Chapter 49
FORTY-NINE
Z
T he meeting with the council members had not gone well.
I wasn’t even sure if I could classify it as a meeting. A screaming match would be a better description. Everyone wanted something—most of which we couldn’t guarantee.
The vampires were worried about their blood source, the genies wondered how they would create deals, the mages feared their lazy existences would implode, and so on. No matter what my mates and I promised, we couldn’t come to an agreement. We left the room hours later, with the promise to reconvene tomorrow morning.
Tonight, we had kings to kill.
The execution was set for one minute before midnight. It would be a small affair, consisting of us, the council, and the kings’ families—including their many wives and lovers.
At first, I worried that the various queens would cause an issue, but my mates assured me that the majority of them didn’t want the throne or the power it involved. The ones who did wouldn’t dare make a move against us, especially with the kings out of the way.
When I finally entered my bedroom, I feared my brain would explode in every direction. A splitting migraine had erupted behind my eyes shortly after the meeting commenced and had refused to let up.
Atta had stopped me in the hall to ask a question about our troops, and the majority of my mates had continued on to my room. Only Ryland stayed with me, a silent shadow at my side.
The lights were off in my room, which took me by surprise.
Where were the others?
Soft lips feathered against my neck, and I instinctively rolled my head to the side with a moan.
“You had a long day,” Ryland murmured, his lips tickling my skin.
I snorted before I could stop myself. “I had a long life.”
And wasn’t that the fucking truth.
“That you have.” He deposited another kiss to my flesh, this one directly beneath my ear. “But hopefully things will start calming down.”
“Before or after we execute the kings, claim seven kingdoms, and go to war with my sister?”
“Can’t the answer be all of the above?” As Ryland spoke, he began to shuffle me forward from behind, his arms iron bands around my waist, wisps of shadows emanating from his brown skin.
He moved the two of us towards the bathroom, where a soft glow emitted.
“What is this?” I asked.
The door slid open on silent hinges, revealing two more of my mates.
In the very center of the room was a claw-footed porcelain tub that wasn’t there prior. Steam wafted from the bubbly water, and a few rose petals floated across the surface. Candles—the source of the light I’d spotted earlier—were positioned around the room, their flames casting ambient shadows on the wall.
Killian smiled sheepishly when he saw me, and Bash smirked.
“What’s going on?” I whirled towards Ryland, but he had already left, the door swinging shut behind him.
I faced Bash and Killian, who both stared at me intently.
I always loved the juxtaposition of these two particular men. Bash was snarky and confident. Killian was shy and timid. Bash was loud and combative. Killian was soft-spoken and gentle.
Their hooded eyes moved over me as I stood there, speechless.
“Seriously. What’s happening?” I was so damn confused.
“We thought you needed a little break.” Bash’s voice sounded like a sinful purr that traveled straight to my core.
“What type of mates would we be if we didn’t look after you?” Killian asked, awkwardly fiddling with one of the horns on his head.
When he caught me looking, he dropped his hand with a timid smile.
My heart threatened to burst. “This is sweet, guys, but we don’t have time?—”
“Nonsense.” Bash waved away my protest. “We have hours before the…”
He swallowed, his throat bobbing, and I waited for him to continue, to say “execution.” He didn’t.
“Let us take care of you.” Killian’s long lashes fluttered, sooty twigs against his high cheekbones.
“Now disrobe, woman!” Bash adopted a haughty voice and snapped his fingers impatiently. “Let us see what we’re working with.”
I snorted, and Killian leaned forward to whack Bash across the back of the head.
“Ow.” My mage pouted dramatically.
“Are you sure?” I bit my lower lip.
Technically, I knew that we had time, but it felt…strange to do something as mundane as bathing or relaxing with everything going on. Wrong, almost. I shouldn’t be enjoying myself when battle was on the horizon.
Yet…
I stared at the steaming water and then at the earnest faces of my mates.
Before I could change my mind or second-guess my decision, I began removing my clothes, one article at a time. I didn’t mean for it to be sensual, but by the way my mates stared at me, it was as if I were dancing on a pole. I felt beautiful and desirable. Loved.
“Motherfucker,” Killian breathed, his cheeks on fire as he hungrily devoured my body.
“Mate fucker,” Bash corrected.
Ignoring them, I stepped into the bathtub and slowly lowered myself into the steaming depths. It was hot, but not too hot that it felt uncomfortable. The heat caressed my skin in ways that felt almost decadent. Wicked.
Or maybe that was just the stares of the two men before me.
Killian moved to kneel beside me, his gaze reverent.
“Wet your hair, Z.” The order was airy. Breathless.
It caused my nipples to tighten and fire to swirl in my lower belly.
Shutting my eyes, I did as he requested, sinking my head beneath the water. I waited only a moment before popping back up and wiping away the droplets with the back of my hand.
Killian grabbed a bottle of shampoo and poured a generous amount into his palm. He rubbed his hands together and then positioned himself so he knelt directly behind me. His fingers scraped through my blonde tresses, and I swore I never felt anything so divine. A moan caught in my throat.
Bash positioned himself on my other side and rolled up his sleeves. My gaze automatically lowered to his muscular forearms, relishing the way they bunched.
Bash noted the direction of my hungry stare and smirked. “See something you like, baby?”
The question was a taunt, but before I could respond, he grabbed a different container of soap, poured it into his hands, and then reached for me. The cold gel against my overheated flesh almost made me yelp.
Bash began to rub body wash into my skin, paying particular attention to my heavy breasts. He caressed the slippery globes with his hands and then brought his fingers to my nipples, plucking them.
This time, I couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped, my lashes fluttering shut before I forced them to reopen. To focus.
“Bash, you’re supposed to be washing her. Not fondling her…errr…breasts,” Killian admonished, fumbling over that final word.
I didn’t need to see his face to know it would be crimson.
“Not my fault Z has the best fucking tits in the entire world.” Bash twisted my nipples again. “But fine. Ruin my fun.”
His hands—with great reluctance—left my breasts and moved to my stomach in the water. I was certain by now all of the soap had left his hands, but Bash didn’t stop his downward descent. He practically leaned over the edge of the tub now, his ash-blond hair falling forward, his green eyes intent?—
With a laugh, I reached for his shoulders, and Bash fell into the tub with a splash.
“What the fuck?!” He began to sputter, flicking wet hair out of his face.
His sopping clothes clung to his muscular physique.
“You look like a wet dog,” I teased, still chuckling.
Bash’s eyes narrowed accusingly. “You little?—”
“Bash. Timeline.” Killian’s fingers combed through my locks.
Bash stuck his tongue out at the incubus before turning towards me. “Don’t think this is over. You may have won the battle, but you’ll lose the war.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” I waved my hand in the air. “All I hear is a bunch of talking. No action.”
Bash looked as if he was going to prove to me he was all action, but Killian captured my attention by applying pressure to my shoulders.
“Down,” he instructed, lowering me into the water.
I did so, allowing just my face to poke through the water. I felt Killian’s hands in my hair as he washed out the soap.
Bash began to teasingly work his fingers up my bare thighs—which had shifted closer to him in this new position. The ache between my legs was almost unbearable, but I knew Bash had no intention of giving me what I craved.
Tease.
I tried to ignore the feather-like touches against my flesh, but it was damn difficult, especially with Killian’s fingers expertly tugging at my hair. I wanted him to pull even harder. To wrap the strands around his fist as he guided my face to his hard dick. To?—
Killian gently helped me sit up in the water. “There!” He sounded immensely pleased. “All done.”
He stood and moved towards a white, fluffy robe hanging on the door.
“You’re awfully good at washing a woman’s hair.” Bash reclined back in the tub, seemingly unconcerned—or no longer caring—that he was fully clothed. “How many have you washed before?”
I whirled towards Killian instinctively. The thought of Killian washing the hair of anyone who wasn’t me sent a bolt of red-hot fury through me. It made me just a teeny, tiny bit stabby. Okay, a lot stabby.
“None!” Killian sputtered, looking horrified. Then to Bash, he said, “Don’t be an ass.”
“Can’t help that I have a good one,” Bash quipped.
“Yeah. It’s right…there.” I pointed to his face, and he playfully nipped at my finger.
“You saying I have an ass face, baby?”
“If the shoe fits…” I stood and grabbed the nearest towel, drying myself off.
Killian waited patiently for me to lower the towel into the laundry bin before stepping closer. His gaze trailed over me, and he swallowed.
I stepped into the robe, which smelled of citrus and laundry detergent. I wondered if this was what it felt like to be embraced by a fluffy cloud.
“Thank you. Both of you. This was really sweet. I needed this.” I tied the robe shut.
“You’re not done yet, sweetness.” Killian leaned forward to peck my forehead and then stepped back and extended a hand for me to take. “Come on.”
Confused, I placed my hand in his and allowed him to lead me out of the bathroom and into the living room.
Before, the lights were off, but now they were on, though slightly dimmed. In the very center of the room was a cushioned table. Lupe stood beside it, looking absolutely irresistible in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else.
Killian squeezed my hand once and then disappeared into a different room—I didn’t look to see which one. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the large, arresting man standing before me.
Lupe was, by far, the biggest of my mates. I never got tired of staring at him shirtless.
Broad shoulders.
Muscular arms.
Tapered waist.
A tiny trail of brown hair just below his belly button.
I wanted to lick every last inch of him.
“Is this the part where you have your wicked way with me?” I asked, only half teasing.
Lupe’s eyes flared with unbridled heat. “Later, my love.” He patted the table. “But for now, strip and lie down on your stomach.”
I arched an eyebrow as I undid the rope I’d just tied.
“You claim you’re not having your way with me, yet…” I waggled my eyebrows suggestively as I lowered the robe to the ground and sashayed towards the table, putting an extra sway in my step.
Lupe’s breath hitched, and I could feel his eyes on me like two hot pokers.
I draped myself onto the table and placed my arms beneath my head.
“Okay, so what exactly is this? What are you… Ohhh.” I moaned as Lupe’s large, talented hands began to work out the knots in my shoulders.
Had I died and gone to heaven? That seemed like a reasonable explanation.
“Who better to massage your muscles than a shifter with enhanced strength?” Lupe asked, his thumbs digging into the middle of my back.
My awareness became a pinprick singled in on his hands.
Holy fuck.
He massaged my shoulders, my neck, my upper back, and then my lower back. We didn’t speak, but I was honestly pretty sure I was incapable of it. My mind was nothing but color, drowning in sensation.
Lupe’s hands moved to my ass and began to massage. I wondered if he could tell how wet I was. Could he smell my arousal? See it? If he did, he didn’t give any indication as he continued on to my thighs, then my lower legs, and then finally my feet.
By the time he was done, I was a mindless heap, incapable of coherent thoughts.
Lupe chuckled as he playfully swatted my ass. “Up. You’re not done yet.”
I thought I mumbled something like, “I don’t wanna,” but it was impossible to know for sure.
“Z…” Lupe warned, and I huffed, pushing myself onto my elbows.
“Is it finally orgasm time?” I asked hopefully, peeking at Lupe over my shoulder.
His ravenous eyes were on my ass, but at my question, he turned towards me, amusement sparkling in his gaze. “You’ll just have to see.”
He reached for my discarded robe and then held it open for me. I stepped into it once more and reached for the tie. Lupe’s hands were there before I could finish, gently knotting the bathrobe shut.
I placed my much smaller hands over his large ones. “Thank you for this. I mean it.”
Lupe gripped my chin and lowered his face to mine. Our lips met in a kiss that was both sweet and sensual simultaneously. Goose bumps skittered across my skin.
“Later.” That one word, whispered against my lips, was both a promise and a threat.
I shivered.
“Now go.” Lupe grabbed my shoulders and spun me towards the bedroom.
I had no idea what my mates had planned for me next, but I couldn’t wait for it. This was exactly what I needed after the day—no, weeks, no, months —I’d had.
I stepped into my bedroom, my heart hammering, and focused immediately on the blanket spread across the ground. A picnic basket sat open beside it, and inside, I could see chocolate-covered strawberries, tiny sandwiches, and some sort of pastry. I had no idea which mate—or mates—was behind this particular surprise.
I smoothed the robe around me as I gingerly sat on the edge of the blanket, folding my legs beneath me.
My bed had been pushed to the side to give us more room, and the drapes had been bound away from the slightly opened window, allowing copious amounts of moonlight to spill inside. Wind stirred my hair and elicited a fresh round of goose bumps.
Now, what to try first…
I reached for the chocolate-covered strawberry just as the closet door opened behind me.
“Were you hiding from me?” I asked, nibbling on the tip of the sweet fruit.
Yet…
This didn’t feel like my mate. I felt no bond. No surge of awareness. No blaze of warmth.
Keeping my movements casual, I lowered the strawberry back to the blanket and reached for a wineglass. Then, with an almost blistering speed, I shattered the glass against the side of the basket, jumped to my feet, and held the mangled shard in front of me.
All of the air rushed out of my lungs at the face of the intruder.
“S,” I whispered, terror coiling around my heart and squeezing.
My ex-boyfriend smiled, revealing yellowed, chipped teeth.
“Hello, my love.” He tilted his head to the side, and ribbons of pink and red flesh pulled taut. “We need to talk.”