Serpentine Tongue (5 page)

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.