Beauty (A Faery Story 3)

He felt it, the connection, deep and pure. She flowed into him and he into her, mingling down to their souls. Never before had he felt so connected, not even to his brother who held half his soul.

His spine shivered, Bron gasping as she felt it, too, and then he dropped over the edge. He didn’t think about anything but the pleasure that bubbled up and overflowed. He came, thrusting deep and holding himself hard against her. His cum shot from his body, jetting into hers. Bron was with him the whole way, her body convulsing under his, bucking up to take more and more of him.

He thrust until he had nothing left and then collapsed on top of his bondmate, his bride, his love.

She was finally theirs.

And she was asleep.

Shim stared down at her, his hand tenderly stroking back her hair. “That did it. She can rest now. The potion burned itself out. She’s going to be all right. We can perform the full bond when we get back to Aoibhneas.”

Lach rolled off her, but had no intention of getting up from the bed. He might never leave it again. He cuddled her close, reveling in the heat and scent of their intimacy. His cock was already hard again, but Bron sighed and settled her head on his chest. Sleep. His bride needed sleep. They wouldn’t set foot out of this room until Bronwyn was well and ready to travel.

Roan would just have to see things his way. He wouldn’t be far behind, but Lachlan was done listening to him. The Warrior King was ready to take his rightful place, and his first duty was to protect and care for his bondmate. “Let’s rest for a bit and then I’ll go speak to our sister. Roan should be here by then. We can make arrangements to safely take her back to our plane.”

“She’ll be happy to see her brothers.” Shim sighed, his hand going around her waist. “She will not be happy that they’re going into war.”

Lach shrugged. It didn’t matter. He had his Bron. A guilty feeling settled into Lachlan’s gut. This plane was Bronwyn’s home. She might not want to leave it so easily.

And this plane had nearly burned her to death. It didn’t matter. She’d promised to obey him, to submit to him, and he wanted her safe.

Shim settled in on the other side of Bronwyn, nuzzling her neck. “We don’t have to worry about it now. I just want to hold her.”

Lach let his eyes drift closed. He didn’t need to dream this day. He had her in his arms.

* * * *

Bron came awake slowly, in small snatches of reality laced with the sweetness of the dreams she’d had.

She kept her eyes closed. She didn’t want to leave this place where she’d grabbed her Dark Ones and held on for dear life. When she opened her eyes, they would be gone again and she would either be in the after or still in her dank cell awaiting that time when the executioner would call her name.

A shaft of sunlight was warm on her face and she tried to turn. She tried but she was caught. Her eyes flew open, and she looked into seriously blue eyes.

“Hello, sunshine.”

Bron sat up in bed and screamed.

There was movement behind her as something large banged to the floor. A man. Another man. She was in bed with two men.

“Bronwyn? Bronwyn, love, you need to stop. Someone will think we’re killing you, and that really isn’t going to be good for anyone.” The dark-haired man cajoled her as though it was perfectly normal for her to be lying in bed stark naked with two men.

“We’re not killing her, but damn me I think I might have broken my tailbone falling out of bed. Who thought this place would be big enough?” The second man brushed a hand through his hair and then stood, his enormous male organ bouncing and pointing straight at her. He frowned down and made no move to cover himself. “What’s wrong, a chumann?”

What was wrong? What was wrong? She’d gone utterly mad. That was what was wrong. All of her life she’d been told she was insane, and now she knew it to be true. She’d lost her mind and now she was pulling her dream men straight out of her head.

“Where am I?” She clutched the sheet to her chest.

The man who had fallen to the floor stared at her, his eyes narrowing in obvious irritation. He was his brother’s twin, but three long scars marred his face. Why did she remember touching those scars, kissing them and feeling this man melt underneath her tenderness. He didn’t look like a man who needed tenderness now. “You’re with your mates. Is there a reason you’re hiding those breasts? They belong to me, and I want to see them.”

And her dream men were suddenly unreasonable pricks, so all she could think was that she had a deeply masochistic inner soul. “I was in my cell at the jail.”

“Yes,” the other one said, his hand on her shoulder. She pulled away. He sighed and continued his explanation. “You were in your cell, but they gave you a potion and took you to the square.”

Vague, nightmarish images floated back to her brain. She’d been dragged and drugged and bound. She had an image of someone calling her “princess,” but then he’d fled and left her to the wolves. Micha had been there, snarling at her, forcing poison into her veins. And then the flames had come. She’d cried out for someone to save her, and that must have been when her mind had broken. Bron took a long breath. What had really happened? Had she gotten away or was this what happened to the dead? Were her ashes already floating in the wind?

“She doesn’t believe we’re real.”

“How can she not believe we’re real? We’ve been in her dreams since she was a child.”