Weeks passed in quasi-peace.
Siobhan tucked her hair further into her cloak as she strolled, after strengthening her wards. A daily routine at dawn, by pouring magick that kept the cottage hidden from prying eyes. She’d never taken so much precaution, but she hadn’t so much to lose before.
Fallon and Dearg had gone to dig through her vegetable patch, after their own jaunt into the woods. If they went too long without shifting, they woke up in pain-filled fits her magick stood helpless against. The Queen’s curse had been backed with the Seelie magick and a royal command of the elements, a brand not even Siobhan could cure.
And oh, had she tried. How could one despicable woman be granted so much? What she had done to her friends, no one deserved to live with. Fallon and Dearg had to carefully monitor their tempers, lest the change come upon them, rendering them weak as the shift came. She’d resorted to working with them during the night, to fine-tune the shift when they wanted it to happen. They’d made progress every day, to separate their emotion from the dragon’s heart now beating in their breasts.
She’d inquired as to how the Queen accomplished this unheard of feat, listening in distraught horror, realizing the extent the Queen had fallen in morality and sanity alike. Two fledging dragons had been captured and subdued while the Queen stripped their still beating hearts from their breasts. The organs had been placed in Fallon and Dearg’s ribcages during a delicate operation, as magick kept them alive for the entire court to witness. The pain they must’ve endured! Weak and broken, they’d been cast into dirty underground cells to heal. Even Sidhe could sicken and fade under such conditions.
By comparison, Siobhan’s fate paled. Little else endeared someone so quickly to her as the Queen’s special brand of punishment. Further, she’d gotten to know the proud, hardworking men who resided in her small cottage. She smiled shyly, though no one was around. She’d come to care about them in an unexpected, exciting way.
A noise brought up her head. Though the search parties had thinned, the Knights still hunted the woods at random intervals. She hurried through the trees, slathering glamour over her body as she went. She aged her skin, wrinkling her face and hands, dulling the color of her eyes with a layer of grey, making her appear mostly blind. She lightened the green in her hair, streaking the blonde silver.
At the last moment, she switched directions.
Their voices preceded them, mere seconds before the pair of Knights appeared. Her breath slammed from her lungs, heart constricting. Garbhan lead the much shorter Knight. Both carried swords at the ready, as if they anticipated a monster lurking in the shade.
She struggled to keep a calm expression as her gaze collided with the Captain’s.
“Oy, my lady.” Garbhan smiled without the coyness or cunning he was famous for. Bags marred the smooth perfection of his cheeks. “Where did you come from?”
Siobhan cleared her throat, cupping her ear with a curled hand. “What was that now?”
Garbhan sighed. “Why are you out here, all alone?” He yelled loud enough that the birds overhead took flight.
“Searching for berries, kind sir. Going to make me a pie, I will.”
“You live all the way out here?”
“I do.” Mentally she pushed at him, sans magick. Just wishing, praying to the Goddess. Be gone, Captain. I am nothing more than a spindly old woman.
He studied her much too intently. “What are you?”
“Just a forest Spite is all, sir. Gave up my immortality, I did.”
“For what?”
“What else? Love of a mortal, sir.”
The Captain barked a laugh. “You gave up your power for nothing.”
“Love can be everything one person has, sir,” she answered curtly, allowing too much of her dialectic and courtly infliction in her voice. She started off, but Garbhan grabbed her arm.
“You shouldn’t be walking out here alone. Criminals to the crown are afoot in these woods. The Queen has issued an order to kill on sight. I wouldn’t want you getting in the crossfire.”
She swallowed the flutter of nervousness and fear. “Thank you for the warning, kind sir. Home, I’ll go.”
“Good. Stay there.”
She bobbed her head, hoping she’d put enough sagging flesh at her jowls to disgust him. “That I shall, sir, that I shall.”
She forced a limp, not too exaggerated, but enough that her cloak twitched as she fought the urge to run for her life. They didn’t follow. Or so she thought. The blaring race of her heart might’ve covered any sound they’d made.
Time was an enemy, yet forty-five minutes passed as she rounded the forest. Certain they had exited the area, she cut across a stream, soaking the hem of her cloak and dress, which dragged as she came up behind the cottage.
Fallon and Dearg towered over the vegetable garden, hands on their hips. At their feet, lay her basket filled to the brim.
She pulled up short of them. Out here, in the open, wards or no, a Knight could see them. If her inattention became too much, and an archer was here, they’d be shot. Undeniably dead. Her hands shook beneath her cloak.
“Where have you been?” Fallon rushed her, a flush high in her cheeks. “We expected you an hour past.”
A shiver ran down her spine, and she chastised herself. She was better than a sniveling whelp cowering from chastisement.
“I encountered the guard,” she whispered.
Dearg pushed her cloak from her hair, caressing her cheek, turning her face to examine her. “Did they hurt you?”
She smirked away his overprotective concern. “Obviously not. I shrouded myself in glamour. They hadn’t suspected my identity, I’m sure of it. But the Queen has issued a death sentence for both of you.”
Fallon waved the comment off. “They have to find us first, and you’ve done everything in your power to see it not so.”
“I’m not infallible,” Siobhan said, sighing with weariness. Not even noon and the day had stretched passed the Summerlands.
“You’re close enough,” Dearg insisted. “If anyone in the Seelie court or beyond is able, it is you.”
He rang with sincerity. They’d believed in her so much, placed her on a pedestal. She’d break her neck, if she so much as fell from the height.
She went to the wall, pushing her cloak over her arm. She pulled her sword from the scabbard, and untied the belt at her waist. The singing through the air was her only warning. She whirled just in time to parry Dearg’s sword, the metallic clang resonating.
“Do you see my point?” He scarcely missed her jab. “You never let your guard down, not for a moment.”
Siobhan twirled with dancer’s feet as he thrust his sword into what he once perceived her weak spot. She’d allowed him to believe that in practice. She exploited his aggressive nature, by stepping back, relaxing her pose. Allow the enemy to think they’d won, particularly an arrogant one. They’d find their undoing became all too easy.
Dearg feigned right, and she swung left. “Ahh, you’ve learned too much from me.”
She smiled. “No fault, but your own.”
Fallon appeared out of thin air, broadsword in hand. She lunged, hitting his blade hard enough the vibration zinged up both of their arms. She kicked his knee, and toppled his weight.
If she respected anything, it was men who refused to hold back. Noblewomen weren’t supposed to wield weapons, and certainly not with her skill. In the past weeks, Fallon and Dearg had grown accustomed to her eccentrics her father bred into her blood many years ago. As the only child of the highborn noble, he had taught her a great many things young girls shouldn’t know. He’d enjoyed teaching her, much as she’d loved learning.
She leveled the blade, panning back and forth, as she backed against the rack built into the side of her cottage. She caught up another, smaller sword.
“Now you’re cheating.” Fallon grinned.
“In any fight worth fighting, cheating isn’t a term that applies.” As if her arms had detached from her body, she engaged both of them.
“We aren’t taught that as Knights,” Dearg reminded.
“Since when does a Knight care about being fair in war? The objective is the key, not the means to get there, not when so much is at stake.” She parried Dearg, pushed him back with the edge of her blade against his. “The more battles they win, by any means necessary, the greater their status. That’s the point, is it not?” She hooked her short blade under Fallon’s, and kicked him aside. He stumbled, nothing more.
She stepped on a rock, upsetting her balance, and dropped her left sword. She startled herself so badly, she gave Dearg the split second to dart behind her, and butt his sword against her throat.
He snatched her hand, and ran her finger across the edge. She swore when a bead of blood welled on her golden skin.
“First blood,” he whispered in her ear. “You forfeit.”
She rammed her foot into his kneecap. Laughing, they collapsed to the ground together. Fallon rolled over, colliding with them. He took her hand, and held her palm to his chest. The sense of peace descended upon her. The rightness, edged with a familial bond that had developed quickly over a handspan of days. They hunted and cooked by each other’s sides. They slept in the same room, sharing their dreams for imaginary, impossible futures in a safe world.
At first, her suspicious self rose to the forefront, keeping them at arm’s length. However, they’d grown on her like moss to a trunk. Their quick wit, good-natured bickering, and independence enthralled her. She hadn’t expected them to adjust to this life so quickly, but they had each other. She hadn’t. Perhaps it was the eternal solitude of her recent past, but she cherished her time with them.
Their unrelenting loyalty showed in everything they’d done. She wasn’t a fool, most of the time. Her adept ability at reading people never failed her. Not once had she sensed a fault in their pure, honest energies. She’d prayed for a sign that she’d chosen wrong in keeping them. None had shown. If she trusted nothing else, the Goddess’ wisdom was her guide. She felt blessed.
Once she cared for someone, it wasn’t halfway. Either completely in, or out. Now, she’d fight for them, for the horrors they’d witnessed and experienced, protect them from what was to come for them one day.
She looked between the faces of the men who’d filled her life with light, life and noise. Fire and ice, opposites that complimented one another.
The Goddess had truly blessed her. Oh yes, she’d fight for them. Her feelings for them had long since surpassed friendship. Not love by any means. Many centuries had passed between now, and the foolish youth who’d believed in love at first sight. Love grew slowly, softly, a rose bud opening to the languorous rising of the morning sun.
Both touched her, and strung the cords of lust and curiosity, creating potent sensations she’d forgotten, and unsure if she wanted. She pulled away and climbed to her feet. Heading for the house, her mind bickered, nerve endings screaming. In the end, she was a coward.
Dearg dogged her steps. “You aren’t telling us everything. Why so downtrodden?”
She tossed him an impetuous glance over her shoulder and sucked breath through her clenched teeth. “Do not fret. I’ve told you all there is about the Queen’s Knights.”
The house smelled succulent, spicy. A fat, seasoned rabbit roasted on a pit Dearg had fashioned in the hearth. Fallon dropped the basket of vegetables on the table, pulled the blade from the wash bin and dried it.
“Something else then,” Fallon muttered.
Dearg studied her so long she feared he could see all the way to her soul. “Your eyes are shadowed with anxiety. Tell us what ails you so.”
She worried her hands. Sweet Goddess. Backed by sunlight, tossing fiery highlights through his gold, red and black hair, he was a wonder to behold. She’d memorized the strong planes of his face. The way his golden chest looked after a cold dip in the stream.
She moved to Fallon, the cooler of the two, with his blue features and white skin. His bangs fell over his eyes, stealing some of his fieriness. Like now, and on very rare moments, he seemed vulnerable underneath all that muscle and stubbornness.
“Nothing of importance,” she whispered.
A week ago, she promised never to say a word, to bring angst to their fragile, but happy home. They were brothers in blood and hardship. How could she expect to choose between one or the other, without destroying herself in the process?
She busied herself by removing her cloak, taking far too much time carefully folding the irking material that kept sliding in her fingers.
Dearg’s hand covered her own. She startled, her gaze colliding with his.
“You’ve been acting strangely the past few days.”
“I have not,” she snapped too quickly. “I’m merely feeling a little ill.”
“Then you should sit down.” He led her to a chair. She went reluctantly. He knelt before her. “Now, beloved Siobhan.” Her chest tightened. “Tell me what is really wrong. I will not be lied to again, without taking extensive measures.”
She hated the suspicion in his eyes. How had he become so adept at reading her moods?
She exhaled a breath she hadn’t known she held, pushing away the walls closing in around her.
“Why must you press?” she muttered. Dearg wasn’t the type to relent. Not when he got on something. He cocked his brow, stubborn line to his jaw. “So be it then. You want to know? I have come to have too much affection for you both, and this makes me uncomfortable.”
Dearg blinked, his tongue peeking out between his lips. “Affection? We had assumed you enjoyed our company, so naturally, I do not understand the problem.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I do enjoy you being here. But this is more than just affection one has for …friends.”
Fallon watched every minute move. “You want us both as lovers?” His curiosity was almost her undoing.
Dearg brightened, interest spiking.
“Oh, Goddess, help me.” She dropped her face into her hands.
Dearg tried to pry them away, but she wouldn’t budge. “Why are you embarrassed?”
“That is not what I meant at all!”
Fallon’s chair skidded on the dirt floor. His heavy footfalls hit her like thunder. “Why not?”
She lowered her hands. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You care for both of us, as we do for you. The obvious answer is to take us both as lovers. To take only one might cause strife amongst us.”
“But I could never do that.”
“Again,” Fallon said. “Why not? As a highborn Duchess, surely you are accustomed to the way sex is treated at court. Unless, you haven’t participated in the activities.”
“I did for a time,” she admitted quietly. “Near the end, I separated myself from everyone.”
Dearg cocked his head. “When was the last time you had sex?”
She squinted, staring at the wall, as if it may provide an answer. “I do not recall.”
He slapped his knee. “Then we shall remedy that.”
As if the answer was that simple. She scrunched her face, trying to recall the exact moment she’d set herself up for this. “You cannot be serious.”
Fallon nodded. “Quite. That is, if you dare.” The sparkle in his eyes charmed her.
Dearg caressed her leg, an invitation to encourage more. “Come now, Siobhan, if you cannot remember the last time you had flesh sliding across your own then it’s overdue for a reminder. What is a little pleasure, between trusted friends?”
Out of all the possibilities of how this would end, this was not one of her considerations. “This is ludicrous.” But, oh so tantalizing.
“Admit you’re curious.” Fallon crossed the room, and set about removing the rabbit, hooking the smoking meat out of the flame.
“You want to see us naked,” Dearg teased.
He wanted to be blunt? So be it. “I have seen Fallon without his clothes.”
He gasped, mock hurt crossing his expression. “That is not fair.”
“Life is not fair. We just discussed that. Harden yourself to that fact.”
He pushed to his feet, hands wandering to his breeches.
She reeled in her chair. “What are you doing?”
“Evening the odds, of course.”
“Of course,” she said dryly. Then he dropped his pants, and her mouth evaporated of all moisture.
His partially erect cock bobbed at eye level. He was well endowed, past any of her dreams she’d awoken to these past days, wedged between the two hard, strong bodies. She only had room for one bed. He raised his shirt over his head.
She eyed the mattress by mistake.
Dearg took this as all the invitation he needed. He swooped down to her mouth, pulling at her bottom lip with his teeth.
Oh, Goddess, save me.
She closed her eyes and drank him in, all of him. His hands massaged her arms, his stinging kisses that moved down her throat. Fallon came up behind her, and grabbed a handful of hair, arching her neck so his lips replaced Dearg’s at her lips. Unlike their first kiss, this one was filled with untapped longing, a desperate edge that thrilled her.
Dearg braced his arms behind her back, curving her spine on the chair. He left her floundering for a handhold, rendered helpless. Her blood heated, breath gasping in short, euphoric rushes.
She may’ve participated in the occasional causal tryst when the urge overcame her good judgment—say, such as now—but never with more than one man. She’d witnessed or happened upon an orgy or two in her time. To be the sole focus of two luscious specimens was more than her nerve endings could bear.
Dearg unlaced the back of her gown, and for once, she cursed that she still dressed as a noble outward in. Good fortune had stopped her from wearing petticoats that hampered her ability to hunt and garden, but at her core, she was still a lady.
She escaped Fallon’s kiss long enough to watch Dearg take her bodice in his teeth and lower the material halfway down her silk corset. His gaze burned with lust and curiosity.
“I do adore you, for dressing as a woman should,” he murmured, skimming his fingers over the tops of her swollen breasts. “The better to disrobe you.”
She squeaked as he licked her collarbone, tongue dipping deep into her cleavage. He deftly untied the corset, her breath coming a little easier with each loosening, albeit not much.
He tossed the corset behind him, his grin a wicked promise. With lithe grace, they switched places. Fallon pulled his shirt off with aching slowness, followed by his pants an inch at a time. Unlike the first time she’d seen him in a state of undress, this wasn’t hectic. No feeling of urgent danger overcame her.
Wait. No. She was wrong there. These two men created the term danger, and their urgency infused her. Individual thought was lost. Sensation ruled.
Fallon collapsed to his knees and spread her legs, pushing the material to her waist, grazing her inner thighs with feather light strokes. Sizzling jolts raced her pulse to her core. He kept eye contact as he leaned in, setting his teeth on her hip. Her muscles clenched, aching while he nibbled across her belly. His fingers parted her soft folds, running the pad of his finger over her clit, pushing up to find a small knot of nerves that sung at his attention.
She slung her head back, resting against Dearg’s stomach. He kneaded her breasts, tweaking the hard nipples. Her lips parted, a ragged groan torn from her mouth.
Breath hitching, Fallon licked her clit, an exploratory endeavor. He growled low in his throat, going in for another slow, leisurely pass. Then, the initial discovery over, he sucked the soft flesh into his mouth, rolling his tongue over and over again.
Too startled to scream, she writhed. Dearg chuckled darkly. “There is good reason for his nickname.”
She’d agree, if her mind would permit an entire word to form. Her hand burrowed in all that blue-black hair that cascaded over her legs, a sensuous curtain. She damned near crawled out of her own skin as waves of pleasure shook her body. He lifted her thighs over his shoulders, banding his arm over her abdomen, pinning her to the chair. Only then, had she remembered how to scream. Long, shrill, wordless pleas.
She clawed Dearg’s hips, his erection pressing the back of her neck, reminding her of a purpose, a half thought. She needed to be filled, any way she could get them. She tipped her head, gripping the base of his thick, straining cock. She licked a fine line across the rim, sliding the tip into her mouth, and then swallowing half of his length.
The liquefied ecstasy became too much.
Dearg groaned as she hooked her ankle around Fallon’s back, poising herself over the back of the chair. She straightened her body, better for him to slide down her throat. He stroked himself with her mouth, tongue and light grazing of teeth.
The orgasm slammed her, a tidal wave of trembling inner muscles and fluid heat. Fallon rose from his avid attentions. Through feel alone, she tracked him. He glided the head of his cock against her soaked folds, separating the flesh as he pushed inside. She squirmed as her underused body sang with relief. He stretched her, putting her through her paces, until she was filled to the brim with all that was Fallon.
As he plunged deep, her hips jerked, creating a searing rhythm punctuated by Dearg moving in perfect sync. Every time Dearg thrust, Fallon withdrew. The sensation rocked her senses.
Her womb clenched, the tails of the orgasm still throwing sparks through her blood stream, as the next began to crest. Fallon thickened inside of her, the last bit of friction she needed to throw herself off the precipice. Her throat tightened around Dearg. He cried out as he came mere seconds before Fallon. Never had she felt such resounding joy, mutual pleasure in the taking and giving of sex.
She collapsed against the chair, Dearg draped over her upper body, Fallon resting against her heaving chest. Her heart thundered, blood roared in her ears, a soft, lazy smile turning the ends of her lips into an elf’s smile.
ns 15.158.61.6da2
