Authors: Cara Adams
If she didn’t have to work the next day, she’d have happily stayed even longer tonight though. As it was, she was going to be tired when her alarm woke her in the morning. Her day off was Monday, the quietest day at the castle. An older man, Henry, came in from ten to three that day to partially replace her. He also worked in the candy store every day while she had her lunch hour, then while Piotr took a quick break. The manager was never away longer than twenty minutes or half an hour, but Henry seemed happy to just help out for the short time.
Damask dragged her mind off the men and onto the idea of medieval music. She could hardly wait to do some web surfing to look at medieval drums and lutes and jingle bells. Possibly other percussion instruments as well. And horns and flutes. They were common in the Middle Ages. Maybe some of the other people here could play them. She imagined that just as guitars and lutes had certain basic similarities so, too, anyone who could play modern brass instruments would be able to play a horn and the same for woodwind players and a medieval flute.
She could imagine a dinner scene with the servers and entertainers in costume, and genuine Middle Ages food, would be very popular with some of the tourists. It might cost a bit but it would be a wonderful memory and something they couldn’t get just anywhere. She really hoped the Alpha liked the idea.
He seemed to her to be very astute. She’d heard her parents talking about him from time to time, and even though they argued over just about everything, they did seem to agree he was a wise leader and doing a good job of bringing his pack into the twenty-first century while still maintaining its internal coherence, its own identity, and keeping the whole species issue under the radar.
Damask climbed into her narrow bed and snuggled under her blanket. There was no way she could ever have sex here. Although the room was hers and hers alone, and the walls were made of sturdy wooden planks, the room was so small she wasn’t sure both men would fit in it at once and neither the bed nor the floor was big enough for the three of them to lie down together. Not that she actually expected to go to bed with two men. Just because they’d taken her out to dinner and kissed her good night didn’t mean anything much. Although she’d like it to mean something.
Damask ran a finger over her lip. Jairus had kissed her first. It had been a sweet, gentle kiss, only growing a little more demanding toward the end. He’d held her around her waist, pressing her body to his but also holding her lightly enough that if she’d wanted to pull away from him, she could have. That showed he was innately considerate. But she already knew that. They both were.
Grigori’s kiss had demanded more of her. He was definitely a Dom. She wasn’t sure whether Jairus was or not. Grigori had pulled her body against his and rested one hand just above her ass while he’d held her chin with the other and captured her gaze with his. She’d watched him lower his lips to hers inch by inch, and almost sighed with relief when he’d finally claimed her lips with his.
Damask wondered what her mother would think about two men kissing her daughter good night. Although surely her mother knew that most of the younger generation of wolves here mated as a ménage, with two male wolves and a female human. That was even less widely known than that the castle’s inhabitants really were werewolves, but her father would know for sure. Her mother wouldn’t have agreed to her coming here without researching the place thoroughly which would mean talking to some wolves.
Damask sat up in bed so abruptly the springs rattled. Dammit her mother
known. That was why she was here. Her mother had sent her here to get married. Her mother would think that with two men Damask would always be protected and safe. Well, fucking hell! Damask had never thought of that before. But for once in her life she agreed with her overprotective mother. Two men would suit her just fine. Although it was disconcerting to realize that she hadn’t talked her mother into letting her finally have a job and some freedom. She was actually fulfilling her mother’s plan by being here.
Damask lay down again and smiled. Two mouths to kiss her, four hands to touch her everywhere, and best of all two cocks to fuck her. Hell yes. It sounded good to her.
* * * *
Jairus didn’t think it was time yet to take Damask into the east wing of the castle. Too many older werewolves would object if she went there before there was a reasonable expectation she would mate him and Grigori. After just one simple date and the mildest of kisses, that would be stretching belief. But the public dungeons were totally different. And at one stage the previous evening she’d said she was meaning to take a look at them. Jairus collected the key—a huge iron thing that looked extremely impressive but was mostly for show—as soon as the final tour group had left the area.
Grigori had ordered a picnic lunch for them, which was to be their evening meal, and by the time they’d eaten it night would be falling, the perfect time for a tour of the dungeon. Jairus hoped he’d guessed right and that she wouldn’t be scared, but would only think of the possibilities of pleasure, which was what he and Grigori wanted her to do.
On the one hand, Jairus didn’t want to seem to be rushing her, pushing her into a relationship with them that she wasn’t ready for yet, but on the other hand he was all too aware of how beautiful she was and how many other unmated wolves there were in the pack, any one of whom might suddenly decide to date her. And he couldn’t even blame her if she accepted someone else’s offer. She was a grown woman and free to choose. One kiss did not make them an exclusive partnership. Now, if they could get inside her panties or convince her to play a dungeon scene with them that might be different. Surely then she’d be unlikely to go out with anyone else.
So tonight’s plan was to have her thinking about how good it might be to try out BDSM with two Doms—him and Grigori. The one good thing about having to spend most of the morning washing the caked-on mud off his car, was that it meant he had more than enough time to plan the kinds of experiences he wanted to share with Damask. Nothing scary, just enough pain to teach her what pleasure it could bring. He’d seen last night what a quick mind she had, so he’d use that to enhance the experience, giving her time and space to imagine what might happen next. A sub’s imagination could be the strongest weapon in a Dom’s arsenal, if he got it right.
Imagination was basically the main ingredient in the old dungeons as it was. Although there was perfectly good electric lighting downstairs, the tour guides led the visitors down the last flight of stairs using just an old-style torch—a piece of timber with the head covered in pitch and set alight. This gave a flickering, smelly, weak light. Enough that no one would fall down the stairs, especially as they were constantly urged to hold the metal handrail and move slowly and carefully.
Once inside the dungeon, the guide again warned the guests to step carefully on the uneven stone floor, urging them to be careful of eyebolts in the floor for chains, and generally doing his best to make the most of the atmosphere. The guide then walked around, directing the torchlight on the chains hanging from the ceiling, the eyebolts in the floor, a wooden bench with chains at its head and foot to hold down a prisoner, and against the wall, an old iron maiden.
The iron maiden was actually a fake, designed and built by the current castle carpenter to match a picture of the iron maiden of Nuremberg—which was also a fake. It was seven feet tall, three feet wide and with double doors so a grown man would fit inside. On the inside were a dozen iron spikes designed to pierce the body of anyone locked inside. No one ever had been, although occasionally a tourist was brave enough to stand close to the open chamber for a photograph.
In the center of the dungeon was a rack. Beside it sat a Spanish donkey. And finally, resting on the rack, was a lead sprinkler.
Once his dungeon plans were organized, Jairus had spent a long time trying to work out where they could take Damask to bed if—no, when—their romance progressed that far. The castle werewolves all lived in the east wing. That’s where all the private rooms were and he was almost certain the older wolves would frown on her being brought there so early in a relationship. If at all. So neither his room nor Grigori’s room was available. She was staying in the chapel, sleeping in one of the old the monks’ cells, and they were so small any normal person would get claustrophobia if they stayed there longer than ten minutes unless they were asleep. And possibly even then. So that was out as well.
Other people must have faced this problem, and solved it, but he couldn’t think how. Although perhaps the women they’d found lived in the town. But he didn’t like the idea of going to town and hiring a motel room. It was possible but it seemed very unromantic and a bit cold and calculating. Well, today, the second date, was likely still too soon for sex, although he had hopes of seeing her naked in the dungeon, and definitely touching her bare skin, but he really needed to think of a solution before the third date, that was essential.
* * * *
Grigori’s day had begun in a truly IT comic strip way, with a man complaining he couldn’t get his computer to work no matter what he did. After a few other questions, Grigori said, “You checked that it was plugged in, I suppose.”
“I never unplug it. Never.”
“Well, just check anyway.”
The man had moaned and grumbled but announced it was plugged in, so Grigori had gone to his office—about as far away as possible from his own without leaving the castle premises—and crawled under the worker’s desk to find out that yes, the plug was firmly pushed in, but hidden in a pile of tangled cables at the back of the desk, the plug to the power strip was loose. Since he was already there, hunched under the desk, Grigori unraveled the mess of cables, rolling the excess leads up and neatly taping them together, before plugging everything back in. And the computer worked.
By the time he got back to his own desk he needed a strong coffee to recover from the stress.
Then he had fun ordering the picnic basket, which was to be their evening meal. Only then was he ready to face his workday.
But by midafternoon, with his world neatly organized, Grigori leaned back in his chair and thought ahead. Spending time together wasn’t going to be that easy. Of the three of them, he was the only one with a more-or-less Monday to Friday nine to five job. Yeah, sure he had to keep a watchful eye on Twitter and Facebook and the castle website, but he could do that anywhere with cell phone reception.
Jairus, on the other hand, worked on projects for the Alpha, spending sometimes weeks away at a stretch, then having a few weeks with minimal work commitments around the castle, before he left again. Since he’d just gotten back from Vienna, he should be pretty much free for another week or ten days, then likely he’d be sent off somewhere else. So from Jairus’s point of view they needed to get to know Damask now. But Damask had been specifically hired to work in the candy store right now, during the peak tourist season. She worked a damn long day and a six day week with only Mondays off. Monday would suit Jairus but not him.
So spending time together was going to be damn complicated. Although he’d definitely speak to the Alpha about taking every Monday off while Jairus was home. But only dating once a week wasn’t going to get them anywhere in a relationship for a long time. They needed to be spending time together every night which was going to make Damask very tired for her long work day and it wasn’t going to do him any favors either.
He and Jairus needed to talk to the Alpha about the dinner and entertainment idea the three of them had thought of. Well, it was mostly Damask, to be fair. He’d ask then for Mondays off while Jairus was home. Then he needed some downtime to think about a next step. Getting her into bed. Maybe on a Monday they could go somewhere nice. Somewhere she’d never been before. Jairus was the experienced traveler. He could work that out for the three of them.
Grigori decided to let his subconscious work on how to get to know Damask better, while he got back to work. He took the next file out of his in-tray and spread it out on his desk, sighing.
* * * *
Neither man was waiting for her when the candy store closed for the night, so Damask felt the pit of her belly dropping. She’d really been looking forward to seeing them again. Of course, it was unfair of her to expect them to sit around waiting for her to finish work then change out of her costume.
She’d been meaning to take a look at the dungeons ever since she’d gotten here, so that part of the evening would be fun. They’d also said they’d bring a picnic. She had no idea how they’d organize it, but she was looking forward to that as well.
It didn’t take her long to remove the fine woolen dress, heavy linen apron, and her leather sandals tied on with leather strips, and replace them with jeans, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes. At least the sandals were both period appropriate and very easy to wear as she was on her feet all day. Apart from her athletic shoes, they were probably the most comfortable footwear she owned. The medieval people had gotten that right. But then, they’d been outside walking around and working all day so it made sense they’d have comfortable footwear.
As she left the chapel house, which was beside the little chapel, she saw Jairus sitting on one of the benches, a backpack at his feet. Was that their dinner? She smiled at him, then saw Grigori coming across the courtyard from the direction of the castle. He was carrying a wicker hamper that she knew held the picnic lunches people could order. Ah, so they were having a picnic. That would be nice. So what was in Jairus’s backpack? Were they going for a walk or something instead of to the dungeon after all? Well she had her ID card with her, so she could get back inside the barbican if they left the castle property.