eyes, I attempted to push past him with determination. “Goddammit, no, Bash! We’ve been at it for hours now! I need to wash up and get some sleep! I am tired and feel dirty!”

  “I’m sorry.” Bash frowned, lowering himself to his knees. “I won’t make a mess on you again. Does that change your mind, baby? Please?” Frowning, I attempted to brush off the offending sticky substance he spilled earlier on my leg, but it was pointless. It was stuck there. Damn him and his careless spillage. Ignoring this, he scooted himself forward on his knees and pressed his cheek into my stomach, wrapping his arms around my waist and squeezing tightly. “Please?”

  I bit my lip, my resolve softening. Over the past couple of months, I’d been living with these guys, and my cold, dead heart was diminishing and turning into mush—absolute mush. I found myself giving into things a lot more than usual. And here was the thing: I liked it. I liked saying “Yes” and not getting angry or crabby at everything anymore.

  I wasn’t aware of just how edgy or frustrated I was before these guys. Who would have thought when you’re around people who recognize you for all the good things you are, treat you well, reciprocate your affections, and know what they’re doing in bed, you aren’t quite so snappy? Amazing, right?

  But this time I wasn’t giving in. I’d been spending the entire day in this room with these two guys—Bash and Xander—getting all hot, sweaty, and tired. I really was worn out, and I needed to leave. I did. I really did.

  Bash slid his hands over my ass and massaged gently. Oh crap… he’s going for it. The fucker. Being that I was only wearing thin, soft leggings it was almost like touching my skin. And, since Bash was definitely an ass man—not an actual ass who is a man, but a man who likes asses—a lot. Duh! —he paid extra special attention to my rear whenever he could. And I didn’t hate it. Especially when he rubbed like that.

  I inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the feelings of tingly warmth now spreading deep inside my belly.

  “Will you, Avie? Just one more time?” Bash said, looking up at me from down on his knees. I swallowed thickly, imagining just what else he could be doing down on his knees, if only he—

  Stop it, Ava! My brain scolded. You wanted to leave, so leave! They don’t control you! You are still an independent, strong female!

  “Nope,” I said simply, trying to pull away when Bash continued to torment me by swiping his hands around my hips, and reaching up gently underneath my gray t-shirt. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath as he lifted up the fabric, exposing my skin to the cold air of the drafty room. I glanced down at him just briefly as he grinned up at me playfully. “Don’t do it. Do not do it,” I warned him, not all that convincingly.

  “Oh, I’m gonna do it,” he said, turning and brushing his lips on the skin to the side of my belly button. I shivered when he placed a soft trail of kisses over my stomach and hips, something he knew was a weakness of mine. I didn’t even know it had been until a couple of weeks ago, but he discovered it and took advantage of it whenever he could.

  My head rolled lazily onto my shoulders as I enjoyed the sensation of his warm lips and tongue on my chilled skin. Pleasurable shudders travel up and down my spine as I stifled a light moan. I threaded my fingers into Bash’s hair as he continued.

  “Just one more time?” He pleaded, glancing back up at me.

  “Come on, Sebastian,” Xander said. “She said no, she means no. Right?” I felt another arm wrap around my shoulders, and a gentle touch carefully brushed the hair off my neck, exposing my flesh to the chilly air once again. Xander’s stubbled jaw rubbed against my cheek before he began to kiss the soft spot just under my ear. Oh shit… my other spot. Fuck fuck fuckity-fuck…

  “You guys!” I whimpered in protest, feeling their hard, muscled bodies pressed up against me and enjoying it. A lot. “Really, I want to take a nap! Or at least take a shower! We’ve been at it for hours! I need a break!”

  “Just once, dearest,” Xander pleaded into my ear, as I felt a firm hardness press against the small of my back. “One more time is all we ask. Please?”

  “Yeah, just once,” Bash echoed from at my waist.

  I groaned, sinking into their embraces. “Fuck…” I am a strong, independent woman who makes her own decisions. I’m not a simpering female.

  Xander began whispering in Chinese gently into my ear, as he nibbled at my ear lobe; the hardness between his front and my back pressing a bit harder against me.

  Fuck it, Avie… you’re still independent as long as you’re the one deciding, right? Oh, who cared?

  “Fine!” I exclaimed, my determination for a bath dissolving into the wind. I spun around and whisked the black video game controller Xander had shoved pointedly into my back, and pulled myself out of their arms, stalking back across the game room and flinging myself onto the leather couch. The cushio
n was still warm from our marathon Call of Duty session from just minutes ago.

  What? It’s not always about sex, you know.

  Okay it was a lot but not this time.

  “Yes!” Bash said, pumping his arm in victory. He and Xander clapped each other in a triumphant high-five, all while grinning smugly.

  “You bastards,” I grumbled at them, as they settled in with their own controllers next to me. Bash quickly set up our next game and brushed aside the spilled pop he’d knocked over on me earlier that still pooled on the sofa.

  “Oh come on, you’re our good luck charm! We’ve won all but one match all day!” Xander insisted.

  “Yeah, and the one time we lost was when you AFKed to go to the bathroom. Face it, you’re our winning strategy,” Bash said, nudging me.

  Shaking my head, I smiled reluctantly. “Yeah, yeah. That’s not saying much when you’re playing a bunch of thirteen-year-olds,” I said, shaking my head in dismay. “I appreciate a good troll-fest as much as the next person, but can’t we do something else? This really isn’t my game.”

  “So what is then?” Xander questioned, not taking his eyes off the screen.

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure, it’s been a while since I played much,” I said, as our match began.