Chapter Eleven
Daphne
How many knights does it take to make a maiden speechless? None in my case—the word vomit never ceases even when I try to tame it. “Do you think Bronn bought that red cape from the market, or is it a reminder of his victim and his road to redemption?”
Malachi drags a chair from the corner and jams it under the door handle before sliding Excalibur onto the dresser.
No escape. Not that I’d want one.
“I mean the goat, named Gary by the way, seemed comfortable enough in his presence. Apparently, the last time Bronn murdered someone was three whole diurnals ago, and that was a troll terrorizing the village, so it was warranted. Absolutely no grannies, girls in red, or pigs were injured or ingested.”
Hart tosses his leather gloves onto the small table and studies the bed like it’s an opponent he’s considering sparring with. “It’s big enough for all of us.”
“It’s a feat of magic if you think about it,” I add. “Going against his predator nature to become an upstanding tavern owner.”
Nash’s eyes roam over me, slow and heated. “We’ll make it work.”
My skin warms under the weight of their attention. It’s different from before—less desperate, more… certain. Like we all know where this is heading, and no one is pretending otherwise. They’re also starting to believe I’m not about to disappear into the stars and leave them bereft.
Malachi pushes away from the door and strolls closer, his gaze playful but dark beneath the surface. “You said you could accommodate us.”
“Theoretically,” I whisper as Nash moves behind me.
Hart lifts a brow. “Theory becomes practice around you.”
Accurate, and I won’t apologize for pushing boundaries.
Malachi hooks a finger beneath my chin. “You’ve been talking about sausage all diurnal.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Inside thoughts you shouldn’t be eavesdropping on.”
“Exactly where sausage should be—inside,” Malachi adds.
“Is it warm in here?” I wonder as I fan my face. “Maybe Bronn heated the chamber intended for a pair of guests, and now that there are four of us, it’s too hot to handle.”
Nash’s hands snake around my waist, and he tugs my back against him. And oh my Idol babies on a sticky stick, he is hard.
He plucks at the ribbons on my bodice, allowing my breasts to spill free. His movements are slow, deliberate, and sensual. “You’ve also been squirming against me in the saddle since midday.”
“That was for practical reasons,” I say. “My back hurt.”
Nash leans closer, his breath brushing my ear while covering my stomach with his hand. “And now?”
I swallow. “Now it’s something else.”
Malachi’s lips curl. The big bad wolf might lurk in this place, but I have no doubt that these three men are far more deadly and dangerous.
Malachi’s lips caress mine, soft as a feather, teasing, gentle. It’s not enough. I need more. More skin on skin, more teeth, more everything.
My hands wrap around his neck, and I flick my tongue against the seam of his lips. He groans and opens for me, allowing me to deepen the kiss until I’m dizzy.
My dress drops to the floor in a swish, and Nash scrapes his teeth along my throat down to my collarbone, causing a cascade of pleasure that makes everything inside of me clench with feral need.
I’m surrounded by male heat, hard-earned muscle, and the swirling combined scent of wood smoke and leather unique to my knights. I could pick them out in a smell test of a hundred men, blindfolded.
“What do you want, Daphne?” Malachi murmurs.
“All of you,” I admit. “By my side for eternity.”
Hart sheds his clothes. It’s not meant to tease the way he pulls them off, but it does all the same. He pushes between his two brothers, his hands gripping my hips before throwing me onto the bed. I giggle in delight. This is the kind of manhandling I can get on board with.
Hart covers my body with his, and his hands cradle my face to keep our eyes locked together. “We’ve always been by your side, Calamity.”
My heart stumbles at the quiet sincerity beneath his rough voice.
Nash slides onto the bed next to us and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re safe, and we aren’t letting you out of our sights ever again.”
Safe. Wanted. Claimed in ways that have nothing to do with crowns or swords or prophecies.
Malachi climbs onto the bed on my other side.
We are missing one, and I will get him back. I have no doubt about that, because anything less is unacceptable. But for now, I give myself permission to let down my walls and give voice to the fears I had before I died and since I came back.
My hands lift, skimming across Hart’s chest, then one settles on Malachi’s arm, the other on Nash’s shoulder.
“I missed all of you,” I whisper.
The teasing mood shifts to something darker but steadier.
Malachi presses a kiss to my temple. “We missed you.”
Hart’s forehead rests against mine. “Don’t die again.”
“Not planning to,” I say. “For the record, death is overrated.”
Nash huffs a quiet laugh. “Good.”
They don’t look at me as if I’m a burden like all the others do. They stare at me like I am the center of their world, like I hung the stars in their unique sky and wrote a future that is inevitable.
“I need you.” Three words, but not the right three.
I shake my head and take a breath. “I love you.” I stare at each of them, making sure they understand my heart is for all of them, not just one.
I could no sooner choose between them than between a variety of decent sausages. The parallels aren’t lost on me.
“We love you,” Hart utters as his throat bobs.
I kiss it, hoping to soothe the stress away with my lips.
And just like that, the mood shifts to sensual, inevitable, and undeniable.
I am in love with four knights. My heart is shared but not divided, and for some unfathomable reason, they love me in return.
Nash shifts, crawling to the head of the bed. He grasps my arms and pulls me backward so my back rests against his naked chest. I glance up with questioning eyes. He traces my lips with his thumb. “Don’t look at me like that, Daphne,” he groans. “I only have so much restraint.”
“So why restrain?”
Hart leans back on his knees, pulls my panties free, and guides my legs open before trailing fervent kisses along the inside of my thigh.
I squirm, my breath catching, but my gaze doesn’t leave Nash’s.
I need him as much as the others. Have I not shown him I accept him?
His darkness, whatever it is, doesn’t scare me.
“I need Theo, at least the first time.”
Hart nips my skin, making me jolt, but I don’t give into the distraction, not yet. “Why?”
“Because,” Nash says as heat covers my nipple and Malachi’s warm tongue drags against the sensitive flesh. “He’s the only one strong enough to stop me if I go too far.”
Is there such a thing as too far when it comes to us? I don’t believe so. He wished me back to life. Can’t he see that his love for me defied the Idols? But if he needs Theo, I won’t push him. Not yet, anyway.
I suck in a breath as Hart’s mouth reaches my apex, and he doesn’t hold back as he licks a path from my clit to my entrance with an indecent groan that makes Nash’s eyes flash crimson. He leans his head back and holds his breath.
My hand cups his cheek. “Look at me,” I demand. He shakes his head. “Nash Stirling, you will look at me this instant, or I will leave you with blue balls for an eternity while you watch your three brothers take their pleasure in my body.”
His lips twitch, then he rewards me with his glorious gaze.
“Better. Now, if you take your eyes off me once tonight, I will tie you to this bed and tease you relentlessly without release while your brothers put their sausages anywhere they want.”
Nash tweaks my nipple in warning, making me jerk and Hart groan.
“Anywhere?” Malachi murmurs, lifting his brow in question.
My mouth pops open as Hart’s tongue goes lower, and my mouth forms an O of understanding. The sensation is unbelievable, but I can’t deny a little trepidation skitters through my veins. However, I know in my heart they would sooner die than hurt me, so I put my body and my pleasure in their hands.
“Anywhere,” I whisper, my hips jerking at what Hart is doing between my legs. Who cares when it feels this good?
Nash’s gaze travels the length of my body.
Between the way he’s looking at me—like he could devour my soul and still want more—the naughty forbidden places Hart is pushing his tongue against, and the way Malachi teases my breasts, I’m on fire.
Needy, greedy, and oh so ready for anything and everything these gorgeous males want to do to me.
Do with me. Because this isn’t a passive activity or relationship.
They know that, and they aren’t threatened by it.
In fact, they embrace it, all of it. Every chaotic moment, every misplaced word, and every single tempo they make me feel like a queen.
Pleasure licks at my spine, and the bands inside snap tighter as Hart pushes my body toward its enviable crescendo. I suck in a breath, and my hand slides into Hart’s hair, tugging on the strands, demanding the friction I need to topple me over.
Hart surprises me when he complies, and then I’m flying high and Nash’s mouth covers mine to swallow the scream of pleasure that everyone in this tavern would hear. But Hart being Hart, pushes boundaries. I squirm away when the sensations become too much.
Nash tears his mouth free.
“It’s too much,” I whisper, yanking on Hart’s hair in a way that must hurt. He ignores me and sucks on my clit long and hard. “Hart, please.”
Nash grabs my thighs and spreads them over the tops of his before raising his knees and pinning me in place. “Keep going,” he growls. “Get her close again.”
I shiver at his tone. The control, the darkness, the dominance and surety.
“I can’t take any more,” I cry out.
Malachi chuckles as he releases my breast with a pop.
“Yes, you can, and you have,” Nash demands, reminding me of many moons ago when he and Hart were in alternate places but driving me insane like this. He’s right; I can take more, but my head is swimming and my pulse is thundering.
Hart’s gaze meets mine. Gold flecks dance in those beautiful green depths, like fireflies in a meadow at dusk.
Nash’s hard length grinds against my ass, and he hisses as I meet his movement with my own, imagining what he’s going to feel like. Each of them is unique and perfect. I have no doubt Nash will deliver threefold and alter all my limits.
Right now, though, I need friction. Inside.
As if I spoke the words aloud, Hart pushes one thick finger inside me, making me arch my back. “Yes, more,” I demand.
“Told you, Daphne, you can always take more,” Nash whispers in my ear. “Now don’t take your eyes off him as you come on his tongue a second time.”
His words, the friction, the promise of what’s coming are too much, and for a second time, they push me over the edge with a rough tenderness I will never tire of. This time, Malachi captures my cry as I’m helpless to do anything more than submit to their love.
My legs tremble, and Hart brings me down with teasing touches and soft, slow strokes of his tongue. It prolongs my release, not pushing straight past it like before, and my limbs relax like a languid feline who ate all the cream.
Not yet... but I will.
The sinful thought makes me smile against Malachi’s lips. He pulls away and returns my grin. “Why are you smiling?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? Do dual orgasms not make you smile?”
“Fair point,” he concedes.
I stretch against Nash, and he lowers his legs, releasing me, but I’m not ready to move, never mind walk.
“I might need a tempo or seventeen,” I say with a yawn. “I will be licking all the cream.”
Male chuckles echo around me as my eyes flutter closed, and then I’m enveloped in furs and the press of hard, warm male bodies.
“Just a temp,” I utter again with intent. “O.” I remember to add on the letter. “Then cream.”
“The cream will be waiting for you,” Malachi murmurs. “Rest, Daphne. We aren’t going anywhere.”
I smile as I nuzzle my happy twin’s chest, and then I give in to sleep.
A catnap, if you will.
No longer, I promise.
Not one turn longer.