Chapter 17
The next morning found Ursula nestled between Gil’s legs in the humongous bathtub—a shallow pool, really—as he washed her clean of the previous night’s sticky residue.
Both her mates watched, occasionally pointing out a spot he’d missed or simply leaning over to press a kiss to her head or shoulder or offering her a sip of ti’chal, Uribern’s favorite morning beverage.
Zul and Bran had already bathed, and Gil would wash himself after the three of them deemed her properly clean—and that would only happen after Gil’s clever fingers made sure she orgasmed at least twice.
Of course, watching Gil finger her to orgasm incited Bran and Zul to pull out their big cocks and stroke themselves to completion, making sure to spray her with their seed so that Gil needed to wash her again.
“Why do we not fuck her this morning and complete the Rite of First Union?” Zul asked as he lowered his kilt over his now flaccid cock.
“Our mate retains many of her human qualities,” Bran answered, understanding the berserker’s eagerness. “She is, as you see, small and delicate. Fragile. Her body needs to recover before she can take us again without pain or damage.”
Zul nodded in understanding. He would have greatly preferred to continue the previous night’s fucking, but did not wish to harm the small female who had already captured his soul. “No, our mate must not be harmed.”
Bran’s approval washed over him. The tension in Zul’s shoulders eased, a tension he had not realized he carried until his Prime’s approval melted it.
Having long since become accustomed to solitude after the deaths of his original Prime and Second, Zul had not realized how much he still craved the triad connection and a prime’s approval.
Filled with daring, Zul said, “I wish to be the one who bathes her next.”
Gil tilted his head back and grinned at him. “Bathing our mate is most gratifying, especially when she is impaled on a cock.”
The base of Zul’s horns heated as he imagined sitting in the tub with their pretty female speared upon his cock as he washed her. His kilt tented.
“He likes that idea,” Gil said with a chuckle.
“He’s not the only one,” Bran agreed, his lips curling at the flush that spread across Ursula’s face, neck, and upper chest.
Gil finished rinsing Ursula’s long white hair and squeezed out the excess water. He shifted so that she moved off his lap. Rising to his knees so his erection cleared the water, he tapped her on the shoulder and said, “I need your mouth, elska’adir.”
Ursula gave him a soft smile then braced her hands on his narrow hips and opened her mouth wide.
Careful not to scrape him with her teeth, she lowered her mouth over his cock.
Delicately, slowly, she began to lick and nip and suck.
Steadying herself, she brought her hands into play, stroking and gently squeezing where her mouth could not reach.
Gil’s mouth slackened as pleasure coursed through him, but he refrained from directing her movement or forcing her to take the whole of him down her still-raw throat.
He grunted when she brought him to completion and swallowed his release.
At that point, he cupped her face and murmured words of love and praise.
He brushed a wet thumb over the corner of her mouth where a drop of semen remained, and wiped it away.
Bran snapped open a large towel and lifted Ursula to her feet, wrapping the towel around her.
He patted her dry, examining her with critical eyes for any bruising or abrasions.
When she was dry, Bran handed her over to Zul to whom Gil had already handed a comb.
“I hope you know how to braid,” Gil said. “Our elska’adir likes to have her hair braided.”
Zul nodded and silently vowed to learn every variation on braiding hair. He guided his towel-wrapped mate to the vanity in her chamber and paused, trying to decide whether to sit her on the stool or to sit on the stool himself and position her on his lap. The second option won.
With a patience and care he’d not known he possessed, Zul carefully untangled her long tresses and combed them. Ursula, to his relief, did not complain of his ineptness and remained still throughout the procedure.
“I can braid it,” she offered when he laid the comb on the vanity. “If you’d hand me a ribbon, please?”
Grateful to have been released from braiding duty until he’d mastered the skill, Zul opened a drawer and pulled out a pink ribbon. He gave her a hopeful look.
She smiled at him and said, “That will do.” At his hesitance, she added, “Just set it on the vanity, please.”
He dropped the ribbon on the vanity and watched as she deftly separated her hair into three long locks and began to weave them together.
One hand holding the end of the long braid, she grabbed the ribbon and wound it around the end before tying it into a tight bow.
Seeing how the color of the ribbon complemented her coloring, Zul gently set his mate on her feet and stood.
He crossed the room, opened her wardrobe, and began searching her garments until he found one that closely matched the ribbon’s rosy hue.
He laid that gown on the bed, already refreshed and tidied by the Fangrys Triad’s efficient servants, before rummaging in the large casket set on a low table near the vanity. Soon, he found what he searched for.
“Come,” he said, extending his hand. Ursula placed her palm in his, and he drew her to him. “Allow me.”
She smiled at him and did not protest as he dressed her in the rosy gown and adorned her hair, neck, wrists, and ankles with jewelry.
“Is this a berserker thing?” she asked.
“What?”
“This penchant for dressing your mate and bedecking her with jewelry.”
He frowned. “Why do you ask?”
The smile she gave him was soft and melancholy. “Because Crow enjoyed doing that, too.”
Zul felt a tug of sadness, grief for a fierce warrior he’d never truly known, and knew it for the echo of loss whispering across the bond linking mates.
He made another silent, private vow to add to her collection of jewelry.
After all, he had more than sufficient funds which were yet to be mingled with the Fangrys accounts: a bonded triad shared everything.
He pressed a kiss to her head and replied, “Then Crow had exquisite taste.”
Thus accoutred, Ursula again took the hand Zul extended to her, obligingly following along as he rejoined his triad in the corridor.
In formation, they headed toward the dining room.
Bran, being Prime, spearheaded the way. Gil walked beside their mate.
Zul took the rear. None of them expected to be attacked in their own home, but the habits of protection were both instinctual and trained.
Ursula ate heartily, sending her compliments to the cook on the excellence of the eggs which were unlike any eggs found on Earth.
“Eggs,” Gil said between bites, “was something I cooked for our mate when she first came to us.”
Ursula snorted. “First came. You mean first captured.”
Bran shrugged. “It was either capture you or leave you to be eaten by an oryxis or immolated by our suns.”
Ursula visibly shuddered at the memory of the quick and brutal fight against the huge lizard that had stalked her as its prey the night she’d escaped from the embassy. She pointed her two-tined fork at Bran and said, “You’d already put in a bid for me, hadn’t you?”
He nodded and replied, “Of course. We knew you were ours the moment we saw you.”
“And being claimed by us has not ended so ill, has it?” Gil inquired, his expression worried.
Ursula sighed and let go of her lingering resentment.
“No. No, I love you, all three of you.” She sighed again.
“It’s that my own government was trafficking women that still makes me angry.
We didn’t agree to be sent to a distant planet.
We didn’t agree to be married off to strangers.
” She took another deep breath to compose herself.
“There’s a lot to be said for consent, you know. ”
“I have heard that Ahn’hudin discovered some human skulduggery in the trade for brides,” Zul said.
“Oh?” Ursula shot a speaking look at her other two mates. “I don’t get much news about Earth here.”
Gil had the grace to look guilty. Bran met her glare with inscrutable calm.
“What happened?” she asked.
“The human females were being sterilized before being mated,” Zul answered. He glanced at Bran and Gil. “Did you not hear of this?”
“We had,” Bran admitted. “The Ahn’hudi are rectifying Earth’s duplicity.”
“Sterilizing?” Ursula echoed, her voice squeaking.
Bran met her gaze again and said, “Officials on Earth directed officials at their embassy on Ahn’hudin to render human brides incapable of breeding.
The brides themselves discovered this treachery and brought it to the attention of their mates.
The emperor of Ahn’hudin was rightfully outraged.
Sanctions have been imposed upon Earth by all planets of the Triune Alliance, and the treaties are being renegotiated. ”
Ursula looked at her plate, not seeing the remains of her breakfast as she pondered what she heard. Lifting her head, she asked, “And what about the brides?”
“The ones who were sterilized?”
She nodded.
“Those females are mated. They will not be cast aside,” Bran answered. “No honorable male would allow that.”
“Earth will continue to send brides to allied planets, more brides than before,” Gil added.
“And are they being trafficked?”
Gil shook his head. “Do not fret so, elska’adir. The new brides will be fully informed and must consent to being transported to Uribern, Ahn’hudin, or Kaan.”
Ursula nodded and said nothing about the human government’s propensity to engage in underhanded, dirty dealings. If there was a way to muck this up, the government would find it and capitalize on it to the detriment of those caught in its web of deceit.
Zul caught the tenor of her thoughts through the bond linking them all and commented, “You do not trust the government of your homeland?”
Ursula snorted. “Nobody with any sense trusts the government.”
Gil reached across the table to pat her hand. “You are safe from their machinations now.”
Bran blinked slowly at her and gave her a small grin. “In fact, we need to discuss your own machinations. The mayor and sheriff are in an uproar.”
“Fusty old curmudgeons,” she muttered under her breath. “Male chauvinist pigs, all of ’em.”
“Yes, Ursula, I would hear more of this festival you are organizing,” Gil said.
Ursula grinned. “Those misogynists in the village will soon realize that we women aren’t incompetent idiots. We can do things that take organization and planning.”
“Of course, you can,” Bran said. “Art and music require great skill and perception. This is why they are the purview of females.” He took a drink of ti’chal. “Were males left to our own devices, Urib culture would have no beauty or refinement.”
“If I recall correctly, you sing beautifully,” Gil added. His expression turned sad. “I have not heard you sing since Crow died.”
“You sing?” Zul echoed. His expression turned hopeful. “Would you, some day perhaps, consent to sing for me? It has been long since I heard singing—any singing.”
Ursula pursed her lips, thinking. She said slowly, “I hadn’t realized it had been so long since I sang anything more than lullabies.” She paused to think again. “There will be a stage set up for performances during the festival. I’ll schedule myself into the program to sing a song or two.”
“No,” Bran said, his tone flat with disapproval.
She leaned toward him, eyes narrowed in instant fury. “Yes, I will.”
“It is not seemly.”
“Seemly-schmeemly,” she dismissed his concern. “I’m not a toy to be set on the shelf when you’re not playing with me. We’ve discussed this before.”
“She will not be in any danger,” Gil interjected, his tone calm and exuding reasonableness.
Disturbed by their mate’s instantly negative reaction and fearing she would refuse to complete the Rite of First Union, Zul said, “No, she will not be in any danger. I will protect her.”
“As will I,” Gil added.
Expression sour, Bran bowed to the others’ willingness to allow their mate to have her way. He nodded and said, “And, as will I.” He gave her a hard, reproving look. “But you will go nowhere without escort from at least one of us.”
Ursula knew better than to gloat. She gave Bran a soft smile of gratitude and reached across the table to lay her hand on his forearm. “Of course not, my love. I know better than to court danger.”
Gil’s soft snort did not go unnoticed, but it did go unmentioned.
Zul sighed with relief at her compliance. “I will be grateful to hear you sing, elska’adir.”
“By the way,” Ursula said. “The Omari Triad and Carmen will be visiting for the festival. Apparently, word has spread far and wide about it.”
“They are welcome to stay here,” Bran said.
Ursula grinned. “And Carmen’s going to dance the flamenco.”