Terra's Victory (Destiny's Trinities Book 7) (8 page)

Finally,
finally
, the two of them let her breasts go and turned their attention elsewhere.

Zack lifted her knee and draped it over his legs, separating her thighs and opening her up. She heard the soft sound of his zipper lowering. Yet it was Lindal’s fingers that stroked between her thighs.

Beth gasped at the light touch. Her clit was swollen and aching to be touched, but he avoided it. Instead, he pushed his fingers a little way inside her. She could hear the slippery sound of her arousal. She was very wet.

He pulled out of her. His hand was removed and then returned to her heated skin. This time he stroked his fingers back, pressing them against her ass, testing the muscle. His fingers were slick.

Lubricant.

He pushed against her ass, teasing, then pressed inside. He was preparing her and that made her pleasure rise. Zack was also running his hand over her in light strokes, from her knee to her breasts, in a wandering circuit, making her nerves fizz and stir.

Every touch and stroke was enhanced because she was pinned between the two of them, spread open and exposed. She was completely vulnerable, theirs to do with as they wished.

Most of her days she spent braced, fending off irate vampire elders, pissed off elves, enemy incursions, medical emergencies, all while working to ensure humans did not learn of their existence. Throughout her days, she was constantly trying to think ahead, to outmaneuver the Grimoré, to find the end to the war she had virtually promised everyone would come.

This moment now, here between Lindal and Zack, was the only time she could afford to be weak, to lie back and accept things being done to her, instead of being the one who got things done.

It was heady and delightful.

Zack’s cock pressed up against her ass and she could feel it was as slick as she was, beating with heat and pulse. He pushed inside her, spreading her open. Beth breathed, making herself relax, letting him in.

When he was fully inside her, Zack rolled over onto his back, bringing her with him. He shifted inside her at the movement, then pushed deeper.

Her head came to rest next to his, her back pressed against his chest. He turned his chin and kissed her cheek, as he wound his arms beneath hers. He stroked her breasts and Beth gasped at the touch. Every nerve end was awake and alert now. The brush of his fingertips was electrifying.

Lindal arranged her legs, spreading her open. The bedroom door was ajar and light came from the living room, so his view of her pussy and of Zack’s cock buried in her would be clear.

He stared down at her as he stripped off the jeans and shirt, dropping them to the floor. His cock emerged, standing almost vertically erect and he stroked it, looking down at her.

Beth’s heart pounded at the sight, at her helplessness, at what would happen next.

When Lindal settled on his knees at the foot of the bed and leaned on his stomach, between her knees and Zack’s, Beth thought she might climax right then as she realized what he planned to do to her.

He ran his hand through her cleft and Zack hissed as his finger trailed around the base of his cock. Beth could feel Zack twitch inside her.

Lindal bent his head. His tongue swept along the path his fingers had just taken and Beth moaned at the soft, wildly arousing touch.

He pushed his fingers back inside her, stretching her around him and rubbing against the walls with insistent pleasure.

His mouth closed over her clitoris, sucking on it. His tongue teased and prodded it, with a hard pressure that made Beth arch against Zack, her breath stalling.

Her climax leapt. She couldn’t stop it. It rose up in her like a tide, making nerves flare and her pleasure spiral. She couldn’t catch her breath.

Her climax slammed into her with the impact of a runaway train and her senses failed for a few heartbeats, while the spike of pleasure gripped her in its fist, pulsing.

Then she fell back against Zack, almost boneless.

Except that Lindal didn’t stop. He stroked her clit, his fingers moving in a steady, hard thrusting motion inside her.

Beth gasped as excitement rekindled and the newly frayed nerves responded. She was going to come again. Lindal was going to pull it out of her,
make
her come again, overriding her body’s natural inclination to relax and shut down.

“She’s squeezing me,” Zack breathed. “I could come from that alone.” His fingers were still teasing, still in motion, although now he was tugging at her nipples, matching Lindal’s quick, steady rhythm.

Beth didn’t have the breath to answer him. She was gasping, making ragged, hoarse sounds, as Lindal drove her to another orgasm.

This time, the climax seemed to flow over her. It was heated, sparkling water, while iridescent streaks flashed across her vision.

Zack groaned and she could feel his cock moving in little, helpless thrusts inside her.

“Wait for me,” Lindal told him, as he climbed onto the bed on his knees. His cock was twitching.

He bent over them and eased his way into Beth’s pussy. She was sopping wet. Taking the two of them stretched her and gave her a sensation of fullness that was unique and incredibly satisfying.

Lindal’s breath was also hurried and uneven. He gripped her hips as he thrust deep, then pulled out of her and pushed back in.

“Oh, God…” Beth breathed. It was wonderful. She squirmed as a climax flowered deep in her belly and began to build.

Lindal’s hips worked hard as he drove himself into her over and over again. His fingers dug into her hips, holding her down so he could get deeper. From countless other occasions, she could tell he was going to come very soon. His eyes were nearly closed as he became lost in the pleasure.

Zack was groaning almost continually, his hips jerking beneath her. He was the first to come, his cock pulsing and jerking inside her. His hands clamped down on her breasts, holding her still while he pumped.

His pleasure set off her own. Beth came with a cry that strained her throat. It felt as if every muscle she had clenched in response, even her heart stilled, sampling the pure thrill pouring through her.

Lindal gave a hoarse cry as he came, his fingers digging even deeper, until he stilled, the tension gripping him. She could feel his cock pulsing, spilling its seed.

Until finally he, too, sagged over the top of them. He withdrew and eased her back onto the mattress, as Zack slipped out of her and pulled her up against him.

Beth was back to feeling the ache of tiredness tugging at her once more, only this time, she knew she would sleep. She could feel her body sagging with it, sinking her deeper into the mattress.

And so thinking, she slept. When she woke, it was daylight once more. Someone had opened the curtains and early morning light was shining weakly through the blinds.

Zack was still behind her, his arm heavy over her waist, telling her he had slipped into the very light sleep he sometimes experienced.

Lindal was lying on the bed, on his side, facing her. His eyes were closed. As she blinked and drew in a deeply relaxed breath, he opened them. The blue was incredible. She always marveled at their color.

He was watching her and there was wariness in his eyes.

That brought all her concerns and worries crashing back around her. The elves, the portal, the Grimoré and how the entire world depended on her making good decisions.

Most of all, it delivered the weight of Lindal’s future, making it press into her chest, an anvil that made her bones creak and her breath painful.

Tears built in her eyes.

Lindal brushed them away with soft touches of his fingers. “Don’t….”

She swallowed. “I’m scared,” she whispered.

Lindal drew in a breath and let it out. He picked up her hand from where she had it resting under the pillow and held it in his.

She wanted him to tell her it would be all right, that everything would turn out. It was Zack’s job to be pessimistic, to look for potential snags and problems. Lindal had always been able to see the good, the positive.

Only this time, he didn’t. “I’m scared, too,” he said.

As the walls of the dingy office coalesced around them, Wyatt was hit with the smell. It was the aroma of every auto shop in America, rich with old oil, burnt and stressed rubber, car parts, dirt and the neglect of shop owners who cared more about service than bookkeeping and left piles of greasy thumbed documents untouched to gather dust on any flat service.

The calculator keys would be grimy with sweat and grease, the computer would be the cheapest model that had been available eight years ago, the screen smeared by dirty fingers. The chair would creak and be fixed with duct tape.

He looked around to find the calendar. It was over by the door, opened to this month, at least, with a buxom, barely clad blonde straddling a Harley Davidson, her thighs gleaming with oil.

“This is every cliché I’ve ever seen in the movies, all in one room,” Mia breathed, looking around.

“We did say somewhere obscure and unexpected,” Wyatt reminded her. “You okay?” She was rubbing her belly.

Mia nodded. “I get these stitch things. Declan says it’s perfectly normal. And there’s no way I’m going to sit down on
anything
in here.”

The door opened, revealing Ronny Alexos’ tall, spare figure and the head of tight, silvered curls. Wyatt relaxed, letting go of the hilt of his knife and letting his coat fall back into place. “Ronny.”

“Right on time.” Ronny stepped in and looked at Mia. “You must be Shamira.”

“Mia,” she corrected. “What
is
this place?”

“Frankie’s Auto Repair Shop, Clay City, Indiana. Population was just over eight hundred, two days ago.”

“What happened two days ago?”

Ronny grinned. “We got ourselves a convention.” He pushed open the door, which had once been white but was now an ancient yellow, with dark stains around the door knob and frame. “Come and see.”

They followed him out of the office into a slightly neater front shop area, with a counter and cash register and new tires stacked everywhere. There were images of sports cars framed and hanging on the walls.

Ronny moved around the counter, over to the door that gave access to the workshop beyond. There was a window that would let the front office staff look into the garage. Venetian blinds were drawn over it.

Wyatt found his hand was back on his knife once more.

Ronny opened the door and looked at him. “Relax, you’re among very good company,” he said and held the door aside for Mia to go through.

“Me, first,” Wyatt said, his pulse zooming.

She rolled her eyes at him. “I’m fine,” she told him. Except she had her hand in the deep pocket of her coat, where she kept her emergency Glock 26, which was small enough to slip into the pocket and not weigh down the hang of the coat.

Mia stepped through the door and Ronny went next, leaving Wyatt to follow up. He hurried through, almost tripping over Ronny’s big feet, looking around quickly to size up the room beyond.

Then he came to a halt.

There were no cars in the workshop, which had four bays with glass doors rolled down and locked for the night. Instead, the big workshop was almost completely filled with people, who had been standing and talking among themselves.

As they entered, everyone turned to look at them.

Mia glanced around the room, as startled as Wyatt felt. “All human. Not a supernatural among them.”

“You can call them human if you want,” Ronny said. “That’s not what we call ourselves, though.”

“What do you call yourselves?” Wyatt asked.

“Hunters.”

A grin passed from one person to the next, moving around the room like a strobe light. They appreciated the sentiment.

“All of you? You’re
all
hunters?” Wyatt asked.

“Every man jack,” Ronny said.

Hunters worked solo or in pairs, staying aloof from humans and other hunters to minimize detection. This gathering, this
convention
, was staggering. “Where did you all come from?” Wyatt asked, feeling winded.

Ronny shrugged. “Everywhere.”

Mia picked up Wyatt’s hand and squeezed. “They’re here to help us,” she breathed.

Ronny pointed at her. “Give the little lady a drink.”

“I don’t…get it,” Wyatt said helplessly. His brain had turned to sludge at the sight of so many hunters standing in the same room together.

Ronny threw out his hands, his dark eyes twinkling. “You said the Grimoré sense the trinities if they get too close together. Just as radioactive rods in close proximity can set off a reaction, right?”

“That’s an analogy I haven’t heard before,” Mia said. “It’s a good one. Except we don’t explode if we stand too close to each other.”

“You just bring the Grimoré a-running. So you guys are going to need some help.” He waved toward the hunters. There had to be two or three hundred people squeezed into the workshop bays. “They can’t sense us.”

“What about your usual targets?” Wyatt asked, frowning.

“Most everything that isn’t working with the Grimoré or hasn’t yet joined your side has shrunk back into the woodwork and disappeared,” Ronny said. “Like rabbits when the wolf goes by.” He tilted his head to look at Wyatt. “You want our help, don’t you? That’s what you said in your email. That things are rolling down the hill toward the end, right? Well, we want to help make sure it ends the right way.”

Wyatt let out his breath and dropped his hand onto Ronny’s skinny shoulder. “This is good news.
Great
news. We haven’t had a lot of good news lately.”

“I guess that’s why you didn’t recognize it straight away,” Ronny said. “So…what do you want us to do?”

Wyatt glanced at Mia. “Seaveth should be here.”

Mia grinned. “She’ll be beside herself.” She tapped her temple. “Calling out now.”

* * * * *

Even though the Otters lost the New Year’s Day game to the Sault Ste. Marie Greyhounds, it had been a tight match, fraught with a pleasant suspense that was a nice change of pace from the dark, overwhelming chores that filled most of Rhys’ days.

Cora and Aithan had loved the hockey game, screaming themselves hoarse and jumping about whenever they disagreed with a decision, which Rhys had found hilarious, as Aithan had never seen a hockey game before. Even Cora, with her southern raising, was not super familiar with the rules. Rhys had given them a ten minute primer before the game started.