Chapter 68 Marcel
sixty-eight
Marcel
My fingers fumbled with the buttons of my shirt for what felt like the hundredth time. Decades as a beast had left me with memories of how to dress, but my newly human hands refused to cooperate with the simple task. Frustration bubbled in my chest as another button slipped through my fingers.
Beast or prince, I’d never been a man who tolerated incompetence, especially my own.
I’d slid by earlier by wearing my royal jacket, but I needed to do my buttons up for dinner.
The claiming mark on my shoulder pulsed with warmth.
A constant reminder that I was no longer alone, no longer trapped. That she was here. That she was ours.
I glanced at the mirror across the room, still startled by the reflection that stared back.
Not the massive, honey-furred beast I’d been for decades, but a man.
Dark hair with golden highlights, a strong jaw, and eyes that remained amber despite the transformation.
My body was human now—muscled, scarred, and naked apart from the half-buttoned shirt hanging open across my chest and the trousers I’d managed to pull on but not fasten.
This room. My room. The very one where Isabeau had slept during her first stay in our castle.
I remembered watching her from the shadows, fascinated by her courage, her defiance.
I’d gone mad with wanting her then. How many evenings had I paced outside this door, claws scoring the stone floor, fighting the urge to claim what instinct told me was mine?
She was ours, and I had claimed her while she stayed. Not as much as my brothers, but I had her first out in the forest when she arrived. I’ll never forget the need that came over me. It blinded me until I was done claiming her.
Now, she was marked and claimed by all three of us. And, unexpectedly, by Alain as well. The thought of sharing her still dug claws into my pride, but the claiming bond left no room for jealousy. We were connected now, all five of us, in ways that defied traditional understanding.
A soft giggle from the doorway pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to find Isabeau leaning against the frame, her eyes dancing with amusement as she watched my struggle.
“Having trouble, Your Highness?” she teased, the light in her eyes making my heart stutter in my chest. She wore a simple gown now, her torn and bloodied dress discarded somewhere.
She was also freshly washed like us. The blue fabric hugged her curves in ways that made my newly restored human body respond with immediate interest.
“Come help me then,” I growled, my voice still carrying echoes of the beast I’d been. I didn’t wait for her response. In three long strides, I crossed the room, grabbed her wrists, and pulled her inside. The door swung shut behind her with a satisfying thud as I backed her against it.
“Marcel,” she gasped, half-surprise, half-desire. Her pulse jumped beneath my fingertips. “I was only teasing.”
“I know.” I pressed my forehead to hers, breathing in her scent of sunshine and floral magic and something uniquely hers. “I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw you in my room. Wishing to have my human form, with my human hands.”
I slid those hands up her arms, marveling at how delicate she felt beneath my calloused touch.
As a beast, I’d been constantly aware of my size, my strength, the damage I could do if I wasn’t careful.
Now, though still larger than her, the disparity wasn’t so extreme.
I could touch her without fear of harming her.
“Your hands are shaking,” she whispered, reaching up to cup my face. Her touch was gentle, reverent.
“I’ve been a monster so long I’ve forgotten how to be a man,” I admitted, the words raw in my throat. “Help me remember.”
She answered by pressing her lips to mine, soft and warm and perfect. Real. Her mouth yielded to mine as I deepened the kiss, my hands sliding down to her waist, pulling her against me until I could feel every curve of her body through the thin fabric of her gown.
The claiming mark flared with heat, and I instinctively reached for it, sending a pulse of desire through the bond. Calling my brothers. Calling Alain. They would feel it, would know I wanted them here, would understand what I was offering.
Isabeau sensed it too. “What are you doing?” she murmured against my lips, her breathing already faster.
“Sharing,” I answered simply. “As we agreed. As we must.”
The door opened minutes later, the others arriving one by one as if drawn by an invisible thread.
Laurent first, already dressed impeccably in forest green, his eyes darkening as he took in the scene before him.
Then Bastien, shirt half-open like mine, impatience radiating from every line of his body.
Finally Alain, hesitating briefly at the threshold before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
“I see you started without us, brother,” Laurent observed, his voice deceptively calm though I could feel his desire through our connection.
“Just warming her up,” I replied, my hand slipping down to cup Isabeau’s ass, drawing a soft gasp from her lips. “She caught me half-dressed and laughed. I thought she needed a lesson in respect for her princes.”
Bastien snorted, crossing the room to stand behind Isabeau, effectively trapping her between us. “Respect isn’t what I want from her right now,” he said, his hands finding her hips as he pressed against her back. “Is it, my little goddess?”
Isabeau’s breath hitched, her pupils dilating as she looked up at me. “What do you want from me?” she asked, and though she addressed the question to all of us, her eyes remained fixed on mine.
“Everything,” I answered honestly. “We want to worship you, Isabeau. All of us together.”
Alain moved closer then, his royal confidence temporarily subdued by the intensity of the moment. “If that’s what you want,” he added softly. “If you’ll have us. All of us.”
She nodded, wordless, her cheeks flushing with desire. It was all the permission we needed.
I claimed her mouth again as the others moved around us, working in silent coordination.
Bastien’s hands slid around to the front of her dress, finding the laces that held it closed.
Laurent moved to kneel before her, already lifting the hem of her skirt.
Alain positioned himself behind her, his hands replacing Bastien’s on her hips as my brother moved to the side.
The dress fell open under Bastien’s impatient fingers, revealing her inch by perfect inch.
No undergarments—she hadn’t been given any, I realized with a surge of primitive satisfaction.
She stood naked before us, goddess-born and glorious, the claiming mark on her shoulder matching the ones on ours.
“Beautiful,” Laurent murmured, his hands sliding up her calves to her thighs. “Perfect.”
“Ours,” Bastien added, bending to take one perfect breast into his mouth, drawing a sharp gasp from Isabeau that I swallowed in our kiss.
Alain pressed against her from behind, his hardness evident even through his clothes. His hand traveled up her side, cupping her other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers in perfect counterpoint to Bastien’s mouth.
I broke the kiss, watching her face as pleasure overtook her. Her eyes fluttered closed, her lips parted on a sigh. “Look at you,” I whispered, tilting her chin up to meet my gaze. “Taking all of our attention so well. Our perfect mate.”
Laurent’s mouth had reached the apex of her thighs, and her knees buckled as he found her center with his tongue. I held her up, watching her face as the first waves of pleasure washed over her.
“Bed,” I commanded, and the others nodded their agreement. We guided her to the massive four-poster where she’d slept alone for too many nights, where I’d imagined her countless times during my bestial imprisonment.
She lay back against the pillows, watching with hooded eyes as we stripped.
Bastien was first, impatient as always, tearing at his half-fastened shirt and trousers until he stood gloriously naked, his cock jutting proudly from a nest of dark curls.
Laurent followed with more restraint, each piece of clothing removed and folded with precision that made Bastien roll his eyes.
Alain hesitated only briefly before joining us in our nakedness, his royal reserve abandoned in the heat of the moment.
I was last, struggling with my buttons once more until Isabeau sat up, batting my hands away to do it herself.
Her fingers were nimble, efficient, brushing against my heated skin with each unfastened button until the shirt fell open.
She pushed it off my shoulders, then reached for the fastening of my trousers that wasn’t done up, but my hands went to pull them down.
“Let me,” she murmured, and I couldn’t deny her. Not when her eyes held such desire, such wonder at the sight of us.
Then we were all naked, surrounding her on the bed like the cardinal points of a compass, drawn to her as our magnetic north.
Hands everywhere. Mine on her breasts, Bastien’s in her hair, Laurent’s between her thighs, Alain’s caressing her sides.
She writhed beneath our combined attention, gasping and moaning as we discovered every sensitive spot, every place that made her breath catch.
“Please,” she whispered, the word a prayer and a demand in one. “I need—”
“We know what you need,” I assured her, nodding to the others. We’d never done this before, shared a woman between us, but the claiming bond guided us, showing us how to move together, how to please her completely.
Laurent positioned himself at her entrance, his cock glistening with her wetness as he pushed inside in one smooth thrust. She cried out, her back arching, but the sound was cut short as Bastien guided his cock to her mouth.
She took him eagerly, her hands gripping his thighs for stability as he began a gentle rhythm.