Chapter 8
Ursula’s keen eyes did not miss the careful way Zul and Bran moved or the subtle thickness of bandages beneath the fabric of their clothing. Her voice turned thin and suspicious when she demanded, “What happened?”
Gil cupped her cheek and pressed a kiss to her crown. “Sit, elska’adir, and we shall explain all.”
Ursula waited for Gil to sit and allowed him to draw her onto his lap.
Leaning against his chest as he splayed a hand across her belly, she shot a sharp glare at Bran then Zul.
“I heard the commotion. The servants barred me from the corridor leading to the arena. Why were you two beating on each other?”
Bran sat down and gave her a toothy smile, a facial expression he’d learned from her. His mate’s expression didn’t change; she remained suspicious. “Be at ease, elska’adir. Your triad is once again whole.”
Ursula’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “And you had to beat the snot out of him to accomplish that?” Zul grunted in offense. He’d given as well as he’d received. She paused to consider her next words, then said, “Did you do this for me?”
Gil’s thumb stroked her, the tip gently rubbing the underside of her breast through the filmy fabric of her dress. His low chuckle rumbled through his chest and soothed her like a cat’s purr. “No, my love, Bran did this for us.”
“Sit, Zullar cen’Vyr,” Bran bade the hulking, red berserker. “You have tonight to heal and adjust to your new triad. Before we depart, we will claim our mate together.”
Zul sat, every movement careful. He glanced at Ursula, his black gaze almost sheepish. His velvety baritone filled the room: “Only if she accepts me.”
Ursula gasped. Gil said over her soft sound of surprise, “I have registered our triad with the government. Perhaps now they will cease trying to get us killed.”
Bran nodded. “Good. It will be best if our mate conceives soon.”
“Hey, I’m right here,” Ursula announced.
Gil’s hand pressed against her belly. “Did you not wonder why you have not conceived since Crow was born? It is not because we do not fuck you.”
“I know why,” came the dry response. Ursula’s voice hardened, “But as I told you before, I’m neither your broodmare nor your fuck toy. It would be nice to be consulted and to give my consent first.”
Gil’s hand slid down her abdomen and pressed between her thighs, the loose, flowing fabric of her skirt doing nothing to prevent her from feeling his intimate touch. Ursula’s breath hitched. “Tonight we will proceed with the Rite of First Touch as a bound triad.”
Ursula shivered as desire rippled through her body.
She remembered her terror the night she’d escaped from the human embassy in a futile bid for freedom.
She remembered encountering the hungry oryxis and the bloody, vicious battle in which Crow had engaged to defeat it and prevent it from eating her for supper.
She remembered the suffocating feeling of Bran’s mind overwhelming and opening her mind to them, forcing her to accept their claim, though their touch had not harmed her.
“Why is it necessary to go through the sequence of rites again?” she asked, the memory of dread making her reluctant to repeat the experience.
“To keep the balance,” Bran answered. With a jut of his chin toward Zul, he added, “We must claim you as a triad, together, to secure the bond between mates and ensure your fertility.”
Ursula’s upper lip lifted and she reiterated, “I am not a fucking broodmare for the empire.”
Gil’s free hand stroked her hair. Zul’s bleak gaze met hers, and he said, “If you do not wish to touch me or for me to touch you, I will not.”
Ursula looked away, feeling ashamed. She took a deep breath then forced herself to meet his gaze once more. “It’s not that I’m not attracted to you, Zul. It’s… it’s…” Her voice trailed off as she found herself unable to express the rationale for her reluctance.
“I am not Crow,” Zul finished for her.
Her shoulders sagged and her head bowed. She sniffled. “No, you are not Crow.”
“Zul is stronger than Crow, and there is no doubt as to his honor,” Bran stated.
Gill added his proverbial two cents. “And he has given you and our son kindness. He has shown he can and will be gentle with you.”
Ursula shook her head again and sighed, knowing she had no valid objection beyond not wanting her life arranged for her again. I would have liked to have been given the privilege of choice.
Bran’s approval of Zul washed through her mind. He gives you that privilege.
Ursula’s gaze flickered to Zul who continued to stare at her, his black eyes and closed expression revealing nothing. However, he could not conceal his dismay through the mental bond they shared through Bran. Through that bond which Bran held open for her, Zul could conceal nothing.
She saw his desire for her. He admired her beauty and delighted in her affectionate manner with her son.
He felt both awe and puzzlement at her mates’ trust in her to run her own business.
She saw his curiosity at her love and skill for pottery.
That her skill was creative rather than destructive satisfied something deep inside him and apparently proved her a feminine ideal to him.
Ursula sighed as her cheeks burned with shame.
Zul was handsome and honorable, kind and surprisingly gentle.
He would rather fall on his sword than harm her or Crow.
He would protect her and her son with every lethal skill he commanded and be proud to die in doing so.
He offered her all of himself and only hoped for her tolerance.
He will demand my obedience.
“We all demand your obedience,” Bran said aloud. Gil stroked her hair again. Bran continued, “Our lenience and generosity allow you to forget where you are.”
She snorted. “Oh, I never forget where I am, you big brute.”
Gil’s hand slid over her scalp again, soothing her. “No, elska’adir, you do not forget you live on Uribern now, but you do not yet truly understand our culture. Look at your First.”
She obeyed.
“See his size. Compare it to yours.” He tweaked a nipple. She gasped. “Urib females of every species are smaller than their males. Humans are smaller yet and so delicate.” He tweaked the other nipple. “We allow you privileges so we can withdraw them to protect you.”
Ursula squirmed on his lap, but the hand pressing between her thighs kept her anchored in place. “I don’t think so.” She took a stronger metaphorical grip on her thoughts and added, “Urib males believe females are less than them.”
“You are smaller and much weaker,” Bran pointed out. “You do not have the speed, strength, or skill to protect yourself.”
She raised her chin. “But that doesn’t mean I’m mentally deficient. It doesn’t mean I’m incompetent, incapable of rational thought, or unable to make good decisions.”
“Of course, not,” Gil assured her. “Females are creators of beauty and wellsprings of pleasure. All that confers civilization upon us and makes us superior to wild beasts comes from females.”
“We cherish our females,” Bran concluded.
Unable to refute the reality of her experience as their mate, she lashed out one last time: “Your government has been trying to get you killed, so they can place” —she gestured with air quotes, a gesture her mates had learned conveyed irony or sarcasm— “me with another triad to breed more babies! And I would have no recourse!”
“Ah, elska’adir, I understand your distress,” Bran said. “Why do you think I have searched these years for a new Third to complete our triad? Zul is not the only suitable male I have considered, but he is the only suitable male you would consider.”
Ursula’s jaw dropped. “I hadn’t realized you’d been parading potential Thirds through the house.”
“Not all of them,” he clarified.
“But, yes, some of them,” Gil added. He chuckled. “And it is strangely appropriate that you found our Third all by yourself.”
Ursula felt herself flush as Gil’s approval and amusement washed over her and he pulled the fabric of her skirt up her legs. She felt her body moisten in readiness. “Well, I didn’t exactly find him.”
“You know what Gil means,” Bran gently reproached her.
“I do,” she said on a gasp as Gil eased a thick finger inside her.
She sharply inhaled again as the heavy muscles in his thighs bunched and released beneath her as he rose from the chair while holding her against his body.
He allowed her to sink several inches, impaling her upon his thumb as his splayed fingers curved around her buttocks. “This isn’t like last time.”
Bran chuckled at her breathy words and fixed his gaze on her exposed thighs and the shallow lift and fall of her breasts beneath the light, loose fabric of her dress as she panted. “No, mate, this will be better.”
Ursula’s eyelids fluttered shut. She felt the press of Bran’s thumb above her right eye and the slide of his hand beneath her bottom to support her weight because her feet dangled at least a foot above the floor.
She heard rather than saw Zul’s slow, careful approach and inhaled his clean scent when he drew near.
“Steady her,” Gil said as he lifted his hand away from her abdomen and pressed the pad of his thumb above her left eye.
A hand, broad and calloused, pressed against her ribs, the placement of fingers carefully avoiding any unnecessary intimacy. A third thumb pressed against her forehead between the other two.
““I am the First of your mates, Brannal cen’Vyr, Prime of Fangrys Triad. Your honor and pleasure are mine and my love is yours. Receive me with joy,” Bran intoned.
Gil spoke next. “I am Gilvane cen’Vyr, Second of the Fangrys Triad, and the Forever of your mates to accompany you for so long as you live. Your honor and pleasure are mine, and my love is yours. Receive me with joy.”
Finally, Zul spoke, his voice filled with awe. “I am Zullar cen’Vyr, Third of the Fangrys Triad, and the Bridge who connects the First and the Forever. Your honor and pleasure are mine, and my love is yours. Receive me with joy.”
Simultaneously, they lifted their thumbs from Ursula’s brow, each leaving behind a shimmering imprint: gold for Bran, turquoise for Gil, and ruby for Zul.
Ursula moaned as her mind opened to the warrior triad.
Two of those minds were familiar, easing the blast of heat, desire, and excitement of the third.
“The psychic bond is established,” Bran whispered. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Tomorrow we will complete the Rite of First Taste.”
Ursula exhaled a shuddering sigh as her channel tightened around Gil’s thumb.
“Let him see you take your pleasure,” Gil murmured. “Give him this gift.”
Gil flexed his thumb to press and stroke against that magical spot within her body that never failed to stoke her passion.
Another hand—she recognized Bran’s touch—pinched her nipples.
As though an electric line ran directly from her nipples to her G-spot, she cried out as her climax burst. The musky smell of her passion filled the air and mixed with her panted breaths.
Connected to her mind through the bond, Zul felt Ursula’s pleasure swell and burst. His own cock swelled and demanded release.
“Soon, this, too, will be yours to share,” Bran said to Zul as Gil’s hands shifted to hold their mate’s open thighs and support her weight. The golden Prime stepped between her spread legs and lifted his kilt to expose his turgid, pulsing cock.
Zul’s jaw dropped as, fascinated, he watched Bran position his cock at the entrance of their mate’s body and slowly push inside. Ursula’s throaty moan sounded like sultry music to his ears. The base of his horns heated with fiery lust, and he clamped a hand around his own swollen cock.
“You need not stay if you do not wish it,” Gil whispered to him.
However, Zul could not pull himself away.
He could not summon that discipline or mastery of his own body, but stroked himself and watched as his new Prime fucked their mate.
The wet, squelching sounds twined with Bran’s soft grunts and the rapid movement of Zul’s hand as he squeezed and stroked.
He gurgled, swallowing a cry and tightening his grip as Bran hissed his release, sharing his pleasure through the mental bond with his triad.
After a long moment, Bran withdrew from Ursula’s body, then he and Gil shifted her with practiced ease.
His seed and the drops of her passion dribbled from her body and splattered on the floor.
Gil transferred her to Bran’s arms, and he supported her while Gil moved the fabric of her clothing out of the way and speared his cock into her from behind.
Zul choked back a growl as Gil set a punishing rhythm, his hips slapping into their mate’s buttocks.
Soon, Gil, too, reached his climax as Ursula cried out and her body shuddered in an explosion of matching pleasure.
Zul, too, found his release, catching the spew of his seed in his hand. He grunted then sighed. Tomorrow he would taste her, and she would taste him. And then they would fuck.