29. Nicholas #2
“Yes, baby,” Wren whispers. “Use my cock the way you need. Come all over me.”
Helene works me with tongue and teeth, wrapping her lips around me and sucking until the pressure is nearly too much to handle. She releases me with a pop and a cry when Wren’s shadows circle her clit.
I recognize the sound, the way she’s soaking him right now. The way he leaves her no time to recover from his ministrations before he sends her spiraling into another intense orgasm.
Number two.
How far can she go?
Her body responds beautifully, her eyes drifting close. She increases the pressure around me until I’m on the edge. Ready to plummet. My balls tighten. A small moan of displeasure purrs up her throat when I pull free.
We’ll take her apart, one at a time. We’ll remind her with our hands and mouths and cocks of what we were to each other.
I stand to the side while she sucks Forest into her mouth, swallowing a good part of his length before she reaches her limit.
“Yes, that’s it, sweetheart.” He strokes the hair out of her face, smearing her tears. “You know what to do. You know how much I want you.”
Her body answers him, her expression open. Trusting.
She might not have the capacity to voice it, but she does trust us on some intrinsic level.
I grip my cock and work myself in short, sharp pumps. Waiting for Wren to have his fill.
We didn’t start slow. We never do.
He comes with a roar, pulling out at the last moment to drape ropes of cum across her back. The mattress dips when he works himself to completion and shifts away, twisting to watch me move in.
My heart climbs into my throat, those shadows of his like spilled ink, linking us.
Wren slithers beneath her to pull Helene down to him, her glorious pussy against his face, suffocating him. He licks her while she deep-throats Forest.
“Yes, good girl,” I murmur. “Let him drink you down.”
I ache to bury myself inside of her.
The edges of crimson return. The lust is too much.
My mouth waters for a taste.
Control yourself.
Helene snags my gaze again, bobbing on Forest as Wren shoves his tongue into her cunt.
The blush creeps up to her hairline again and her eyes darken to rich emerald.
I want to fuck her within an inch of her life. And if I touch her, she’ll die. I stay quietly behind, watching them, watching her come undone.
She orgasms again, flooding Wren’s mouth with her desire, as Forest throws himself off the edge I’ve denied myself. He grabs her head to keep her in place while he fucks her mouth through his orgasm. Helene swallows him down, gulp after gulp, those beautiful eyes alight with tears.
He releases her once he’s emptied, and she sags forward, caught on his chest. Wren’s fingers stay on her thighs until he’s had his fill and she’s trembling with overstimulation.
Yet the question on her face, the one asking why I’m so far away from her...
She’ll have to learn to forgive me.
After the others are asleep, and Helene drapes across my chest, our arms interlocked, the bloodlust abates. It’s never fully gone when we’re together. But without my own blood pumping, without the ravages of sex to act as fuel to the fire, it’s easier to handle.
A sigh rattles through me and my eyes blow wide when she snuggles closer, her head over my unbeating heart.
“Nicholas? Can I ask you something?”
She plucks the words carefully from a word bank in her head, the syllables slow to form. Each one strings tight like she’s afraid of what the punishment will be for her speaking up.
“Anything.”
“Is it always like this? Is it always so...consuming.”
“This is a taste. A drop in a bucket for us. And yes. Every time is like the first time.”
As a human, I’d sampled women across Europe. They were spoils of war, hungry to please, or they were warriors in need of a quick fuck to get their minds distracted from the fragrance of battle gilding their skin. There was always a compulsion, but it was never like this.
It wasn’t like seeing a person’s heart and soul when you looked into their eyes.
With Hellevi, with Helene, it has been different from the start. An opponent and an equal. A lover and a fighter.
And always loss.
“What do you want?” I drag my claws up her bicep and pause. “What is it you actually want, Helene?”
She wastes no time answering. “Having life after life with no memory of you feels like the gods took something from me. I want it back.”
“What do you think it will accomplish?”
“Does it have to do anything? You asked me what I wanted, and I answered. I want my memories. If I’ve lived as many times as you claim I have, if we’ve been together all those times, then why should I not know?”
I go still. “Knowledge is power.”
“Knowledge is knowledge, yes, and power comes from what you do with it. If I’m going against a god...because of course I am... then it’s a no brainer.”
I drag her closer so her entire body drapes over me. Only her leg tangles with Forest’s. Only her hair brushes Wren’s torso. The rest of her is for me alone.
Learning to share doesn’t take away from the demand to claim her for myself. It never has. I wonder if it ever will, or if I’ll always carry a small piece, desperate for something I can’t have. Or will I miss the others if they were to go?
My palm lands on the flat of her spine. “Odin is no match for you.”
“I wish I had the same confidence you do.”
“You don’t need anyone to validate you. You have spirit. You have reason. You have vision and boldness.”
“All well and good, sure, unless you’re up against an all-knowing god. They call him the AllFather, don’t they? I’m just…Helene Ellen Blake,” she whispers.
Helene has always been a thousand times the quality of any Norse deity.
Until she sees it for herself, she’ll be at a disadvantage. No amount of convincing on our part will do anything for her overwhelm.
For now, I’ll love her.
She dips her head to brush a kiss to my lips, the touch like the first hiss of sparklers.
“Well, Helene Ellen Blake,” I begin, “how about you rest? And then we’ll see what we can do about those memories of yours.”
Whenever she retrieves them, she’ll know.
She’ll feel the bite of the sword again and the creeping cold that accompanies death. She’ll know it’s my hand on the other end of the weapon, from first to last.
And she’ll never look at me the same way again.