Beauty [A Faery Story 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (9 page)

Bron’s nose wrinkled. “I think if Cian had known you were trying to push Maris out, he would have sent her over the edge of the moat. He couldn’t stand her, and she hated him. I always wondered what father was thinking selecting a mate who hated one of her proposed husbands. You would have been a better choice. Do you think they bonded?”

Gillian’s mouth turned down. “I’ve heard rumors.”

Bron leaned forward. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up, and it could all be peasant rabble-rousing. We have no way of knowing. They say the kings have bonded and formed a true triad.”

Bron sat back, her head spinning with the thought. A true triad. It was a legend. The story went that when a pair of symbiotic twins found their perfect mate, they came into godlike powers. In the past, some could call water to their aid, walking on it and forming huge waves to crush their enemies, while others had the power to talk to all manner of beast, building an army of predators. But it was merely a legend. If it had happened before, it was so long ago no one on either of the planes could remember it. Surely it was merely a rumor. Symbiotic twins were rare and powerful, but they couldn’t control the elements.

Some could call forth the dead, bringing them back to life when his power merged with fire.

Bron chilled a little. Where had that thought come from?

She shook it off. It didn’t matter. “I pray the rumors are true and that Beck and Cian have found their mate. I don’t believe the true triad stuff. I just want my brothers alive and happy and safe.”

She hoped they were out there, perhaps on the Vampire plane with their cousin Dante, enjoying life. They didn’t know she was alive. It was better that way. They could have their family without risking themselves. Even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew Torin wouldn’t allow it. As long as Beck and Ci drew breath, he would plot to kill them. He had to.

And Bron had to stay alive. Because in the end, her brothers would be forced to come back to Tir na nÓg one way or another. She took a deep breath, the cool night air filling her lungs. That was a battle for another day.

“I’ll deal with Micha. He’ll want a grand wedding. He’s intent on inviting the queen herself.” Maris. Bron’s fist clenched. Maris, the betrayer. Over the years, Bron had come to understand that Maris had been the one to open the palace gates and allow Torin’s marauders in. Maris, who had pledged to love her brothers. Maris, whose corpse Bron intended to see tossed over her husband’s.

Gillian stood, seemingly satisfied with that bit of news. “Excellent. A wedding like that will take months to plan. We can sell our crops and disappear. Perhaps a seaside province this time. I’ve long wanted to try my hand with a fishing net.”

Gillian enjoyed a challenge. “We’ll have the most profitable boat in no time.”

Gillian nodded and left. Bron’s heart raced a bit as she got under the covers and snuffed out her candle. She settled into the firm straw mattress, wiggling around until she was as comfortable as she was likely to be.

Moonlight streamed in, casting everything with a silvery glow. Bron closed her eyes and prayed for sleep.

* * * *

She walked into the room, white marble under her feet. This was the White Palace, her home. She knew it, even years later. It played in the back of her mind that it was probably different now. Thirteen years of Torin’s rule had undoubtedly changed the place, but in her dreams, the palace was still her sunny home, unchanged, undimmed by faulty memory.

She turned her face up. This was the sunshine room. Oh, her mother called it the waiting room, where she and her ladies sat and sewed and chatted, but Bronwyn called it the sunshine room because it was always filled with light.

A familiar shape moved just out of the light’s reach. This shape hid in shadows.

Her Dark Ones.

“Are you coming out?” Bron called, teasing them a bit. She caught sight of one and then the other, their forms clinging to the edge of the light.

“Why don’t you come back in?” They spoke in one voice, a slight echo in the words.

It was always this way. Come morning, she knew she would wonder why she never sat down and talked to them, but caught in the dream, she simply did what felt right.

They didn’t love the light the way she did, but they would wait for her. She turned her face up to the sun, letting it warm her. The sun felt different here. In her village, it was always so hot during the summers, but at the palace the sun was a soft kiss on her skin, warming her gently.

“We can kiss you better than the sun. Come here.”

She smiled, not looking their way just yet. They grew surer and more dominant with each night. It was hard to believe that they had come to her as children. She’d been five and so shy of the boys who had called out to her in dreams.

She wanted to play with them now but not as children.

Her nipples tightened against the soft silk of her gown.

“If you don’t come to us, we’ll be forced to get you, sweetheart. It might not go well for you,” the more dominant voice said.

“He’s itching to spank you, love. Give him a reason.” This second voice was gentler, but there was no mistaking his interest.

Nor hers. She could explore everything in these dreams, and lately, her interests had taken a distinctly disciplinary tone. She wondered if they would really spank her. She wondered how it would feel.

“Yes, and you’ll love it.”

She felt a strong hand at her wrist and the scene changed. She was no longer in the palace, but some dark place where the marble at her feet was black and the room was dominated by an enormous bed draped with curtains.

Her Dark Ones stood by the bed. Twins. So alike she hadn’t been able to tell them apart at first, but then she’d assigned them numbers. One was the rougher of the twins, though his hands were always gentle on her skin. Two had a sweet smile and liked to talk dirty.

“Where are we?” she asked.

One’s brows rose. “We are where I want us to be. In our home. In our bed.”

Never answers. She’d grown accustomed. They were dressed identically in dark leather pants. Those clothes were unlike anything in Tir na nÓg. The leather they made here didn’t have the supple feel of the twins’ clothes.

“You’re beautiful tonight, love,” Two said with a long sigh. “But I would love to see more of you.”

One’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we explained this before. You don’t need garments around your men. You need only your own sweet skin.”

She crossed her arms over her breasts. “You have no problem with pants, I see.”

One’s lips curved up in a wicked smile, his satisfaction a palpable thing. “A bratty mouth will bring you nothing but trouble, sweetheart.”

He used that word often.
Brat
. She remembered her cousin calling her a brat when they were young. He would pull her pigtails lightly and laugh and call her brat. It was a phrase from the Vampire plane to speak of sweetly disobedient girls.

“I don’t see why I should be naked when the two of you are clothed.” She could feel the smile on her face. Her dreams had been more and more sensual in nature. In the last several years, since the dreams had flared back to life, each night they went a little further. It had started with an embrace, their arms wrapping around her when she’d realized they were once again with her. Those dreams had been little flashes she couldn’t seem to hold on to no matter how hard she tried. She’d clung to One and Two until they faded. Then gradually each had become more solid, the dreams lasting longer.

That was when the kissing had begun. What kisses they were. Long, slow kisses that seemed to last for hours. Just lips at first, and then One had boldly traced her lips with his tongue.

One was suddenly in front of her, his eyes warm as though he could read her thoughts. His hand came up, tracing her lips as his tongue had. “You like kissing.”

“I like kissing you.” She went up on her tiptoes, leaning in to brush her mouth against his.

He backed away, frowning. “Me? Who else do you kiss?”

She felt her eyes roll. Even in her dreams, men were difficult. “I’m twenty-seven years old. I have been caught by roving hands and held down for unwanted kisses. There isn’t a peasant alive who hasn’t suffered worse than me. I’ve had my guardian to protect me. Count yourself lucky that Gillian isn’t in my dreams, for you would find yourself unable to kiss me.”

“I think your guardian would show favor to our suit,” Two said from behind her.

Bron sighed. She loved being surrounded by them. One moved back in, his hand cupping her cheek.

“I don’t want another’s hand on you,” he said, his eyes serious.

She began to pull away. “I am a virgin, but I’m not without the experience of a man nearly taking from me that which is mine to give. If it had happened, you would not touch me. Leave me be. I’ll seek another dream.”

He pulled her close. “Stop, brat. I didn’t say that. I said I didn’t want another’s hand on you. You’re ours. Our love, our heart. You can’t expect us to be happy with such a thing.” He tangled a hand in her hair. “I hate that we are not able to protect you.”

She hated that they were not real. She wasn’t stupid. They were a projection of her own needs. When she had been a child, she’d needed companionship, and the Dark Ones had been there for her. Now, she needed love and protection, and her soul cried out for a lover she couldn’t take. And her Dark Ones were here for her. They were her dream and her nightly refuge.

She sighed and relaxed, letting her hands slide on his muscular chest. His skin was warm and smooth, covering corded muscle. One was so overwhelming. Two was softer. She needed them both, but now she craved One’s dominance. Her life was so out of control.

She wanted their touch.

“Kiss me,” she said.

One frowned down at her. “You sound like a princess when you say that. Do you think you can order me around, princess? Do you think I’m your slave?”

Two kissed the back of her neck, causing her to shiver. She couldn’t be sure, but she would almost swear she felt the lightest scrape of something sharp along her skin. “I damn well am her slave, brother.”

One reached out and smacked his twin’s head. “Don’t give up my game, brother. We both know who’s in charge, but when we’re bedding her, it’s going to be us in the lead.” He stared down at her, his deep, dark eyes pulling at her. “Princess, we’re going to be your Masters in the bedroom. Do you understand what that means?”

“You want me to be a slave?” The term rankled.

“I want you to be the submissive partner, princess. It’s the way relationships work where we come from. There’s a Dominant partner or partners and a submissive, usually the female. It means we’re to take care of you in all things.”

What did it say about the enormous responsibilities of the last thirteen years of her life that when she fantasized about a relationship, it was with men who wanted to take the lead? Still, she couldn’t let all of her control go. Not even in a dream.

“I can let you take the lead in this, but know I’m still my own woman.”

He chuckled lightly. “I wouldn’t have you any other way. You wouldn’t be alive today if you were less of a woman than you are.”

It was true, and she didn’t want to think about any of that right now. She didn’t want to think about the fact that she had to deal with the mayor tomorrow. The festival would be crowded enough that she could avoid him until she absolutely had to stand beside him and announce their engagement. She would play the demure fiancée and plead the harvest to keep from his company. As soon as the money was in Gillian’s hands, they would disappear.

Micha was a momentary problem. Her Dark Ones were more important.

“All right then, you should tell me what you want me to do. You seemed to have enjoyed kissing me before.” She directed her question to One since Two was once again preoccupied. His hands smoothed over her shoulders and down her arms as his mouth was again on the nape of her neck. The heat of his body surrounded her, and she could feel something hard pressed against her lower back.

His male part. His cock. She’d heard the village women giggle as they talked of their husbands and lovers. They often spoke of cocks and how much pleasure a cock could bring. Bron had watched the animals mate in the fields, but the women around her told her that making love to a man was very different.

This certainly felt different.

She rubbed back against Two.

“Hey. Don’t you forget me.” One pressed in, trapping her between their massive, muscular bodies. She was deliciously crushed in between them. “And I love kissing you, princess. We both do. Now calm down and let us take control. We’re getting closer. Can you feel it?”

Something did feel different. Their voices were stronger than before. Where they used to whisper, now they spoke in strong tones. Where the touches and caresses had once been light and soft as a spring breeze, they felt solid and real to her.

“I feel it. I want you here with me.” She wanted to never wake up. She wanted to sink so far into the dream that it became her reality. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about killing Torin or saving her people. She wouldn’t have to find a place to hide Mags and Ove. She wouldn’t have to plot ways to keep Micha’s hands off her. She could simply be their submissive.