Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
ROMULUS
I don’t know if this is some once-in-a-lifetime magic or a punishment dressed as a miracle. I can’t see her—only the cloud of steam and the pale marble of the shower wall—but gods I’d long stopped believing in, I can feel her.
It’s so intimate. Her hand wrapped around my tail like that, guiding it with such aching need. I never imagined a tail could feel like this—like a nerve running straight into my soul.
If I close my eyes, I’d swear I was inside her, except with the most dexterous cock imaginable.
Every rub, every press against that soft, bubble-like spot deep inside her center ricochets up my spine.
She clenches around the length of my tail at the same time, nails digging in, and I feel her lose herself, coming apart between us.
Feeling her go wild, impaled and trembling between my brother and me, is the single most glorious moment of my life.
Beyond battle, beyond any victory or careful scheme—waking to find her grasping my tail and tugging me into her sacred place will be the memory I cherish above all others.
This, I think wildly, I want to hold on to. Forever.
I feel our shared spine stiffen, pleasure rocking us both. It is my body and not my body; I control nothing except our tail, but I don’t care. I’m awake, and I feel the echoes of my brother’s release—his cock spilling while I shudder with phantom pleasure.
Adrenaline lights up my brain, and together, the three of us quake and drip and clench around one another. The spray keeps falling, steady as rain, as if it could wash away every secret.
Then, in the blink of an eye, the world shifts. I’m no longer behind the veil of sensation. I’m looking at the back of Lo-Ren’s head, her wet hair clinging to her shoulders, and my own cock is still stiff, though spent and dripping, embedded in the dark ring of her body. My cock now.
I shudder, one last tremor of release spilling from me as she clenches again. I reach back instinctively, but of course I can’t see my brother.
“Brother?” My voice cracks despite me. Silence.
I bow my forehead to the smooth slope of her back, grief and awe warring in my chest. With a quiet grunt, I carefully withdraw from her precious flesh.
“Who’s there?” she asks, voice uncertain.
My chest tightens. Will she hate me now? “Romulus,” I manage, trying to keep my voice steady. “Just Romulus now.”
It feels both wrong and right to have this stolen moment with her. But I still feel her hand on my tail, the memory of her guiding both of us. When she stiffens slightly, fear lances through me.
Still, I dare to speak. “May I wash you clean?”
She stays facing forward, inhales sharply, then answers in a quiet, furtive voice. “Yes. Please.”
My hands tremble as I reach for the flesh I’ve just been inside. I find the soap, rub my palms until suds bloom, then dare to touch the soft globes of her ass. She trembles at my touch—not from cold; the air is thick with steam—but from something else.
“Is this too much?” I murmur, palms paused on her sumptuous curves.
“N-no,” she stutters. “P-please.”
Maybe it’s wrong to steal this moment without Remus. Maybe it’s mercy. I tell myself she needs to be cleaned after our release as I slide my soapy hand down the seam of her ass, working toward the place we just claimed together.
She hisses when my fingers brush her sensitive back entrance. My cock stirs again, hardening, but I force myself to ignore it. Instead, I focus on her. I unhook the shower head, directing the warm spray with one hand and washing gently with the other as soap and seed slip down her thighs.
“So beautiful,” I can’t help hissing. She’s slightly bent, her gorgeous ass pushed back for me. From this angle her pussy glistens, and gods help me, I want to slip my fingers there, taste her until she forgets she ever knew my brother’s name.
“Is this wrong?” she whispers suddenly, straightening and spinning to face me. Her doe-dark eyes search mine. Droplets cling to her lashes; her breasts sway, heavy and wet, and it takes all my discipline not to look down.
“I’m with Remus,” she says softly. “And he seemed okay with what just happened, but this…” she gestures between us, frowning.
“Don’t worry.” My voice is low, careful, each word placed like a stone.
Every instinct screams at me to pull her close, to take her mouth, to push her back against the marble and work her sweet pussy until she cries my name.
But instead, I lean forward and press a single, reverent kiss to her forehead. “We can get out and dry off now.”
I reach behind her to turn off the shower, and she gasps—the sound knifing through me—because my cock is still hard, long, and unspent. But I won’t push.
She’s been so brave, so unafraid to open herself to us. I might wish to taste her, to claim more, but I will not beg heaven for the kingdom when I’ve been granted a day pass to the palace.
We step out of the shower in silence, the bathroom still steamy. I hand her a thick, soft towel and wrap another gently around her hair. Only then do I take one for myself.
I lead her back into the other room, where clothes have been discreetly laid out on a cart just inside the door. Did Remus forget to lock it? Or did some unlucky servant earn an earful after overhearing what we weren’t quiet about in the bath?
Lo-Ren turns her back to me as she dresses, so I do the same, giving her privacy even though my mind is still a battlefield of images: her wet, naked body in my arms, the tremors of her pleasure around me. No, that isn’t something a man forgets quickly. Or ever.
I’ve gotten so used to her silence that her voice startles me when it finally cuts through the quiet.
“Are you okay with what just happened?” she asks, words tumbling out fast. “Because—god—to wake up to that, and not have any say in what’s happening—We’re barely even friends, and then you wake up to Remus being intimate with me with your own body.
I can’t even imagine what this has been like for you. How weird—”
“Not weird at all,” I say immediately, perhaps too quickly. I turn back to her as I pull a sweater over my head. She’s dressed in a similar dark sweater and fitted jeans, and she looks soft and strong all at once. “I know I haven’t always expressed myself well. But I find you very attractive.”
She frowns. My stomach knots. For a man who’s supposed to be a tactician, now that it’s my moment with the woman I’ve begun to long for, I can’t find the words. “I mean,” I try again, slower this time, “I like you very much.”
Her eyes flicker. “I know last time we talked, you said you would be content if Remus and I could find a way to make it work. That’s one thing. But this is—” She breaks off, eyes wide. “It feels unfair to you.”
She’s said this before, and again my frustration rises—not with her, but with my own silence back then, all the things I didn’t say.
“If there had been any way for me to pursue you myself…” I trail off, jaw tight.
“I recognized you were with my brother, but at the same time, I didn’t trust his motives. ”
But she’s caught on the first part of what I’ve said. “You would have wanted to pursue me?” Her voice is a soft shock.
“I—” I start, then stop, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Were I not attached to a…” I bite the word off. Madman. Monster. No. We’re past name-calling now. “Were I not in this unique situation, of course I would.”
I take a step closer and clasp her hands. Her eyes lift to mine, searching, glistening with unshed tears. All I want to do is swoop down and kiss her. “If I weren’t in this impossible situation,” I whisper.
She nods, looks down at our linked hands.
Her head shakes slightly. “The truth is, normally, I wouldn’t even be looking at another man if I was with someone.
But this—” She lifts her face again. “Neither of you wants to admit it, but you’re stuck with each other.
And today, for the first time, you were able to communicate.
What if this is an amazing opportunity we’re all being presented with? ”
Her eyes are so bright with hope I almost can’t breathe.
“What if we could make this work?” she asks, squeezing my hands, tempting me to believe anything from her beautiful mouth. “The three of us? What if that’s why Remus found me after all this time of you two being alone?”
A hope I can’t even name flares in my chest. I tell myself I’m a fool for allowing it.
But gods, her optimism is beautiful. Tempting.
She believes my brother capable of maturity and depth I’ve never let myself see.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’ve refused to see because of old jealousies, old battles.
Maybe we could communicate instead of mutely fighting for dominance in this cursed body.
I think it and remember: my brother is the angel of War.
My conscience pricks; that’s not exactly true either.
We both are. We’ve both been war. And maybe we can never change so long as we each keep a combat stance.
If one of us were to give before the other, I’m the logical choice.
I’ve always been the one to choose restraint.
Still. I’m not sure I believe in peace between Remus and me even as I pull Lo-Ren against my chest and stroke her damp hair with my fingers. “Maybe so,” I murmur. “Maybe so.”
With my other arm, I hold her fiercely. “I just know that any bit of yourself you’d share with me would feel like a miracle.”
Her arms slide around my waist in return, her voice muffled against my chest. “We should get some rest. Will you hold me tonight?”
My heart growls its answer even as I swallow it down. For a brief, rebellious moment, I wish I could meet my brother face-to-face on a field of battle and fight for her favor like the knights of old. Then I remind myself: peace. Peace. Yes. We’re trying out this wild idea of peace.
As I climb into bed and Lo-Ren tucks her warm body against mine, I wonder to what lengths I might go to keep her by my side now that I’ve discovered this feeling. It does not feel especially peaceful. But gods, it feels like life.