I feel Armin’s lips trailing hot on my neck, igniting sparks that flicker across my skin. I don’t shy away from him—either of them—and glance over at my bed. The sheets are torn and the mattress has been slashed, but that doesn’t stop me.
I break free and pick the quilt up off the floor and spread it over the bed, kicking off my shoes and climbing on top. Rupert eyes are wide, while Armin’s? They’re hungry.
“They can destroy whatever they want. I have the key. I have you.” I beckon them toward me. “Let’s show them how powerful we really can be.”
25
Armin
It happens faster than I imagine, more seamlessly. Clothing shed, bodies exposed, arousal peaked. I shouldn’t be surprised. Hildi owns us, body and soul. A snap of her fingers and we’re doomed.
I vaguely think about how this would work way better on the king-sized bed in my room, but there’s also something extremely intimate about lying side by side. After the violation, emotionally and with her possessions, Hildi needs comfort. Rupert and I can provide that. Even if he’s not ready for much more than a cuddle and kiss.
This is the part of relationships the Prince needs to understand. Selflessness. Intimacy. Comfort. There isn’t a second of the day I don’t think of this woman. I buy into it all; that she’s our leader, that she’s the bond. Most of all, because I feel it like a deep ache in my bones, I know this woman is my mate.
I also know I can’t have her alone, and I think it’s the magic of it all, the enchantment that strips away the jealousy of one another—but not the territorialism from outsiders. That’s something different, and if she asks me, I’ll tell her, the next time Roland calls her to his chambers she’ll smell like one thing.
An Immortal.
Or two.
“Thank you for lying with me,” she says, running her hands down both of our arms. A charge of electricity runs between us, further proof of magic. “Today was long, and exhausting.”
I prop myself up on my elbow to get a good look at her. Although we’re stripped bare, she’s still in the black work shirt made for the Alante servants, not a goddess of her height and stature. I kiss her temple, her cheek, then chin.
Her hand lifts to touch my face, thumb running over my bott
om lip. I capture her mouth with mine and reach for the buttons on her shirt. I unfasten them slowly while kissing her deeply, her tongue lazily stroking against mine. With Rupert’s help I peel it off her body, tossing it across the floor. Her skin is soft, perfection. Molded by the gods. Her hand reaches for Rupert’s, guiding him to touch her. He cups her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers.
I give him a wink, proud that he’s joined in.
His cheeks burn red, probably from both the act and from excitement. Hildi reaches out and runs her hand through his hair, then pulls his mouth to hers. The twinge of arousal I get from seeing them together is unexpected. And very, very consuming.
I settle down, trailing kisses down her shoulder, across her hot skin to her breast. I lick the hard, pebbled nipple and latch on, pleased to elicit a low moan of approval.
“Gods,” she mutters, writhing on the bed. Her hips rise, seeking.
“Is that good?” I ask, breathing hot on her wet skin.
She nods vigorously. “Yes.”
“More?”
Another nod.
I can already smell her want, and as much as I’d like to bend her over and fuck her senseless, it’s important that what we share isn’t aggressive. I don’t think Rupert can handle it. He also needs to understand this is about Hildi. We’re here for her.
Even if she does seem to have other plans.
She reaches for both of us at the same time, pawing at our hardened cocks. Even though we’re legends, Immortals, all three carved by the hands of a god, we’re not perfect—not crammed in this tiny bed, our minds overwhelmed with arousal. There are hands everywhere, mouths, too.
I shift her a little so that she’s facing Rupert and her backside is pressed against my groin. She kisses him as I push up the tiny black skirt, skimming my hands over the swell of her backside, tugging at the thin scraps of lace. She pushes against me, an invitation. Slipping my fingers under the lace at her hips, I pull, snapping the fabric in two.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned as a warrior, it’s best to just remove obstacles to get what you want. And what I want is between Hildi’s legs.
Thank the gods she wants it, too.
26