Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
I’ll admit I’m pretty out of it.
But it sounded like my fake alien boyfriend just told my situationship that he has to fuck me.
While he watches.
Now would be a great time to be sane. Unfortunately, my frontal lobe has left the building—and all I have is the mosh pit in my middle.
We need him, we need him, we need him.
The frantic voice fails to specify which “him” she’s referring to. She also sends a weak whine streaking up my throat.
“Shh, little one,” Rask hums. The vibrating purr in his chest deepens. Warm strength tightens around my shoulders and knees. “We’re almost there.”
Oh, right. Because a pink alien with wings and horns is carrying me to bed.
Not my bed, by the way. I’m not sure how I know, but some indistinct instinct tells me this isn’t the way to my room. The shrill voice inside me doesn’t like that, but she’s nervous about upsetting him.
No, not the male carrying me.
The other one.
Our Alpha.
Zolkan stalks ahead of us, barking commands at every attendant we encounter along the way. After a winding up circle of steps and a wide, silver-blue hallway, he shoves into an enormous chamber.
Fit for a king, I think dizzily, glancing around.
The blue stone continues into the room, making up the huge oval floor and the proportionately large bed. It’s the same shape as mine, fashioned for wings.
But Zolkan doesn’t have wings.
The dazed thought must send the Alpha’s name tumbling out of my mouth, because his hulking purple frame suddenly jerks to a halt. He whirls, and I’m not sure whether I should cower or try to leap down to go to him. In the end, he decides for me, closing the space between us in three strides.
“I am here, stryllas,” he murmurs, bending to briefly touch his plated forehead to mine. “I will not leave you this time. You will never feel abandoned again—you have my word.”
The male holding me swallows a growl. I only hear it because my face is pressed into his chest. “Then what,” he demands, his spicy scent burning at the edges, “do you need me for?”
“For her,” the king growls quietly, his eyes falling shut just inches from mine. He snaps them open and steps back. “She said you pleased her. I want you to do it again.”
The pink alien shudders, his scaled, leathery wings flapping. I peer through my haze, trying to understand the way he gazes down at me. Brow low, mouth turned down—but softer, somehow.
His silvery eyes leap from my face to the other male. “Why, Zolkan?” he asks, almost desperate. Like he really, truly wants to understand. “She is the finest treasure in the universe, and she wants you just as much as she wants me. Why would you share her?”
The purple male puts on an imperious expression, rising to his full height. With his great, arching horns, his size really is intimidating. He could crush me. And God knows how large his cocks will be.
His regal features are as impressive as his strength—all velvet lavender and striking violet. A dizzy thrill trills through my stomach, butterflies fluttering in my chest.
I’m so distracted, I barely sense the tense beat of silence stretching between the males. Dominance rolls off the purple one—his name is Zolkan, I remind myself, ZOLKAN—in waves.
“You thought of me as a brother once,” he finally says. “Did you not?”
My bleary brain can’t keep up with the pain and bitterness on their faces. The pink, achingly handsome one—Rask, I chant to myself, Rask, Rask, Rask—curls his upper lip in a sneer. But his eyes glow with anguish. “I did.”
Zolkan nods. “Then you should be able to trust me. At least once more.”
Rask’s fingers tighten, dimpling my thigh and my upper arm. “You expect me to believe you’re going to—to gift her to me? In this state? While you watch?”
The notion should horrify me. Instead, a deluge of images floods my mind, drowning it with thoughts of their bare skin and scents and cocks… plural. Because, surely, Zolkan also has two…
A desperate noise tears from my chest. The Zortaire glances at me. His lips pull up, caught between a wince and a bleak smile.
“I know what my omega needs,” he says simply. His violet eyes land on Rask’s quicksilver. “And I suspect you like the idea of humbling me.”
Rask does. I know it better than either of them, because I can scent the way the thought affects him. Deepening his spicy musk until I’m sure I’ll cry if I don’t get to taste him.
“R-rask?” I whimper.
His purr hitches. “I’m right here, little one,” he promises. “I have you.” Then he pauses for a beat, deciding, “I’m not going anywhere, either.”