Gift of the Goddess (36 page)

Trey cried out, the tendons in his neck and shoulders straining. He slammed one last time into Brin, as if he couldn’t bury himself deep enough. The link trembled, shimmered and exploded in a dark fireball of release.

No more than a heartbeat later, Brin arched his back, grinding his cock into her so deep, Anje thought she’d die with the joy of it. His spasms lasted endlessly, the convulsions rippling though her soul as much as her body, dragging her with him into a vortex of lightning-shot rapture.

The panting silence lasted an eon. Shakily, Trey disengaged himself and collapsed beside her, snuggling his head into her neck. As she caressed his trembling shoulder, his tears slid damply over her skin and pooled in the pit of her throat.

Brin sat up slowly, the expression on his dark face fierce with concentration. He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not possible,” he said. “I’m sure it’s not.” He nudged Trey’s thigh with his knee. “Do you know what that felt like?”

Trey opened one eye. “Like death and glory all mashed together?”

The shaman huffed out a laugh. “True enough.” He sobered. “I could have sworn I felt you in the Bond link.” Idly, he ran his palm over Anje’s flank and she purred. She drifted, her mind a mellow pool of content, recalling the experience, piece by gorgeous piece, extracting every bright memory and stringing them together like glowing beads on a necklace, something to take out whenever she wanted to savor at leisure.

“Never mind,” said Brin. “Up with you, scout.” He scooped her up from the bed and headed for the adjoining ablutions chamber, where hot water was piped from the furnace in Djalen’s kitchen.

As he stepped with her into the deep bath, Anje sighed, replete. Save for one thing.

“Trey?” she called. “Will you rub my feet like you did—?” She broke off, feeling a flush heat her cheeks.

“The first time?” Trey leaned against the door, grinning, all sweaty and elegantly rumpled. “Only if you’ll scrub my back.”

The link hummed with fondness, a light, tender touch.

It wasn’t Brin’s.

187 Denise Rossetti

Anje shot bolt upright and water surged in a wave that slopped over the rim of the bath. Behind her, Brin grunted with surprise.

“I felt him!” she exclaimed. “I felt him, I
did
!

“Lufra, that’s good.” Trey lowered himself into the water, eyes half closed with pleasure. “’Course you did,” he said. “Give me a minute and you’ll feel me again.” Though his chuckle sounded weary, it was brimful of anticipation.

“No, no,” insisted Anje. “That’s not it.”

Brin reached past her to grip the other man’s forearm, his face intent. “Trey,” he grated. “Close your mouth and shut your eyes.”

“What, again? I’m not ready yet, I—”

“Shut up and do it!”

“All right, all right!” Trey sighed and leaned back, a sponge in his hands. His lashes fluttered down, absurdly delicate against the masculine strength of his face.

“Your thoughts are all over the place. Breathe, Trey. Slow and deep. That’s it.” Brin put his palm flat in the middle of the other man’s chest, almost spanning him from nipple to nipple. “Breathe with me, feel me.”

Trey hummed deep in his throat. His fingers opened and the sponge floated away.

The shaman laid his hand over Anje’s thundering heart. “You too, love. Match your soul with mine. Breathe.”

Anje let her lids slide shut, focusing her senses on Brin’s palm, warm and damp on her skin, sinking into the rhythm of his breath. His and Trey’s. Calm stole over her like a golden-pink mist, suffusing her soul, slowing her racing thoughts.

Brin’s voice dropped to a deep murmur, infinitely soothing. “Trey, I want you to recall what we just did. You were buried as deep in me as you could get, remember? And I was buried in Anje. Tell me how it was.”

“But you know. Wonderful.”

“And what else?”

“I was fucking you, but I felt you fucking me. No, that was Anje. Gorgeous.” He sighed.

“And in your heart? Not your cock, not your balls?”

Anje levered her eyes open. Trey lay, completely relaxed, the water lapping at his ribs. The smile that played on that luscious mouth made her clit throb in memory. Brin loomed over him, looking deliciously predatory, eyes narrowed with concentration. “Tell me.”

Trey’s red-gold brows drew together. “You. I could feel how much you—” His eyes snapped open, wide and shocked. He lurched up, creating a wave. “Lufra’s tits! I felt
you
!” he struggled. “The—the—essence of you.” He stared at Anje. “And you.”

188 Gift of the Goddess

Brin grabbed him by both shoulders, his fingers digging cruelly into the fair skin. He thrust his face into Trey’s and words exploded out of him. “Do you know what you’ve done, you idiot?”

Trey’s mouth fell open. “What?” he whispered.

“You.” Brin shook him. “Bonded.” Another shake. “With us.” Trey’s head rocked on his shoulders.

“
Both of us!
” The roar rattled the walls.

“I thought you said that wasn’t possible,” said Anje, shocked.

“It isn’t.” The shaman sank both hands into his black mane and tugged. “But he’s done it. I can feel it and so can you, can’t you?” She nodded her assent. “Sweet Lufra, what a mess!” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit, shit,
shit
!”

Anje’s brain felt clogged with conflicting emotions. She’d be happy to be Bonded to Brin and Trey ‘til the end of time. But what about the Rite? Surely, they’d told her it required only two participants? Her heart sinking, she recalled the anguish she’d felt when she thought the shaman was dead. Holy Mother, she’d barely survived it. What if she and Brin—? She couldn’t bear to complete the thought.

“Are you sure?” she asked in a husky whisper.

“I don’t see why you’re so pissed,” said Trey. His lips trembled for an instant before he firmed them and Anje flinched at the whiplash of hurt that flickered across the link. “Unless you don’t want me.”

“Oh Trey, no!” She flung her arms around him.

“Don’t be a fool,” said Brin brusquely, but he stroked his palm over Trey’s shoulder.

Trey blew out a breath. “Good.” His gaze turned accusing. “You don’t think I can take it.”

Brin stood abruptly. Water streamed down his powerful torso, slicking the hair on his chest and groin. The dragon’s eyes gleamed balefully. “Chelisand’s got three days left, Trey. Three days for the work of ten. How do you think she’s going to do it?”

The younger man licked his lips. “Drugs, she’ll use drugs.”

Brin smiled without humor. “Ay. And every trick in the book. It’s going to hurt like hell.” He stepped forward, into Trey’s chest, his heavy shaft inches from that pouty mouth. He was half hard. “And you’ll live it too, Trey. Every screaming, gut-wrenching second. The Rite as well.” Anje gasped, but the deep voice went on, relentless. “If we die—”

Trey’s hands slid up the back of his thighs. Gripped. “You can’t.”

Brin pushed him away. “Get your torques.” He stepped out of the bath and grabbed a drying cloth. “We can still go through the motions.”

But when Trey shook the desecrated collars out of their velvet bag, the shaman’s expression became thunderous. “What, in Lufra’s name, happened to these?”

189 Denise Rossetti

The ghost of a smile quirked Trey’s lips. “We went to buy a pleasure slave.”

Brin snapped out a curse, looking so frankly appalled that Anje had to stifle a chuckle. Then she watched with intense interest as the shaman prepared the torques, adding the dark strands of her hair and his own to the auburn braids in Trey’s. He muttered darkly as he dismantled and rebuilt them, turning the two collars into three.

Finally, he had the three of them kneel close together on the floor, on a thick rug beside the bed. Once he had their bodies arranged to his satisfaction, he clipped a new torque around each throat. Now he and Anje had two each. Frowning with concentration, he curled their fingers together around his own extra collar and reached out one hand to Anje’s new torque, the other to Trey’s. Thus linked, he gathered them with his dark gaze. Already, the goddess flame flickered brightly in each fathomless pupil.

“Empty your mind and breathe,” he ordered. “It may be a while before you feel anything.”

Fascinated, Anje watched his lashes sweep down. By slow degrees, calm spread over his face, smoothing creases, relaxing the tiny muscles around his eyes. As he sank visibly further into trance, he seemed to her both timeless and extraordinarily powerful, a portrait of perfect masculinity. A velvety croon rumbled out of his chest, soothing and exciting her all at once, pulling her into his dark aura. It seemed almost as if he were…calling, beseeching.

On the thought, a wave of warmth spread over the base of her spine, like the caress of some great hand. Under her fingers, the gold wire fastening Trey’s torque around the shaman’s throat rippled like a living thing. Shocked, she began to snatch her hand away, but before she could move, the tide of heat reached her heart and she was transported to a place of such light, such ineffable beauty, that her soul simply hung, luxuriating.

The sensation lasted for no more than a few moments, but she knew she’d been marked forever. As it faded, her heart yearned, stretching toward it, running, stumbling, in vain pursuit.

Very gradually, she became aware of the cramp in her limbs, the cushioning depth of the rug beneath her, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Here, scout, drink.” A mug was thrust into her slack fingers and she drained the water in a couple of grateful gulps. “You all right?” Brin crouched in front of her, peering into her face. Behind him, Trey knelt, frozen, staring at nothing, his face as pale as milk. Tear tracks marked his cheeks too, she noted.

Brin turned to run his knuckles over the other man’s jaw. He smiled crookedly. “No escape, now, Trey. It worked.”

“Gods, it was Her.” The hazel eyes were very wide, green lights flickering in their depths. “It really was.”

190 Gift of the Goddess

“Yes.” Brin pulled him to his feet. “She’s pleased with you and Anje. As for me…” He shrugged. “We’re not exactly on the best of terms.” He planted a big hand in the middle of Trey’s chest and shoved. The other man tumbled back on to the bed.

The shaman turned his dark gaze on Anje and she shivered, her nipples stiffening in a sensual rush. As she put her hand up to stroke the two torques around her neck, her clit began to throb, ripe and heavy, in time with the thudding of her heart. Her tongue crept out to moisten her lips and Brin’s eyes flared.

“For this one night, you are both truly mine,” he growled. “Collared. Linked.”

“Works both ways, mighty shaman.” Trey sat up and put his hands on his hips. “No escape. Lufra, I want to try everything!”

Some sort of silent communication passed between them and their heads swung around, eyes locking on Anje. Alarm and arousal sparked within her. Her thighs were wet. “Oh no, you don’t.” She rose and backed away, only to come up hard against that dratted dresser.

Trey laughed. “Oh yes, we do.” He cocked a gleeful brow at Brin. “How long do you think we could keep her on the brink?” She would never have thought someone as sweet-natured as Trey could look so evil.

The shaman’s dimpled grin was blinding. “With the link? Hours, easy.”

Anje dodged his grasp and ran.

Slowly.

191 Denise Rossetti

Chapter Twenty-Seven

There is little to interest the traveler in Quaremel itself. Although it is the capital of one of the Ten Nations, it remains a small administrative seat. The only buildings of note are the Royal Council Chambers and the Temple Offices. However, the Temple of Lufra, located two miles beyond the settlement, is a natural wonder well worth seeing, though permission is difficult to obtain. Apply to the Temple Offices.

“Feolin and environs: a traveler’s guide”, 3
^rd
ed, Miriliel the Burnished, 10353 ATF.

Perched high on the broad back of Trey’s vran, Anje turned her body full circle. Her brows drew down. They’d passed the small, neat settlement that Brin said was Quaremel proper and headed out to the temple.

Except that there were no buildings to be seen, only a sheltered valley, cloaked with an ancient forest of sorrowtrees and candlewoods, the biggest she’d ever seen. Though it was mid-morning, the light was twilight dim, full of gently shifting shadows. Three days to the Day of the Dark.

“Where’s the temple?” she asked.

“Right here,” replied Brin. They’d barely slept, but she thought he looked more weary than sleepless—weary right down to the heart. He dismounted and Trey lowered her down into his waiting arms. As he tucked her hand into his big, warm one, Anje became aware of the murmur of voices and a gawky lad loped out of the trees and skidded to a halt in front of them, eyes saucer-round with excitement.

“B-Brin,” he stuttered, coloring as his tongue tripped him up. “Lady Chel s-said to s-say she’s been expecting you.”