Chapter 27 Sabine
Sabine
At Basten’s words, a ripple of pleasure tears through my body, catching me off guard, like a dash of water. My body reacts as if it belongs to a stranger: my thighs trembling, breath growing strained beyond my control.
It’s the fae in me.
Hungry.
Lustful.
Needy.
I grip Basten’s bicep, digging in my fingers. “I didn’t mean… With Rian…”
I stop short, unsure what I’m trying to say.
Because I think I did mean it.
When I commanded Rian to show his loyalty to me by kissing my ring, then my toes, it was a simple test. To see if this all-powerful lord, who once held half the known world at his fingertips, would bow to the girl he once tried to dominate.
I meant to end the relentless power play between us—all three of us—once and for all. To have Rian finally confess, with his lips on my toes, that I’m his god now, and Basten is his king.
If Rian wants our forgiveness, then he’ll need to beg for it on hands and knees like the dog he is.
I didn’t mean for this game of shifting power to play out like this.
And yet, maybe the fae in me knew exactly what I was doing.
“It’s okay, little violet.” Basten threads his fingers through my hair at my temple, gazing at me with adoring eyes.
“You need this. You’ve refused my blood.
Turned away offerings. Even sex…you’re so depleted that I’m not sure I can satisfy you on my own.
” His throat tightens, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
Gods, this must be so hard for him.
He leans close and whispers in my ear. “Let me do this for you.”
A bolt of need shoots straight to my core, and I can’t swallow back the moan that pushes to my lips. It’s true. My muscles feel slack. My head foggy. Skin dry, pale. I’ve suffered for longer than I want to admit, and the hunger…damn, this hunger.
It burns.
But I force myself to breathe steadily. I splay my open hand on Basten’s chest, licking my dry lips as I search his eyes for a clue as to how he really feels.
My voice breaks as I whisper, “I don’t want to deepen the rift between us.”
He cups my head in his big hands, and his embrace is so comforting, like coming home, like I finally feel safe, that I let my eyes sink closed.
He brushes his thumb over my cheek. “The past few weeks have killed me,” he murmurs, “Being apart from you, feeling you slip from my reach. But this?” His hand slides to the back of my neck. “I think this could finally bring us together.”
He leans in closer, breath ghosting across my lips, and continues, “It’s a power play, Sabine. You, me, Rian. So, let’s end it right now. On this fucking throne. Strip ourselves bare—no more wondering, no second-guessing. Just the truth of what we are and what we need.”
My breath stalls in my lungs, as if I can’t trust what I’m hearing.
Basten exhales, breaking the tension as he whispers in my ear. “You and me—we’re the endgame. It doesn’t matter that you’re a goddess, that I’m a king. We’re Sabine and Basten, always. Equals. Bare to each other as…” he laughs, shaking his head, “…as you were on that damn naked ride.”
A surprised laugh catches in my throat, too.
Basten’s voice deepens. “Rian was right about that, too. He saw the true power in the tale of Solene’s Ride, coming to one another as simply man and woman. And this—” he glances toward Rian, dominance sparking in his eyes, “—this is triumph. Claiming what’s ours. Claiming him on our own terms.”
Rian, on his knees beside us, shifts. His lips are parted slightly, showing a hint of white, straight teeth. His eyelids are at half-mast, thick with lust and the adrenaline still burning off him.
And something else…the bare, bright-eyed hope of a man who’s been starved too long.
“If I could add—” Rian starts.
“Shut up,” Basten growls.
Rian’s mouth slams closed. There’s no question he’s game for whatever might happen.
He’s practically panting already. It strikes me in that moment that this is what he’s always wanted.
The three of us. Friends, lovers, confidants, whatever you want to call it.
He doesn’t care whose body leads or follows, whose hands command—so long as he’s allowed a place in it.
My need burns straight down to my belly, leaving me flushed, but I fight to keep the hungry fae inside me at bay.
“Are you sure about this?” I whisper.
Basten tips my chin up. “Sometimes, we have to say fuck it and jump, not knowing what’s on the other side.”
He interlaces his fingers with mine. The bundle of fey nerves in my palm, the one that’s always winter-cold?
For once, it warms.
Heat pours through me, dripping over my skin, pooling in my core. I can’t seem to lick my lips enough to keep them moist.
I unlace our fingers and drag my hand, exploring, up Basten’s arm. Goosebumps erupt wherever my fey sparks against his skin. I marvel at it, how his body reacts to my caress.
How in sync we are.
Finally.
“What do you want, goddess?” he says, low and wicked.
I drag in a rasping breath, looking between the two of them. “I want you, Basten. Your hands on me. Now.”
“Praise be,” Basten murmurs in a wicked voice that’s anything but chaste.
He clutches me around the waist, his touch burning, his own fingers shaking with need. Gods, it feels good to know he wants this, too. This union between us.
He crushes his mouth to mine, nipping and biting and licking as though he’s starved for me. His hand slides low on my hips, fingers tightening possessively in the fabric.
I tilt my head back and moan, “Both of you.”
Rian sinks to his knees and buries his face in my skirt, breathing in my scent deeply, moaning in response.
I arch my back, breasts pushing against Basten’s rock-hard chest, and a groan tears out of his throat. He pulls away, breathing so hard it rasps in his throat, and presses his forehead against mine.
“Fuck, little violet. The things you do to me.”
He wraps his hand around the back of my neck, and I lean into his hold, panting against the cool, dark air. Keeping my eyes locked to Basten, I grab Rian by a fistful of his hair.
“You,” I command. “On the throne.”
Rian pushes to his feet, so eager to please he’s stumbling, his hair mussed and messy, but for once he doesn’t comb it back into place. He sinks into the throne and kicks out his legs, leaning back, eyes simmering.
I gather handfuls of my skirt, dragging the heavy fabric up to my thighs, and sink my ass into his lap. His hand falls around my waist, pulling me closer. Gods, he’s hard. His erection digs into my ass with relentless insistence.
The rumors of his endowment?
Those weren’t a lie.
He wraps his hand around the length of my neck from behind, fingers pressing gently into my throat. I lean back against his chest, bunching my skirt around my hips, never once breaking eye contact with Basten.
Rian needs to learn his place. If he wants to be in our lives, it’s either below or beside us—never above. He’ll have to earn that place. Prove he can follow instead of stealing control.
“Pray to me,” I order him.
Rian runs his lips against the side of my neck. “Let me serve you, songbird. Say the word, and I’ll bare my throat, my heart, every damn piece of me.”
A ripple of pleasure—of power—shudders up through me.
Rian pulls away, only to trail a kiss along my opposite jaw. “Tell me where to touch. Where to kiss. How to please you until you’re too weak to stand.”
As he watches us, Basten’s eyelids are heavy, his chest rising and falling in hard breaths. His hair’s come loose from the tie at his nape, and strands hang over his eyes.
I reach out a hand to him.
He steps forward. Slow. Deliberate.
Then drops to his knees.
“Open for me, little violet,” he commands.
Shivers of pleasure tear through me as I swallow a needy moan, unable to keep from bucking my hips like an animal.
Behind me, Rian’s hold tightens around my throat and waist. He murmurs more sinful prayers against my skin as his lips trail down my bare neck.
Basten grabs my skirt in his fist, shoving it higher around my waist, and with one seamless move, wrenches my panties down to my knees. He slides them down the rest of my legs so slowly it aches. I whimper, gripping the throne’s armrests with white knuckles.
I’m wet. Soaked enough to make a whore blush. But this beast inside me, the fae, it’s wanton. It doesn’t know shame. Or restraint. It just hungers.
“Taste me,” I moan to Basten, writhing in Rian’s lap. Rian’s hand tightens on my hips, fingers dipping down my thigh closer to my core, teasing the soft, sensitive flesh there.
Basten grips my thighs, holding them apart with such confidence as if they belong to him. He plants his lips to my inner knee, scorching a line of hot kisses along my thigh toward the glistening center demanding his attention.
“Gods, yes,” I pant, arching back into Rian’s chest.
“Fuck, songbird,” Rian moans hotly against my neck. “I always knew you were secretly debauched.”
“Rian,” I pant, writhing in his lap. “You’re just lucky I let you find out.”
Basten’s tongue finds my swollen heat, and I cry out. I reach back to grip the back of the throne, holding on for dear life. Basten tortures my pussy relentlessly. Sucking. Licking. Flicking his tongue over my clit until I start to see stars.
My body responds with a rush of hot energy. This—this is what I’ve needed. Better than food. Better than offerings. I need Basten and Rian served up on a platter, offering me every wild delight inside them.
Gods, it’s so fae it makes my blood sing.
Basten pulls away, and I whimper in objection. I throw my leg around his shoulder, hooking him like a shepherd’s crook, trying to drag him back.
He chuckles darkly as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t worry, wildcat. I’ve just started. You want worship? I can do more with my tongue than speak prayers.”
He stands up, grabs me by the wrist and pulls me to my feet, guiding me by the chin to meet him in a kiss. I lean into him, sliding my tongue over the seam of his lips, asking for entrance.