Courting Darkness (9 page)

“How can we get in there to save him?” The thought of getting past the Bog Eater—an Elder Fae—was terrifying, but if Menolly could deal with the Maiden of Karask, we could cope with the Bog Eater.

Aeval crooked her head to the side, a faint smile on her face. “I can rip open their portal, but I will not go in with you. I’ve better things to do with my time. But you should go soon—tomorrow at the latest.”

Leaning back, I closed my eyes. This was all too much. To come home to the news about Hyto and now—this? I wanted to scream.

“Tomorrow then? Day or night?”

“Day. I am no vampire; I can walk abroad during the daylight hours. The two of you—no more—be here by noonsong, and bring your weapons. You will need them. Remember: The full-blooded Fae love silver. A silver blade will be of use, but not as much as cold steel.” She looked at me. “Or iron. You know of what I speak.”

And with that, she dismissed us.

We headed out to the cart, and Delilah took the reins, guiding the horse back to the parking lot. She tucked me in the passenger seat of the Lexus and I dozed all the way home, unable to even verbalize my thoughts.

By the time we reached home, I’d caught a little bit of a second wind, but it wouldn’t last long. The three-story Victorian had never seemed so welcoming, and I wearily pulled myself up the porch steps. Once we were inside, we found everybody still up, waiting to hear what had happened. We ran down the gist of what had happened at Talamh Lonrach Oll, and then, before anybody could say a word, I raised my hand for silence.

“Somebody call Menolly at the bar and fill her in. I need to go to bed.” I stood up, all too aware of the aching in my body that cried out for peace and relief from the chill.

Smoky stood. “She’s correct. We were hard pressed in the Northlands. Iris, you need your rest also. We can discuss this over breakfast.” He swept me into his arms, and—followed by Trillian—carried me up the stairs.

I leaned against him; the scent of cool wind and snow clung to his shirt, and his ankle-length silver hair reached around to caress my arm. We stopped in Morio’s room first—he had been set up in my study, in a hospital bed. Although he was allowed to sit up and even walk a bit, my youkai-kitsune needed every ounce of energy he could conserve in order to heal.

His topaz eyes flashed with a smile as the three of us entered the room. Trillian checked to make sure Morio had plenty of water and snacks, and Smoky deposited me in the chair next to the hospital bed. I leaned against the mattress and reached out to take Morio’s hand.

He had dark hair, long enough to trail down his back, and he was of Japanese descent, lean and wiry, strong as a demon—which, in essence, he was. In his fox form, he could dart rings around Delilah, and in his demonic form, he towered over everyone, eight feet of fighting machine.

Now he just looked a little tired, but the color was returning to his cheeks and he seemed in good spirits.

“Are you feeling better, my love?” I leaned over and kissed his lips.

“Only a few weeks till I’m allowed back on my feet. I’m still tired, but I can tell my health is returning.” He brushed back my hair and trailed his hand down my cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home safe. They told me you made it back but that you were immediately called out. How’s Iris? Did she accomplish her mission?”

“She did. I’ll let Smoky tell you about our trip. Meanwhile, I just want to rest and sleep.”

Trillian took my hand, guiding me up. He turned to Smoky. “Camille’s weary. We can take away her fatigue.” The corners of his lips turned up in a faint smile.

Smoky frowned. He was possessive—all dragons were—but he’d learned to share. I seldom went to bed without at least two of my husbands with me.

“I’ll be in after I tell Morio what happened. Don’t start without me.” He kissed me deeply, his tongue flashing in and out of my mouth as tendrils of his hair slowly caressed my shoulders, stirring me even through my exhaustion. I leaned down and gave Morio a goodnight kiss, and he returned it.

“I promise you,” he whispered, “Menolly and I kept apart during your absence.”

“I’m not worried,” I whispered back.

I allowed Trillian to guide me back to the bedroom. As tired as I was, I knew that sex would rejuvenate me and help me sleep. I enjoyed the thrill of my husbands’ hands trailing down my sides, of their bodies filling me full in every way. I realized Trillian was right. I needed sex, I needed to release all the tension that had built up, but my energy was so low that I could do little in the way of initiating anything.

Trillian shut the door behind us, turning to me. “My Camille,” he whispered, and began to undress me, one piece of clothing at a time. I held out my arms and closed my eyes, almost shy.

“Make me forget,” I said softly. “Make me forget everything except your touch and smell and taste.”

With a crafty laugh, Trillian reached for me.

Trillian stood in back of me, wrapping one arm around my waist, and with the other he ran his hand along my skin, fingers long and narrow, making me shiver. I let out a long breath and leaned my head back against his chest, drifting at the feel of his touch.

I could sense him—I could sense all my men, thanks to the Soul Symbiont ritual. We’d bound ourselves into a quartet, forever and always, beyond time, beyond death. But Trillian was my alpha; he’d been the first man I’d ever truly loved—not the first one I’d fucked, but the first one I’d loved. Magnets we were, from the very beginning, and we’d defied family and custom to be together.

He blew in my ear, a gentle stream, tickling me until I laughed and reached up to swish him away.

“Stop.” It came out as a whisper, but the force behind his voice cut through and I dropped my hand. “I want to possess you tonight. I want to be your master.”

“You are my alpha.” I acquiesced, my own voice low and sultry, caught in the rising passion that filtered through my system as if I’d drunk sweet wine or a fiery brandy. My tiredness gave way as the desire began to build, and the combination made for a delicious sensation as I gave myself over to Trillian.

“Dance for me, my beloved.” He slowly let go of me and crossed to the bed, sitting on it, crossing one leg over the other as he leaned back on his palms, watching me.

I flicked on the music, as my heart rose to match the heavy beat. Slowly, I began to sway my hips to the drums, sliding my hands up my body to cup my breasts. And then the music took over and I immersed myself in the song, my skirt swirling as I turned, trailing my fingers along my sides, over my breasts, up to greet the stars.

Swaying lightly, I gently rolled my head to let my hair trail down my back. As I fell into the music, the beat became a rhythm mirrored by my body, carrying me away down a dark path, fraught with bloodred roses and night-blooming jasmine. And then, just like that, I was topless and my breasts bounced gently as I freed them.

Trillian let out a short gasp and I caught his gaze, drawn to him like a moth to flame.

“I want to fuck you hard and fast,” he whispered. “I want to feel my cock in your mouth. I want to eat you out, hear you scream, rub my face against your breasts.” His words, raw but not coarse, sent a shiver up my spine. I loved hearing my men tell me what they wanted to do to me.

Just then, the door opened, and Smoky entered the room. I whirled, so ready to be played, like a harp, like the drums, like an instrument of joy.

He glanced at Trillian, then back at me as his hair rose up to grasp my wrists, the silken strands coiling around my skin, their grip so strong I couldn’t break it even if I wanted to. A faint smile broke through his lips, turning them up just enough at the corners to remind me that he might look like a man, but he was all dragon, hungry and possessive.

His hair stretched my arms wide as the strands brought my hands up to slide them behind my head and hold them there firmly. My hips shifted in sync with the slow pulse that echoed through the room.

The music picked up, switching songs, and I was in a woodland glade as the threads of Smoky’s hair swirled me out, twirling on my toes. And then, I was free again, the music playing a trail of bread crumbs for me to follow. The room darkened as Smoky lit candles and turned off the lights.

At some point, I unzipped my skirt, letting it drop to the ground. Eyes closed, naked I danced, leaving care behind, leaving worry behind, letting the music cleanse and purify me as it burned through my body.

And then an arm snaked around me, and my eyes flew open to meet Trillian’s; he was holding me by the waist as he circled with me, both of us caught in the web of music. We circled the room, the music growing darker, and he let out a low growl, ripping off his shirt.

His jet black skin glistened under the light. I gasped, once again mesmerized by his beautiful body. Slender but well built, he had the perfect V-waist. A thin sheen of perspiration glistened over his muscles, and I snaked toward him, pressing my tongue to his neck, and slowly—ever slowly—I slid down his body, drinking in the salty taste of his skin, the drops of water melting in my mouth as I approached his belt.

I knelt in front of him and reached for his buckle, and—with precise movements—opened it and slowly drew the belt out of the loops and tossed it away. He reached down and unzipped his pants, and I slid them down his legs, facing his erection, thick and pulsing.

From behind me, I felt Smoky step up to press against my back, and I turned to him. He had undressed and now his hair fluttered, ankle length, around him as if a wind had caught it up and was tousling it. The silver strands whipped this way and that, dancing to the music. Caught between fire and ice, I reached up and grasped Smoky’s cock in my hands, leaned over and trailed a line of kisses along its length.

He moaned, his head dropping back as his hair went snapping into the air. Holding him firm in my hand, I turned to Trillian and slid my lips over the head of his penis, the salty taste of his pre-cum tickling my tongue. I knew them, intimately—my men—inside and out. I reveled in the taste of their bodies, the feel of their skin against mine, their girth inside me, filling me full, spreading me wide, taking me out of my head when the demons played too loudly against my thoughts.

As my lips formed suction around the tip of his penis, Trillian shuddered. I began to slowly lower myself onto my hands and knees, facing him, snaking my tongue down his length, slightly widening my mouth so I could take more of him in. Quarter inch by quarter inch, I swallowed him down. Breathing through my nose, I matched my breathing to the rhythm of the music, slow and pulsing, as Trillian began to pump ever so gently into my mouth, sliding in and out between my lips.

And then Smoky was kneeling behind me, his fingers reaching around my waist, down to finger my clit, tweaking me, caressing me, driving me higher as my desire grew on dragon wings. I let out a muffled moan as my pale knight thrust himself inside me, sliding through the folds of my pussy, pulsating with hunger and life.

As Smoky began to drive deeper into me, the music shifted and we were riding a breezy riff, a flute leading us like the proverbial piper, and I closed my eyes, my tongue flickering along the length of Trillian’s cock, the shining darkness of his skin in sharp contrast to my own paleness.

A flash of light flared on one of Trillian’s thighs and for the briefest of seconds, I saw one of the spiraling tattoos that had buried itself within him—and within me—during our initial bonding. The silver spiral shimmered through the depths of his skin and then was gone, but I knew it had merely faded from sight. The bond we’d forged that night in the temple would never break—not only were we bound by the Soul Symbiont ritual, but by the Ritual of Eleshinar.

Smoky’s hands found my waist and held tight as his hair took over. The silky threads found their way to curl around my nipples, and one strand began tickling my clit, stroking lightly across it, vibrating to the music, driving me further into my sex haze.