84. I have waited three lifetimes to put my name in your blood
i have waited three lifetimes to put my name in your blood
—ASHáN & SAGE
We climb until the cold stops being weather and becomes privacy instead. Up here, the world is reduced to what matters: the moon, the dark, and the woman wrapped around us with her heartbeat tapping against our ribs like a small, insistent guest.
I will become for you.
I made that vow in the void when I had no body to keep it with.
I remember her voice in the dark—I want your body, not his—and the way it split me open.
That she would wait. That she would refuse everything, even her own need, until I was whole enough to be worth claiming her.
And now she’s here, in arms that are mine, held by wings that did not exist this morning.
There is not one part of me she has to wait for anymore.
“Where did all that fierce mortal defiance go?” Sage asks.
“I am… adjusting,” she mumbles, her fingers curling tighter around our shoulders. “To the altitude.”
“Are you sure it’s not the two very hungry monsters who have absolutely no intention of taking you back down?” I roll my hips slowly, pressing the twin heat of us directly against her.
Her breath hitches, body going rigid in our arms. “Ash.”
“Wouldn’t you rather adjust to us instead?” he murmurs, fangs grazing the sensitive skin right under her jaw.
“Here?” she splutters. “There’s no way! How are we even supposed to…”
“We’ll show you,” I whisper, hands sliding down her thighs, gathering the fabric of her dress and rucking it up. “Do you want us to take your panties off, angel?”
“Say yes,” Sage pleads.
“Yes,” she whispers against my throat.
Vresh, he groans.
With agonizing slowness, my hands slip beneath the waistband and slide the damp lace down her trembling thighs, letting them fall away into the open sky—a tiny speck of white fabric tumbling into the abyss. The air up here is freezing, but inside the heavy cocoon of our wings, she is burning.
“You’re keeping the coat on, ash’kaela,” I murmur. “But this—” We drag a claw downward, tracing the line of her sternum, slicing her dress open. “Has to go.”
The icy mountain air rushes over her breasts only a heartbeat before I press her flat against our chest. The sensation is explosive. Her soft, warm curves pinned against my bones.
Something warm runs down my ribcage, and the sweet scent of her níva floods our senses.
Mmm, Sage moans. Tell me you feel that.
I feel it.
It runs in a slow, wet path down the groove of my hips. I gather every drop with two fingers.
“Ash, what are you doing?”
“Tasting you,” I whisper. I press my wet fingers to her lips, smearing the sweet drop of nectar across her bottom lip.
Her eyes go wide as she tastes herself.
“Neeth,” Sage rumbles. “Our nest. Our mate. Do you taste how sweet you are, luváel?”
My head drops, tongue sweeping over her bottom lip to catch the lingering sweetness before I claim her mouth in a kiss that is completely feral. Sage is clawing at the surface of our mind, his hunger so loud and demanding that I can’t tell where my need ends and his begins.
She moans into the kiss, her nipples rubbing over my ribs as she presses closer. Shadow tendrils slide out from my back, wrapping around her thighs and lifting her higher so her slick heat lines up perfectly with the thick, rigid lengths pressing against her.
Our wings snap tight behind us, dropping us a few breathtaking feet in the air before I catch the wind again. The sudden dip has her gasping against my mouth.
“Ashán, please,” she whimpers, her hips rolling desperately. “I can’t… you’re driving me crazy. Just put it in.”
“Which one?” Sage growls against her jaw, gripping her hips so hard my skelva leave small crescent-shaped marks. “Tell us which one you want first, ílyen.”
“Both,” she gasps. “I want both.”
A snarl slips from our throat.
She said both, Sage groans.
“A dangerous request, Saevúra,” he growls against her mouth. A dark laugh rolls through us.
“What?” She blinks dazedly. “You asked—”
“We haven’t even touched you yet,” he murmurs, dragging a knuckle down the slope of her breast, watching goosebumps rise in its wake, “and you’re asking for both.”
“Our brave little mortal,” I croon against her temple.
“Delusional,” Sage agrees fondly. “We adore her.”
“I can—” her breath stutters as my knuckles travel over the curve of her belly.
“I can handle it.”
“Mm.” My hand stills at the crease of her thigh, close enough that her whole body tightens in anticipation. “For the record, ílyen—we believe you. You will take both of us tonight.”
She nods, her wide green eyes looking incredibly earnest, like a sweet, helpless woodland creature, even as she tries to maintain her fierce, demanding glare. It’s the most beautifully ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.
“Eventually,” she adds in a small, breathless voice, her gaze flickering down to her heavy, rounded stomach blocking the view of the twin threats currently pressed against her.
My lips twitch in amusement.
Sage lets out a low chuckle. “Yes, ílyara. Eventually. But we are going to take our sweet time stretching you first.”
“Please, touch me,” she whispers.
My fingers slide through her slickness, parting her swollen lips with a slow stroke. Her body sags into our arms.
“Ohh—”
“That’s right, ílyen,” I murmur. “Just lean against us. We’ll do all the work.”
Her hips jerk forward, chasing more contact. I drag two skelva up to circle her clit in tight, wet spirals. Her thighs tremble around my wrist, the heavy swell of her belly tightening with each shallow pant.
“So wet,” Sage hums, our shadows curling tighter around her thighs, spreading her open wider for my hand. “Slide them in, Ash.”
The sight of her wetness coating the smooth bone of my fingers is enough to make the glands in our gums pulse, flooding with a heavy rush of venya.
Steady, Sage warns.
I am steady, I rasp.
Your fangs are out.
They are? I hadn’t noticed.
I trace over her slowly, learning her all over again in this new body. Every soft sound she makes registers twice, once in my ears, once somewhere behind my sternum where the bond lives.
My index finger curls, the pale tip brushing against her entrance before I slowly press inside. Her inner muscles clamp down around me, like a glove of wet velvet that welcomes the cold with a desperate, shuddering squeeze.
“Our girl needs more, doesn’t she?” Sage murmurs. “Look at how easily her body accepted us.”
I slide a second finger in beside the first, working her open, and a whimper spills from her lips, fingers tangling in my hair.
“Does it feel good?” I growl against her ear, burying my skelva to the knuckle. “Tell us. Tell us how good, ash’kaela.”
“So good—don’t stop.”
“Don’t worry a single copper hair on that beautiful head of yours. We’re not stopping until you pass out.”
I kiss the tip of her nose, working my fingers in and out, spreading them wide to mimic the stretch of what’s to come.
“More,” she pants, grinding down against my hand. “A-almost, but need more.”
“You want more?” I rasp, fangs scraping against her pulse, leaving a tingling smear of venya on her skin. “I wish you could see how wide you already are for us.”
Níva runs down our chest, the scent driving Sage absolutely insane.
Our fingers sink deeper, a third joining the first two in her tight, drenched lavína. Obscene sounds fill the air as we pump them in and out, our thumb massaging her kísh.
Eden lets out a high-pitched sob, her body locking up as her muscles try to fight the sudden invasion. Her eyes fly open, wide and glossy with tears of overwhelming pleasure.
“Rahnové! Vaelí, please—”
“Breathe, angel,” I soothe, stilling my fingers inside her so she can adjust to the thickness. “Just breathe through it. We’re not in a hurry.”
“It’s so much,” she whimpers, her chest heaving as she presses her breasts against my ribcage, seeking comfort from the very monsters stretching her apart. “You’re too big…”
“You can take it,” Sage murmurs, his tongue tracing the line of her collarbone, tasting the salt of her sweat, and the sweet, dizzying honey of her níva. “You’re our Saevúra. Your body was meant to be filled by both of us.”
“Do you want me to take one out, ash’kaela?” I breathe.
“No!” She panics, grabbing my wrist. “Please don’t.”
She wants it, Sage purrs, tilting her pelvis to force my hand even deeper. Our greedy little mate wants every single bit of us.
I press a kiss to her forehead and begin pumping my fingers again.
My thumb continues its slow, merciless rhythm against her clit.
With every slow thrust, her muscles begin to surrender, melting around my bones until she’s riding my hand.
Her fingers stay in a white-knuckled grip where they’re wrapped around my wrist to keep me from pulling away.
“Come on our fingers so you can come on our cocks, mí’maru.” I hook my fingers, angling them so they apply firm pressure to her g-spot.
My mouth drops to her leaking breast, lips sealing around her puffy nipple.
I suck hard. Her walls spasm around our fingers as her orgasm crashes through her.
She cries out, pulsing and squirting around our hands, soaking my bones.
We work her through it, drawing every last tremor from her little body while our véks throb against her thigh.
I withdraw my fingers slowly. Her release trickles down my wrist. I hold her gaze as I bring them to my mouth, licking them clean one at a time. Her mortality floods my tongue like a match dropped in oil. My eyes roll back.
“You,” I rasp, sliding the last finger free of my mouth, “taste like the only reason a monster would ever willingly rip the wings from his back.”
I wrap my free arm under her thighs and lift her. Shadows slide around her hips, cradling the precious weight of her belly. She shrieks, the world tilting as I hoist her up, settling her onto our shoulders. Her thighs bracket our skull, her heat inches from my mouth.
She sways, her hands flying out for balance until they find my horns.