Queen's Heart: An Arthurian Paranormal Romance (Arthurian Hearts Book 2) (31 page)

Tris, his battle with himself already lost, snaked an arm about my waist to pull me away, Des’ grip on me resisting him.

Tugged between, I asked, “Is it possible then? Or would you kill each other before the night was done?”

Madness hinted in the twist of Tris’ face and by the pain of his grip. It flickered in his eyes, darkening the hazeled depths of them.

Another kind of madness pricked at Des. “You rouse me only to abandon me?” He grimaced, his distress evident.

Hero it could be to poke at one angry bear. Only a fool would stir up two.

It had, of course, been a foolish hope. Separate, our loves transcended the glory of heaven itself. Together, it raked the coals of hell.

Now here I stood, caught between two irresistible forces as surely as Odysseus had found himself trapped between Scylla and Charybdis, sea monster and whirlpool. All I had succeeded in was adding yet another layer of despair over the heartbreak of Des’ farewelling.

“This isn’t the memory I had prepared myself to leave with.” The accusation, disappointment and utter ache in Des’ voice robbed me of strength.

Knees giving, I sagged between them, half in surrender, half in supplication. “Nor I.”

“Nor I,” Tris echoed, though madness yet edged his tone.

Des dropped to his knees in front of me. “No games.”

I shook my head.

Behind me, Tris knelt too. “None,” he agreed. The effort to control the jealous demon within him was palpable.

If not for Tris, I would have, willingly and eagerly, given Des the farewell that he deserved—a long, slow night of sighs and gentle caresses ending in a frenzy of delight.

With Tris simmering on the edge of madness, I chose each touch with care, kissing first down one arm of brawn that held me till he drew it over my shoulders and urged me near. He bent his head, lips brushing the swell of breasts above the neckline of my russet gown. A hand beneath lifted one and then the other for his pleasure.

Tris, an arm still wrapped about my waist, rested his chin on my shoulder to watch. Their foreheads touched as Des’ tongue stretched beneath the ribbon of piping to flick at the peak it concealed.

Sliding the hem of his tunic up, I slipped my hand under, running palm and fingers across the ripples of his stomach before capturing him in the warm circle of my grip.

He gasped.

Behind me, Tris stirred uneasily.

Raising his head from my bodice, Des sought my lips. We kissed, deep, as he filled my hand. When I moved my fingers on him, he grabbed the front of Tris’ tunic and pulled him closer, leaving my lips cold as he took Tris’ in their stead in burning need.

I nipped at his neck and licked at his throat as the slide of my grip grew more insistent.

“Faster,” he begged. Breaths ragged now, he squeezed at my breasts as he plunged his tongue into Tris.

My hand on Des was joined then by another, large and firm and deadly dangerous. Closing over mine it matched the rhythm.

Then Des’ lips were again on mine, the scent and taste of Tris that lingered on them an added aphrodisiac.

Des jerked in our hands. My stomach muscles fluttered. He jerked again, and muscles that remembered him once inside of me clenched in response. When he jerked a third time and fae seed spilled warm across our hands, I groaned in release right along with him, sucking hard at the tongue that stabbed within.

Nuzzling our necks, Tris moaned in concert with us, his arm tightening about me. Through the gown at my back I felt him rigid and ready. “Later,” I whispered, not a rebuke but a promise. I knew Tris understood. This moment was for Des. Tris and I would have our lifetime.

His cheek to mine, Tris nudged my lips aside and finished my kiss with Des. His fingers unclasped mine from where they rested around Des still, and he drew my hand up into the chill of the night.

Uncoupling me from Des. By his will.

I saw the shroud of jealousy thickening around him, a veil he had kept parted only by the strength of that not-inconsiderable will for the moments we’d had. His gift to us, to himself.

Des understood.

“Thank you,” he whispered, to me, to Tris, to Fate.

Then he rose, our Adonis, doffing the tunic and standing for the moment proud before us, his every emotion at our parting as naked as he. For us he smiled, and the moon hid her shame at such radiance.

“God keep you, Des,” I murmured, for nothing else to be said between us needed words to say it.

“Go in peace,” Tris whispered, and his voice nearly broke on the farewell.

“Edrun,” Des said softly. “My true name… it’s Edrun.”

He shifted then, leaving us with the last gift of his name and the miracle of the hound who had saved us.

Still on our knees, Tris and I listened to the bittersweet music of his baying until distance swallowed it, perhaps forever.

Then, putting aside thought of Mark and Andret and any doom our future might bring, I made good on my promise, and Tris and I forged our own sweet song beneath the stars.

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OTHER WORKS

Arthurian Hearts Series
(Arthurian Paranormal Romance)

HEARTSONG (Book 1)
QUEEN’S HEART (Book 2)

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Arthurian
(Non-Paranormal but with Romance Elements)

SPOIL OF WAR

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Medical Thriller

SECTOR C

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Find Phoenix’s Books on Amazon

HEARTSONG
(Arthurian Hearts Book 1)

A sexy historical paranormal.
Includes M/F and light menage.

In the time of King Arthur, the greed of men as they spread across the British Isles is driving out the magic of the fae. Brinn is one of the fair folk, betrothed to the son of Herne, Leader of The Wild Hunt. By night, in her Gabriel Hound form, Brinn runs with her pack, wreaking justice on those who desecrate the land.

Alain and Pellinore, under orders from their father, King Pellam, attempt to negotiate a peace among the march lords stalking the borderlands of Listeneise. When they unwittingly thrall an injured Brinn, she knows only one thing can free her: the blood of her captors.

But freedom may not be so easily won as the three of them form a grudging bond that soon turns intimate. Love should be easy, but The Wild Hunt wants Brinn back, the Questing Beast wants Pel, and Alain wants the impossible
—
to keep them both at his side.

SPOIL OF WAR

Elsbeth of Olmsbury desires nothing beyond helping her father run his dukedom - until the duke's forces are overwhelmed, his castle torched and Elsbeth seized for the invading king's personal spoil. Expecting the same abuse as the other surviving women of her house, Elsbeth instead finds the king, Leodegrance, treating her with a civility that belies his flagrant desire for her. A desire that will have her his consort in Cameliard once he can convince her rank and duty alone forced his hand against her father.

But Elsbeth is not so easily won. There is the matter of Leodegrance gifting his steward with an unwilling young handmaid from Elsbeth's household. Of his marriage of convenience to his Byzantine queen. And of his plans to subjugate more of Britain's citadels and unite the wild isle under Roman rule.

If Elsbeth can't find her tangled way to forgiveness with the king
—
or escape the dark designs and perverse desires of Uther Pendragon, enemy to them both
—
then a legend of Camelot may never be conceived, never be born, and never change history forever...

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Please note: This novel takes place in a harsh era when spoils were often treated as commodities. While the violence toward women and children is period-appropriate and for mature adults only, it is never gratuitous. The story focuses on adaptation, survival and, ultimately, love in the Dark Ages before Arthur was made king.