Chapter 23 Rowan
Rowan
Isurface into awareness on a tide of heat and need.
The first thing I know is not thought but touch—a mouth sealing over mine, stealing my breath, giving it back in fire.
Another mouth is at my breast, teeth grazing the full, sensitive swell.
But most of all, I am aware of the touch between my thighs.
That one is most intense and yet it's still not enough to satiate.
Hands press to my skin, so many that I can’t tell where one ends and another begins, only that each point of contact drags delicious lightning through me.
Through and away, each connection was siphoning off a fraction of the magic that’s been assaulting me for eternity.
I don’t have to open my eyes to know who the siphons are, because the budding bond whispers it straight into my marrow: Kai above me, Logan below, and Kyrian at my side.
I should be afraid. Confused. Something. But all I can feel is the way the magic is using them to pry me open, coax me awake. And the way my body answers, desperate, greedy, alive. My body arches without my permission. Seeking more. More. More. More.
More relief. More ecstasy. More sturdy connection. My instinct insists three of those go together and I’ve no reason to doubt it. I just want.
Logan’s hardness swirls the wet perimeter around my opening and I nearly come apart. My hips jerk, chasing him, greedy for more, greedy for everything. Need floods me so sharp it borders on pain.
But then—another kind of pain. A memory that doesn’t belong to this moment but claws its way in anyway: the stretch that once burned instead of pleasured, the way breath caught in my throat from hurt instead of ecstasy.
It’s not from them, the needy part of my mind insists. It’s an echo of another time, another place, where taking meant tearing. Where pleasure was chased by fire that hurt. Don’t think of it.
But I can’t not think of it. My body remembers even when my mind tries to forget. The memory lashes me, unwanted, unwelcome, but undeniable. My body braces for pain even as it begs to be filled.
The magic flares painfully, furious that something is interfering with its flow.
My core feels split down the middle—need clawing me forward, fear yanking me back.
My hands fist in the grass, damp blades cutting against my palms. The conflict is unbearable.
I need. I fear. Both truths crash together, and my chest tightens until I drag open my eyes.
Logan’s face is there, fierce, intent, and his locked eyes with mine.
"I smell fear,” Kai's voice cuts through the haze. He is closest to my face, his nose brushing a spot behind my ear as his heat snaps up with a growl. His glare finds Logan. “What the hell are you doing to her?”
I try to protest, but my throat locks on the words. Shame and want collide until I can barely breathe. Logan’s face twists, but before he can defend himself, Kyrian speaks.
“It’s not him.” His voice softens, but stays breathless.
Laden with the same need that’s clawing at me.
“It’s Collin. The fucker used to hurt her and say its her fault.
” He touches my cheek, coaxing my gaze to his.
“I remember everything you’ve told me,” Kyrian whispers against my ear.
“Rowan, you’re not there anymore. You’re with us.
We’ll make damn sure this feels nothing like the past. You know we will.
Just like before. We just need to remind you. ”
His lips brush against mine, a gentle pressure that sends sparks dancing across my skin.
He trails kisses down my jaw, my neck, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
“We're going to touch you, Rowan. We're going to make you feel good.
So good." His mouth moves lower, his tongue tracing the line of my collarbone, and I feel another stirring deep within me, not just need, but desire.
Logan’s fingers hook into the damp seam at my thighs, then slides a thumb slow and hard across the swollen place between my legs.
Kyrian’s hand cups my breast and pinches just enough to make warmth blossom under my skin.
His voice is a caress, his touch a promise.
"We'll start slow, Rowan. We'll kiss every inch of you, touch every part of you.
We'll make you shiver, make you gasp." His thumb brushes over my nipple, sending tiny jolts of lightning through me.
More. Faster. Deeper. The magic insists.
From the male’s tense bodies and engorged cocks I know that they feel it too.
And yet, despite the sweat beading at their temples and small groans escaping their lips, they don’t rush.
They trace routes across my body like maps, marking safe spots, pressing into places that make my breath hitch.
Each tease unbuttons a layer of the memory until it softens, and the fear thins.
“That’s right, Chaos.” Kyrian nips my earlobe, the runes painted on his flesh burning bright. “We’ll press and pull and tease and fill. We’ll make you ache in the places that make your body sing. Do you want us to?”
My body answers for me, knees folding and back arching, with fingers digging into the grass until my palms ache.
Logan, who is still between my thighs, spreads me wide. He holds my gaze as he cups me, his palm pressing against my center. I feel a rush of wetness, my body responding to his touch. He licks his lips and then his fingers slip inside me. I gasp. Magic thrums.
Logan groans.
His fingers curl, stroking, finding that spot that makes my hips buck and my breath hitch.
Pleasure builds, a pressure that grows and grows, threatening to consume me.
For an instant, the echo of fear tries to rise again, but this time the reality of the now—press of hands and the heat of mouths and the thunder of the magic—makes it collapse inward until it is nothing but a shadow.
I shatter, pleasure crashing over me like a wave. My body convulses, my breath hitches, my heart pounds.
"You are such a good girl, Chaos," says Kyrian. "You're gorgeous, sexy, and so incredibly strong."
Kai's mouth finds mine and kisses with fierce demand. His tongue invades, his teeth nip, his breath mingles with mine. He swallows my moans and anchors me all at once. I'm consumed by sensation, by pleasure, by the feel of their hands, their mouths, their bodies.
The compulsion turns from a claw to a rope I can climb: every lick, every dip of a tongue, every finger pump is a rung. I stop thinking and I take them all. The ritual lifts me and carries me, and the frenzy arrives as inevitable as a storm—hot, wet, and all-consuming.
As my climax starts to settle, Logan pulls me onto him, his hardness sliding into me.
Filling me with ecstasy. His hands gripping my hips firmly and I feel every inch of him as he stretches me.
He starts to move inside me, his thrusts slow and deliberate, building a new wave of sensation.
It makes my magic purr but it’s not enough.
Not for the magic and not for me. My body moves greedily and the moans escaping my lips take on a more desperate pitch with each heartbeat.
More. Please. I need more. I don’t say the words aloud, but I don’t need to.
Kai is already responding, his hands scooping the wetness trickling down my thighs and spreading it along my back entrance.
It’s slick and warm and makes my heart stutter to a new speed yet.
The rational part of me shivers with nerves but the bigger part, the one drunk on magic and need, begs him to hurry. To connect. To merge.
Each moment apart makes the magic burn scolding hot over my skin.
Kai bites into my shoulder and I cry out at the sudden sting. Yet by the time the sound escapes my lips, the sensation has already morphed from pain into something else, something dark and delicious that makes my core clench around Logan. I gasp.
That’s when Kai takes me from behind. It's slow and filling as deep, deep, deep.
I whimper at the stretch, then whimper again as his hand comes around front to tease my engorged bud.
I can feel them both now, separated by only a thin barrier of flesh, their lengths sliding against each other in a rhythm that makes my heart pound.
Zings of what must be magic shoot from my core and race down my body.
My breasts ache. My toes curl. Every fiber of my being vibrates under the relentless erratic assault.
It's too much, too intense, but I can't get enough. I need more, need them to move faster, harder. I push back against Kai, meeting his thrusts with my own, and he growls, his fingers tightening on my hips.
“One more, Chaos," says Kyrian. His fingers tangle in my hair, his cock brushing against my lips until I open my mouth greedily.
The taste of him is salty and earthy, a primal flavor that sends a shiver down my spine.
I have only a heartbeat to savor the velvety feel of him along my tongue, to appreciate how his cock twitches with each beat of his heart that now matches mine.
After that, we start to spiral into a new abyss.
Logan’s thrusts become harder, more urgent, his length sliding against Kai's in a dance that makes my core sing with magic. I feel every ridge, thick every inch of them as they move inside me, from the hardness in my mouth, to the pounding into my backside and sex. The thrusts are frenzied, the males’ bodies slamming into mine.
I’m close. So close. We all are.
I can feel their magic, the hum of their essence, magnifying with every thrust. My every nerve is alive, vibrating with pleasure. The coalesces into a tangible force that lifts from the runes along the males’ skin. And the pressure building inside me? It's so intense that it hurts.
Kyrian’s grip on my hair tightens. "That’s it, Chaos," he pants. “Let yourself go. Let us take you.”
I come undone, the release crashing over me with a tsunami’s force.
My body convulses, my breath hitches, my heart pounds.
I’m consumed by pleasure, by the feel of their hands, their mouths, their bodies.
The magic surges, a flood of power that fills and heals me.
That binds my essence to theirs. And theirs to mine.
Which would be terrifying if it wasn’t so damn addicting. My mind spins. My sex throbs. And all I want is to do it all again. And again. And -
“I hate to interrupt," a voice that sounds like a female version of Kai says from somewhere beyond the sphere of what I care about.
“But there is a rather large Eryndor army marching on us. So if Prince Kyrian could find his trousers and take charge of what’s now his detachment, everyone would be most appreciative. "