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nikethestatue · 1 year

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The Kings’ Wife

Chapter 11

The Black Ball

Warnings: explicit, language

A beautiful woman is like whiskey, and demands appreciation. You gaze first, you smell and you take a small taste. Only then is it time to drink.

Wednesday (4 days before the ball)

As it turned out, being ‘on a job’ wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be.

It was a blazing hot day, the funk of the Bronx coating the air in pungency–a heady mix of warm tar, asphalt, Mexican food, stale wine, burgers, garbage and exhaust fumes.

Elain’s been on this job for only about two hours and she was already bored and hot and sweaty.

But she didn’t complain.

While physically uncomfortable, getting veritably baked in the sun, it was she who spotted the orange glint of what she assumed was Eris Vanserra’s hair–the man they’ve been hunting. However, all the Venserras were red-heads, therefore, more proof was needed to confirm the identity of the occupant of the decrepit Bronx townhouse.

Elain rolled over on her back and sighed dramatically.

“I can’t tell…”

“Yeah, neither can I,” Fenrys slid down on the blanket next to her, and pulled a bottle of wine from an ice bucket which they had brought with them. There was not much to do there, on the roof, so they lay and drank, and ate chips. Or crisps, according to Fenrys. Chips/crisps debate had been raging for most of the afternoon and was no closer to being resolved than when they started.

He handed Elain the bottle and she took a deep swig of the Pinot.

“This job is stupid,” she pouted and wiped her mouth, sighing.

Fenrys smirked, hiding his amusement and lack of surprise at her comment.

“What did you think, baby, that we are going to blaze into a gun fight?” he teased.

She frowned and murmured,

“Well…I dunno. Maybe.”

He was laughing.

“That only happens in America! Everyone is going in, guns blazing, rolling over cars, at least 200 bullets per gun and generally, an infinite amount of ammo…”

“We are in America!” she protested.

“Do you want me to give you a gun so you can shoot someone?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be stupid, Fen!”

He hummed to himself and then drank a little more wine.

“Think of us as spies!” he suddenly proposed.

She cocked her brow and him and looked at him with interest.

“Spies?”

“Yeah…That’s what we are doing. Spying. Before you plan a mission, you gotta do recon.”

“Yes!” she nodded vigorously. “We are doing recon!”

“Exactly,” she smirked a satisfied smirk.

Yep. It was all about presentation. Positioning. He was very pleased with himself currently, and his quick thinking. Instead of having Elain sit here and complain and lose interest and then not even want to be with him here, he made them into spies. And who doesn’t want to be a spy?

Recon, frankly, was fucking boring. Absolutely his least favourite thing in the world.

He was a man of action–quick decision making, rough and tumble, slam, bam, thank you ma’am. In and out. Azriel, however, wasn’t like that at all. He was cautious, methodical, some may say slow, thoughtful. Recon suited him, but didn’t suit Fenrys. But this was an important job and Fenrys knew why he was tasked with it.

To his surprise, and Elain’s utter shock, Ruhn suggested that she join Fen on this job and Azriel didn’t even argue! And Fenrys was glad to have his wife by his side on this tedious assignment. Truthfully, she wasn’t suited for it either, but at least they could complain and wallow together.

Elain was certainly a lot more patient than he was, but her head was full of fantasies of how things ‘should be’ and she felt that being ‘on a job’ should be significantly more exciting. Of course Fenrys wasn’t going to tell her that this was going to be as exciting as Azriel and Ruhn would permit her to engage in on any job.

But he appreciated Ruhn’s and Azriel’s understanding and accommodation of Elain’s desires. Yesterday was tough on her. For the first time, she was faced with the realities of their lives, especially as they pertained to the Old King–Ruhn’s and Azriel’s father. Up until yesterday, it was all about the four of them–laughter, love, discoveries, petty arguments, and generally, finding new and improved ways of pleasing their new wife.

The desire to please her came to the three of them absolutely naturally, and what’s more, Elain wasn’t expecting it or demanding it. Nevertheless, it pleased them to please her–Azriel, always there for emotional support, as a husband, as a partner for life, as a lover. He was the one to make her coffee in the morning, the one who embraced her when she needed it, the one who kissed her passionately when he came home and when they parted, the one with whom she snuggled on the sofa, the one who guarded her relentlessly, who was possessive of her, who adored her quietly and deeply, whose eyes never left her, the one who was her soul, and with whom she was discussing baby names. Ruhn was there to feed her from his fingers, the one who clung to her emotionally more than anyone else (a surprise to everyone), the one who marked her flesh with ink and teeth, the one who challenged her and made her laugh hysterically, the one who encouraged her wild streak, the one who craved her and wanted her with intense jealousy and the one who fucked her raw. And then there was Fenrys, who was a friend and a confidant, who filled her plates with food, who joked with her and joined her in her love of fast cars, football and cooking, who chased her around the house, who slung a confident arm around her and showed her off to the world, the one who bathed with her and protected her with unfailing scrutiny, the one who loved her ardently.

Monday (6 days before the ball)

When Elain, Fenrys and Ruhn returned home after their little bloody escapade in her shop, Elain went to shower and change out of her cheap, Dollar Store clothes. She was done quickly, curious about the thick fancy invitation that Azriel was waving around, wondering who it was from. She didn’t bother dressing, and just threw on Fen’s t-shirt and pulled some clean underwear on, before heading out in the hall and downstairs.

“I am sorry,”

“It’s fine, just do it!”

It was Azriel apologising and Ruhn urging him on impatiently.

Elain stopped in the hallway, listening to their whispers. They were indeed whispering, as if trying to keep whatever was happening between the two of them.

“It’s really deep,” Azriel hissed, and his voice betrayed some inner distress, which Elain picked up on instantly. “Was it a buckle?”

“Yeah,” Ruhn’s voice was strained, like he was trying not to be vocal. “The one with the K on it…”

“Ugh, it’s like 2 lbs of metal,” Azriel grunted under his breath. “Hold still, brother, I got you…At least you got to fuck our girl, right?” he snorted and Ruhn gave a soft laugh in return. “That’s something,” Azirel continued, while Ruhn hissed through his teeth.

“She is perfect, our girl,” he vowed. “She was all I needed and she was there for me,”

Elain was eavesdropping, and barely registered Fenrys bounding up the stairs, taking three at a time.

“Baby,” he said urgently, extending his hand to her, “come…let’s go downstairs.”

“No,” she snapped stubbornly.

“Elain!”

“No!” she stomped her foot with irritation.

Instead, she pushed the half-opened door and entered Ruhn’s bedroom.

She’s been here before, though Ruhn kept most people out of it. It was sparse–not luxuriously comfortable like Azriel’s or kitschy and fun like Fen’s. Ruhn seemed more exuberant and chaotic in life, but it didn’t translate to his quarters. There was a simple bed, large, to accommodate his size, with tightly stretched, un-creased coverings, which, Elain knew, the maids worked on every morning–to make it as smooth and as pristine as possible. There was a sleek leather chair too and that’s about it. On the wall, there was a complicated abstract painting. Nothing personal to be found. No personality either. Though Elain did spy something that wasn’t here before–a photograph. The bedside table was just a plain piece of wood, built into the headboard, and now it housed one thing–the photograph.

It was a photograph of Ruhn and her, taken the day after the wedding, when they went on their ‘date’. After they’d eaten their Subway sandwiches in the little park, Ruhn pulled her into a tight hug, and then whipped out his phone and snapped a selfie of the two of them. They looked carefree–his heavily tattooed arm grasped around her chest, and her hands clutching his forearm, and his cheek pressed to the top of her head. His aquamarine-blue eyes were especially bright, and all her 13 freckles were accounted for in the bright sunshine. He was smiling, his head resting on hers, and she was laughing, and they looked happy.

Now, Ruhn was lying on his stomach at the foot of the bed, with Azriel perched on the very edge. Ruhn’s back looked like a piece of tenderised meat, with deep long bloody gashes criss crossing his skin. He wore only jeans and was barefoot, his long black hair tossed over his shoulder, so Azriel could clean and disinfect his wounds. A pile of discarded bloodied cotton balls was heaped on the floor.

Elain stopped in her tracks, looking in horror at the incomprehensibly brutal scene in front of her. When Ruhn had come to the shop, she’d noticed scuffs and bruises on him which weren't there in the morning, before he left to see his father. But she certainly never imagined this…this…atrocity. He didn’t even flinch when they were having quick, passionate sex on the counter, but he must have been in terrible pain.

“It’s okay, beautiful,” Ruhn looked at her, and his voice was gentle, “go downstairs. We’ll be right down,”

She skidded on her knees on the floor to the bed and wrapped her arms around his head, pressing her whole face into his. He groaned with discomfort, but extended his arm and pulled her to him, keeping her close.

“Why are you crying, sweetness?” he murmured into her cheek.

“Why?!” she whispered, “why does he do this to you?”

“To remind us all that we are nothing,” Azriel growled, as he put a plaster over an especially deep cut on Ruhn’s back.

“Why do you allow him to do this?” Elain whipped angrily at Azriel, her face streaked with tears. “How could you?!”

“Shhhh,” Ruhn stroked her head, “it’s okay, it’s not Az’s fault!”

“It’s not his fault, but how do you allow this?!” she repeated, wiping her tears with her fist, glaring at Azriel. “How can you send him to that horrible house? To that awful man? What is wrong with you?!”

Azriel’s face tensed, and he muttered through his teeth,

“You were right there, Elain. And you know that Ruhn chose to go,”

“What is this bullshit excuse!?” she exclaimed angrily. “You knew that this might happen to him.”

“I did, but…”

Ruhn pulled her face to his, grabbing her by the back of the neck and pressed his mouth to her lips. He kissed her hard, holding her to him almost painfully. When he pulled away, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. Elain landed on her knees in front of him, as he gripped her hand in his and cupped her cheek.

“You are my girl,” he said, his expression ferocious, “mine. And I will always protect what’s mine. And I will never let that animal near you. I will never have him step foot in our home. Do you understand me?”

She nodded, tears flowing slowly down her cheeks.

Azriel sighed and dropped on the bed beside his brother, lacing his fingers, his shoulders drooping heavily.

“He's right, you know,” he said. “We’ll take anything for you, any punishment or sacri-.”

“I don’t want you to do it for me!” Elain argued, an angry frown on her face. “I don’t want sacrifices. I need for you to find a way to deal with him. If he is a problem–which he is–then he needs to be eliminated,” she added ruthlessly.

Ruhn’s lips twitched with a smile.

“I love it when you are bloodthirsty, beautiful. It’s hot as fuck.”

“I am not kidding,”

Azriel scratched his chin,

“It’s not that simple, flower. We can’t just take him out. He has a lot of power and influence. He is deeply feared, and respected. And if word gets around that his own sons killed him, that would weaken our position tremendously.”

“Then we’ll have to build different alliances,” she declared simply. “It may take some time, but we can do it. Maybe it’s time for something new–the old families are different. They are not able to move with the times,” she took both of their hands in hers and gently stroked their fingers. “And if they cannot, then maybe they should be left behind,”

“How do you mean, beautiful?” Ruhn asked thoughtfully, listening to her with interest.

“Well,” her expression was serious, and it looked like she gave this some serious thought. “The old generations were less educated, less technologically and financially sophisticated. You are. We are. They thought and operated in millions. You operate in billions. You have perfectly legitimate businesses and very diversified holdings, and someone like Rhysand to run them. Even look at your security team–it’s sharp, lethal, well-organised, smartly operated. It’s not a ragtag group of boys from the hood running around, waving guns.”

“I wave guns,” Ruhn chuckled, but she squeezed his fingers tightly in warning, as she ignored him and continued,

“You are so smart, Az. You can do anything!”

“Not anything,” he smiled softly, looking at her enthusiastic, excited face.

“Yes, anything,” she cut over him sharply. “The only thing that you must avoid at all costs would be another mafia war. But that’s why we are married, isn’t it?”

“Well,” Ruhn drawled, “i wouldn't say that that’s the only reason why we are married,”

“But that was the reason, initially,” she insisted. “Now you just have to decide who you want to be in bed with,”

“You,” Ruhn said quickly and Azriel laughed. “Definitely you!”

She rolled her eyes and muttered, “Be quiet, you two!”

“What do you want us to do, Ellie?”

“Weaken your father,” she suggested logically. “Build alliances which would strengthen you, and weaken his own. Yes, he is strong. He has a lot of support. Other families fear him. But you can be stronger. Invite some of his supporters to talks. Offer them incentives, and see if they budge. This is not first, or even second generation Sicilians, who have undying loyalty to each other. All the lofty notions of honour and silence are long dead, much like most of the members of the old families. Now, we have to deal with everyone, including the Irish, Mexicans, other Italians, Russians…You have to capitalise on that and expand your reach, and eventually, leave your father in the dust.”

“Hmmm,” Azriel scrubbed his chin, thinking everything that she said over, while Ruhn lay his heavy hand in her head and said,

“You are like…brutally smart, Elain.”

“What do you suggest?” Azriel asked.

She shrugged,

“Start with what you can control,”

“Which is?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she exhaled mysteriously. “You’ve got some low hanging fruit that you can pick quickly,”

“Which is?” he pressed again.

“Nesta might not be very powerful, but our family is old and well-established, with lots of connections,”

Azriel turned to Ruhn and winked at him,

“Hey Ruhn, wanna marry Nesta?”

Elain scowled at him and pulled her hand away from his angrily.

“Do not joke like that!” she snarled suddenly, taking both of them aback.

“Babe, I,” Azriel stuttered, but she interrupted him,

“Don’t presume that you can bargain with my husbands’ eligibility, even in a joking manner,”

“Elain, I never,” Azriel was shocked over the possessive viciousness of Elain’s expression and the harshness of her voice.

“Ruhn or Fenrys are not fucking available to anyone,” she snapped. “They are mine. You wouldn’t offer me to another man for a wife, would you?”

“Of course not.”

He growled under his breath, the idea of that cutting him so deeply that he fought the urge to grab at Elain and fuck her right then and there, just to remind her and himself who she belonged to.

“Then don’t ever dare to propose something like that for either of them,” she warned, her tone cold and menacing.

Ruhn, eager to cool the tempers, and calm her down, murmured softly, as he stroked her head,

“Beautiful, I am yours. Only yours. Forever. Just you and me, gorgeous.”

“Okay, good,” she seemed to have been placated, though Azriel bit his tongue, letting Ruhn take the reins.

His brother then asked,

“So, what are you thinking?”

Elain exhaled and finally said,

“Nesta is in love with Cassian.”

Azriel sputtered and his eyes flew wide open, and Ruhn had a similar reaction.

“Ellie, I don’t think,” Azriel began saying, but she waved him off.

“You don’t know Nesta,” she stated.

“Clearly not,” Ruhn agreed, scratching his head. “Because I would’ve thought that she couldn’t stand him,”

“Nah,” Elain shook her head, “she loves him. All this time, I think she’s been…waiting. Waiting for him,”

“For Cass? Our Cass?” Azriel pressed, needing to make sure they were speaking the same language.

“Yeah,”

“The Cassian that she keeps sniping at? The same Cassian she rolls her eyes at? Tells him to move out of her way? Pulls her hand away from him? That Cassian?”

“Yep. The very same.”

“Well, that’s a weird way to show someone that you are in love with them,” Azriel noted.

“Nesta doesn’t show anyone love. She thinks that love is weakness. But I know her better than anyone, and I know what she feels for him–and it’s something that keeps very close to herself. And I am telling you this, expecting you to keep this completely confidential.”

“Of course,” they both promised.

“But…if you can offer assistance of some kind, that would help bring the two of them together, then I think,”

“Low hanging fruit,” Ruhn muttered under his breath.

“Yes,” she inclined her head in agreement.

After a pause, Elain said, “Now, I want to be with my husband.”

Both men exchanged glances, not knowing which ‘husband’, but she pointed at Ruhn,

“This one.”

Azriel did not protest, got up and said ‘I’ll leave you two alone’.

In the hallway, Fenrys pushed away from the wall and looked at Azriel expectantly.

“Were you aware of this whole Nesta and Cassian thing?” Azriel asked, knowing that Fen heard the entire conversation.

Fenrys bobbed his head evasively and murmured, “I might have had an inkling…”

“I’d like to hear more about this inkling?”

“You know Cass likes her…And Elain is right. If the two of them end up together, then that’s a win for us.”

“I mean, to be honest, I am not convinced that just because Nesta gets together with Cass, she’d be on our side,” Azriel cocked his brow and Fenrys laughed, nodding.

“But I’ll take care of it,” Fenrys promised vaguely.

Azriel shuddered and then pleaded under his breath, “please don’t make it weird…”

Elain rose from her knees and sat beside Ruhn on the bed.

She looked at his battered back, her finger skimming lightly over the ripped skin.

“It’s still bleeding,” she murmured quietly, her voice broken.

“It’s not a big deal, beau-,” he started saying, but she snapped at him.

“Stop it! Stop saying that!” she exclaimed angrily. “It’s like you want me not to care!”

“It’s not that,” Ruhn began, but she interrupted him again, while she grabbed another cloth and dabbed it with antiseptic, before pressing it to his back.

“No, you are trying to downplay this,” she insisted, gently caring for his cuts and wounds, “because let’s flip this,”

“Flip what?” he frowned.

“Oh, I don’t know. Let’s say I went to my father, and then came back with wounds and bruises and horrible cuts all over my body–how would you react?”

Ruhn never thought of it that way.

He’s been living with the terror that was his father for so long…in fact, almost all of his life…that it became embedded into his psyche. He allowed the violence, knowing that he couldn’t escape it, because then, his brothers would be punished. They were, especially Azriel, who’d suffered even more brutality at times, and unfortunately, the threats were what tethered the brothers to their father.

“I’d destroy everything and everyone who dared to touch even one golden hair on your head,” he snarled and Elain saw the truth in his eyes.

He would.

He’d turn into a monster for her.

They all would. Her men would rip apart the world for her, of that she was sure.

“Then why do you think I wouldn’t feel the same about you?” she asked.

Ruhn sighed and put his heavy arm around her shoulders, pulling her into the heat of his powerful tortured body.

“You are the best thing to ever happen to us, Elain,” he said.

“Ehhh,” she pushed at him shyly, denying his praise of her.

He pressed his lips to her head, and murmured,

“But to me…to me, you are everything.”

“You’ve got quite the silver tongue,” she chuckled, and he stuck it out, wiggling it suggestively, before he winked, “you are the one to know, beautiful.”

She gave it a consideration, and then hummed, before reminding him,

“Actually, I don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

She raised her brow at him and said, “how well you use your tongue, my darling husband.”

“You’ve gone through a lot of firsts with me, sweetheart,” he reminded her smugly.

“Hmmm,”

“Shall I remind you?” he offered, and began counting off on his fingers,

‘Who was the first man inside you? In your sweet pink pussy? Fingering you? Me.’

‘Okay,” she agreed, blushing lightly.

He chuckled and continued,

“Whose dick did you see first? Mine. Whose cum did you taste first? Mine.”

She blurted “Oh,” suddenly remembering just how much she’d experienced with him, and who was the one to carefully, but steadily bring her into womanhood.

“Uh-uh. Oh,” he teased. “And then,”

“You were the one…” her blush deepened and he laughed quietly.

“Yes?”

“You know!” she hissed.

“I must have forgotten,” he argued innocently. “I don’t remember,”

“You suck!” she hissed and pushed at his shoulder.

He snapped his fingers and grinned.

“No, beautiful. I think it’s you who sucked…First dick in your mouth–also mine. I recall you begging so nicely for me to put my cock between your lips and push it as far as possible in your throat,”

She elbowed him in his side and said primly,

“You are uncouth!”

He burst out laughing, and in retaliation, she pressed a cotton ball into his back a little too roughly.

“Baby, you know I am uncouth!”

She puffed her cheeks and then shrugged,

“Actually, you pretend to be uncouth. You are, in fact, a well-bred, well-educated rich boy. You are polite, cultured–you think I haven’t heard you humming Vivaldi? Or singing along to “Tosca’? And the whole art thing…”

“Elain!” he cried out in mock horror. “My street cred!”

‘Yeah…your ‘street cred’,” she made exaggerated air quotes. “I know what you are–you are a bad boy. But you are also a prince.”

“But this bad boy knows how to please his girl!” he insisted. “I was there for the first time too.”

She licked her lips and he tracked the movement with his eyes, smirking to himself.

“Yes,” she breathed softly.

He cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip, looking down into her warm brown eyes.

“Did you like that, sweetheart?”

She nodded and answered shyly, ‘yes’.

“Good,” he smiled. “But what objections do you have to me and my very capable tongue?”

She bit his thumb and he laughed at the bite of pain, before pushing the thumb deeper in her mouth as she licked it softly and slowly, watching him intently.

“No objections,” she whispered at last, pulling back a little. “But I can’t remember it!” she pouted. “You’ve done so many other things to me that I can’t remember the tongue thingy,”

“Pfff,” he laughed, mocking her in a thin, girlish voice, “my life is so hard! I have too many handsome well-hung men going down on me and eating my pussy that I am all confused as to who is who! Woe is me!”

“Oh my god!” she screeched, pressing her palm to his mouth and he bit the inside of her hand, while laughing at her pathetic attempts to silence him.

“But am I wrong?” he goaded her. “Though if you can’t remember, because you are just so very busy with too much dick, then I suppose I could remind you,”

He grabbed her waist and flipped her back, pushing her on the bed, while she laughed and tried to fight him off.

“Ehhh, beautiful,” he shook his head with disappointment,

“WHAT?” she exclaimed.

“Your fighting leaves much to be desired…kinda pathetic, actually!”

“No! What?!” she pushed his shoulder, “I fight good!”

“Listen, you couldn't fight off an angry poodle!”

She scowled at him and muttered,

“You are an angry poodle…”

“I am a big ass snake, baby,” he argued. “I can eat you whole.”

“No you can’t!” she protested, “because I can fight you!”

Ruhn didn’t mind having her beneath him, her soft body arching and wiggling under his weight, her silken thighs parting for him as he pressed into her.

“How are you so horny when your back is all messed up?” she demanded, “and we already had so much sex today!?”

He frowned and then barked a loud laugh,

“So much sex?”

“Yeah!”

“You came once. Maybe twice. I came once. That’s not ‘so much sex’,” he corrected her. “That’s a quickie. When you can’t walk straight and are half-delirious from like fifteen orgasms, then we can talk about ‘so much sex’.”

“I can’t have fifteen orgasms!” she gasped. “I will die!”

“Nah, you won’t die,” he assured her, “but you sure will be mighty pleased. But,” he butted her nose with his, “don’t change the subject,”

“What subject? That you are insatiable? Or,”

A firm, deep kiss stopped her rambling and he swiped his tongue over her lips, her teeth, kissing her slowly and thoroughly, leaving both of them breathless, while he buried his hands in the luscious wave of her hair.

“The subject of you learning how to fight and defend yourself,” he explained at last, as he peppered her face and mouth with soft kisses.

“I know how to fight!” she insisted. “Also, why do I have to? if I have you? And also Fen and Az, and Varian and all the others,”

His voice stern, Ruhn said,

“Because you never know when you might be alone, El. And I will never forgive myself for not teaching you self-defence and some basic moves that could save your life.”

His voice was laced with apprehension, almost pain, and Elain reached and stroked his cheek tenderly, seeing that the idea of her getting hurt genuinely upset him. She kissed him and wiggled the tip of her tongue into his lip ring, tugging on it playfully, until he finally relaxed on top of her and smiled.

“Okay, teach me to fight and kick ass,” she decided with a firm nod.

Ruhn laughed again and kissed her neck, digging under her hair and finding the tattoo on the back of her neck. His tattoo. His mark. His.

He recalled how hard he bit her, sucking and licking on her tender flesh, marking her skin with himself, with his teeth and giving her both his lust and his pain, until she submitted to him and accepted him as hers. He was inside of her then, making her tender, bleeding pussy his, moulding her over his dick, making her take all of him inside of her. He fucked her hard and deep, and bit her. Bit her, while burrowing himself as deep as possible inside of her trembling body, while she moaned and cried softly and submitted to him. He didn’t think he’d be able to push the entirety of his thick, heavy dick into her bruised passage, especially not after watching Azriel pound into her mercilessly. But he forced it in. All the way, until his balls slapped into her plump ass. He hurt her, and the tears that ran down her cheeks confirmed it, but he wasn’t going to be merciful or gentle with her. She was his fucking woman, and her virginity belonged to him, just like it belonged to Azriel. They took her together, and she took their dicks and she thanked them for it. He pulled his teeth out of her neck only when he came in her, mixing his cum with Azriel’s, pumping and pumping into her, shoving his seed as deep as he could, while he licked his bloodied lips. When he finally withdrew, he did it slowly, so she felt every thick inch of him on the way out, and then he and Azriel spread her legs widely, so they could watch her freshly-used pussy, which was brimming with their seed and trickled blood. She was shy, and wanted to close her thighs, but they laughed at her feeble attempts and kept her nice and open, while shoving two pillows under her butt, so that their cum had no way of escaping.

Since then, she has been his. His love, his wife, and his responsibility. His to protect, his to empower. He was in charge of everyone’s safety, but hers was paramount. She was the most important thing in his life–yes, his brothers were too, but Elain…Elain was his personal, private obsession. His girl. The only one he’s ever loved and would love–of that, he was certain.

He kissed the mark deeply, pressing his lips to the spot and holding his face there, while she stroked his hair and kept him close.

“I will teach you,” he promised. “And so will Cassian.”

“Cass? Why him?”

“It’s his thing,” Ruhn explained vaguely. “Teaching women how to defend themselves. He makes it his mission. He taught your sister, you know,”

“Feyre?”

“Yes. So now it’s your turn. And maybe we can add Nes into the mix,” he chuckled.

“Oh god…Nesta is going to hate it!”

“Oh, I am sure. All the more reason she should be involved.”

“Hmm,” Elain thought about it and then smirked. “Okay, that’s cool. I want to fight! I think I would be a very good fighter,” she added confidently. Ruhn smiled. Nodded. Of course she would be.

Ruhn firmly pressed his pelvis between her soft thighs and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the beautiful lips and enjoying the way her plump breasts squished beneath his chest. She wasn’t wearing a bra under the t-shirt and he definitely felt the familiar fullness of her delectable tits. Her hands gently brushed against the sides of his body, avoiding his battered back, while she took his tongue between her lips and sucked on it lightly. He couldn’t help himself and slipped his hands under the roomy t-shirt, muttered into her mouth, “‘you smell like Fen,”

She smiled, raising her brow at him and allowing him to lift the shirt up and over her breasts.

“These I like a lot,” he smiled, palming the hefty globes at once, and squeezing them firmly in his huge, strong hands.

“Are you going to make me smell like you instead?” she teased, running her fingers over his tattooed arms, while he slurped over her nipple, pulling it deep inside his mouth and tonguing it ferociously, ripping a moan of pleasure out of her throat.

He sucked greedily, teasing her other breast in his palm, squeezing and rolling it about, while his hips rolled languidly between her thighs, the harsh seam of his jeans rubbing right into her clit.

“We promised not to get jealous of each other,” he said over her nipple, his chin pressing into her breast and the luminous blue eyes twinkling with enticing mischief. “As long as you smell like the two of them, I am all good. Besides, our boy Fenny Fen smells delightful,”

Elain laughed, looking down at him, as she threaded her fingers through his long lustrous hair.

“He does, doesn’t he?” she agreed with a nod.

“But that’s as far as I am willing to accept another man’s scent on you, beautiful,” he warned coldly.

She rolled her eyes and chuckled at his dramatics.

“I think I am at my cock limit, Ruhnnie. I don’t think you’ll ever need to worry. The three of you are like 12 men for any other woman–if you were human and normal,”

“Oh, is that the equivalency?” he was laughing, squeezing her flesh, his dark, tattooed hand in stark contrast with her soft, pale breast. “Each of us is equal to four human men, as you put it?”

“Yeah. I mean, I wouldn’t really call you normal and human, can we agree on that?”

“Definitely not normal. Human–questionable too. Definitely dick size is equal to that of four men,”

“Oh god,” she moaned.

“Oh no, it’s all me, baby,” he assured her with a smirk, biting on her nipple and making her shudder with pleasure. “No god can make you feel like this.”

He grabbed her thigh and pressed his fingers into the smooth skin with enough force, to probably leave a mark. They always left marks on her, though she enjoyed biting them too, and scratching into their flesh until she drew blood. Their love was far from gentle.

Sex with him in particular was rough, raw. Unapologetic.

Just the way Elain needed it. Craved it. Desired to submit to him fully and have him own her wholly.

“Should I take a swirl in your pussy?” he considered lazily. “To remind you of what my tongue is capable of?” he proceeded to swirl his tongue around her nipple.

“Oh my god!” she cried out, scandalised, “I have my period!”

“Yes,” he agreed blandly. “And?”

“Are you crazy?” she demanded.

“Yeah. And?”

“I can’t with you,” she protested, trying to push him off, which was impossible. He was about 230 lbs of solid muscle on top of her. Also, she wasn’t trying very hard.

“I can!” he grinned. “Also, I am hurt,” and he immediately offered her the big eyes, “if I want a cookie, I should have a cookie…”

“Oh non-no-no!” she gave him a stronger nudge. “Don’t you even start with the hurts and the puppy eyes,”

He blinked even more vigorously, pressing into her and rubbing against her slit, while his hands continued playing with her tits.

“Buuuttt,” he began, but she cut him off,

“No ‘buts’!’

Sighing loudly, he complained ‘baby, you are so harsh. I guess there is only one option left,” he added dejectedly.

“What option?”

“You suck my cock for as long as I want to,”

“That seems like a weird alternative, but fine,” she shrugged.

“Fine?” his eyes lit up.

“Obviously it’s fine,” she propped herself on her elbows and looked at him with tenderness, and an earnest smile on her lips. “I love you.”

Ruhn’s face softened and he murmured, “I love you too, beautiful.”

“Now,” she finally managed to push him off, “I have to go make involtini!”

“Baby,”

“No, I have to make dinner. I love your glorious cock, and it will be sucked to your heart’s delight, but I have stuff to do and I want to find out who sent us that invite!”

He rolled off of her with a groan and grunted at his prominent hard-on, while landing awkwardly on his side, as his injuries didn’t allow him to lay flat on his back.

“I am kinda curious about that invitation as well,” he agreed, and then wrapped his arm around Elain’s waist and hauled her to himself, lifting her in his arms and digging his large hands into her ass, making her wrap her legs around his thighs.

“I can walk!” she protested, but did not make a move to step on the floor, and instead wrapped her arms around his neck.

“You could, my good girl, but that won’t allow me the opportunity to stick my tongue between your pretty lips!”

Fenrys was sitting on the sofa, his hands stacked on his stomach, a frown on his face.

Azriel was in the same space, though he was on his phone, throwing glances at his unusually glum-looking cousin.

“What’s up Fensky?” he inquired at last, looking at Fenrys, who stretched his long legs in front of him and was pouting like an angry baby.

“Nuthin’,” Fenrys muttered.

“You sure?”

“Yeah…”

Five more minutes of pouting, and Azriel snapped,

“Okay, I can't take it anymore! What’s wrong with you?”

Fen threw his head back dramatically and whined,

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. But what if she is going to love Ruhn more now?!”

Azriel winced at the stupid comment and muttered, “what?”

“Yeah! Yeah!” Ferys grew agitated. “What if she loves him more? He is now all dark and wounded and tattooed and brooding…I bet he is laying it on as thick as cream cheese on a bagel! And she doesn’t even realise it and is lapping it up!”

Azriel was chuckling, shaking his head.

“You are jealous that he got the shit beaten out of him?”

“It’s not like that!” Fenrys grimaced. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I think you are being the ridiculous one. You want me to punch you in a dick? So you are wounded too? Maybe she can suck it, to make it feel better,”

For a moment, it looked like Fenrys was considering the proposal, and Azriel rubbed his temples, thinking that he needed a damn vacation right about now.

“I hate you,” Fen offered at last. “I can’t believe you want to kick me in the cock!”

Azriel shrugged and said, “I didn’t say that I want to kick you in the cock, I simply offered it.”

Fenrys frowned and grumbled, “she is still gonna love him more.”

Just then, Ruhn and Elain appeared at the top of the stairs, Azriel looked up at them and huffed under his breath. Ruhn was carrying Elain in his arms, and she was still only wearing a t-shirt and her long bare legs were wrapped around his own, while he was kissing her sloppily and with a lot of tongue.

“Don’t drop my wife,” Azriel laughed.

“She is my wife too,” Ruhn sang out loud, grabbing a handful of her ass and squeezing it, as if to demonstrate that she was his as well.

Fenrys was glaring at them, his thick beefy arms folded on his chest, as he watched Ruhn bring Elain down and finally set her on her feet, though he still wrapped his arm around her, and wouldn’t let her go.

“How are you feeling?” Fen asked, his brow furrowed. Ruhn still wasn’t wearing anything but his jeans and Fenrys guessed that his brother was still in considerable pain and couldn’t bear wearing a shirt over his wounds.

“My babe fixed me right up,” Ruhn announced jovially. The man’s tolerance for pain was legendary–his father’s tortures and ‘tests of resilience’ notoriously brutal and bloody–but Fenrys guessed that Ruhn was probably pretty uncomfortable despite the flippant attitude.

Ruhn followed Elain to the kitchen and sat down at the counter, offering to help and she immediately handed him three eggplants to slice. ‘Lengthwise, thin,” she instructed firmly and Ruhn saluted his understanding.

Azriel rose from his seat and slowly prowled towards the kitchen counter, where Elain was bustling with onions and garlic and a grill pan. He watched her for a beat, the shapely legs and the t-shirt which was somehow erotically enticing. Maybe it was because of how feral she went over these t-shirts, and how important they were to her, because they smelled like her men. Ruhn was watching her too, ably slicing the eggplants, barely looking at them, because his eyes were firmly planted on the beautiful girl across the island from him. He was throwing the slices right on to the grill pan, and therefore soliciting little amazed gasps from Elain, who acted like he was juggling with a couple of fireballs, while swallowing a sword. That girl was way too easily impressed.

Azriel came closer to her and wrapped his arms around her soft body, gently clasping her wrists within his hands and bringing her fists to his lips.

“No, no,” she squealed with a laugh, “garlic hands!”

He chuckled and kissed her knuckles, whispering, “I love garlic hands!”

“No you don’t!” she argued, while he pushed her steadily against the counter, kissing her hands relentlessly.

“I most certainly do,” he argued. Then he leaned in and kissed her neck gently, whispering, “and onion neck…”

She burst out laughing, but he only moved to the other side of her throat and placed another soft, deep kiss on the pale skin, adding, “and paprika throat,”

“That’s beginning to sound like a sofrito,” Ruhn commented, as he sliced the rest of the vegetable and began grating some Pecorino Romano. Azriel chuckled at the comment, but continued kissing Elain’s neck, making her whimper with enjoyment.

“I’ve missed you, my beauty,” he whispered against the corner of her mouth, while lifting the hem of the t-shirt that she was wearing, baring her smooth, taut belly, and then one of her full breasts.

“And peachy boobies,” he complimented, turning her just so, allowing Ruhn a good look, while Fenrys moved on the sofa, craning his neck.

“Az…” she breathed, when he bared her other breast and she stood in the middle of the kitchen topless, wearing only her plain cotton knickers. Azriel cupped her titties in his large scarred hands and said, “give me these, my love’. Before she could say anything, even breathe, his lips closed on her breast, tugging on it and pulling it deep inside the wet warmth of his mouth. He stooped over her awkwardly, being half a foot taller, but that didn’t stop him from wrapping his arm around her waist and latching firmly onto her tit, sucking on it with deep, sensuous pulls of his mouth. Elain moaned loudly, her head dropping backwards, but suddenly meeting with a firm, warm chest or her other husband. Ruhn was behind her, his hand finding her throat and clasping it as he turned her face to him and looked at her, and then at his brother, who was sucking and biting her breast without pause.

“Are you feeding Az with your titty?” he murmured, smiling with a pleased smile. She nodded helplessly, licking her lips, and holding Azriel’s head to her tit while he feasted on it. Ruhn slid his other hand down her stomach and then rested his palm there, murmuring hotly in her ear,

“When I put a baby in your belly, beautiful, will you feed my son, so he is strong and brave?”

She nodded once, whispering, “Yes…all of my boys.”

Ruhn stroked her neck and smiled at her.

“That’s right, beautiful. That pussy of yours will never be empty. Right?”

Azriel nodded in agreement against her breast, biting down on her swollen nipple and then stroking it with his tongue until she cried out.

“It will be either full of dick, or full with babies. Or both. I can’t wait to watch you on my dick when you are round with my baby,”

She was so taken with Ruhn’s filthy words and promises, she didn't realise that Fenrys prowled from the sofa to the kitchen and now stood in front of her. He cupped her face in his hand, dragging his thumb over her jaw and then leaned to kiss her with a heady, open kiss.

“Boys,” she tried, but Fenrys interrupted her with another kiss, before whispering,

“This sweet pretty pink pussy was made for us, sweetheart. For us to fill it with our cocks, and ride it and use it. Isn't that right, baby?”

She bit her lip, glancing between the three men around her and then nodded at last.

“Yes,”

“Yes what, gorgeous?” Ruhn squeezed her throat lightly, prompting her to speak.

“I was made for you, my darlings,” she stroked their shoulders, their necks. “And you were made for me. So of course you’ll ride me…”

Ruhn was nodding with satisfaction, while Fenrys tugged her other nipple between his fingers, twisting and squeezing it.

“Three cocks, babygirl,” he warned, cocking his brow at her. “Three cocks daily. You will take our dicks, because you are our sweet, good girl. And your pussy is for us to use as much as possible,”

“Boys,” she began again, but Azriel finally tore himself away from her tit, which was now red and glistening, and said,

“No, Ellie. You will have to take us in all your holes, my love. We agreed to share you, but that’s the price,”

“Yes, my darlings, I know,” she assured them, “I have three holes and my three boys. I am excited for when you will be riding me all together,”

“Oh honey, we are excited about that too,” Fenrys grinned devilishly. “Az in your tight little pussy. Ruhn pumping you from behind in your pretty asshole, and I am choking you with my dick. How does that sound?”

“I am a little scared,” she admitted shyly, “but I like it…I love you, my boys. I love you so much,” she cupped Azriel’s cheek and kissed his lips, before stroking Fern’s face and kissing him as well. “Now you, bad boy,” she laughed and kissed Ruhn in turn.

He kissed her back, and then dropped on the stool and pulled her on his lap.

“Now that that’s decided,” Ruhn said seriously, “there is another matter we should discuss. As a family.”

Fenrys nodded, and went to turn the aubergine slices over, before filling the grill with another batch. “This is gonna be good,” he muttered under his breath, before turning to the other three. Azriel seemed curious about what Ruhn was about to say, so he folded his arms on his chest, leaning against the wall and waited. Ruhn held Elain close to his chest, his hand resting on her hip possessively, while her t-shirt at least covered her body somewhat.

“So?” Fenrys prodded, “what are we talking about?” he went about slicing a fresh loaf of bread for dinner, as he waited for Ruhn to say his peace.

Ruhn’s hand slithered under Elain’s t-shirt and he cupped her breast, pawing at her greedily, while she took it in stride and kissed his neck lovingly.

“We have to complete our side of the agreement,” Ruhn said finally. “For the peace treaty.”

Azriel grunted in displeasure and Fenrys turned the aubergine slices on the grill with a pair of tongs, not commenting.

“And,” Ruhn added meaningfully, “I, personally, am not crazy about this,”

“What?” Elain looked up at him from his shoulder.

“This,” brazenly, he cupped her crotch in his hand and squeezed the supple flesh.

“You can’t be serious!” Azriel moaned. “She’s been fucked twice,”

“Thice,” Ruhn corrected aggressively.

Elain frowned and asked,

“What are you two talking about?”

With pursed lips and a frown, it was Fenrys who exclaimed,

“They are talking about your virgin pussy, that’s what they are talking about. Which they fucked. I haven’t fucked it, but they have. And the fact that you aren’t pregnant.”

Ruhn shrugged innocently, followed by Azriel’s equally nonchalant shrug. Without releasing his palm’s grip on her delectable little triangle of flesh, Ruhn mused in a self-satisfied assholish way,

“I am gonna be honest,” he began, and Fenrys cut in, grunting,

“Please don’t, I don’t really need your honesty right now,”

Ruhn ignored him and continued,

“I fucked a lot of pussy in my life. Can’t deny the truth,”

“A truth I am not interested in hearing,” Elain pouted glumly, echoing Fenrys.

Ruhn smiled at her and kissed her lips and pressed the heel of his palm deeper into her flesh, feeling her wetness through the cotton of her underwear.

“But my wife’s silky pussy is a gift from above,” he vowed passionately. “It’s the tightest fit, the most beautiful shade of gorgeous pink, stretching it with my dick was a sublime experience, which, by the way, I highly, highly recommend!”

“Fuck. You.” Fenrys snarled.

Elain was laughing on Ruhn’s lap, while Azriel was smirking. He was nodding over Ruhn’s explicit assessment, adding,

“Flower bled so beautifully over our cocks. She comes like a stunning wild thing–while her pussy milks your cock for what seems like forever! My fucking lord. It’s like getting a blowjob while fucking–that tight pussy sucks and sucks on your dick, like it can’t release it!”

“Yes!” Ruhn confirmed enthusiastically. “That’s exactly what it is. I’ve never had a pussy that wanted to be fucked so badly. It makes love to the dick–it caresses it and kisses it and squeezes it so tightly, you are about to pass out, and at the end, as you fill her with your cum, her pussy is thanking you and asking for more.”

Elain was blushing profusely, but she didn’t argue and didn’t tell them to be quiet. She was biting her lower lip, listening to them, and when Ruhn bit the side of her cheek, he murmured, “Tell us what you want to say, beautiful. Tell us,”

“Tell us, Ellie,” Azriel came closer and cupped her cheek, making her look up at him.

“I…” she swallowed and then sighed, “I…I love being filled,”

“Yes?” Azriel smiled at her.

She kissed the inside of his palm and said,

“I love when you boys give me orgasms–I’d never get enough of those…But,” she turned her head and kissed Ruhn’s lips softly and wetly.

“What else do you love, gorgeous?” he pressed.

“I want to be filled,” she confessed. A soft but tortured moan escaped her lips, “I need it…I need to be filled.”

The three of them looked at her with wanton curiosity, listening rapturously to her words, while Fenrys made it over to her too, and cupped her breast in his hand. All three of them were now touching her, caressing her.

“Boys,” she whispered, “I want you all…”

“You have us all,”

“To take me,” she continued, “fill me. Fill all my holes. Please,” she was almost begging now, her voice thin and desperate. “I think I might die if I don’t get filled with your seed.”

“You love our cum, honey?” Azriel asked, grinning happily.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Yes. Once I started tasting it…feeling it…drinking it, swallowing it…I can’t get enough. I want it on my skin. I want it in my mouth. I dream of it,” she gasped. “I want my pussy bathed in it. Fill me with your cocks and your seed…”

“We can do that, baby,” Fenrys promised simply.

Ruhn smirked with satisfaction and said,

“I think that we can all agree that our wife is the most important person in our lives.”

“Yes,” the other two confirmed in unison.

“And we want to fuck our wife? Please her? Pleasing her is our duty,”

Without warning, he thrust two fingers in her mouth and ordered, “Suck, sweetheart.”

He began pumping his fingers in and out of her lips, and she sucked obediently, watching him with adoration. He bit around his lip ring and smiled at her with approval.

“My good girl,” he whispered, and then looked at his brothers with a frown.

“Then why the fuck is she not being pleasured and used at all times?” he asked severely.

Fenrys blanched and Azriel cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“You both have cocks. Cocks that she craves. Ballsacks filled with cum, with which you could be filling her and making her needier and needier…for even more cocks. You, boyo,” he glared at Fenrys. “Why is that massive dick of yours, which you are so proud of, not currently in her mouth? Pumping her full of your cum?”

Fenrys looked at the two of them, at Ruhn’s fingers between her lips and then took a determined step forward, following Elain’s faint nod of agreement. Wordlessly, he unzipped his jeans and then then extracted his fantastically magnificent cock from his undershorts, palming it and giving it a few firm tugs. Elain’s eyes lit up hungirly at the sight of the thick, threateningly long shaft, which always made her shiver with slight fear. It was an indescribable dick–a real weapon, if it wanted to be.

“There you go, big boy,” Ruhn chuckled. “Now you are thinking with your dick, like you are supposed to. Feed it to your wife, and make her choke on it. I want to see you fuck her mouth until she is spluttering and crying over your cock.”

He pulled his fingers out of her mouth, and before she could even draw a breath, Fenrys was sliding the bulbous pink head of his cock inside, filling her with its overwhelming girth at once. Ruhn held her head steady, kissing her cheek and whispering, “take his cock, honey’.

He gestured to Azriel, and said, “bring her a cushion.”

Meanwhile, he rested his chin on Elain’s neck and whispered in her ear,

“That’s our little wife. Does pretty Fen have a delicious dick?”

“Uh-uh,” she tried to confirm, as Fenrys laughed and Ruhn smiled, while the heavy meat pole pushed forcefully deeper and deeper between her lips.

Ruhn cupped her breast in his hand and squeezed it rightly, before pinching her nipple. She squirmed on his lap, because the pressure of his fingers increased, and he pinched harder.

“I want to watch Fenrys fuck your mouth, beautiful,” he directed, his tone stern. “Is that understood?”

Her eyes travelled between the two men.

Ruhn pressed his fingers tighter over the nipple and she yelped from the pain.

“No. Not just fuck your sweet lips. I want him to make a mess of you. I want your throat raw and painful once he is done with you. You think you can do that for us, sweetheart?”

She nodded in acquiescence and Ruhn kissed her hollowed cheek and stroked her head.

“I love you,” he whispered lovingly. “I love you when you care for us. When you worry about us. I love you when you suck us off. I love you every moment of the day. I love everything about you, my gorgeous beautiful girl. Now, work for your husband and love on his nice, big dick. Only you can make our dicks that big and hard, beautiful. Let Fen show you how much he loves you that weapon of pussy destruction that he carries,”

Fenrys laughed out loud, pulled out and lightly slapped Elain’s lips and tongue with the heavy shaft.

“Sorry baby,” he opened his palms, “it will be your pussy that will be destroyed with my dick.”

Azriel took a cushion off the sofa and then tossed it on the floor. Ruhn gripped Elain’s waist and then lifted her off his lap and placed her on her knees in front of Fenrys, who was already eagerly thrusting his cock in her mouth.

Ruhn rubbed his hands together and exclaimed,

“That’s better! Our girl is on her knees, worshipping a cock with her mouth, like she should.”

Elain was slurping noisily, her jaw parted widely to accommodate Fenrys’s size.

She sucked Fenrys off every morning in the shower–their morning ritual has never been interrupted or missed, and no matter where he or she were, they found each other and Elain dutifully dropped on her knees before him and impatiently stuffed her mouth with his gorgeous heavy shaft.

Fenys placed both of his hands on top of her head, not grabbing it, but gently massaging her scalp with his strong fingers and holding her head in place, while he fucked her mouth steadily. She made satisfied hungry noises with every thrust of his cock, her cheeks pink and hot, her dark brown eyes on Fenrys, seeking his approval.

Ruhn moved to Azriel’s side, and lit up a cigarette.

“What’s your plan, Ruhn?” Azriel asked. “You are circling around something, but what is it?”

“That’s my girl,” Fen was meanwhile moaning, his narrow tapered hips moving rhythmically, “my good girl…You can take more, baby…” he forced more of his shaft into her mouth, making her gasp and gag over it, as she squeezed his thighs tightly.

“Ellie, you look beautiful with your lips around a cock,” Azriel threw a complimentary wink her way.

“Do you like sucking, baby?” Ruhn encouraged her, watching her choke and suck desperately, as tears began to spill out of her eyes from the pressure. She nodded over Fen’s dick, gagged with his heavy pole.

“I think you should lick his balls, sweetheart,” Azriel suggested. “Show us all how much you love it,”

Fenrys tugged his dick out of her mouth and thrust his balls in her face, as she began to lick on the seam between them, tucking her head so she could take them in her mouth and suck.

“So?” Azriel pressed his brother, while they both watched the soft curvy girl of their dreams work her little pink tongue over Fen’s ballsack.

“We need to breed her,” Ruhn said simply.

“What?”

“You heard me. And you know what I mean.”

“She wants to be on birth control,” Azriel reminded him.

“Yet she’s done nothing to obtain it, correct?”

“As far as I know.”

“We can’t make that decision for her,” Ruhn said, “however, I am speaking as a King and as her husband. As your advisor and the head of King Security, we have to live by the treaty. We can’t take years to do this, while other families unite and start making plans around their offspring. Between our father, the other families and us not having kids, we will be weakened, and I fear it might be irreversible.”

“I am not impregnating her against her will,” Azriel said bluntly.

Ruhn gave him a cool stare and retorted,

“No one said anything about doing things against her will. I’d like that to be her will. Very much her will. I want her to ask us to be seeded. And bred.”

“You are talking like a caveman,”

“I am talking like a man. And that girl is all about mating. That’s her terminology, not mine. She’s been reading this shit in her romance novels, and everyone is mating, and seeding and breeding in there. Everyone is coming copiously inside their mates, and is always frenzied and dominating their females.”

Azriel chuckled, though he didn’t disagree. He’s read enough of the fantasy novels that Elain loved so much to know that Ruhn wasn’t wrong. Apparently, though, Ruhn’s been reading some things himself.

“Has she not told you that you are her mate?” Ruhn cocked his brow at his brother.

“Yes. And I don’t think she is wrong,” Azriel agreed.

“She is all ‘you’re my heartmate, Ruhn!’ and ‘Azriel is my soulmate!’”

“No,” Azriel snapped quickly. “I am her bonded mate! Fen is her soulmate.”

Ruhn stifled a smirk, seeing how his brother corrected him so quickly, and didn’t like the incorrect ‘mating’ assigned to him. Whatever Azriel tried to pretend otherwise, Ruhn knew that this was important to him.

“Okay. Then can we agree that that delicious pussy ought to be seeded frequently?”

“I don’t have any problems with seeding her as much as possible,” Azriel shrugged.

“Okay, then we are on the same page. And I will bring her on our page,” Ruhn concluded confidently.

“You can’t be balls deep in her and pressure her into making a baby,” Azriel warned. “That’s not fair.”

Ruhn slapped Azriel’s broad shoulder and winked.

“Oh Az…So little faith in me. My beautiful girl will be begging for you to fill her up, just trust me. Give me a little bit of time, and we’ll be fucking her pussy together. At once. And she’ll be asking for more.”

Azriel winced, though the faint blush that bloomed on his high cheekbones told Ruhn that he certainly didn’t hate the idea. And maybe was all kinds of intrigued by the prospect.

“She is tiny and tight,” Azriel argued half-heartedly, waving his hand. “She can barely take one dick. How do you propose…well, whatever you just proposed…”

“I guess we’ll just have to squeeze it in, huh,” Ruhn winked at him with a salacious smirk.

“You are insane.”

“No, I am her heartmate. And she is mine. And she is mine to dominate and to breed. And that’s what I’ll do.”

Fenrys, meanwhile, was fucking Elain’s mouth roughly and lustily. He pounded her aggressively, forcefully, thrusting his meaty oversized cock down her throat, while he held her face tucked back, so he could dip into her throat.

“Well, if anyone is dominating her, it’s Fenrys,” Azriel commented.

The outline of the cock was visible inside her throat and Fenrys looked at them with a bragging sort of pride written on his handsome face. He pounded quickly and brashly, his body fully in control, while also controlling hers. Then he pulled back, allowed her to breathe, and then thrust back in, continuing to push mercilessly for a good minute. Another pull back. A few slaps on her lips and tongue with his cock, while she gulped on air, before he was plunging back in. The lack of oxygen made her docile and she meekly and eagerly allowed him to use her, looking up at him with adoration.

Ruhn couldn’t help but admire Fen’s technique. The man knew how to make a woman take his cock willingly and compliantly, while he bruised her throat with his dick, and she looked at him like he was her god. That took skill.

“Ready to drink up, sweetheart?” Fenrys asked, stroking her head gently.

He was a unique combination of rough and demanding, and tender and loving. His massive dick was truly a weapon, which he used expertly, rendering his partners, including Elain, to a begging, pleading, gasping, moaning mess. But, no matter how rough he was, it didn’t surprise anyone when Elain gasped and demanded breathlessly, “no…more. A little more…”

“Is that an order, sweetheart?” he thrust back and began moving harshly, making her weep over his cock, as she panted loudly, while threading her fingers with his own. “Because with my dick inside you, I am the one giving commands, not you,” he warned.

For all easy going attitude, Fenrys liked to be in control, and needed to dominate no less than the very domineering Ruhn.

Elain slid on her butt limply, exhausted and satisfied, enjoying being used the way she liked. And Elain liked to be dominated. It wasn’t even something that she was aware of or verbalised to her men, but they picked up on the signs pretty quickly. And what Elain wanted, Elain got. Their job, and the agreement between the three of them was to please their wife, their maiden and give her whatever she desired in life, and in bed. Please her, in whatever she needed physically or emotionally, while allowing her the freedom to be herself and do what she liked, and protecting her in the dangerous world that they occupied. Elain was their perfect little submissive beauty, who loved them and the array of dicks that they offered to her. She loved being filled with those dicks and enjoyed when they came inside of her as much as possible. That was their Elain. And they aimed to please her.

“Or was it a request?” Fenrys asked, thrusting his heavy balls in her mouth and letting her suck on those.

“A request,” she mumbled sweetly, her face hidden somewhere beneath his sack.

“I think you should ask me nicely,” he decided, toying with her.

She was licking his balls with wide, generous swipes of her tongue, and she barely paused, before saying,

“May I please continue sucking?”

“Sucking what, sweetheart?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes and then added shyly,

“Your cock. Okay? Your cock.”

“Okay then. You did ask nicely,” he agreed easily and eased his dick back in her mouth.

Ruhn went to the kitchen counter, slapping Fen’s ass on his way, and complimenting, “I admire your stamina, boyo!”

He messed Elain’s hair playfully, watching her deepthroat the shaft with renewed enthusiasm.

“And you, my girlie,” he added, “don’t forget that you will be taking my cock later tonight.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Azriel demanded, watching Fenrys push her head back and tell her to relax, which she struggled to do because he was jamming his thick shaft down her throat, opening her up.

“Relax, sunshine,” Fen cooed to her, stroking her cheeks. “Let me in…relax…” She was panting loudly at his feet, but began to take his cock calmly once she followed his directions, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He dipped his dick inside of her, holding it down, so he could plunge it in and out, and the two men watched the lewdly explicit act with lustful fascination.

“She’ll suck you too, my poor brother,” Fenrys chuckled in response to Azriel’s complaint.

“Yeah, try not to dislocate her jaw,” Azriel muttered, his own cock hard and needy. Everyone was fucking his wife it seemed, except for him. Ruhn, the supposedly scary Ruhn, whom she was expected to be afraid of, has been the one who’s been with her the most out of the three of them. She did whatever he wanted her to do with him, never argued and submitted to him wholly and beautifully. Ruhn used her determinedly and with his usual dominant aggression, but Elain didn’t do anything but open her silky thighs for him, or her eager mouth and he took whatever he wanted from her.

“No playing with your pussy!” Ruhn warned, seeing her fingers snaking down her body and between her legs.

She frowned at him, but he only shook his head and said, “Unless Fen tells you it’s okay to touch yourself, you aren’t allowed.”

She sighed dramatically, but compliantly withdrew her hand.

When Fenrys finally came, making her drink everything, which she did pleasantly, as expected of her, Azriel again found himself not being jealous at all. When his brothers fucked his girl it seemed completely…natural.

Before her, he wasn’t much of an orgy guy. He wasn’t exactly a perfect boyfriend, even with Morrigan, and fucked around plenty. But generally he preferred a girl’s attention to be on him, and wasn’t much for conducting a symphony of sex between multiple people.

However, with Elain accepting them all, and wanting them all and living with all of them harmoniously and adoring them all sexually, while they all craved her like rabid dogs, it ended up being–perfect? Therefore, he loved watching his brothers with her and inside of her–riding her, teaching her, loving her, indulging her. Elain was their precious maiden, who came to them untouched, and they took that very seriously–they were responsible for her physical and mental well-being, as well as her sexual satisfaction and happiness. She was going to be theirs for the rest of their lives, and she was going to have a happy life with them, if that was the last thing they did. This specific girl was chosen for them by someone, or something, and she fit them precisely and somehow, made sense for each one of them. Hence, Azriel was going to prove to her and to himself that he was always the right choice for her. That despite their brutal natures, the blood on their hands and the scars on their flesh, Elain made the best possible choice for herself by opting to be with the three of them. That loving them was always going to be inevitable, but also truly a bond like no other.

Azriel yearned to love Elain the way he wanted to–possessively, endlessly. And he wanted his brothers to do the same–love her the way they needed to. Brutally and eternally. And now she was theirs, and she was going to be theirs forever–there was no going back for any of them. They had all made a choice, and they were each other’s choice.

Fen finally dragged Elain up and she made a big show of hurting joints and stretched, while he wrapped his arm around her and wiped a bit of his cum from her chin with his thumb, before making her suck it off.

“You did so well, my sweetness,” he complimented her earnestly and kissed her deeply, not minding his own traces inside her mouth whatsoever.

“I sucked it well, Fenny?” she whispered happily.

“You always do, sweetness. You are a pleasure.”

None of them wanted to sound too smug, but in the past two weeks or so, their sweet, loving maiden has become an insatiable cocksucker. The woman loved sucking dick, and blessed be she for her excitement and the need to drink their seed. Not that she was an expert yet, but her enthusiasm and genuine desire to give them pleasure, and take what she needed for herself, drove all of them crazy with lust and appreciation.

Never has she ever denied any of them, and was ready and willing to wrap her soft fuckable lips over them at their beckoning.

Fenrys added, “But Ruhn is right–we haven’t been using you enough and I think we will now.”

Azriel came behind her and put his hands on her hips, gently pulling him to her.

“Would that be alright, flower?”

She leaned back on him and breathed in his scent, and he smirked, knowing that she was probably going to steal another of his t-shirts.

“Yes,” she nodded. “All the time.”

Azriel laughed and kissed the top of her head, wrapping her tighter in his arms.

“All the time, huh? Are you quitting work?”

“Are you?”

“For you, flower? I think I might. Fucking you all the time, all day long, sounds like am amazing way for me to spend my life. But only if we can get Fen and Ruhn to quit their jobs too. Because we have to fuck you together.”

“Count me in,” Fen announced immediately.

“I am down,” Ruhn agreed.

“Then it’s settled,” Azriel smirked.

Elain finally made it back to the counter, where she finally proceeded to make her involtini, stuffing the grilled aubergine slices with a mixture of ricotta, prosciutto and various other cheeses. She made quick work of it, though it was not without challenges, as Azriel would not leave her side and was attached to her like a limpet, even if he was helpful as well, opening jars of sauce and arranging the rollups in the baking dish.

Ruhn was smoking and setting the table, still undressed, and Elain threw concerned glances his way, though he didn’t show that he was in pain. Azriel kissed her cheek and her head repeatedly, comforting her and whispering that Ruhn was alright.

“Oh meant to ask you–who and what is the invitation for?” Ruhn inquired and Elain perked up in Azriel’s arms, turning to him and looking up at him. He bowed his head and tilted her chin, before kissing her deeply, his tongue swiping over her lips and then inside her mouth. Her arms went around his neck and she fell into the kiss, humming to herself from the pleasure of his lips on hers. If nothing else, Azriel was a good kisser. He knew that he fucked well and was thorough, if firm, and women did everything possible to chomp at his power and be controlled by him, even though many realised that his kind of loving wasn’t for them in the end. But it was for his sweet little virgin of a wife.

“Ahhh, you kiss so good,” she moaned against his lips once they came up for air.

“I try,” he said humbly.

“You are one of the best kissers I’ve kissed,” she concluded, and then disengaged from him to go to the oven.

Both Fenrys and Ruhn were looking at him with fake shocked faces and grins.

“One of the best,” Ruhn mouthed, stifling his laughter.

Elain pulled the pan from the oven, set it on the counter and then hurried upstairs to get ready for dinner.

Fenrys slapped Azriel’s shoulder and whispered,

“How does it feel to be one of the best?”

Azriel shouldered his hand off and snarled.

“What the fuck!!”

Ruhn was laughing, as he went to look for wine for dinner.

“That wild girl knows how to humble us with one word,” he lamented. “Here we are, clowning in front of her with our big dicks and our sexual prowess and our bellissima is like ‘I’ve seen bigger’. And off she goes with her round ass swinging.”

“I am going to fuck that ass into submission,” Azriel growled. “So she fucking knows who she belongs to. And how good it feels to be mine and at the mercy of my cock.”

“I think Az is a little angry with his ‘flower’,” Fenrys teased.

Elain skipped down the stairs five minutes later, wearing a knee-length pleated skirt and a sexy satin top, under which her full round tits bounced prettily.

Azriel sat at the table, pouting and frowning like the angry penguin, Pingu. The other two were smirking at him, and Elain flitted around, not paying attention.

“Sunshine,” Fenrys called out, while she brought the pan to the table. “Who is the best kisser then? Ruhn or me? Since we know it’s not Azriel.”

She sat down and took a sip of her wine, which was already poured for her, and Azriel took her plate and began to fill it with food, like he always did, even if it was the angriest table service she’d ever experienced.

“Az, are you mad?” she asked in confusion.

“No,” he snapped.

“So? Fenrys pressed, ignoring him.

Elain popped a few pieces of salame in her mouth and then shrugged, and announced,

“I mean, you are all good…”

“Why do I feel like there is a ‘but’ there,” Ruhn chuckled, as he piled his plate with cured meats and six varieties of cheese. “Fess up, beautiful.”

She sighed audibly and then announced, “I had boyfriends in high school, you know, Ruhn. So I kissed them!”

“While I am not super pleased to hear about all these kissings that you did in high school,” Fenrys cut in, “I simply cannot believe that any of those pimply teens kissed you better than any of us,”

“Ugh,” she grunted, and then muttered under her breath, “they weren't pimply…”

“Did they touch you?” Azriel demanded jealously.

“I was going out with Blake for almost a year,” she exclaimed. “So yeah, we kissed and stuff,”

“What is ‘stuff’?” Azriel pressed, gulping on his wine. “Also, Blake? Elain, you went out with a Blake?”

“What’s wrong with Blake?” she shrugged. “He was the quarterback for,”

“Oh god, of course he was,” Ruhn groaned. “It’s all very predictable, sweetness. The prettiest girl going out with a non-pimply high school football star,”

“Were you the prom queen?” Fenrys teased. “And he was your king?”

“She has her three kings,” Azriel all but snarled. “And it’s us. She didn’t have any other fucking king before us!”

Ruhn raised his brow at his raging brother and then said evenly,

“Az, it was high school, man. Calm down…not a biggie. Ellie is the most beautiful girl in the world–did you really think she wouldn’t have had a boyfriend?”

Elain was both pleased and appalled by the display of jealousy from her husband. Azriel was possessive and that wasn’t anything new, but he was just about spewing fire now.

“So, was it Blake who was the best kisser of your life?” Fenrys laughed, serving her a couple of roll ups which looked and smelled incredible.

“No,” she snapped. “But I am not gonna tell you, because you are all crazy!”

“No, no!” Ruhn pleaded, “tell us, baby. We want to know,”

“Yeah, who to kill,” Azriel growled.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head no.

“No, you are gonna get all mad, I am not telling.”

“What if we promise not to get mad?” Ruhn threw Azriel a warning glance.

“I don’t believe you,”

“Come on, beautiful. Be a good girl and tell us. Now we are all dying to know,” Ruhn coaxed her.

“Not if he is going to yell,” she pointed at Azriel.

“I don’t yell,” he said coolly.

Fenrys reached for her and buried his face in her neck, kissing her hungrily. Then he said into her skin,

“Good girls get rewarded. Good girls get good cock.”

She blushed and before she could respond, Ruhn was on the other side of her, kissing her neck as well, but his hand cupped her breast and he squeezed it provocatively, loving that she wasn’t wearing a bra under the satin.

“And what do bad girls get?” she asked quietly, her eyes hooded, as Fenrys also squeezed her breast in his huge palm, his thumb rubbing against her puckering nipple.

“Oh, bad girls also get cock,” Ruhn assured her. “But they get a rough and dirty cock, where they beg and cry and get all their holes stretched…”

She licked her lips and he laughed softly.

“Does my girl want the bad and rough cock?”

“No one stretching any holes,” she pushed both of them away, “I have my period!”

“It’s very convenient,” Azriel sneered, “that when Ruhn wanted to stretch your hole, you suddenly became available to him, period forgotten. It’s a miracle from god!”

“Beautiful, tell angry Az who is the best kisser,” Ruhn encouraged her, laughing under his breath, “so he could kill someone and unburden himself.”

She crossed her arms on her chest, thus covering her breasts and making everyone unhappy all at once.

“Well,” she pursed her lips and announced, “you cannot kill him.”

“Sure can,” Azriel huffed. “I can kill anyone.”

“Good for you,” she rolled her eyes. “But can you kill Lorcan Salvaterre?”

A shocked silence descended on the table and the three men glared at her full of silent indignation. Meanwhile, Elain slowly sliced into her involtini and delicately placed a piece into her mouth, chewing slowly.

“This wine is very good,” she complimented the drink, taking a erotically-charged sip.

It was Fenrys who exploded first, shouting ‘Lorcan?!!? I knew it!’

“You knew what, exactly?” she wondered casually.

“That you had the hots for that huge motherfucker!” Fenrys threw an accusatory finger at all.

She just shrugged and continued eating.

“Lorcan is the best kisser?” Azriel demanded, fuming.

“Firstly, he is not huge. He is just very tall,” Elain said calmly. “And I like tall men. And yes, I enjoyed spending time with him. He was a good cook, he courted me well, and he kisses …” she made a long mmmmm sound and Azriel just stuck his tongue in his cheek. She continued, “and no, you can’t kill Lorcan.”

Azriel got up and went somewhere, returning a minute later, and tossing an envelope on the table.

“Well then, wife, you will be happy to learn that your former boyfriend and the winner of the Best Kisser Award is expecting you at his ball!”

Elain grabbed the envelope excitedly, absolutely disregarding all the testosterone fueled anger at the table and read the invitation.

Don Azriel King and Donna Elain Archeron King

Don Lorcan Salvaterre requests the pleasure of your attendance at the

Black Ball

On Saturday, 19th of July at 18:00 o’clock

Venue to be announced on 19th of July, at 14:00 o’clock

Attire: Formal / black only

Retinue of no more than six attendees is permitted

“Ohmygod! We are going to a ball!” Elain cried out happily.

“That is not decided,” Azriel poured cold water on her excitement.

“Why?” she demanded angrily. “Why aren’t we going? Of course we are,”

Ruhn took the envelope and twisted the invite in his fingers, thinking about something.

“Not a lot of time,” Fen noted seriously, drinking his wine.

“No time at all,” Ruhn corrected, “he is smart,”

“He knows what’s what,” Azriel agreed. “No venue information until the day of. Less than a week's notice. He plays the game well,”

“I’d imagine he has to, in good old Napoli,” Ruhn agreed. “And he brought the style here,”

Elain, meanwhile, lamented loudly, “I can’t believe it’s a black ball. I don’t like black at all. It’s not my colour!”

“Elain, we aren’t even going anywhere yet,” Azriel pointed out.

“Yeah, right. Of course we are,” she decided for everyone.

“Baby, it’s politics,” Fenrys reminded her, “this isn’t about dresses,”

“Of fuck off, Fen,” she snapped, irritated. “As if I am so stupid that I don’t realise that!? How many times do I need to tell you three–make friends with him!!”

“He is competition, who wants to take over for us–he won’t hesitate to get us out of the picture at first opportunity,”

“Wrong,” she argued firmly and then got up. “Even when we were dating,” she began, and Azriel expelled a tortured sigh.

“Yes, Elain, please tell us more about your dates with Lorcan. We can’t wait to hear all about them…Don’t skip over the makeout sessions–I am sure we are all fascinated.”

Elain glared at him and then got up from the table and wordlessly made her way to the stairs.

“This discussion is not over,” Azriel snapped.

“Oh, I think it is,” she threw.

Before he could continue, Ruhn grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “I will handle it,” he hissed. “Do. Not. Start.”

“Baby,” he called to Elain. “You know we have to discuss it, right?”

She relented a tad and sighed, nodding.

“I know. But promise that you will listen to me and hear me out–Lorcan is not your enemy.”

“It’s not that we don’t trust you, sweetness, but,”

“Talk to Cass,” she recommended, “figure it out. But we are going. If we don’t, it will make the Kings look weak.”

“Elain,” Azriel looked up at her and his voice softened when he looked at her. “You know we’ll do everything to protect you. I cannot put you at risk–ever.”

Her expression softened as well, and she nodded.

“I know. But Lorcan won’t hurt me. Not ever.”

It was later in the evening. Azriel had spent most of the past two hours on the phone, talking to his cousin Rhysand, then having Cassian, Rowan, himself and Fenrys on a four-way call, discussing security measures and who would be attending this blasted ball, if they decided to go. Elain’s warning rang fresh in his mind–if they didn’t attend, they would look weak indeed. She was correct. Rowan was tasked with finding out what they were up against and who else was invited. Fenrys was in charge of arranging security measures.

And Ruhn. Ruhn was not participating in the conversation tonight.

It was his decision. He told Azriel that he'd rather spend the evening with Elain and Azriel didn’t have it in him to refuse his brother. That’s also how Ruhn often thought–he didn’t need to discuss things. He constructed dozens of possible scenarios in his head and all the potential resolutions, as well as failures, for these scenarios. It used to be that Ruhn would just lay by the pool for hours, thinking and smoking. Now,

Well, now he was apparently doing TikTok dances.

Azriel looked out of the veranda windows and watched Ruhn and Elain practising the ‘family dance’ which Ruhn was technically teaching to Elain. Unsurprisingly, she was arguing with him, changing the moves, telling him what to do…because Elain was only submissive in the bedroom. Once there were no penises in sight, she was bossing everyone around her, including Ruhn, who was loving every second of it.

Fenrys came up behind Azriel, laughed and whispered.

“And the sword fell in love with a marshmallow…”

“That marshmallow is a pain in the ass,” Azriel muttered.

“You love it,” Fenrys laughed and shouldered him lightly. Then, seriously, he added, “let’s try to listen to her,”

“Not you too!” Azriel scrubbed his hand over his face.

Fenrys let the comment slide.

He knew his brother well enough – Azriel was a control freak, who was obsessed with Elain. The combination did not bode well for anyone. If it was up to Azriel, he’d keep Elain in the house, bent over, with his dick buried deeply and firmly in her at all times, her being lovingly subdued and dominated. That was Azriel’s ultimate fantasy when it came to his wife. Alas, his wife had other ideas about her life.

“Az, let’s accept that Elain might be more knowledgeable and familiar with Lorcan and how he thinks,”

“Because they went on three dates?” Azriel contradicted.

“No. Because as per Varian, it would seem that Lorcan has a soft spot for our girl. I truly don't think that he would ever hurt her.”

“It doesn’t mean he won’t hurt us,” Azriel insisted, watching Elain almost fall over, when she was doing some twist with her arms and legs. Her arms flailed and Ruhn barely caught her around the waist. Amusingly, Azriel also spotted big fat furball Enalius, who arrived at the garden and was now observing the dancing. Maybe he really did like judging dancing contests?

Azriel sighed deeply and grunted, “Fine. I know you are all against me,”

“An exaggeration, but okay,”

“I will discuss with Cass and Ruhn further. And then we’ll make a decision. And it won’t be based on Elain wanting to go to the ball.”

“Our maiden is to be cherished and loved,” Fenrys reminded Azriel with a smirk. “I believe that those were your words? Our agreement.”

‘Our maiden’ or ‘our wife’ is how the three men usually referred to Elain amongst themselves. But ‘maiden’ somehow stuck and that was the preferred reference to her. Their beautiful, faithful, loyal maiden whom they adored.

“Our maiden is to be cherished. And she is loved. But we also swore to protect our maiden, and that means protecting ourselves as well, for if we die, she won’t be too pleased.”

“No, I don’t think she would be.”

“Our maiden also vowed to trust us and allow us to make all of the decisions around our business and,”

“But, it doesn’t mean we can't use her and her charm when we need to.”

“I’d rather not,” Azriel concluded.

“I understand. But she may prove to be useful.”

It was late. Enalius was asleep by the pool, comfortably curled on one of the chaises. Elain was in another chaise, next to him. She was marginally satisfied with the dance and her progress. She was doing okay, but Ruhn was a strict teacher, and he didn’t allow many mistakes and corrected her ruthlessly. They’d have to practise more, and then she’d have to convince Azriel to learn it too. That wasn’t going to be easy.

“You want to go upstairs?” Ruhn asked her, standing over her and watching her with a smirk. “Also, be a doll and lotion me up again,” he requested and then handed her a tube of some kind of ointment. She reached for him and took his hand, pulling him down. He straddled the chaise, but did not turn her back to her, and sat up, facing her. He looked at her in silence, at the soft curves of her body which stretched in front of him and gently, but deliberately parted her legs, so they fell around him.

“Sunshine,” he said, “I am going to undress you.”

It wasn’t a request, but a statement. And not one that there was going to be an argument about.

“I have to have my cock touching you,” he explained simply, as he hooked his fingers over the silky pleated skirt and then in one sure, quick motion pulled it down, along with her underwear. Even in the dim light of the few lanterns, fairy lights and the moon, Ruhn could see Elain’s blush spreading across her neck, and moving to her cheeks. She made a feeble move to cover herself, or do something, but he stopped her hand mid-gesture, and shook his head no. It was a bit of a warning, but also admiration for her glorious nakedness. He parted her knees even further, until she lay spread out in front of him, her chest rising and falling nervously.

“Why are you shy, beautiful?” he cocked his head looking down at her, his violently blue eyes settling on the lovely pink slit, which was glistening with her perpetual arousal and the bud of her clit seemed swollen and desperate for a touch.

“I feel very exposed,” she admitted, though she ran her fingers over his forearm invitingly. “It’s so…intimate.”

“But you are mine, sweetheart. Of course I’ve already seen everything,” he added with a satisfied smirk, “but still…you are mine. All your pretty holes are mine. You’ll take whole parts of my body inside of yours–why would you be shy?”

He slipped his hand up and placed it on her belly, just below the navel.

“I love you spread out in front of me,” he told her seriously. “I’ve wanted you from the very first moment I saw you. When you met us at your father’s house, I knew that I would have to make you mine. I knew you were mine. I had no doubt in my mind, even for a second. If Azriel was going to bolt, I knew that I wouldn’t. I’d court you properly and I would’ve married you regardless of anything. You were always meant to be mine.”

Passion. Need. Devotion.

The three things that Ruhn always looked for in women. He’s never had a girlfriend in his life, not only because it was simply easier and wiser for him not to tie himself to any women, but also because all the women he came across lacked something.

He wanted to be needed by his woman. Wanted his woman to want him not only sexually, but emotionally as well. Yeah, he could fuck anyone to an orgasm or ten, but there needed to be something more. And then he wanted loyalty. Devotion on her part. And passion. Passion for life. Passion in bed. Passion for him.

He always needed all three, and most women lacked something. Sometimes, all three. Sometimes, two. And it was never enough to have just a little. He wanted to have everything.

Elain didn’t lack anything.

She brimmed. She overflowed with all three. She needed him like he needed her, and her devotion to him and to his brothers was complete and undeniable. Ruhn was not a jealous man. Possessive, certainly, but jealous? If a woman didn’t find herself satisfied with him and his company, with what he had to offer, and if she went to look somewhere else, then she wasn’t the right woman anyway. He didn’t have time for jealousy.

His thumb snaked down and then the other one joined and he spread her folds apart and kept her open, the cool night air making her shiver, as it licked over her wet, hot slit. He looked down without a shred of discomfort or embarrassment, letting his thumbs skid over the tender, wet folds. He didn’t bother with the tampon and left it in place, not intending to take this any further tonight. He simply started touching her–a little forcefully, allowing his fingers to dig and press into the smooth, sleek flesh of her pussy. His thumb landed firmly on her clit, lightly lifting the skin that covered her pink bud and exposing it completely, before starting to rub it firmly. She yipped lightly, back arching and toes curling, and he smiled, watching her fall apart in front of him.

“Ruhn,” she moaned loudly and he smiled and said,

“Just enjoy it, beautiful. No need for you to do anything.”

She lay back, allowing him to take charge of her body, as if she had a choice in the matter. He bowed over her and kissed her deeply, but lightly.

Ruhn loved kissing Elain. He might not have been her Number One kisser, but she kissed perfectly. They were docile and gentle, her kisses. She opened her lips for him, and simply let him fuck into her mouth, as he pumped his tongue between her lips. He loved licking her lips, wetly and obscenely, and she simply accepted it with indulging obedience. She wrapped her arm around his neck, keeping him close, as she cautiously sucked on his lip ring, the metal squeezing sharply, but pleasantly into his lip when she sucked.

He unzipped his jeans and pulled out his heavy, throbbing cock, while continuing to kiss her softly, playing with her little darting tongue. The way Elain’s eyes flared with excitement at the sight of his dick, and just a touch of caution and curiosity, made him smile to himself. She respected his dick. It was large and thick, and undoubtedly, she recalled the painful stretch that it offered her, as well as the pleasure that she received from it. He stroked her cheek with his available hand, while rubbing her clit steadily and very firmly. He squeezed the pole of his cock and then murmured into her lips,

“Open up for me, sweetheart. Show me how much you love it.”

She opened up her mouth obligingly and he immediately eased the shaft inside, pushing steadily, but hard.

“Kiss it,” he ordered, pulling back a bit, and she pressed a deep, loving kiss to the pink head, before scattering kisses all over the surface. He watched her with a smile, while she kissed the head again, running her pink eager tongue over it, before he rubbed it against her lips and then she ducked her head and kissed his balls without him prompting. She always started like that, compliant, loving kisses all over the shaft and the balls.

“Do you love it, sunshine?”

She nodded, licking his sack with pleasure, teasing her tongue over the seam, whispering,

“I love it. I love it so much.”

“Because?” he pressed.

“My babies will come from there,” she declared happily.

He ran his knuckles over her cheek and nodded.

Unlike Azriel, or even Fenrys, Ruhn never made a secret of his desire to fill her with his seed until was heavy and round with his child. He trained her to take his cock and enjoy it for what it gave her: pleasure and seed.

He wouldn’t share this with anyone, including her, but Ruhn became utterly obsessed with Elain the moment he saw her. He didn’t exaggerate–she did belong to him, and with him. Of that, he had no doubt. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it was Fen who got besotted with her–which he did–but no one knew how taken Ruhn was with her, and what she meant to him. The month between the engagement and the wedding was the longest month of his life. It lasted forever and he was just about climbing the walls, plagued by nightmares every night, imagining how Elain would change her mind about the marriage, how her greedy father would find a better match, how medding Nesta would push her away from them, and on and on and on…He came up with wild scenarios in his head about what he would do if she declined. Would he simply kidnap her? Marry her against her will? Beg and plead? Threaten? Go on a killing spree? Murder everyone who stood in their way? Lock her up like a psycho in some penthouse? Thankfully, none of that happened and she married him–fine, technically Azriel–but really, she married him, without a murmur of protest. He remembered it like it was yesterday, Elain in some meringue-like concoction of a dress, gliding towards him to the strangest choice of a wedding song, ‘Follow Me’ by Amanda Lear. In hindsight, it was a great song–fast and chaotic and it summed everything up perfectly about Elain and the three men that she was marrying. She was their fate. Their desire. She gave them wings. And they followed her.

To the end of the world.

But the obsession had only begun. When she, at last, moved in and wasn’t sleeping with Azriel, Ruhn silently made his way into her bedroom and watched her. Watched her sleep. It was weird behaviour, even for him, but he couldn’t help it and didn’t want to stop. He creeped into her plush bedroom, which, for the record, he designed and decorated himself, because that’s what he did. He was the one with good taste, and the one who knew about art and design, and the one who made their whole house livable, stylish and comfortable. He pulled a fine job before the wedding, and stole the Monet from the Art Institute of Chicago, which he then hung in her bedroom. Azriel had been really pissed at him about the painting. Not because he stole it, but because it would’ve interfered with the wedding if he was caught and arrested. Ruhn only laughed. He wasn’t going to be caught. Not when he was doing something for Elain. Though he went unusually flashy with the heist, modelling it after the heist in The Thomas Crown Affair. The movie proved to be an excellent blueprint for what he ended up doing. Funnily, it was also a Monet he was after, just like Pierce Brosnan in the movie. But he also pinched a Renoir that he’s been eyeing for ages–and gifted it to his brother as the wedding present. The Renoir hung in Azriel’s bedroom, the pale flesh of the nude much like the flesh of their gorgeous wife.

He stood in the darkness and he watched Elain sleep that whole month. And when on some of the nights she migrated to Azriel’s bedroom, he stood there. Azriel knew that his brother was in his bedroom, and the first night he muttered, “you are creeping me out, man. You seriously gonna stand there and watch her?” Yes. Yes he was. But that also gave him an idea, because he didn’t want to just stand there and watch. Frankly, he was already obsessed, so what’s a little more unhinged behaviour. It’s not like he was known for being hinged. So, when he’d jack off and then gently tip the head of his dick between those sweet, soft lips and feed her a bit of his cum, he felt…good. The noise in his head quieted a bit. Not entirely, but watching her lick her lips sleepily, watching her swallow a bit of him and accept it, was a pleasure he hadn’t experienced until then. Then, every morning, when he saw her at breakfast, the piles of her golden brown curls streaming around her body, the chocolate eyes, the rosy lips, the innocence of her gaze, he also knew that he had a hand in defiling her a little bit. Slowly, but surely, with every touch, push, lick, kiss, and squirt of his cum inside of her, he was making her a woman. Until a text came from Azriel about five days ago.

Az: We are riding our maiden tonight

R: She ready?

Az: I am ready. And you are ready. Her pussy is ready.

R: I am in.

Az: Then let’s ride our maiden together

R: And we are going all the way in.

Az: As far and as deep as you want to brother.

R: 2 dicks or all 3 for the maiden?

Az: Let’s start with 2. Baby steps and all.

R: Generous of you. Always a giver.

With his dick sufficiently wet, he pulled out from Elain’s mouth and then wrapped his hands over her bare ass and tugged her closer to him. She slathered her hands with the ointment and then wrapped them around his big, muscular body, swiping her palms over his battered back. He wiggled his shoulders and groaned with pleasure.

“That feels good, my girl,” he murmured and then looked between their bodies. She was spread out next to him, her pink, pretty slit open and naked, while his cock bobbed next to his stomach, hard as a goddamn rock. He gripped it at the base and pointed the thick cockehead between the warm, wet folds and pressed it to her pickering clit.

“Let me make you feel good,” he offered, breathing in her delicate, but familiar scent of jasmine, honey and sex. She kept stroking his back, his shoulders, humming softly against him, clearly enjoying the firm rubbing of his cock over her clit.

“You always make me feel good, Ruhn,” she murmured into his ear, running her tongue over the multitude of earrings.

“I love your pussy,” he stated simply. “It’s fucking sublime, sunshine. Once we get over this hump of your virginity and your period, I am planning on fucking it every day.”

She whimpered against him, her satin-covered tits rubbing against his chest and he gripped her hips tighter in his palm, while that thick cockhead kept sliding up and down her slit, landing on her clit again and again. She chuckled at his words and said,

“Whenever you say it, it sounds like a threat,”

He shrugged and shook his head,

“Not a threat. A promise. We are all curious, you know,”

“About?” she kissed his neck, burrowing closer to him, until she was completely enveloped in his scent, the thickness of his powerful body, the scent of oranges, smoke and something uniquely him.

“Whether you can handle us, sweet girl. Everything is a test,”

“And how am I doing on your tests?”

“Very well,” he admitted, rubbing her wet pussy with his dick. “But we need to ride you a lot more before we know,”

She smiled and kissed his lips, brushing her tongue over his lips.

“I promise not to disappoint, husband.”

“You won’t, Ellie, you won’t.”

She hugged him closer, nestling her head into his neck and shoulder.

“Help yourself, sweetheart,” he ordered, and then wrapped her hand over his shaft, letting her use him how she needed and wanted to. “Get yourself off on my dick.”

He held her close, kissing her face, her hair, but also watched her grip his shaft tightly and work it between her nether lips, pressing firmly and working it roughly against her slickness.

“That’s right, sweetness,” he urged her on. “Rub that dick in your sweet pussy.”

“I love your dick,” she moaned loudly.

“I know, baby. It’s a good dick,” he chuckled. “And it belongs in you. Isn’t it nice to be mine?”

She nodded frantically, speeding up between them, while he opened up her knees further, so he could watch her in all her sexy glory. As her panting became more erratic and he saw how her breasts rose and fell with her oncoming climax, he managed to tear her shirt off and toss it on the ground, right before she came. She was naked in front of him, her breasts swollen and her nipples tight and plump, just like he loved them, while her clit also swelled against his cock, firm and pink. At the last moment, she fell back on the chaise, unable to remain upright as she started coming before him, her slim shoulders shuddering and her whole body bowing and arching off the seat.

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he encouraged, watching her, loving the obliteration that he wrecked on her body, even without penetrating her in any manner. He came right behind her, shooting thick ropes of cum all over her body. He always came copiously, and she watched him cover her breasts, her neck, before he jammed his dick in her mouth and made her drink. She swallowed slowly, savouring the taste of him, and enjoying every bit of his outpouring.

He leaned over her and kissed her deeply, swiping his tongue through the taste of him in her mouth and grinning against her lips.

“You taste good, sunshine.”

“Yeah?” she laughed and stroked his cheek. “I love sucking you. Thanks for taking my cami off…”

“I knew I was going to come on these titties and cum is a bitch to remove from satin.”

He shoved his cock back in his jeans, though didn’t bother to button up. She lay her hand on the patch of his pubic hair, dragging her fingers from his navel to the root of his cock in soothing, slow motions.

“Always practical and pragmatic,” she giggled and he wedged himself next to her on the chaise, pulling her half on top of him. His hand swiped over all the cum on her chest and he brought it to her mouth, where she licked it off appreciatively. They slumped in a pleasant post-orgasmic oblivion, stroking each other’s heated bodies lazily.

Elain threaded her fingers with his huge hand and brought it to her lips, kissing his knuckles lovingly.

“Ruhn,” she said quietly, turning his face to her. He looked at her, while wrapping his arm around her body. “You know you are my mate.”

“I know, Ellie,” he confirmed calmly, preferring not to argue about this. She was dead set on this matehood thing and he just agreed. “We are heartmates.”

“Yes, exactly,” she nodded. “And,” she sighed and then gently stroked his arm, where it was cut with whatever his father had used on him. “Are you in pain?” she inquired, knowing that he must still be feeling rough.

“Nah,” he lied dismissively. Then he reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew a crumpled pack of Marlboros, lighting one up and inhaling deeply. Stupid habit, which was probably going to be the end of him, but he kind of needed the nicotine.

“Can I try?” she asked.

“Not really. No,” he refused severely. “I am only ruining your pussy. Not your lungs.”

“But,”

“No.”

He slapped her pussy and she yelped, and then huffed with indignation and he smiled.

“Don’t be angry, baby. I can ruin all kinds of things. Your innocence. This cute little ass,” and he slapped her bare butt for emphasis, “I can break your resolve. The Ruhnious D is always at attention and eager to destroy your perfect body. But ciggies aren’t for you.”

She sighed but did not insist.

“The Ruhnious D?” she then repeated, rolling her eyes. He barked a loud laugh and nodded.

“You like?”

“No comment.”

He was laughing, as he explained,

“Well, there is also the Fentastic D. And the very unimaginative AmAZing D. So you have your pick, beautiful.”

“Just Amazing D?” she frowned with disappointment.

“Well, sometimes he calls himself K-O-K.”

“K-okay?” she frowned.

“No. Mr. Kok.”

“The AmAZing Mr. Kok,” she smacked her lips. “I love it!”

He laughed and then pressed her to him, kissing her lips.

After a beat, Elain pulled away and looked intently at him.

“The thing is, Ruhn,” she said, her voice firm, and her expression serious, “because you are my mate, I feel compelled to avenge you.”

He looked down at her from his vantage point and cocked his brow at her.

“Avenge me?” he repeated.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I cannot stand by and watch that monstrous asshole hurt you. Hurt Az. I cannot have you come home after a beating that he just casually gives you, leaving you bloodied and bruised. What if there is a serious injury? What if he damages an organ? Breaks bones?”

Ruhn didn’t tell her, but bones had been broken. Wrist, collarbone, fingers, his shoulders have been dislocated numerous times, his cheekbone smashed, eye socket crushed. Cuts and bruises were a walk in a park, in hindsight.

Naturally, Ruhn’s first inclination was to tell her ‘no’ and to order her to forget it. But he knew that he had to tread carefully. Elain’s desire to avenge him, her need to make him safe and comfortable was genuine, born out of her love for him. He didn’t want to dismiss or diminish her feelings, because in fact, her caring about him to that extent was precious. The most precious thing he could think of.

“Do you want to kill him?” Ruhn asked calmly.

It felt bizarre–to be lying here, in the open, by their crystal-blue pool, while the city lived beyond the four buildings. His naked, well-fucked maiden and wife was casually discussing murdering his father. And he was agreeing with her.

“I want to hurt him,” she said, “and then kill him.”

“I love it when you are crazy and bloodthirsty, sunshine,” he chuckled and took her hand in his. Elain was heavily blinged-out, with all the diamonds that they draped all over her for the wedding. She casually rocked about 3 million in jewellery on any given day, which for some reason Ruhn found amusing. Because she was clueless. She liked her jewels because they all came from her husbands, not because they were expensive as fuck. Just like she was clueless about the 120 million dollar painting that he hung on her wall for her. She was just excited that the girl looked like her. Ruhn suspected that she understood the value, but dollar value didn’t matter.

“Promise me you won’t act without consulting me before.”

“Okay,” she nodded.

“Promise, Elain,” he insisted.

“I promise, Ruhn. I won’t act until I consult with you,” she offered somberly.

“Thank you.”

He sat up and pulled her to him.

“You are sleeping with me tonight,” he decided. “In my bed. Come on,” he scooped her into his arms.

“Can I wear your t-shirt?”

“Yeah, you sure can, baby.”

Tuesday (5 days before the ball)

Cassian Anteroga-Rossi was an early riser. Always had been. His cousin Azriel was also an early riser, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to be at work by 7 am. Since his wedding, Azriel has definitely been slacking and wasn’t too keen on arriving as early as he used to. Today, however, Cassian was summoned bright and early and that’s why he was making his way up to Azriel’s private office. It was so private, that only Fen and Ruhn were allowed to come here unannounced. Cassian’s been here before, but even he required an invitation. Azriel was secretive and liked his privacy, so this wasn’t exactly unusual behaviour for him. Most of their meetings took place at the AUX offices, fifteen floors below, where the security headquarters were located.

Today, however, Az asked him to come here.

It was not even seven in the morning, so Azriel’s grumpy, but efficient administrative assistant Devlon wasn’t at his desk yet, snarling and being rude. He was rude to everyone, only barely keeping his mouth shut in Azriel’s presence. Otherwise, no one was not immune to the barbs and the insults that poured out of his mouth, and Cassian suspected that Devlon was one of the reasons why no one liked coming up here to Azriel’s office. And one of the reasons why Az tolerated the man–he was a secretary, a guard dog, an assistant, and a keeper of secrets all in one.

Before he could knock, Cassian heard Azriel’s gravelly voice from behind the door, telling him to come in. Az always had this preternatural ability to see and hear things that no one else could. He could stay still and hidden for hours, almost without moving, lying in wait like a lizard, hearing and seeing things that others didn’t.

Cassian entered and stilled. Dear Barbara. He almost gasped, though he held himself back. Barely.

He hasn’t been here in a couple of months and now…

The office wasn’t as large as one would expect, and it didn't have a ton of furniture either–just a desk, some chairs, a few shelves. Elegant, expensive, but compact and tidy, with huge windows that overlooked the cityscape. And now, it seemed that every fucking surface of the office was covered with …Elain. Elain. Elain. Elain. Everywhere there were photos of her. Wedding photos. Candid photos. Photos with the three brothers. Photos with each brother. Photos with Az. At home. By the pool. In the garden. On the streets. On the beach. Baking. With flowers. Without flowers. Sucking on spaghetti. Laughing. Drinking wine. Sharing a doughnut with Ruhn. In a bikini. Sleepily squinting in bed. As his brain tried to process this Elain-caused explosion, he was silently counting. Fifty-three. Fifty-three photographs.

“Thanks for coming in early,” Azriel said casually, looking calm and relaxed. He wore a pair of slacks and a simple black shirt–surprising Cassian yet again, with the lack of his usual sharply tailored suit.

“‘Morning. What’s up?” Cassian sat down in a comfortable leather chair and Azriel moved a cup of coffee in front of him. “Thanks man.”

“Didn’t want to talk about this at home, and it doesn’t really concern the AUX guys either,” Azriel half-explained, crossing his legs and stretching in his chair. It was weirdly informal. The shirt that he was wearing hiked up his torso and a measure of his taut muscular stomach became uncovered. The ‘normal’ Azriel wouldn’t have allowed himself that much leeway, even in front of his cousin and oldest friend.

“I see you’ve redecorated a little,” Cassian took a sip of coffee, which was fantastic, by the way, and made a vague gesture with his hand.

“Oh yeah…If I don’t see my flower, I get antsy,” Azriel shrugged like this admission was nothing special.

His flower.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Az asked dreamily, his amber eyes skimming over the photos. “This girl, she drives me crazy.”

Yeah, clearly.

Jesus. The man was besotted. Not something Cassian ever expected to see from Azriel, of all people. Neither did he expect it from Ruhn, but what did he know? The brothers were fucking obsessed with their new wife…girl…flower…whatever.

Truth be told, Cassian wasn’t entirely shocked by the marital arrangement. It wasn’t unheard of in their circles. Some families retained power by keeping it all in the family. Other families preferred to intermarry and expand. Sometimes, it was a man and a slew of women. The Old King was a good example of that practice–he was married to one woman, until she swallowed a bunch of pills and a bottle of vodka, which put her in the great King mausoleum, but kept a veritable harem of others, which included Azriel’s and Ruhn’s mothers. A rarer practice was a reverse harem–one woman, and multiple men, usually brothers, or cousins. Sometimes friends. That ensured that loyalty, children and blood all remained under one roof. It was a harder balance to achieve, male jealousy and competitiveness usually getting in the way of the arrangement, but when it worked, it worked out pretty well. Fenrys’s English side of the family, his uncle Ben was in one such arrangement–married to his wife, he also shared her and his life and domain with his two closest friends.

The fact that Azriel King decided that a reverse harem would work for him and would include his half-brother and his cousin was nevertheless…surprising.

The thing with these families was that marriages were in fact encouraged. Outside of the whole ’baby making and heirs and bloodlines and power and solidarity’ thing that these families were obsessed with, women played an important, some said, crucial, role in the structure of their underground society. Women had little influence otherwise, and Nesta Archeron was definitely an anomaly, and it took years and numerous machinations and struggles for someone like Immacolata Vanserra to amass the respect that she did, and the level of influence that she possessed. The women were there for the men to love something. Something beyond power and bloodlust and money. Something that wouldn’t allow them to lose their humanity entirely. Oftentimes, the women became objects of obsession: worshipped, adored, protected. Sometimes, it took a dark turn. At times it was pure adoration. In the Kings’ case, it seemed to Cassian that it was a little bit of everything.

“She made this involtini last night for dinner,” Azriel kept on rambling on. “It was so good, I seriously almost came!”

“Elain is a great cook,” Cassian agreed diplomatically.

It was a fine line that he walked all the time–agree and accept that Elain was beautiful, capable, amazing in every way, smart and incredible, because that’s how her men saw her, and yet, not overstep and compliment her too much, because the brutal, vicious possessiveness that they displayed towards her was always present. He was permitted to talk to her, compliment her, but not touch her. He was an affectionate man, and once he automatically went in for a kiss on the cheek with her. Well, he wasn’t going to make that mistake ever again. For a whole week after, he was genuinely afraid that he’d wake up in the middle of the night with Ruhn fucking King standing over his bed, with his scary ass sword in hand, slicing off his cock. Fen probably saved him–he smoothly pulled Elain into his own embrace and kissed her cheek instead, though the look that he threw Cassian was full of warning and malice.

Elain was…interesting. Kinda odd. Weird.

Not that he’d ever say it to anyone, and he even tried not to think it, because she was now family, but she was…kinda odd. Beautiful beyond belief, she was hard to figure out otherwise. She wasn’t interested in any ‘normal’ things that girls from her circle were usually into–she didn’t flaunt herself, didn’t care about material things much at all. She wasn’t loud, she wasn’t a ‘mean girl’, or a ‘good girl’, and didn’t fall under any typical labels. She was just–Elain. If someone said Elain, you immediately knew who they were talking about. The golden, light-filled flower girl, who had a waterfall of honey-coloured curls cascading around her. A very fine body. Yeah, Cassian wasn’t blind. Very full breasts, a tiny tapered waist, soft thighs, small round ass and incredible legs. She was the full package. A full package and a goddamn massive liability, because the hold that she had on the three Kings was astonishing. She was the type of girl that men would make dumb mistakes for, and if she was threatened in any way, they’d start a war over her. And that made Cassian very worried.

“So what’s up?” he asked, before Azriel could fully commit to waxing poetic over his orgasmic dinner last night.

“Two things,” Azriel said, drinking his coffee. “Elain wants to go to the Black Ball.”

Of course. It had to do with Elain.

“I am sure that she does, but is it wise to…” Cassian began, but Azriel steamrolled over the objections at once.

“Before I bring her there, I want to make sure that we are all good to go. I know we don’t know the location or setup, but let’s get everything we can about the attendees. Who was invited. Who was blown off. Let’s position ourselves correctly here. I trust Elain–I thinks she is knows more about Lorcan than we give her credit for,”

Impatient, Cassian said,

“I know you want to indulge your wife, Azriel, but at what point did we start trusting Elain and her opinions about the business? What can she possibly know about Lorcan and his motivations? I know she wants to dress up and,”

Azriel’s expression darkened and he snapped,

“I am going to stop you right there, Cass. While I appreciate your input and your expertise, the decision is mine, and Ruhn’s. I want to ensure that my wife is secure and safe while we are there, but I am not cowering and hiding from fucking Lorcan.”

“I can’t protect you when she is leading you by the balls,” Cassian growled. “She is,”

“My wife,” Azriel reminded him coldly. “The kings’ wife. Deal with it. We have informants, work them. Find out what the word on the street is–are the Vanserras coming? What’s up with Eris and where the fuck is he hiding? And oh yeah, if Nesta is going, you can be assured that we are going too.”

Cassian frowned and grunted defensively,

“What does Nesta have to do with anything?”

“Nesta is a girl, and from a weak family, yet she has the balls to show up. You think the Kings won’t?”

“I hope it’s not because you are in competition with Nesta,” Cassian folded his massive arms on his chest, watching Azriel push his tongue in his cheek in irritation.

“Cass,” Azriel hissed in warning.

“Whatever, man. Or rather, whatever Elain wants, I guess.”

Azriel rose to his feet and then announced,

“If you are not vibing with the way I do things, I think we’d be able to find you another role in the organisation.”

Cassian exhaled and muttered, “for the love of god, Az. Really?”

“I am not fighting with you or anyone else over Elain and her position in the family,” Azriel concluded dryly. “We love her. She is ours. It’s inevitable she’ll have a say in certain aspects of the business. She is pretty hands off, but if she suggests something, I sure as hell will be listening to her. She’s grown up in this world, just like we did. I am not going to disregard what she’s gotta say just because she has a vagina.”

“It’s not about that,” Cassian began to argue, but Azriel interrupted him,

“It kind of is though. Women are to be seen–sometimes–and not heard. Right?”

“You are twisting everything,” Cassian shrugged, unwilling to engage in a fight with his boss. He knew that he’d lose and Elain would win. Azriel might have had a pair of brass balls but Elain held them in her small hands and wasn’t letting them out of her sight.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I will gather all the info and let you know.”

“Thank you.”

“What’s the second thing?” he wondered cautiously.

“Hmmm,” Azriel rubbed the back of his neck and then dropped another doozy.

“I’d like for you to train Elain.”

“What?” Cassian blanched. “Train her in what?”

“Self-defence. I want her to have some skills,”

“Why me?!” Cassian cried out indignantly. “Can’t Fen teach her? Or Ruhn?”

“They could,” Azriel agreed. “But I fear they would be ineffective. I don’t think she’d take it as seriously as she should, if it’s them, and I think they’d just want to bend her over the nearest bench and fuck her raw,”

“Jesus Christ.”

“We are in a pickle indeed,” Azriel said lightly. “It might surprise you, but Elain respects you. Likes you. Maybe even is a little scared of you,”

“Yeah right! If she ain’t scared of Ruhn, she ain’t scared of me.”

Az chuckled but didn’t disagree.

“Nevertheless, I think you are a good option.”

“Ugh…Whatever, fine,” Cassian sighed somberly because there was no escape.

Azriel grabbed his keys and said,

“Oh, and maybe invite Nesta. She could use some lessons too.”

Cassian perked up a bit, even if he tried to play it cool and asked, “Nesta? Like she’d join.”

“Between you and Elain, you can be very persuasive.”

He wrapped his arm around Cassian’s broad shoulders and pulled him alongside him, muttering, “come, let’s have breakfast together”.

“...I am not a roommate!!” Fenrys shouted aggressively.

Azriel entered his house, with Cassian trailing behind, already on the phone, talking to someone about Eris fucking Vanserra. It seems that that’s all they ever did–talked about Eris.

As he made his way through the house, towards the kitchen and their huge common living area, he heard Fenrys’s aggrieved tone, and Ruhn’s assholish, taunting laughter. Elain was there too–her soft silvery laughter drowned by the two men who were with her.

Azriel’s heart lurched stupidly in his chest.

Despite the bickering and the taunting, and this early in the morning, it still sounded like music to Azriel’s ears.

His family.

They were it. Those three people in the kitchen mattered to him more than anything else in the world. And finally they had something that they all cared about and loved–their girl. Their maiden. Their wife. Their lady. Their Elain. And with her in their midst, they slowly, but surely began building their family together. And this was their home–a place where they brought their girl to and where they loved her and where they argued and laughed and cooked and screamed at the TV. And maybe, while Azriel felt like Ruhn was pushing the issue a little too much, deep down, he definitely didn’t mind having a chubby baby waddling about among them. He couldn’t believe himself–he’s been married for a little over a month and he was feeling broody already. Ridiculous, but true. And he didn’t care. Creating a new life with Elain, giving their child a childhood that he never had, offering unconditional love, support and kindness to another human being, and raising the babe alongside his brothers was an amazing, and seemingly achievable dream now.

“You kinda are,” Ruhn teased. “Like think about it,”

“I am not thinking about it!” Fenrys parried ferociously, and Azriel paused in the hallway, listening to them.

“You should,”

“I am her husband just like you two,”

“Well, I beg to differ,” Ruhn drawled nastily. “At least Az and I gave her a good dicking down. A little rough, but nice and gentle too,”

“Gentle?” Elain questioned incredulously, and Azriel almost laughed out loud.

“Beautiful, we did good by your pussy,” Ruhn protested. “We pounded it nice and hard, you took two dicks like a trooper. We filled you with lots and lots of cum, just like you like it…”

“Yeah, okay,” she sighed in agreement and Azriel had to bite his lip over her tone, stifling his laugh.

“Our Brit boy here however just sort of…hangs out and eats a lot of food. A husband he is not,”

“That’s it!” Fenrys roared.

There was shuffling and then Azriel heard,

“Elain. Let’s go fuck.”

Azriel stepped into the room, but didn’t say anything, as he crossed his arms on his chest and watched the scene.

Elain was standing by the counter, slicing fruit and when Fen demanded his fuck time, she gulped and a piece of strawberry fell out of her mouth.

“Wha…” she whimpered.

“Yeah, that’s it. Let’s go fuck,” Fenrys motioned on to her, while Ruhn was sitting with his long legs stretched out in front of him, laughing at the two of them.

“No way,” she waved Fen off, making a face.

“Yeah way, let’s go.”

She hissed and then propped her hand on her hip and repeated,

“No. Way.”

“Why no way? What the fuck, babygirl?” Fenrys growled loudly.

“We are not just going to go and ‘fuck’. You have to do it romantically!” she yelled back at him.

Ruhn slapped his thigh, laughing loudly.

“That’s right, Fenny. Romantically,” he repeated.

“Excuse me. Excuse me?!” Fenrys raged loudly. “I have to do it romantically?!”

“Yeah!” she insisted.

“Why do I have to do it romantically? He,” and Fenrys jammed his finger towards Ruhn, “can snap his fingers, tell you to bend over and you bend over! And he fucks you,”

“Ugh,” she grimaced. “You are so rude, Fenrys Moonbeam!”

“You are, Fenrys,” Ruhn agreed.

Azriel made himself known and said, “you kind of are, Fen. Also, you have to do it romantically.”

“I don’t understand why I am stuck with the romantic crap?!” Fenrys complained. “I am not romantic! I am a killer. I am in the damn mafia!”

Ruhn waved a cigarette at Fenrys and tsked.

“See, that’s your problem, Fen. You, maybe unwittingly, cultivated a romantic image. You know, with the golden locks and the accent and the smooth personality…You are like Little Lord Fauntleroy,”

Fenrys frowned.

“Who?”

“Ehhh, philistines,” Ruhn moaned. “You are a pretty British prince,”

“Fuck you,” Fenrys argued. “I am a guy from Peaky Blinders,”

“Yeah, right….” Azriel rolled his eyes.

“Yeah right!” Fenrys insisted.

“Listen Tommy Shelby,” Ruhn declared, “let me tell you something. Even with all your Peaky Blinders aura–you know, the tweedy jackets, the flat caps, the swagger, the guns–you are still a romantic hero. That’s why the girls swoon around you and drop on their knees hoping you’d grant them the privilege of sucking you off.

“Me. Ain’t nobody thinks I am romantic. I am Stallone. And ain’t nobody thinks that Stallone is sexy or delicious. And you, my man, you are Ben Barnes,”

“Who the hell is Ben Barnes?” Fenrys exclaimed, looking at Ruhn in confusion.

“What, you live in a cave?” Azriel wondered under his breath.

“Is that another of Elain’s boyfriends? A good kisser?” Fenrys snapped bitterly.

Elain meanwhile was nodding, as she agreed, sighing dreamily,

“Ben Barnes is so sexy,”

“See,” Ruhn jerked his shoulder at her. “And Ben Barnes plays a bunch of dicks and killers. And still, the ladies swoon.”

Azriel prowled towards Elain, while the other two men continued on arguing about Ben Barnes and whether Fenrys was a ‘mean’ killer or a ‘sexy’ one.

“Good morning, my sweetness,” he smiled at her and then cupped her face in his hands.

Last night, Azriel had waited until after midnight for Elain to come to bed, but she never arrived and he found that he could no longer sleep without her next to him. Until she was tucked against him, half-suffocating him with her hair, her soft body relaxed and comfortable in his embrace, he didn’t feel at peace and couldn't fall asleep. He wanted to be with her. Wanted to smell her, the scent of her sex, of her skin, her hair. Needed to feel the suppleness of her breasts, the familiar roundness of her ass planted in the cradle of his hips. So he grabbed Mwah-Mwah and went to Ruhn’s bedroom.

The two of them were asleep. Ruhn was holding her around the waist, like his own personal teddy bear. And it was nice. Azriel felt happy when he observed his strange, often brutal, cunning, sociopathic brother with their wife. Because there was something good and tender that peeked out from the infinite darkness of Ruhn’s pain and manic character when he was with Elain.

Azriel jammed Mwah-Mwah into Elain’s arms, and then slid under the duvet on the other side of her. He was always the big spoon in their bedroom arrangement, and she always slept in his arms, which is what he loved. This was new. But to be next to her, he was willing to spend the night as a little spoon. He backed up into her, and then grabbed her leg and draped it over his thigh, keeping it in place. And then he became her teddy bear, when she sleepily wrapped her arm around his stomach and then, just as he was drifting off to sleep, he felt her lips press to the back of his neck and she murmured ‘I love you’.

Cassian strolled into the house. He had to give it to her–with Elain’s arrival, this place was pumping with hygge. He’s been reading all about it, and yeah, that’s how it felt–cosy and chill and comfortable and it smelled good and come to think of it, he was a little envious. But it’s not like he had three brothers to share a loving woman with. His brothers were here, and they were happy with their little slice of heaven. He wasn’t invited into the arrangement. And he was pointlessly pining for a sharp-tongued, proud, haughty and detached Nesta, who sure as hell wouldn’t be shared with anyone, including him, and wouldn’t be practising any kind of hygge lifestyle.

So he took in the warmth and basked in the love of others whenever he could. Elain might have been kind of strange and incomprehensible at times, but she was sweet and soft and kind of pleasantly docile and agreeable, which made the man in him purr quietly in his chest.

When he entered their living space, he immediately noticed a scowling Fenrys, and Elain and Azriel down by the stove, with Azriel kissing her with such unbridled passion, it looked pornographic. He was holding her face in his hands, fucking into her mouth with his tongue, moulding every bit of her lips and teeth and tongue into his. It was slow and passionate and erotic. Azriel was never into expressive PDA, even when he was with Morrigan, Cassian rarely saw them being overtly amorous. Mor was touchy, affectionate, loud, unforgettably beautiful, generously proportioned, and much like Elain, presented an interesting, sharp contrast to Azriel. Cassian could see vague similarities between the two women–Azriel had a type, after all. But he was different with Elain–Elain was raw and alive and she made him feel and act in a new and different way.

While Azriel was sucking on his girl’s face, Cassian made his way to Ruhn and clapped him on the shoulder. Ruhn winced, but said nothing else, and Cassian bit his lip, sensing that Ruhn was probably injured. And there was only one person who made Ruhn hurt so much that Ruhn winced.

“Good news,” Cassian tried to sound cheerful and pretend like he didn’t notice the flinch. Ruhn saw right through it, but also acted like everything was fine. It was an old dance that they danced, both knowing the truth and denying it to each other.

“We could use some,” Ruhn agreed.

“I think we found the prodigal son– Eris fucking Vanserra.”

Wednesday (4 days before the ball)

And that’s why Elain and Fenrys were currently rolling on the hot tar of the roof.

Tuesday (5 days before the ball)

Because yesterday, at breakfast, completely unexpectedly, Ruhn announced calmly, “I think perhaps Elain could run a job for us.”

Elain wasn’t even embarrassed when she dropped her spoon and oatmeal flew all over the floor and Cassian’s pants. She stared at Ruhn in disbelief, while he smirked at her, and Azriel smiled.

“What do you mean you want me to run a job?” she demanded, forgetting to even pick up her spoon, which Cassian did for her.

“I think we know where Eris Vanserra is hiding,” Azriel explained, “and we need to confirm and fish him out,”

“What are you going to do with him?” she asked immediately.

“Haven’t decided yet,” Azriel shrugged, as he took a bite of his eggs, “but discretion is of utmost importance. We might sell him to Lorcan, because they have beef between the two of them. We might keep the knowledge to ourselves and have Lorcan beg for it. Or not even tell him, and extract Eris and have him as a bargaining chip with his family.

“But we need to confirm the location, and then decide on extraction…That’s where you come in, Elain. If you are interested,”

“I am interested!” she cried out immediately.

“We figured you would be,” Ruhn smiled.

“Cassian is in charge of the op. He will give you the coordinates.”

“Do I have to do it at night?”

“At night, you sleep in my bed,” Azriel reminded her with a meaningful look. She rolled her eyes and Cassian chuckled under his breath.

“No, I don’t think that night recon would be necessary,” he assured her. “This is not Fallujah. Or Afghanistan.”

“Do I get a gun?” she asked quickly.

“Umm,” Cassian glanced at her with ill-concealed concern. “No…? I don’t think we want you to shoot him,”

“Hmm,” she scratched her cheek, lost in thought. Then she added, “I think I should have a gun.”

“Well, we can’t just go around shooting people on the street,” he argued calmly.

She gave him somewhat of a condescending look and then announced,

“Yeah, Cassian. No one’s been shot in New York. Ever.”

Ruhn was shaking with laughter, while Azriel hid his own under a napkin.

“Elain,” Cassian looked at her and said sternly, regaining some authoritative ground. “Fenrys will have a gun, and it comes to that, he will be there to get into a shootout,”

“Fuck yeah!” Fen nodded eagerly.

“Otherwise, you are under my command and you stick to the plan and protocol.”

She glanced at him wide-eyed and nodded demurely.

“Okay. I will.”

“I mean it, Elain,” he warned, eyeing her with his big hazel eyes. “I am not one of your husbands or whatever this whole thing is…you will listen and do what I say.”

Azriel exchanged a wordless look with Ruhn.

It was the first time when they were recognised as Elain’s ‘husbands’ by someone outside of their family.

And it felt surprisingly good.

Like they were legit now. Husbands.

Thursday (3 days before the ball)

It was three days before the Black Ball.

Despite this being the middle of July, the morning was cool and crisp. A breeze came from the ocean and rolled over the city, which was quiet and dreamy at this hour.

Cassian stood by the wall, two cups in his hands.

A confident clicking of high heels on the pavement put him on alert.

On time, as usual. She was someone who valued her routines.

There she was. Straight as an arrow. Tall. 5”10 he’d guess. Pushing 6 feet in her killer heels.

He probably shouldn’t have been surprised, but she wore a sleeveless slate-grey dress, which was cut to her figure, with a narrow black belt that emphasised her slimness. The black stilettos were so sharp, they could’ve been used as weapons. The hair, smooth and sleek, wrapped in a tight chignon at the base of her long neck.

Everything was right and firm and crisp. Not a wrinkle anywhere to be found. The only softness, and even that looked almost out of place, were the full, strangely large breasts. She didn’t wear any jewellery other than a slim gold bracelet.

Spotting him at last, she stopped abruptly and her icy grey-blue eyes skimmed over his whole form, the gaze so unflinching, he almost wanted to shift on his feet. But he didn’t. He was a Commissioned Officer, First Lieutenant of the US Marine Corps. And he didn’t shift on his feet.

Instead, he smiled and said,

“Good morning, Nes.”

He observed the well-controlled expressions, the usual coldness of her features, but for a brief second, he saw it…oh, he saw it. She wasn’t even aware of it. But there it was–delight. A tiny, infinitesimal spark of happiness at the sight of him. Only to disappear just as quickly.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded instantly, her eyes full of concern. No pleasantries from Nes. “Is Elain okay?”

“Oh, I am sure she is fine. Better than all of us, I’d venture a guess. Loved. Coddled. Running jobs. Picking out dresses for the Black Ball.”

“What do you mean running jobs?” Nesta’s face paled. Everything else he said didn’t matter.

He shrugged, “what? Elain has some claws.”

“She has NO claws,” Nesta hissed. “She is a child. She sits with her flowers and her chocolates and her books,”

Cassian said nothing, but he was surprised. It didn’t seem like Nesta knew Elain very well at all. He thought that the two of them were inseparable, despite Nesta’s abrasive and domineering personality, but he would’ve guessed that she understood Elain better than this. Elain might have acted a bit infantile, but she wasn’t a child. Elain was smarter than Nesta gave her credit for, and Cassian guessed that Elain was no less calculating than Nesta. Probably more. Elain had a wide array of suitors to choose from, but she bided her time and waited. And waited. Until the biggest, baddest fish swam right into her net. Azriel King. Cassian wasn’t so stupid or naive to believe that Elain wasn’t aiming high–something that Nesta apparently didn’t get about her sister. But in the end, flower enthusiast Elain Archeron was left with the two finest, choicest, most enviable options for husbands–Lorcan Salvaterre and Azriel King. No one in their world ever had options like that. Not one woman. No matter how beautiful, well-connected or wealthy she was, no woman had the luxury of actual choice, let alone between the two most prized stallions in the stable. And little soft Elain waltzed away with Azriel firmly clutched in her small hand. And from what Cassian could deduce, Salvaterre was still gagging for it. Wouldn’t be much of a surprise if this fucking pain in the ass ball was organised so that the Italian could dance with and admire Elain King, while skirting a very thin and scary line with Azriel King.

“Books?” Cassian ignored the outburst and reached into his jacket, balancing the two cups in one hand. “You mean books like this?”

He handed her a book, with a bare-chested hunk on the cover, displaying an exaggerated six pack, aptly named ‘Deadly Affair’.

“Thought you’d like this one,” he explained easily. “One of your horny books,”

“They are not horny books!” Nesta snarled, “they are dark romances.”

“Okay, dark romances,” he agreed, watching her with amusement. A new book, a new ‘dark romance’ was like crack to her. Her slender fingers twitched at her side, wanting to snatch the book from him, but she refrained.

He pretended like this was a difficult task for him to balance the cups, and jammed the book into her hand, dramatically sighing and blowing at his fingers, like cups burned him.

“Jeez, just take it already,” he muttered. Then, unable to help himself, he added, “B-T-Dubs, I have a better six-pack than this guy.”

Nesta thrusted the book into her Birkin bag, the damn thing probably costing 50K, and then scowled, “No one says btdubs, you know that, right?”

“I do,” he shrugged. Then he handed her one of the cups.

She balked and muttered,

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed deeply. “This ain’t coffee. Green tea for the lady. And no muffins.”

She took the cup reluctantly and then opened the lid and peeked inside, confirming that it wasn’t coffee.

“You are paranoid, Nes. You need to relax a little bit. Go on a date. Drink wine. Eat a fucking muffin.”

She pursed her lips and said coolly,

“I shouldn’t be accepting drinks from strange men.”

“Oh, you hurt me,” he pressed his hand to his chest. “What, you think I am gonna roofie you with some green tea? We are basically related. Both of your sisters are boning my cousins. And if you want to continue the practice, I am available. Three sisters, three cousins.”

She grimaced and murmured, “No thanks. And we are not related. Or, perhaps we are, and it would be incest. Either way, I am forced to decline your oh-so-romantic proposition.”

“I can be less romantic,” he offered, “if that’s your preference.”

“Oh, I literally don’t think that it’s possible for this to be less enticing of a proposal.”

She took a sip of the tea and though she didn’t say anything, he knew that she appreciated the level of sweetness in it–she liked it with honey. Somehow, he knew. She wondered if he’d asked Elain, though it didn’t seem like a Cassian thing to do.

They started walking towards a glass building where Archeron & Sons, Ltd. was located.

Ironic really.

Three daughters, each wielding power of their own, erased from their family tree and exchanged for ubiquitous ‘sons’. Cassian wondered if Nesta would change the name, once Pops kicked the bucket.

“So why are you here?” she asked, and he noticed that she didn’t hurry along, rather slowing her walk and almost strolling next to him. “And what’s this about Elain running jobs?”

“Don’t worry about Elain,” he waved his hand dismissively. “If Az thinks she can run jobs, then she can,”

“Are you serious?”

“I just work there,”

“Bullshit. You are head of their security, you know she shouldn't,”

“Not my call to make,” he said firmly. “She was with Fen. She was safe. And she was useful.”

Nesta released a derisive little snort.

“Right…”

“She found Eris Vanserra,” he said simply.

Nesta came to a halt and stared at him in disbelief.

“You are kidding me, right?”

“Nope, I am not. Not only did she find the safe house, she also approached him at a bodega, when he went to get some Gatorade. Fen didn’t want her to, but she did it anyway,”

“Of course,” Nesta hissed.

“Anyway, it wasn’t anything dramatic. Only that Eris now knows that he can run, but he can’t hide. She played it off like it was an accidental meeting, but Eris isn’t stupid. He knows that we know.”

“And now what?” Nesta stopped and looked up at Cassian, her gaze curious and without hostility.

“Don’t know,” he shrugged. “Az wants to see what he does. Does he throw the gauntlet? Swagger in and put himself out there, as the Heir of the Vanserra clan, come hell or high water? Or does he run again?

“Doesn’t matter really. If he runs, we’ll know where he’ll be,”

“How?”

He grunted, but didn’t explain. She understood. They weren’t exactly allies. Yes, he was correct, both of her sisters were either married or involved with the Kings, but the Archerons were still their own family. The Kings didn’t owe her explanations, and she didn’t owe them anything either.

“We have ways,” was all he offered.

“So the Kings are going to the Ball?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Oh yeah,” he sighed, like the whole thing was a bother. “Elain wants to go to the ball.”

Ahhh…

“She could be persuasive, if she wants something,” Nesta said. “A few polite words, batting her lashes, and…” she paused, and then smirked, “let me guess–she squeezed Azriel’s bicep?”

Cassian eyed her sideways.

It was exactly how it went down at breakfast the other day.

Almost word for word. Azriel folded like a lawn chair. Elain beamed.

Now, Varian and the guys on her security detail were throwing around terms like ‘Armani Prive’ and ‘Marchesa’ and ‘Valentino’ and ‘bodice’ and ‘couture’ and having opinions. Opinions.

Because apparently ‘Gucci was Kardashian trash’ and ‘Chanel was granny’ and ‘Alexander McQueen was interesting’ and Prada was a big non-no, because their ‘Lady shouldn’t look like she is wearing a trashbag’ and their ‘Lady looked very good in vintage Dior’...

It was intolerable in the morning at their AUX meetings, because half of the guys were discussing fashion and opined on what ‘their Lady’ should be wearing, the other half of the guys were looking confused and resentful, and the third half were discreetly inquiring about how they could join the Lady’s detail. Varian had some of the strongest suggestions and he didn’t mind these fashion trips whatsoever. Cassian suspected that it was because Elain’s friend Nuala was there for the fittings, and though Varian didn’t mention her at all, Cassian had some inkling that perhaps she was the reason why he was so eager to accompany Elain.

Cassian felt like he was standing on quicksand and consistently losing ground and control of his men. This fucking Ball couldn’t come soon enough!

Nesta stopped abruptly and asked,

“Why are you here, Cassian?”

“I was in the neighbourhood?” he hedged and she rolled her eyes. The action was surprisingly like her sister’s and it made him smile.

“Right.”

He took a sip of his coffee and laid his card out,

“Are the Archerons attending the Ball?” he asked bluntly.

She folded her arms on her ample chest and cocked her head to the side, assessing him. That gaze was penetrative and measuring, and for the second time today, Cassian wanted to shift on his feet.

“Father is sending me,” she said at last.

Something dark and angry coiled inside Cassian’s chest. That old bastard was sending his daughter into the lion’s den. Not going himself, of course. If someone is going to take the fall, it would be Nesta. And she was ready. Ready to show that she had the guts, the confidence, the grit.

Also the stupidity.

Cassian always found her frustrating, for a number of reasons, but this hot-headedness of hers and the desire to prove something to herself, and probably to her useless father, was going to be her downfall one day.

“I want to offer you more security for when you go,” he said, sounding gruff.

She frowned in confusion, asking,

“Why? Why would you offer me more security?”

“Because your security is shit,” he said bluntly. He could almost see the heckled rise, but he didn’t care.

“Listen, we have guys to spare. All three Kings, myself and Elain will be there, and we’ll have security stationed outside. Not that I am expecting anything,”

“Then why do I need security–which I already have–if you're not expecting anything?” she demanded logically.

Exasperated, he quipped, “Indulge me, Nesta.”

Why did everything have to be a fight or an argument with her?

She looked him up and down, and then stated, ‘no’.

Cassian felt helpless. Powerless.

She didn’t listen. He had no influence on her.

So he did the only thing he could.

“Please, Nesta. Do this for me.”

When she didn’t respond, he added,

“It would make it easier for me to take care of everyone, including your sister, if I knew you were safe and secure.”

She looked at him for a long time. Her pose did not change and she just stood there, with her arms crossed, watching him. He was silent too.

“And what would Azriel say about this?” she asked at last.

Cassian shrugged nonchalantly and said,

“Azriel trusts me. Also, for better or worse, we are family, Nes. He certainly views you as that.”

Nesta clutched her cup and then turned around towards the building,

“Fire. Thank you,” she threw over her shoulder.

“You want to be my date for the Ball?” he tried, smirking.

“Don’t push it,” she told him, but he noticed a fleeting smile on her lips.

“Don’t fancy our own deadly affair then?” he chuckled and set off on his way.

Thursday (3 days before the ball)

There was a weight pressing on Elain. It was heavy and warm and familiar. She could tell them apart now, after sleeping with the three of them in the same bed for over a month, she knew what they smelled like, how they felt, what their fingertips drew on her skin, the cadence of their breaths, the texture of their hair, tattoos, piercings, rings, necklaces, bracelets.

This one tickled her face with his long hair and when he pressed his lips to her cheeks, to her eyelids, she felt the cold metal of his lip ring. He was also the second heaviest of the three–Fenrys was the biggest, the heaviest, his bones thick and dense, his immense height absorbing and covering everything in sight. This one was so muscular that he was just a shade lighter than Fen, but not by much.

Elain ran her fingers over his face, ending up at his ears, which she tugged, her fingers pinching the numerous piercings that studded the lobes and the cartilage.

“Why are you waking me up?” she demanded at last, her back arching as the hot pad of his tongue ran over her jugular and then he turned her head to the side, and pushed her hair aside, seeking the mark. He did it every morning. Multiple times during the day. Sought out his mark on her skin, touched it, kissed it, sometimes sucked on it. Sometimes, he stood above her, casual like, and simply pressed his fingers into the mark, knowing exactly where it was without even looking at it.

“I am bored!” Ruhn whined. “I want to play with you…”

“Can’t you get yourself a dog?” she complained. “Or go walk Enalius!”

“Enalius can be a bit of an asshole. He is either needy or standoffish,” Ruhn sighed with irritation.

“I swear to god, if it’s before 6 am…” she cringed, opening one eye.

He was on top of her, his face hovering over hers, smirking happily at the sight of her waking up.

“6:02 am, gorgeous,” he grinned maniacally. “Wakie wakie.”

Before she even opened her other eye, he was already stripping her of Azriel’s t-shirt and tossing it aside. Her breasts sprung free and before she could say anything, he was gathering them together in his hands, his mouth closing over both nipples at once, sucking aggressively. Elain whimpered, loving his impatience, the manhandling that he was inflicting on her body. He licked over and around her nipples, making them hard and swollen with his tongue and lips, watching her with his intense, wondrously cobalt eyes.

“Your fucking period is finally over?” he confirmed, his eyes blazing with impatience and need.

“Yes,” she looked down at him, stroking his cheek.

“Thank fuck,” he groaned and bit her nipple hard. She squirmed, feeling herself gush, the ache inside of her beginning to simmer urgently, reminding her that she hasn’t had anyone inside her for like four days. Yes, they all used her mouth multiple times a day, and she’d swallowed so much cum it felt like it was carousing through her veins, filling her with some of their masculine aggressiveness. If she could get pregnant from swallowing, then she’d be having triplets already.

Wednesday (4 days before the ball)

The other day, Az tried to do something with her…not something any of them did or even hinted at. And then stopped…Like he was scared that she’d not like it. Or that he was ‘defiling’ her. He was playing with her tits, kissing up her body, until he slid higher and higher, straddling her hips first, then her belly, and then, his beautiful cock landed on her chest. It didn’t seem like he realised what he was doing, but he pushed her breasts together and thrusted his dick between them, offering a few deep tugs between her globes.

Elain loved anything new sexually–she was always eager to try things, letting her men guide her and show her things she never even considered. They were beasts, her men. And they expected her to be a lover to all of them, as well as to each individually. Each was different, but all were demanding, needy, rough and greedy.

Yet, Azriel pulled away. As if something snapped in him, and he released her breasts from his rough, scarred palms and his beautiful face contorted in something that resembled guilt. Uncertainty. Instead, he slid next to her and took her in his arms, almost too gently and then took her lips in a searing, hungry kiss.

Oh the kissing…

Elain cursed her big mouth ever since she dropped the news about Lorcan being the best kisser of her life. He was though. He truly was. But now, her husbands were hell bent on staking their claims on her mouth. Owning her through their kisses. She was kissed constantly. It began before she even woke up and ended when she was falling asleep. They kissed her. Softly. Gently. Sometimes tenderly and with lips only. They kissed her with flourish, dipping her in their arms and kissing her loudly and theatrically. They kissed her sensually, holding her jaw, covering her whole face with kisses. They kissed her hands. Her neck. They kissed her voraciously. Sloppily. Sexually.

Her lips were perpetually swollen, and she had to lie to Nuala and tell her that she has an allergic reaction to new lipstick. She had to wear halter tops, to cover her bruise-stained neck and throat, and her hair loose, so that the long curls would camouflage all the tracks and fingerprints that her men left on her skin.

They cared for her during her period–so much so, that she’d never been cared for in such a dedicated manner before.

Fen was all about her nutrition, reading articles about iron deficiency, making her kale smoothies, fetching bean and steak burritos, cooking her scrambled eggs and pan frying absolutely incredible mackerel for dinner. He was the other cook in the family and everything he made was delicious. He brought her vitamins, supplements and took her on walks to ‘breathe fresh air’.

Ruhn was all about indulgence. While Fen monitored healthy food intake and made her chamomile tea and some kind of ‘energy zing’ drinks, Ruhn was sneaking dark chocolate into her purse, came to the shop one day and took her for burgers and a thick milkshake, ordered her a massage and even tried to do yoga with her, though she got bored in fifteen minutes. Instead, she snuggled with him on the sofa, and he happily drove his dick into her ass, while they watched ‘Olympus Has Fallen’, with Fenrys piling into them soon after, resting his head on her chest.

Azriel took care of her physically. She didn’t get bad cramps, but she usually bled like a stuck pig, so he got her every possible type of tampon and pad, even a cup, but that confused everyone, including her, and was quickly rejected. He rubbed her feet, and even offered to run her a bath, though Ruhn muttered that nobody wants to bathe in ‘blood water’, and after he put it like that, they agreed that a shower would be better. But Azriel thought that it was absolutely necessary that he shower with her, which he did, readily. He washed her hair, which was fantastic, because those rough fingers massaged her scalp so well, she actually moaned.

Wednesday (4 days before the ball)

But, it bothered her that Azriel had pulled away.

Later that day, she found Fenrys lounging on the sofa downstairs, in only his boxers. He had come home from some assignment, loudly laying his guns and knives on the console table, and then ripping his belt out of the loops. There was blood on his hands. Elain saw it, but she did not react. She wasn’t expected to react, unless he or her men were injured. Generally speaking, in the AUX world, non-life threatening injuries were first treated by their Lady, aka Elain. More serious injuries went to their resident medic, Orion Athalar, and then, if they were literally bleeding out or missing limbs, they went to the hospital. Despite Cassian’s initial lack of confidence in her abilities and willingness to offer medical assistance, Elain was under Ruhn’s order to be the go-to in case of emergencies. The ‘no-touching’ rule did not apply in those instances. The guys loved coming to her and she liked caring for them too. As a future Donna or Lady (she preferred Lady), she was taught throughout her teen years and up to her wedding, on how to deal with everything from bruises, sprains, busted knuckles, stab wounds, dislocated shoulders, cuts, torn ligaments, burns, and up to bullet wounds.

When Elain came downstairs, Fen was looking at his phone, his face not as grim or annoyed as before. She walked straight to the sofa and then collapsed upon him dramatically. He burst out laughing and then kissed the top of her head.

“Why you angry, baby bird?”

“I am not a baby bird,” she argued into his chest.

“You are. You look like one of those puffed up angry birds.”

He stroked over her back, before resting both of his palms on her ass, squeezing the cheeks tightly.

“Who made you angry?”

“I am not angry,” she insisted, but then looked up at him and sighed.

“Will you tell me?” he pressed gently.

Fenrys was the Elain Whisperer.

He was the one who gave relationship advice to the other guys, and who listened to her and tried to help out. Because their maiden had to navigate a new life with the three of them, and however well it usually went between the four of them, it was still freaking messy.

“Az doesn't want to do…sex stuff with me,” she admitted and a cute shy blush spread over her cheeks.

Fenrys chuckled and shook his head no.

“Baby, Az wants to do all the sex stuff with you. Trust me.”

“No he doesn’t,” she argued. “I think he wanted to do something and then he stopped…”

Now Fenrys was interested. He shifted her on top of him and squeezed her ass tighter.

“Now I must know!”

She squirmed a little, but then explained reluctantly,

“He…um…put his…you know,”

“Baby, I am dying here. Come on. You take three cocks on the daily, don’t be shy now!”

“I am not discussing this,” she huffed, but continued nevertheless. “He put his cock between my boobs…”

“Ah. And?”

“And then he stopped. He didn’t want to do it.”

“Oh, a tit wank,” Fenrys nodded with understanding.

“A tit wank?” she gasped and he laughed.

“Is that what it’s called?” she pushed at him, and he nodded. “It is. In England.”

He reluctantly tore one hand from her ass and then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Baby,” he said gently. “Trust me, Az didn’t pull away from you. He pulled away from the act.”

Her brows knitted together and she glared at him,

“What’s that mean? He didn’t want to do it,”

“No, he did want to do it. He just stopped.”

Fenrys kissed her and then stroked her back, going back to the curve of her behind and squeezing it.

“Az, you see, is kind of big on consent. He likes things clear and wants to make sure that everyone is on the same page. Ruhn, on the other, is very light on consent,” he chuckled. “Usually, Ruhn will tell you what you will be doing, and not ask you. As in ‘you’ll be sucking my dick, beautiful’,” Fen delivered the line in a perfect Ruhn accent, mimicking his brother’s voice and intonations precisely and Elain burst out laughing. “Or ‘I am going to fuck your tits’...Stuff like that. Ruhn is not sitting there asking you ‘Elain, would you like me to fuck your tits?’ However, Azriel would. Azriel cares about you and how you feel.

“Azriel loves you, Ellie. The level of his possessiveness is also off the charts. This is a man who will try to keep you safe and impossibly happy. But he is still testing the waters. What’s appropriate with you, what’s not. If you want him to do something–you tell him.”

He slapped her ass and said,

“You take the reins, girl. You are the queen of the domain. You are the Lady of the Kings. Fucking own it, baby. You tell him. If there is something you want to implement, just present it and we’ll discuss it. You explained about the ball and Lorcan, and here we are–going there, and hopefully not dying,”

She rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand at him,

“You are not gonna die, Fen. But, will he listen?”

“Hasn’t he been listening? He agreed to you working. He agreed to your expansion of the business. He and Ruhn agreed for you to go on jobs. You went rogue yesterday, babygirl, when you approached Eris at the shop,” he tsked at her, “but Azriel didn’t even put you in timeout for that.”

“Pfff,” she huffed incredulously.

Fenrys smoothed his large palm over her head and then looked at her seriously.

“Too many people have told Azriel that he was unlovable and that he wasn’t allowed to love you. He was expected to command you. Dominate you. Lead the family. Make you submit to him and his word, like a good wife should. And I don’t think Azriel wants any of that. Not from you, and not for himself. He wants to love you and be loved by you. And I think that would be enough for him.”

“It’s enough for me too,” she said quietly. “You three and me. And that would be enough forever.”

She looked at him and then ran her fingers over the apple of his cheek, scooting up to kiss his lips.

“Fen. You are so good,” she murmured tenderly. “And so beautiful.”

He smiled, then said,

“I know.’

Thursday (3 days before the ball)-continued

‘No wakie wakie,” Elain moaned loudly into the pillow, while Ruhn was wrenching her face away from it, straddling her hips.

“Yes, come on,” he pleaded, manhandling her, laughing at her futile attempts to escape him.

Finally, she emerged from the blankets and pillows and pushed him off decisively, muttering under her breath, ‘I need to pee. I need to…’ Whatever else she needed to do, Ruhn didn’t hear, but he plopped back on the bed and yelled after her,

“Four minutes, beautiful!”

“I’ll take as long as I like!” she yelled back.

“Not if you don’t want me to get in there with you and fuck you over the sink!”

“Animal!”

“A wild one, too!” he retorted immediately, laughing.

He loved annoying Elain, especially first thing in the morning. Unlike Azriel who liked cuddling–god forbid he’d do it in front of anyone, except for Elain–or Fen, who’d wake up, scoop Elain tighter into his embrace and fall asleep again, Ruhn didn’t mind annoying her. She got all red-cheeked and blazy-eyed, and began dropping S and F bombs and it was frankly, hilarious.

It’s been longer than four minutes, but Ruhn didn’t act on his threat, and stayed in bed. Instead, in a sing-song voice, he called out,

“Sunshine, come to me. I have presents!”

After a beat, he heard ‘What presents??!’ and he grinned.

“Guess you’ll have to come back to me and see for yourself,” he teased.

Elain emerged a minute later, her hair and teeth brushed and moisturiser already applied to her face. She looked fresh and beautiful–truly his personal sunshine. What’s more, she was only wearing a pretty set of pale pink underwear–it was cotton and lace, and did wonders for her already wonderful breasts. It would be a shame to take it all off soon.

“Okay, where are the presents?” she inquired immediately.

Ruhn was spread over the bed, wearing only a set of boxers, his back propped against the padded headboard, arms folded on his chest. Next to him, sat two boxes: one was larger, gray, with a white ribbon, and the other slightly smaller, baby blue, with a black ribbon. The stuff looked expensive.

“Is it Tiffany’s?” she asked, eyeing the pale blue box, which resembled the famed jewellery store boxes, though the ribbon didn’t match.

He made a non-committal groan in his throat and shrugged.

“One way to find out, beautiful,” he offered, patting the spot next to him.

She bounced on her toes and begged, ‘tell me!’

He laughed and opened his arms.

“Come here, open the boxes. See what you think.”

She jumped on the bed and grabbed one of the boxes, tearing into the ribbon, while Ruhn chuckled at her aggressive eagerness.

She opened up both boxes and exclaimed,

“Ohmygod! These are gorgeous reamers!”

Grabbing the bigger one, a sleek stainless steel one, with a larger tapered end, she explained,

“This one is good for bigger fruit. Oranges and grapefruits!”

Ruhn looked at her in complete confusion, but she continued,

“And this one,” it was a smaller, tidier, bulbous one, acrylic, with a pale pink rose embedded inside, “is for lemons and limes.”

“Baby,” he began, but she leapt into his arms and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you! I love it!”

He stroked her cheek with his knuckles and smiled at her,

“What do you think this is, sunshine?”

Her brow furrowed and she said,

“Reamers! For juicing fruit,”

“What?”

After a pause, when they just stared at each other, he finally nodded.

“They are reamers,” he agreed, at last, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Well, yeah,” she nodded. “Why did you go so fancy with them? You can buy them for .99 cents at IKEA!” she told him, practical as usual.

He pulled her on top of him, resting his hands on her pert ass cheeks, kneading them easily, lightly.

“What if I told you they are made for something else?”

She looked at him, but got distracted playing with all his earrings and the necklaces on his chest, while he kissed the top of her head and stroked her bottom languidly.

“Do you want me to do the tongue thingy?” he offered with a wink.

She perked up and glanced at him,

“You wanna do it?”

“Do I want to eat your pussy? Ummm, yes?” he shook his head in indignation, like she was being dumb. Gently rolling the pretty, but pointless panties down her thighs, he dragged them down with his foot by the time they reached her knees. He squeezed her ass harder, fingers sliding over the crack lightly, making her breath hitch and she looked at him, before pressing her lips to his mouth. He battered through the seam of her lips, sucking on them, before licking into her mouth, his hands growing bolder on her soft, supple flesh, fingertips digging into the crack, as he spread her cheeks wider.

“Ru,” she moaned, feeling his fingers skirt around her wet hole, just not dipping inside, even when she wiggled her hips, but he only teased, sucking on her tongue, making her uncomfortably hot and squirming on top of him.

“You trust me, baby?” he whispered into her mouth. “I’ll make you feel good, my girl, but you’ll have to trust me, alright?”

She nodded, gasping when his other hand found the tight, pickering hole, which he worked in the same manner–just swirling his fingertips around it. Shuddering against him with want, she tried to ease her hips onto his fingers, but he didn’t allow it and only chuckled at her, shaking his head, while kissing her lips deeply and hotly.

Easily, he flipped her over, but instead of leaving her on her back, he whispered, “get on your hands and knees for me, baby,” which she did, and thrust her pretty round ass up in the air for him, which made him laugh. He slapped her thigh loudly, settling behind her and before she could do anything at all, he thrust his thumbs into her wet, hot hole, pulling it apart, exposing her obscenely. Somehow, with him, she didn’t mind. She wasn’t shy. Only hungry. Needy and wanting more and more.

“My pretty girl…with the prettiest pussy in the world,” he marvelled, watching her clutch the sheets, while he opened her wider and wider with his thumbs, seeing deep inside of her.

She mewled and gasped, her body flushed and warm, hips gyrating on her own, as she moaned,

“Put it inside,”

He leaned and then suddenly, bit her ass cheek, gnawing on it playfully, sliding his teeth up and down, until he reached the spot under her buttock, where Azriel’s mark resided, and then pressed his teeth into it.

“Where is Fenny gonna mark you?” he pondered, sucking softly on the skin.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, “wherever he wants.”

Ruhn cackled and warned her, “don’t give him too many ideas, sunshine. Next thing I know, I am tattooing your clitty.”

“Noooo!” she gasped.

“Yeah, who knows with Fen?”

She squirmed against his face, pushing her ass at him, and demanded, “put it in me, Ruhnnie…”

“Yeah?” he tsked, and added, “well, since you are asking me so nicely…”

What Elain didn’t expect was feeling him spit into her ass. She jolted from surprise, and turned her head to look at him. He was smiling his assholish smile, the smaller, acrylic reamer in his mouth, as he licked on it like a lollipop.

She was baffled by the action, before he shrugged innocently and unexpectedly, pushed the blunt end of the reamer into her anus.

“Ohmygod!” she cried out, as he pulled her cheeks wide apart with his free hand and instructed,

“Relax, beautiful. Let’s get this thing inside and then I’ll lick you.”

Sucking her lower lip, she was watching him over her shoulder, her ass raised sexily in the air, back arching deeply, as he picked up some of her slick from her drenched pussy and smeared it over the reamer.

“Is it a buttplug?” she asked at last.

He winked at her and nodded,

“Indeed it is. A little ass reamer for my sweetheart.”

“Will it hurt?” she squeaked, when he pushed it against her hole again, this time, with a little more intent.

“Nah…it’s small. I need to start stretching your bum, sweetness.”

“Because you want to ride me in there?” she confirmed, blushing adorably.

“Oh yes,” he nodded, slowly working the plug inside her hole. She tensed, when the smooth end butted into her tight opening, but it wasn't painful–just unfamiliar and kind of strange. The pressure of the plug increased and in the next moment, he thrusted it through the tight rind of her muscles.

“Ahhh,” she cried out, wincing, but then her hand shot out and she grabbed his wrist, and he stopped, but didn’t withdraw the plug. Instead, he leaned over her body and kissed her lips.

“We all want to ride you, baby,” he told her, gently, but firmly pushing the plug deeper, though letting her hand guide his own, paying attention to the squeeze of her fingers on his wrist.

“But you’ll be first?” she gasped and wiggled her hips, but didn’t ask him to stop, while he licked her tongue with playful licks, watching her reaction. “Awww…it’s deep!” she hissed, when he nudged the thing even further into her.

“Oh yes,” he palmed the bulge of his cock in his boxers, “this is all for you, my love.”

“I…” she sounded a little uncertain, “I…think I want you to be the first…in my ass,” she decided at last.

He pushed the plug to the end and then released his staining dick from the confines of his shorts and fed it to her. Her lips opened up readily, and if she was a little surprised, she didn't say anything and let him hold the back of her head in his warm palm, while he began to pump his cock in her mouth. The piercings quickly reached and hit the back of her throat, and without withdrawing from her, he pushed her on her back, and settled on top of her. He brushed his cock over her face, while she chased it with her tongue, before taking it in her hand and easing it in her mouth.

“That’s my good girl!” he approved, as she began to suck on the head, giving the shaft a few little sucks, especially when he opened her legs wide and began pushing the plug inside her rectum. She whimpered and moaned, because he pulled it out of her entirely, only to begin thrusting it inside again.

‘Suck,” he ordered, and plunged his thick, hot dick deeper in her mouth, not leaving her any choice but to suck on it obediently. Meanwhile, he wrapped his lips over her clit, tonguing it harshly, and making her buck and cry out against his cock, all the while pumping the plug in and out of her ass.

She tasted fantastic, but was so highly strung from all the sensations that he was raining upon her splayed and stretched body, while he licked through her creamy slit, and sucked on her clit, that she came in about a minute, groaning loudly, spasming and struggling beneath him. He didn’t do anything to slow down her orgasm–edging with Elain was a no-no. It was rare that she didn’t enjoy or agree to something sexual, but edging was definitely the one thing she had no interest in. She wanted to collect her orgasms like it was a toll booth. A week or two back, Fenrys attempted a foray into edging, bringing her close to climax and then pulling back, doing that a few times. In the end, he earned himself an enraged wife, and then a swift kick in the collarbone with her foot. She pushed him off and away from her, and stormed out of the room. Azriel had to run after her and drop to his knees in front of her and finish her off with his tongue. Since then, there was never any ‘you can’t come yet’ or edging shenanigans. When Elain wanted to come, she came, and her men did everything in their power to get her there quickly and successfully.

Mellow, supple and tired out, she lay beneath him, her breathing finally subsiding from her bone-shaking orgasm that he delivered like it was pizza and continued to suck his cock eagerly, while he played with her little asshole, watching the pretty plug disappear into her hole again and again. Watching this only made him harder and more impatient. He thought that he’d have more self-control, but he didn’t. He came messily, all over her face, loving the sight of her covered in him, while she licked the head of his shaft and drank whatever ended up in her mouth.

“Oh, you killed me,” she moaned at last, while he collapsed next to her, panting loudly.

“I killed you? I think it’s the other way around, beautiful,” he argued, his arm thrown over his chest. He looked at her and then gathered his cum on his finger and let her suck it off.

“I have a thing in my butt!” she reminded him pointedly and he chuckled.

“Yeah you do.”

He looked at her and then pulled her in for a kiss.

It tasted nice–him and her, inside her mouth, her tongue lathered with his cum.

“How does it feel?” he asked curiously.

She wrinkled her nose and admitted, “I am not sure. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels funny.”

“Did you like your first foray into 69?” he mused, gently smearing some residual semen between her legs.

“Mmm,” she snuggled closer to him and kissed his shoulder. “It was intense.”

“Good intense?”

“Yeah, good intense,” she agreed.

They went to shower together, but he refused to take the plug out and played with it and her tight asshole while soaping and lathering and shampooing her.

“I want to show Fen and Az!” she exclaimed, wiggling in front of the mirror, looking at the bejewelled knob of the handle which rested at the edge of her hole.

“Absolutely not,” Ruhn was drying his long hair, standing completely naked in the middle of the bedroom.

“Why not?!”

“It’s a surprise!”

She pouted and frowned at him, and he kissed her with a laugh. Ducking his head, he asked,

“Can I see it?”

“Huh! Absolutely not!” she even stomped her foot.

“Come on, baby,” he begged, “why not?”

“It’s a surprise.”

He sighed and muttered ‘fair’.

Saturday (the say of the ball)

The Black Ball

“Where is beautiful?” Ruhn entered the house, striding purposefully through the rooms, his eyes glued to the phone, his bowtie hanging around his neck.

“We are all waiting,” Fenrys informed him, already looking pristine in his 15K tuxedo. It was like he was plucked from the cover of a vintage GQ and plopped in the middle of their house.

“You are pretty, Fen,” Ruhn teased, while Azriel arrived from the other room, threading a cufflink into his cuff.

“Fen is pretty,” he agreed, sizing his brother up. Fen sure was a panty-dropper if there ever was one.

Ruhn cleaned up nicely as well, looking sharp and dangerous, his tux bespoke and wrapping his powerful body like an oil spill. His hair was loose, and his numerous tattoos peeked from the cuffs and the collar, giving a bit of a view to the man beneath the refinery.

Azriel stretched and curled his inked, scarred fingers, and Fenrys noticed his discomfort, getting up from the sofa and wordlessly coming over and taking the cuffs, helping out without making it look like he was helping. Azriel appreciated it. The silence. The mutual understanding. Azriel’s burnt hands gave him trouble with tasks that required extreme precision and finger dexterity. Let’s just say, he wasn’t ever going to thread a needle.

“They are on their way?” he asked Ruhn.

Ruhn shrugged and said, “for all good it will do’.

The location to the party was texted to them exactly at 2pm, as promised, and immediately, part of their security crew set off to the spot, to try and get the lay of the land. However, Ruhn was correct–no one would be able to do anything on such short notice. But, if they were going to take their girl anywhere, the least they could do was scout the location in advance.

Nesta and Elain had spent part of the day getting their hair and make-up done, and now Elain was upstairs, with one of the female servants who were allowed in the house.

Elain had kept her dress secret from everyone, and Ruhn’s been trying to snoop, but unsuccessfully. He’s been begging, and bribing, and pleading with her, but she gave him an unequivocal ‘no way!’ which, in Elain’s language meant ‘absolutely not’.

“Did Nesta and babygirl get into a fight?” Fenrys wondered, as he tied Ruhn’s bowtie for him. Fen was always a bit of a mother hen when it came to dressing.

“I actually don’t think that they did,” Azriel said, “so hopefully there won’t be an Archeron War that we’ll have to fight during this shindig. Because you know, I am not sure Cassian will take our side,”

“No, he definitely won’t,” Ruhn agreed with a laugh.

Fenrys suddenly stilled and Ruhn whipped around, because Fen exclaimed ‘holy fuck!’

And holy fuck indeed.

The three men stopped whatever they were doing and froze in their spots, staring dumbly at the staircase.

Elain was descending the stairs, and Ruhn whistled loudly, while Azriel blew out a breath.

The Black Ball? What black ball?

Elain King was dressed in white.

She floated down in an off-the shoulder concoction of white, gossamer tulle, and it seemed like she was completely nude beneath the dress. It was artfully slashed across her full breasts, allowing a tantalising view of her heavenly cleavage. The whole dress was threaded with silver, which looked like tree branches, because it wouldn’t be Elain if there wasn’t some floral element to her outfit.

Her hair was left loose, cascading down her back in soft curls. The makeup was subtle, yet dramatic–her full lips were glossy, the eyes smokey, and she oozed sexuality so powerfully, that Fenrys was forced to adjust his trousers, Azriel thumbed the corner of his mouth, and Ruhn was shaking his head.

“I say we forget the ball,” Ruhn proposed, devouring her with his electric blue eyes, “and stay here,”

“And peel that dress off of her,” Fenrys nodded in agreement.

“I am inclined to agree,” Azriel licked his lip.

To that, Elain announced “no way!”

She slowly walked down the steps, holding her flowing skirt in one hand, like a real princess.

“Fuck Elain, you look gorgeous!” Fenrys cried out, offering her his hand. She took it and he kissed hers reverently, unable to tear his eyes from her.

“Mrs. King,” Azriel swept to her side and cupped the back of her head and then pressed his lips to her throat, kissing it gently, knowing that he couldn’t go for her lips right now.

“Sunshine…you are stunning,” Ruhn vowed.

“Gentlemen,” she said seriously, eyes jumping from one to the other. “I am excited. But mostly because I am married to the three of you.

“Shall we go and show everyone who rules this town?”

Azriel grinned and as she threaded her arm through his and Fenrys’s elbows, he said,

“Lead the way, lady.”

While they had a four SUV cavalcade, not including their own Escalade, the only person who was going to be going inside with them was Cassian. Though Lorcan was permitting up to 6 people in the party, Ruhn and Azriel had made the decision to only bring one person–Cass–and that’s mostly because he was part of the family, and because he was interested in Nesta.

Azriel wasn’t planning on getting into a gun fight with anyone anyway. He was more concerned about keeping lecherous men and their eyes from his wife.

Elain sat between him and Fenrys in the back, while Ruhn was driving.

Azriel kept throwing alarmed glances at Elain’s chest, where her glorious, soft tits kept bobbing and bouncing within the dress, in danger of spilling out of that slash which didn’t seem like it could contain them at all.

“Flower, is this dress…secure?” he finally asked, while unable to help himself as he cupped one of the silky globes in his hand, squeezing it, his thumb brushing over the nipple.

She shouldered him and hissed, “you can’t make me horny!”

Next to her, Fenrys burst out laughing, while Azriel was not deterred in the least by her ask.

“I love making you horny,” Azriel whispered, nudging into her neck and licking a path from her collarbone to her ear.

“Well, you can’t!” she protested, though somewhat weakly. “I can’t be horny at the ball.”

“Is there a law against it?” Fenrys chuckled. “Ball horniness?”

“Ugh, you guys are stupid. And yes, this dress will keep everything inside,” she pushed Azriel’s hand off her chest and sat back stoically.

“Is there anything beneath it?” Ruhn wondered over his shoulder.

“I think I can see your pussy,” Fenrys agreed, and she screeched and smacked his arm, while he laughed.

“Oh my god! I hate you all! You can’t see anything!” she yelled.

“No babygirl, I can definitely see your pussy,” Ruhn argued.

“I am wearing a thong,” she snapped. “It’s flesh coloured.”

“You can take the thong off and show us your pussy,” Azriel proposed reasonably.

“Why can’t you be normal?” she lamented loudly.

The location for this ball was an old rambling mansion outside the city. It was beautiful here–tree-lined streets framed huge, sprawling estates. Old money. No riff raff here.

They drove up to one of the larger estates, following a long winding path which was shaded by old ewe trees and well-manicured shrubbery. There were dozens of cars rounding the circular driveway, unloading the guests, before being parked somewhere off site.

“Ready for this, kiddos?” Ruhn asked jovially, getting out of the car first. He was greeted by Cassian, who was waiting for them outside.

“Let’s do it!” Fenrys was out next, and then Azriel. The four men lined up, and Azriel helped Elain out of the car.

Cassian whistled quietly under his breath when she emerged from the car.

“Hi Cass!” she greeted him, and he couldn’t stifle a gasp. He wasn’t into Elain at all. She wasn’t his type, and his attention was firmly planted on her older, prickly sister, but gosh darn it, this one was a beauty! She was so wildly enticing, she almost didn’t seem real. No wonder her men tried to minimise her associating with other males–no man could be immune to this level of gorgeousness.

“You look…wow!” he complimented her badly and she smiled at him.

“You look good too,” she offered. “You should all wear suits and tuxedos all the time!”

“Hard to kill people in a suit,” Ruhn said blandly, his heavy hand landing on the back of her neck. It snaked beneath her hair and she felt his thumb press on his mark on her neck. He rubbed it softly, almost absently, his eyes darting quickly around and assessing the surroundings. But nothing that Ruhn did was ever incidental or absentminded. This was a reminder. The light scratch of his finger on the mark was a reminder that she belonged to him. To them. No one else had the rights to her.

They were admitted to a vast foyer, with a spiralling wrought iron staircase and four chandeliers which were dripping with crystals and silver. Enormous flower arrangements of white flowers, even more crystal, silver branches and cascades of fluffy roses over bannisters and around the windows were the primary decorations.

Azriel and Elain entered first, her hand resting on his arm, Ruhn and Fenrys flunking them on both sides, and Cassian in the back. Men in tuxedos were abound and women were all clad in various shades of black, a lot of skin on display, diamonds dripping from necks and ears and wrists.

It didn’t escape Azriel that Elain didn’t wear any jewellery. Granted, her sparkling gown didn’t require any embellishments, but she had plenty of exquisite pieces at home that she could have showcased right here, right now. But she only wore her triple wedding bands–nothing else. Elain, always elegant, always aware of when it was enough and when to make a statement. She was making a statement right now–she was a wife, a King, and so wealthy she didn’t actually have to drape herself in gems. She was secure in herself and her position, arriving at a black ball in a white dress. And boy did she stand out. The din of noise around the reception room and the foyer died down when the five of them entered. By far, the most interest was directed at the lovely girl in a white dress. So much so that a whisper swept over the crowds and guests shamelessly gawked at her.

There was Graysen Nolan, representing the Irish mob, a sneer on his face, for it was no secret that he was bidding heavily on the chance to marry Elain. The Zimnevskys were here as well–Kallias and Vivian, husband and wife, and first cousins to boot, both looking almost identical with their white hair and pale faces. Insignificant power-wise, they were wealthy beyond belief. Why? Third generation caviar dealers. That’s all they specialised in–fish roe. They were old money, the first Zimnevsky immigrating to the US in the early 70s. Not part of the ‘bratva’ or the Russian mafya. They were rich and snobby.

Kier Hewn and his wife and sons were here as well. Kier offered Azriel a tight nod. He blamed Azriel for the death of his daughter Morrigan–perhaps rightfully so. Now, Azriel was married to someone else. The Morrigan-Azriel union was planned for years and when she died, Kier lost his hold on his future son-in-law. Azriel wasn’t sure if that troubled Kier more than the death of his daughter.

Red-headed Vanserras were sprinkled around. All tall, all pale, all with flaming red hair.

“Ginger pubes are here,” Fenrys muttered nastily.

“It’s too early in the evening for me to start thinking about Vanserra pubes,” Azriel moaned.

A shadow fell on them and Azriel took in the looming form of Lorcan Salvaterre.

Dressed in all black, his long black hair arranged no less artfully than Elain’s, Lorcan gave them a friendly sort of smile, though his gaze was firmly on Elain.

“The three Kings, and their Queen,” he said.

“Thank you for the invitation,” Azriel retorted, his face placid.

Lorcan extended his massive hand and Azriel shook it. The man glanced at the scars on Azriel’s hands, but did not react, as if it was pretty normal and nothing special. Azriel didn’t mind the lack of scrutiny.

“The pleasure is mine,” Lorcan answered politely. But it was clear that all of this chit chat was of no interest to him, as his dark eyes skimmed over Elain, her white dress, her breasts, her puffy lips, her naked arms.

Suddenly, she pulled away from Azriel and smiled widely.

“Tanti auguri, Lorcan!” she exclaimed, and even more unexpectedly, opened her clutch and pulled out a small box, handing it to him.

“Ti sei ricordato?” he looked amazed, twisting the box in his massive hand.

“Of course I remembered!” she beamed at him.

He offered her his arm, and she looped her hand through it.

With a smirk, he reminded her “Questa è una festa nera, bellissima.”

Elain shrugged and said, “Non gioco mai secondo le regole.”

He sized her up and commented, “Ne sono molto felice.” And then, pulling her away from her men, he murmured warmly, “Sei sbalorditivo!”

Azriel exchanged a confused and angry look with his brother.

“What the fuck was that?!!” Fenrys demanded, as they watched their woman and Lorcan make the rounds with the guests. Lorcan had a flute of champagne in her hand in 10 seconds stat and they were toasting to something, giggling like school girls.

“It’s his birthday?” Ruhn frowned.

“Ahhh, of course I remembered,” Fen taunted in a thin, girlish voice, rolling his eyes. “What else did he say?” he demanded then.

Cassian looked kind of amused by the whole thing, but he translated,

“He told her that it was a black ball. She told him that she never plays by the rules…”

“Seriously?!” Fenrys looked aghast. “That’s so…lame,”

Cassian shrugged, while Azriel caught a waiter with a tray of champagne and rage drank the whole thing, like the drink offended him.

“Oh, and Lorcan is very happy too,” Ruhn added glumly, “because his ‘beautiful’ doesn’t play by the rules. And she is stunning,”

His tattooed fingers twitched, like he wanted to smash something, Ruhn had a glass thrust into his hand by Cassian, before he could lose his shit completely.

“I call her ‘beautiful’!” he snarled.

Azriel sighed and motioned to them,

“Let’s go.”

There was a whole orchestra playing in the reception hall, and couples were dancing, while others huddled in groups, muttering and assessing.

Elain stood out in the crowd like a peacock among a murder of crows and it was easy to watch her. Ruhn was left to observe her and the crowd, his expression sullen, while Fenrys was unleashed and went to do what he did best–schmooze and rub shoulders with everyone. It wasn’t just the mafia dons who were here–a few recognizable billionaires mingled with well-known developers, gallery owners were talking to a famous actor, and Fen was soon surrounded by a gaggle of models, who all looked emaciated in their tiny black dresses. There were Italian billionaires and designers milling about, a few pseudo Royals from Monaco and Greece, and a whole lot of wealthy idle people who liked parties.

Ruhn didn’t give a shit about any of them. His attention was on groups of rivals, and on what those breakdowns looked like. The Vanserras were talking to the Nolans, and there was another player in that mix–the Vassilevskys. A brutal Russian clan, which liked to burn their enemies inside tires. Fingerless and earless Lucien Vanserra was apparently dating one of the daughters, Vasilisa Vassilevskaya. If that wasn’t a tongue twister of a name, Ruhn didn’t know what was. That would be a trio to look out for.

“Az!”

Azriel turned at the call of the familiar voice.

Helion DiGiorni stood by the wall, smiling. The man had more swag than Fenrys in his step, and as he approached Az, he opened his arm and gave his old friend and college roommate a one sided awkward man hug.

“How are you, man?” Helion asked. “How’s married life?”

He was dressed in a tux, but the shirt was unbuttoned three buttons down his dark muscular chest and the bow tie hung haphazardly over his neck. The man looked like he was undressing for an orgy.

That’s how Helion was–powerful, and loyal only to himself. He held his own to the rest of the families, the last remaining scion of a once-large DiGiorni family. Beron Vanserra killed two of Helion’s brothers. Mad Dog Hybern killed the other. Helion killed one of Beron’s seven sons. Elain killed Mad Dog Hybern. Hybern’s sister Amarantha vowed revenge, though no one but Nesta and the three Kings knew about Elain and Hybern.

Yep. Theirs was an incestuous little world of blood and revenge, money and marriages.

“The wife is good,” Azriel smiled, clapping his old friend on the back and tracking Elain in the crowds.

“Beautiful as fuck is what she is,” Helion smirked.

He was a connoisseur of beautiful women. Beautiful men as well. In fact, Azriel knew him…biblically. Back in college, Helion and Azriel and Morrigan had a few threesomes. A few other times, Cassian also took part. Foursomes. Twosomes. Whatever worked–it was college and college was a little wild. Or a lot. It was definitely very wild for Helion, whose numbers of conquests could only be rivalled by Ruhn.

“Seems like our host is quite taken by her,” he cocked his brow at Azriel in a silent question.

Az sighed and said,

“They have history.”

“History? Do tell!”

Helion was also a connoisseur of all kinds of gossip.

“They dated,” Azriel didn’t feel the need to keep that bit of history a secret. “He went to Italy, I swooped in. The rest is history.”

“Ahhh…well, not to Lorcan, apparently.”

Az blew out a deep breath and shrugged,

“Unless I go out there and rip out Salvaterre’s arms, or leash her to my side, there isn’t much I can do here.”

“Hey, this little infatuation of his might yet prove useful to you. Now, what about the other Archeron?”

At that, Cassian, who stood behind Az, tensed.

“The Ice Princess,” Helion continued. “Nesta.”

“Should be here,” Azriel reported casually.

It wasn’t the first time that Helion expressed interest in Nesta. Though Azriel suspected that to Helion, she was more of a challenge rather than anything else. A marriage between them would be tricky, both of them heads of their families, and also singular heads, with no one to take over if something happened to them.

A Silver Flame was what Nesta Archeron was.

Somehow, even without looking out there, Cassian felt her. Her presence was just that powerful. A beguiling siren call.

Azriel and Helion kept talking about business and gossiping about everyone present, trying to figure out Lorcan’s angle, and Cassian was only half-listening. Helion was a friend, but his relentless interest in getting Nesta into his bed was annoying.

It’s not like Cassian had a reason to be jealous. It made no sense. He and Nesta never dated, barely spoke, and she could only bring herself to accept a cup of tea from him. She was stubborn as a mule. Impossible. Rude. Haughty. Annoying. Irresistible. Unattainable.

Why was he cursed to pine for this gloriously irritating woman?

God forbid he’d have someone like Elain, who fell for Az in about 30 seconds, and now lived happily with him and the other two, adored and adoring them. No. That would be too easy. Instead, he was stuck walking on eggshells around the Ice Queen, as Helion called her, and it was both infuriating and masochistically desirable.

There she was.

He turned fully, so he could experience the glory that was Nesta Archeron.

She strode forth, unbending, unyielding.

So beautiful, his heart ached.

“Dio mio,” he heard Helion’s growl, “what a fine beauty.’

Nesta was basically the exact opposite of Elain. Where Elain was soft and fluffy, like a feather or one of the thousands of roses that adorned the halls of this estate, Nesta was a silver blade, sharp and smooth and precise.

She wore a form-fitting black lace dress, which hugged her figure to perfection. And that was because her figure was perfection. Nesta was thin. No curves. The deep V of her neckline, which extended almost to the navel was the only sexy thing about her long-sleeved, mermaid style dress.

Her hair was gathered in a severe chignon, as always.

Somehow, Lorcan also sensed that she had arrived, because he made a beeline to her and Cassian observed him kiss her hand and then talk to her about something. She smiled, somewhat strained, but polite. Unlike Elain, Nesta didn’t like big social gatherings, or fleeting interactions with strangers. Cassian has known the three sisters long enough, and only Elain knew how to work a crowd. And work she did. She could be tireless and had the ability to convince each person that they were the most important person in her life when she spoke to them. Nesta was the opposite–she was short, often rude, disinterested. Feyre was a little bit of both, but she was socially awkward and shined only when Rhysand was next to her.

She looked like a queen and when Lorcan offered her his hand in a dance, Cassian felt a stab of jealousy. Another man could touch her like that–touch her body, press her against him, whisper something in her ear–and he could barely get a handshake.

“Well, if nothing else, I am getting a dance out of this,” Helion announced decisively.

Azriel chuckled and murmured ‘good luck!’

“You think about what I told you,” Helion warned, and Cassian realised that he didn’t hear anything that was discussed, too consumed by his thoughts and the arrival of the object of his desire. Some head of security he was! He’d bet that neither Ruhn, nor Fen were swayed by anyone with a pussy, and when he glanced at Ruhn, who was talking to Thesan, a mysterious Japanese contact that may or may not have been in the Yakuza, he could see that Ruhn was absolutely attuned to everything that was taking place around him.

A soft little hand suddenly landed on his elbow and he jolted, turning to see Elain standing right behind him. Jesus! He didn’t even notice his Lady and wasn’t aware of her presence or her whereabouts.

Elain never touched him, but here she was, squeezing his arm and whispering,

“I think you should dance with Nesta, Cass.”

Gruffly, he argued,

“She is already occupied by Lorcan.”

“I think you should dance with her,” Elain pressed. “I’ll handle Lorcan.”

“I am cutting in,” Cassian stepped next to Lorcan and Nesta. “If you don’t mind,” he added lazily, doing the bare minimum to appear polite.

Nesta stiffened against Lorcan and glared at the intruder.

Lorcan was seven feet tall. Even though Cassian was almost 6’6, he was still dwarfed by the sheer size of the Italian, and not that he was intimidated, but it gave him an uneasy feeling to interfere with Salvaterre’s plans.

Then suddenly, the marshmallow swept in and just like that, Lorcan’s thoughts of Nesta were forgotten.

Elain stood there, looking adorably lost–all an act–searching around, before saying,

“Ahh, I seem to have lost my husband! I wanted to dance with him!”

“I will gladly dance with you, Donna Elain,” Lorcan said at once, his eyes slowly and ravenously sliding over her body. He hardly left her side tonight, and the moment she reappeared, he fluttered to her like a moth to a flame.

“Are you sure?” she batted her lashes at him. “I don’t want to interrupt,”

Nesta rolled her eyes a bit, watching the performance.

“It’s fine, Elain,” she said crisply, “if Mr. Salvaterre wants to dance with you, he is welcome to.”

Then, as if unable to help herself, she added dryly,

“You do know that this is a black ball?”

Elain looked down at her white gown and shrugged innocently, like it was the first time she noticed that she was wearing white.

“Ahhh, I must have forgotten!”

“Your dress is perfect, Donna Elain,” Lorcan assured her, and then swept her into his arms. They danced away, Elain gently clutching at his bicep, her long hair brushing over his hand on her waist.

“You just had to cut in, didn’t you?” she snapped at Cassian, who was waiting. He dismissed her tone with a shrug and then pulled her to him, landing his hand firmly on her hip. There was a tiny, but audible gasp that came from her, when he pressed her to his body and took her hand in his.

“Can’t blame me. You look amazing,” he complimented her wholeheartedly.

Something softened in Nesta’s gaze at his words, and she relaxed a bit next to him, while he tugged her into the steps of the dance.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a dancer,” she commented, while he effortlessly led her around in his embrace.

God he looked good.

She already glimpsed a sight of Ruhn and Fenrys, and both looked like cage fighters who moonlighted as male models. Azriel didn’t disappoint as usual–he was standing next to Helion, another specimen of vulgar hyper-sexual masculinity, and looked sharp and in control.

Cassian, in her humble opinion, outdid them all.

He was perfect. Big and muscular, dangerous, handsome and smooth.

“Well, sweetheart,” he smirked, “you haven’t pegged me at all, but anything is possible.”

Her full lips formed a shocked O and he laughed.

“Loosen up, Nes. You are at a party.”

He spun her around, and then grabbed her waist and almost had her straddling his thigh. Firm, muscular thigh. Not that she’d noticed.

“And yes, I know how to dance. Attended enough of the King parties over the years. Those boys are tattooed and dangerous, but they are also fucking fancy.”

“And you?”

“Am I fancy?” he chuckled, his hands hot and strong on her waist. “Fancy enough. Our Fen here is probably the least fancy of all,”

“Fenrys?” she smiled. “I would’ve thought otherwise.”

“Nah, he is just an East End boy from London. Mostly brawn, but in his case, also beauty.”

“Speaking of beauty,” Nesta glanced at her sister, who was swirling around Lorcan, “what’s her game?”

“Ahhh, you noticed it too?”

“Obviously.”

“Elain is the Queen of the ball. Az is allowing it. Lorcan is lapping it up…”

“Why are you involving her in business?” Nesta grumbled.

“Oh, I don’t think they are. This is all Elain. This is Elain, Azriel King’s own Queen. Elain, showing everyone that the Kings can get to anyone. Even Lorcan Salvaterre.”

Elain was hot. The crowds on the dancefloor were swelling, and with all the dancing and chatting, she felt like she was moving in a furnace.

Outside in the garden, there were tables with food and cocktails, and she escaped the ballroom, after an uncomfortable dance with gross Graysen. He was breathing loudly, and his touch felt weird. Once she was able to extricate herself from him, she escaped outside.

But she wasn’t alone for long.

“Allow me to get you something to eat,” Lorcan’s smooth, deep voice sounded behind her. He gently herded her to a marble bench and she sat down, while he went to get food. She was brought water and a cocktail by a server, and then Lorcan returned with plates of appetisers.

He sat down next to her and fed her a tiny shrimp pastry, which she accepted into her mouth.

“I am envious,” he blurted out suddenly.

“Of what?” she flipped her hair over her shoulder, and looked at him with curiosity in her gaze.

“Azriel King, I suppose,” he admitted.

Then, he locked her with his watchful, penetrating eyes and added,

“And Fenrys King. And Ruhn King.”

She didn’t react.

“Or so the rumours would have me believe,” he prodded.

She popped a slice of creamy potato topped with a dollop of caviar in her mouth and said,

“Rumours. As you said. Rumours.”

“Are they?” he pressed.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I wonder if Azriel is the type of man who would defy societal norms to this degree? And share his wife with his brother and his cousin,”

Elain popped her lips, but she didn’t seem upset by the weird line of questioning.

“He doesn’t share me,” she said at last.

Lorcan looked at her closely, as if hunting for a lie.

“They don’t share me,” she continued slowly, “we are a family. We just happen to be a family of four. It’s not like they pass me around like a toy. It was my choice…”

She looked down at her knees, and then he suddenly tipped her chin up and made her look at him.

“And you are happy?”

“I am.”

“If you are not, know that you have a friend in me,” he added meaningfully.

“I am. Truly,” she confirmed. If she wasn’t happy, Lorcan would take care of Azriel.

“Swear it.”

“I swear it. I love them.”

After a beat, he sighed and said,

“Fine. We’ll set up a meeting.”

She exhaled.

“Are you sure?”

“Would you rather I work with the Vanserras?” he inquired.

“No. I don't think so.”

“I think that you might be the future. Your Azriel might be the future, and I am interested in those who have the vision and the power to achieve it.”

Azriel was huddled with Ruhn and Fenrys, talking among themselves, when Elain cleaved their group and eased between them.

“Hey beautiful!” Ruhn greeted her. “I am surprised you even remember that we exist.”

“Drama queen,” she threw at him and the other two laughed.

“So what have you been doing all this time? Except for getting pawed at by Lorcan Salvaterre?”

“He didn’t paw at me! He’s been nothing but courteous.”

“I am sure,” Azriel hissed.

On more than one occasion, his brothers, and Helion, had to pull him back. He seethed silently every time Elain had a new dance partner, and Ruhn was forced to stop him from walking over and wrenching her away from the men she was dancing with.

“I hate this dress,” Azriel hissed venomously.

She smiled and cupped his face in her hand.

“No you don’t, you silly. You love it.”

“I hate it,” he insisted.

“I hate it too,” Ruhn agreed with a grin. “So much so that I want to go home soon and tear it off her…”

“I would concur,” Fenrys rubbed his lower lip with his thumb. “This dress has been a point of contention the entire evening,”

“Not to me,” she shrugged innocently.

“Who even made this damn dress?” Azriel asked. “Whose hands should I break?”

“You gonna break Armani’s hands?” she gasped.

“Ugh, figures.”

“Okay you psychos,” she put her hands on her hips and stared them down. “While you’ve been obsessing over some dress and losing yourself in the fantasy of breaking Giorgio’s hands, I came to inform you that Lorcan Salvaterre would like to set up a meeting with you. To talk business.”

“With us?” Azriel perked up.

“You are his choice,” she confirmed. “He wants to get into the King game.”

“The King game is the game that wins,” Fenrys announced.

Suddenly, Ruhn’s face changed and he muttered, “Motherfucker!”

Everyone turned to follow his surprised face.

“Shit…”

“Eris.”

The tall, muscular prince of the Vanserra family entered the ballroom. He carried himself in a relaxed, confident manner. No one would believe that he’s been hiding for the past however months in the Bronx, trying to avoid Lorcan Salvaterre. He strolled in, his long red hair floating about him, the handsome face etched with his perpetual haughty sneer.

“Well, that’s ballsy,” Fenrys scratched his head.

Whispers rippled around the huge room, and when Azriel glanced towards Eris’s parents, Immacolata and Beron, they seemed just as shocked at his appearance as everyone else. Lucien, his youngest brother, looked confused and put off. In Eris’s absence, he seemed to have stepped up and taken the reins, and now, it seemed that the Heir was back and Lucien would lose his place on the crowded Vanserra throne.

Lorcan showed up in the midst of the gathering and walked slowly over to Eris.

Without batting an eye, he extended his hand to Eris and said,

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Eris.”

Eris looked unconcerned. He briefly shook Lorcan’s hand and said,

“The Vanserras were invited and I am a Vanserra.”

“So it would seem.”

“Well, don’t stop on my accord,” Eris left Lorcan behind and everyone watched as he made a determined path towards…Nesta.

Nesta shrugged Cassian off and watched Eris with the same rapt attention as everyone else.

He stopped in front of her and looked her up and down. It was like two snakes sizing each other up before a battle.

Extending his hand to her, he all but ordered her, “Dance with me”.

Nesta looked around the crowd, her stormy grey eyes passing by Elain, and the Kings. Elain looked as shocked at the turn of events as anybody. Even Azriel looked surprised.

Nesta’s lips quivered with a smile. It wasn’t often that Azriel was taken by surprise.

Behind her, Cassian put his hand on her shoulder and softly murmured, “Nes…”

But she was already disengaging from him, her hand reaching out to Eris, who smiled at her with his cold smirk. Their fingers tangled together and then he pulled her to him, hard enough for her to stumble.

Elain looked at Ruhn, then Azriel, her face paling.

“What is she doing?” she begged. “Why?”

“It looks like Nesta is choosing sides. And she is not siding with us.”

#the kings wife #elriel fanfiction #my writing #chapter 11 #the black ball #elain archeron #elain and azriel #Elain and Azriel and Ruhn and Fenrys #dark mafia romance #mafia au #reverse harem #elriel #fenrys moonbeam #ruhn danaan #acotar and tog and CC crossover #my fanfiction

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nikethestatue · 2 years

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The Kings’ Wife

Chapter 5

Fenrys’s Turn

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, pervasive language throughout, violence

“I waited too long for you. I will devour you, love you into flame…”

Elain, as it turned out, was a messy sleeper.

It was not yet five in the morning when Azriel woke up–his usual time. The room was still mostly dark, when he turned on his side and looked at her. They didn’t touch during the night. He fought the desire to brush his hand over hers, but he knew that if he started with one touch, he wouldn’t end with it. He’d need to taste, he’d want to devour, he’d crave filling her with himself until the world itself moaned with pleasure.

Elain was a little too tempting for him not to touch, so he stayed on his side of the bed. He was acutely aware of her presence in his room: of her scent–some expensive perfume that he liked very much, and would have to ask her about it later–of her breathing, of her warmth, and of her hair. Jesus fucking Christ the hair! It was everywhere. So much hair. It flowed everywhere–covering the pillows, the sheets, the blanket. She’d pulled half the blanket off of him during the night, and was now swaddled like a burrito. A hairy burrito. And he was cold, with half of his body uncovered, and the rest hot. She’d smacked him a few times with her hand, rolling about and hitting him in the face, on the shoulder, as pushing at him with her legs. He felt every touch. She didn’t feel anything or react at all, sleeping through everything. And Azriel loved it. At one point, she pushed her cold feet into him, burrowing closer, seeing his natural warmth and thrusting the two icicles between his legs. It gave him a shiver, but he enjoyed it nonetheless, keeping them warm between his thighs.

How was he so whipped so quickly? 2 days? A month? And here he was, completely besotted with his new wife. Truly, only a few days. But, he also knew that he was compulsive, at times, obsessive. He’d been in love once before, with Morrigan, and with her, it was the same thing–a mere glance, and he was hooked.

He knew what he liked. He knew what he wanted. It didn’t change and he was not prone to whims. He wasn’t Fenrys, who had a new ‘love’ every other week. The one girl that he always thought was ‘the one’. They never were. But Fen kept trying. Azriel did not look for women. He had sex and he worked and that was his life–emotions were not part of it. But in the dim light of the bedroom, he looked at his scarred, rough hand and drew his thumb over the simple platinum wedding band that he now wore. And glancing at Elain’s pale hand, he took in her own–a replica of his, only studded with diamonds. She now wore two bands–he supposed that Ruhn finally offered her his (hopefully not at Subway). And a certain pleasant calm descended upon him–the realisation that the search was over.

He fell back asleep, to his utter surprise. He never fell back asleep once he was awake, but this was a week of many firsts for him.

When he woke up, Elain was no longer in his bed. At some point, she’d left, without waking him, and covered him with the comforter to keep him warm.

Elain tossed Mwah-Mwah on her bed and went to the bathroom.

She slept pretty well, though she was a little worried that Azriel would ask her to leave or that she’d wake him up. But he seemed to have slept through the night and didn’t even notice that she was in his bed. Which was a relief. It was nice–sharing the bed with him. Yet, she was so nervous, she didn’t even get the chance to look around his bedroom, and couldn’t say anything about it. She didn’t even know what colour bedding he had. All she remembered was the pleasant, comforting heat of his body, especially when she–accidentally–began warming up her feet on his legs. He made a muffled snorting sound, but didn’t wake up and she just kept them there.

She brushed her teeth, enjoying her nice, spacious bathroom and savouring the feeling of freedom…

Well, she wasn’t actually free. Maybe even less free than she was before, because now, it was all about guards and codes and secret doors and a house that no one knew about. Yesterday, Ruhn explained to her that the house–the old fire station–was decommissioned a long time ago and stood, abandoned, and ready for the wrecking ball. It was a prime piece of New York real estate, right smack in the middle of Lower Manhattan, in Soho. When things became a little too tight in Little Italy for so many families clustering within a few city blocks, the Kings bucked the trend, didn’t move to Long Island or Jersey, and instead, went a little bit west, but still a stone-throw away from their old neighbourhood. But Soho was prestigious, fashionable, expensive. It wasn’t a poor Italian hood from the 1870s. And the Kings weren’t the old-fashioned Tony Sopranos of the world.

So, they bought the four buildings, and the old fire station. The Old King still resided in Little Italy and didn't want to have anything to do with this place, for which the sons were definitely grateful. There was obviously something going on between the father and the sons, and Elain was going to find out what it was, and why the dynamics seemed so strained. Even at the wedding, the Old King didn’t bother with a toast, and only half-heartedly danced half a dance with her, even though she was his first daughter-in-law. Not that she minded. Elain found the Old King handsome–hence the remarkably good-looking, brawny, tall sons–but somehow…malicious. There was an aura of debauchery and cruelty coming off him, as well as something else that Elain couldn’t quite put her finger on. Envy? Resentment? But towards who?

Elain rinsed her mouth, figuring that there would be a lot that she’d have to learn about her new family, and the unhealthy foundation. Though, truth be told, she’d never met a happy, well-adjusted ‘made’ family, including her own.

She undressed and stepped into the large glass-enclosed shower.

Despite everything, it was still nice–the current situation. Not needing to deal with Nesta, or their father. As close as she was with Nesta, her sister was domineering, demanding, and at times, degrading. Nesta was short-tempered and impatient, and whenever things didn’t go her way, she often took it out on Elain. Not having Nesta around is going to be an adjustment, but one that Elain wasn’t sure was going to be a painful one. Perhaps it was time that they all separated.

Just as Elain relaxed under the rain showerhead, the door to the bathroom opened, and in strolled Fenrys. No knock. No request for permission to enter. Just Fenrys, naked, but for gray boxer-briefs.

Elain screeched and turned around, trying to hide her nudity, which earned her a “Nice ass!” compliment.

“What are you doing here?” she cried.

There was no shower curtain to hide behind.

“Hey babygirl, how did you sleep?” he inquired cheerfully, ignoring her squeals, and started brushing his teeth, with a toothbrush that he brought with him.

“You travel light,” she noted dryly, trying to cover herself as much as possible, “how Egyptian of you.”

He barked a laugh, watching her in the mirror, brushing vigorously, while Elain was eyeing him from under her lashes, trying and failing to be discreet about it. He allowed her the opportunity to ogle, without displaying a shred of modesty. He knew he was a fine specimen of a male–toweringly tall, with broad shoulders which were packed with heavy muscles, and thickly muscled arms as well, and he didn’t hide any of it. Despite his breezy attitude and seemingly perpetually positive, exuberant personality, his body told a different story–scarred in places, it was apparent that he was so fit and sculpted not because of vanity, but rather, due to necessity. On his right side, Elain spied a telltale round scar that looked like a bursting start–a gunshot wound. Same, on his bicep. Scars on his arms, long and thin, likely from knife cuts. Knuckles, which she already knew were padded in scar tissue, from numerous scuffles and fights.

As expected, Fen was a little wilder than Azriel, even in appearance. He wasn’t particularly concerned with being smooth and pristine–though Elain figured that Azriel was naturally smooth like that–and there was a sexy dusting of hair on his truly washboard stomach. The Adonis belt was so pronounced, it looked like a set of extra muscles on his already insane eight-pack.

“You are shaped like a Dorito!” Elain spat with annoyance.

He glanced at her and grinned his slightly maniacal smile, flashing a row of beautiful white teeth.

“Doritos are a choice chip!” he announced, spitting the toothpaste in the sink and then, without any preamble, he rolled his underwear down and strode across the bathroom and into the shower.

“My god, what are you doing?” she gasped.

“A. taking a shower with my wife. B. my shower doesn’t work,” he explained, crowding her, as he hogged the shower head, squeezing her towards the wall. Then, his broad, calloused palms lay on her hips and he turned her around, to face him.

“Your arse is fine and an 11 out of 10, but I like your face even more!”

Of course, the moment she was faced with him, her treacherous eyes fell below his waist.

Well, that explained his exaggerated sense of self and his extreme confidence. Who wouldn’t be confident and feel like he could rule the world with THAT?

His dick was massive. Absolutely…huge.

Elain didn’t have a lot of experience with dicks, but when she saw Ruhn’s yesterday, she thought that his was enormous. Which it was. It was thick enough to give him a run for his own grip, but this…

She swallowed. Fenrys smirked, following her gaze, and then nodded, slowly, eyebrow cocked with amusement. He was half-hard, and that enormous dick kept grazing over Elain’s thigh and hip, while he shampooed his hair and then pumped more of her coconut shampoo into his palm and began to gently but thoroughly lather it into her long locks. She inhaled deeply, as he massaged her scalp, his hands heavy but careful and gentle on her head.

“Mmm, that feels good,” she murmured, eyes closing, her hands handing on his sides, squeezing him instinctually.

He smiled, stroking and massaging her head, making her moan softly and her breasts bounce.

“You have the prettiest fucking titties,” he groaned, watching her from his massive height.

He was the tallest of the brothers–a magnificent, if intimidating 6”5, his shoulders built to break down doors, his long legs allowing him to run fast whenever needed, and his athletic body agile and powerful, ideal for fighting and manhandling others.

Elain wasn’t small–she stood at an above-average 5”7, just like Feyre, with Nesta being the tallest of the sisters, at 5”10. But compared to Fenrys, she felt small and fragile, only reaching his chest. With him though, she always felt coddled and protected–probably a stupid idea, though.

With Ruhn, it was dangerous–exciting, but a little nerve-wrecking, because she never knew what to expect of him. Much like Fenrys, Ruhn didn’t care for social graces, and he filled the space around him with an aura of authority laced with violence.

Fenrys was like a wild horse, a mustang–untamed, with an aura of world-weariness, despite his young-er age, and disdain for rules and regulations. Fenrys breathed and lived , wild and free and soulful, and he set Elain’s heart alight. Being in his presence meant that she was breathing and living and gulping the air around her.

She looked down and watched his left hand cup her breast, his thumb pressing and teasing her hard, thick nipple, while he slowly rinsed her hair with his right hand. His complexion was lighter than that of Ruhn and Azriel, the skin a pale golden hue, and Elain noted that they were very similar in colour, especially when his wide, large palm clasped around her breast, covering it completely.

“Do you want to come, baby?” he murmured into her head, that cock of his growing stronger and even bigger between their wet, flushed bodies.

“Where?” she breathed, feeling light headed and breathless, even though he was hardly doing anything to her body. But the heat that was pouring out of him, the dangerous hunger in those dark, unusual eyes which devoured her naked body made Elain shiver, as she clutched at his side, her nails pressing into his skin.

He huffed an amused laugh and clarified, “Babygirl, why are you so stupidly innocent? Like a little fluffy lamb sent to three wolves.”

Elain pouted, understanding what he’d meant, but then muttered, “Fine. I want to come.”

Fenrys’s eyes glittered with excitement, his golden locks dripping water onto her face, when he cupped her jaw and placed a little chaste kiss on her lips.

“How far did Ruhn get with you yesterday?” he whispered, pressing her into the tiled wall, the hand on her breast rolling the globe tightly, possessively. “Don’t tell me that he only took you to a museum…Though I wouldn’t put it past him to go down on you in front of some expensive painting, I think he gets off on things like these. Ruhnnie is an auteur, if nothing else.”

Elain was panting wildly, the magnificent dick pressed into her belly, a living, hot pole against her wet skin and she managed to ask,

“And you?”

He pulled on her nipple, squeezing it hard between his fingers and made her whimper with pain. He kissed her and whispered into her mouth, “what about me?”

“Do you want to come?” she asked, looking up at him with her caramelly eyes.

He grinned wolfishly and nodded, “who doesn’t want to come, babygirl?”

“You’ll show me?” she swallowed, “How to touch you? What you like?”

“Sure,” he agreed easily. “Even if Az will try to rip my dick off because you touched mine first.”

She choked a laugh, a little uncomfortable, since the threat sounded plausible.

She wasn’t sure of what the ‘rules’ were exactly–Azriel didn’t seem to mind when the others came onto her, and didn’t seem to be too concerned about sharing, though she knew that the virginity thing would have to go to him.

“So you think I’ll go easy on you?” he pondered, looking down at her, “if you are asking to try my dick first?”

She laughed nervously,

“Easy?” Elain shook her head. “With this monster cock?”

He palmed himself and then agreed, “Big boy is big”.

“No,” she assured him, “but you…” she thought for a moment, while his hand massaged and massaged her breasts, until she finally explained, “I trust you.”

His ridiculously handsome face lit up at the admission and he smiled, muttering, “good. I might be a crazy bastard, but you are my girl. You make me feel,” the normally cold, bottomless dark eyes warmed up at the words, full of emotion, “like maybe I've done something good in my life, Lainey, if I got you. You are a reward, a prize that I’ve won, even though I always expected to come last.”

Elain wrapped her arms around him and leapt onto him, breathing, “Ahh, Fen…Never last!”

“You are my good girl,” he smiled, tugging her to him, so she was flash against his hard, solid body, every bit of her softness melding into his flesh, the arms caging her, while he stroked her head.

He turned her around then, brashly, without warning, and pressed her hands to the wet cold tiles, just above her head, his hot lips muttering into her ear, “stay like that”. The large hands caressed her from shoulders, down her back and sides, clasping her narrow waist and pulling her towards him, spreading her thighs wider with his knee.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he groaned warmly, admiring her back, those hands cupping her ass cheeks, just shy of being large enough to be able to grasp the whole lot of them. Elain was not shy–to his great relief. She actually owned her body and her attractiveness with admirable skill and pride. She knew that she was pretty, actually far more than simply ‘pretty’, but remarkably beautiful, though she wasn’t conceited about it and treated her good looks with a measure of humour and nonchalance.

“How am I going to touch you,” she began, but he dropped on his knees behind her and snarled, “me first”.

She looked down at him, over her shoulder, her wet hair plastered to her back, and he moved it all impatiently over the other shoulder, so he had the lovely expanse of her naked back all to himself. Licking her lips, she watched him curiously, unsure of what he was about to do.

Elain was a Disney princess, wrapped in a sinful bow of lust and sexuality–with her exaggerated features; the overly large doe eyes, the sharp, but softly rounded cheekbones, the rosy lips which were like a blossoming tulip, the adorable beauty mark low on her chin. The whole package was an endless source of erotic agony for Fenrys King, who, if given the chance, would escape with her to his native London, lock her in his flat and fuck her senseless day in and day out. Apparently, kidnapping and owning his woman with his dick was frowned upon, by society, as well as by psychotic brothers.

But he understood them. Not the society and its dumb rules, but the primal and territorial rage that he’d experienced when anyone but he and his brothers even looked at her. She was his, and even though he knew that he’d never be the only one, she could only be shared with his blood.

He kissed her just above her bottom, where the two divots invited his lips and she gasped, when he pulled her cheeks apart and licked between them, his tongue swiping flat within the crevice, top to bottom. Elain groaned loudly, the sensation so foreign and forbidden, she didn't know what to do with herself. Yes, yesterday, Ruhn placed a few playful kisses right on her little hole, but it wasn’t as intentional as what Fenrys was doing right now.

“So sweet, it’s giving me a toothache,” he vowed, kneading her hips, her ass cheeks within his palms, licking her again, before kissing around the new tattoo on her upper thigh, his fingers skimming over the design.

“Ruhn did a beautiful job,” he commented, looking at the King crest on her supple flesh. “I love seeing you marked with us,” he admitted heatedly, kissing the tender skin, his lips soft and gentle, knowing that she was still sore from the bite and the tattoo.

“And I love being marked as a King,”

“My beautiful Queen,” he smiled and then kissed it again. “Sweetheart, tell me where you want to be marked with me? Not now…But later,”

“I’ll think about it,” she promised, panting softly, her core clenching and drenched, uncomfortable pressure pushing at it, while Fen muttered, more to himself, “look at you,” slapping the right buttock, his voice gruff with appreciation of the fine, generously ample flesh, before he rose rapidly to his feet and grabbed her face, kissing her roughly, one hand still firmly planted on her ass. He kissed her the way he yearned to fuck her–long and deep, with enough force that told her everything she needed to know–she was his. That she was never going to belong to anyone, but him. Them.

And then, Fenrys was back on his knees behind her, his face buried deep in her ridiculously tempting behind. He licked like she was ice cream melting in the summer heat–urgently and quickly, not wasting any time, or any bit of her flesh. It was wet and hot, and Fenrys moaned into the tight little rosebud of her anus. He split her open with his tongue, and swiped against the puckering opening again and again, while she whimpered pathetically somewhere above him, her thighs straining against the wet wall. Warm water poured over them, but Elain shivered violently, her pink, glossy lips parting with her moan. He grasped her ass cheek roughly, pressing his thumb into the anus, dragging his tongue around and around it, slurping loudly, filthily. That long, able tongue fucked into her, sliding into place and pumping deftly, knowingly, and the sound that burst from her lips was almost pained–loud and pitiful, as her legs began to shake, while her back arched deeper, her ass rubbing into his face.

“That’s right, my girl,” he urged her, “fuck yourself on me,”

“Fen, Fen,” she cried, “I can’t…oh, I want,”

“What do you want?” he encouraged her, lapping at her opening obscenely and feverishly, as her hips jerked and moved of their own volition, her fingers sliding noisily over the tiles. He was a man starved–his tongue and lips and nose all working with gluttonous abandon.

“I’ve been wanting you from the moment I saw you,” he growled, biting and nipping on her sensitive skin, his arms rising and grabbing both of her breasts, fingering her nipples mercilessly. “Wanted to fucking eat you up. Your mouth, your pussy, your ass, you tits–all of it mine,” he declared possessively.

“Yes, yes,” she mewled desperately, “everything is yours…oh my god, Fen, fuck me…oh, fuck my ass…do whatever you want to do,” she was hardly coherent, driven out of her mind by the spectacular tongue that this beast of a man possessed. Her lips formed a silent O, in a long, pathetic moan, as she sagged against him, her feet refusing to support her. He banded his strong arm around her middle, holding her up, sucking on her swelling hole like it was the sweetest fruit, as her bottom gyrated over his face. He tugged on his aching cock, adjusting himself, and then gripped it hard, relieving some of the pressure. His chin was bathed in her succulent wetness, but he restrained himself from diving into the tempting slit, because then, there would be no self-control left. He’d eat her out and fuck her senseless right here, in the shower, Azriel and everything else be damned.

He began fucking her tight hole with his tongue in earnest, rubbing his engorged cock and trying not to come just from the delicious noises that she was making. He might have to set the sound of her moans as his ringtone, so he’d hear it multiple times a day.

The trail that women left in his life was immeasurably long, but Elain was the one that somehow enthralled him completely, immediately. He didn't understand it, because it wasn't just about seduction or possession. It was something different, and more profound. He’d seduced plenty of women, so many, in fact, that most of them blended into one cohesive mess. Yet, Elain…his little feisty gorgeous virgin–she was different.

“Fenrys!” she screamed.

A violent tremor rocked her whole body–it was different from a normal orgasm, and she went completely silent, as if stunned. He kept licking, unable to stop his own tongue, his body from separating from her. Her toes curled and she choked out a silent, breathless sob of pleasure. Crumpling on the marble shower floor beside him, she panted loudly, eyes closed, her body shuddering and rocking, reaching desperately for him.

“Open your mouth, love,” he ordered, when she managed to finally look at him, her gaze dazed.

She watched him flip over her and cage her body between his thighs, almost sitting on her chest, his gorgeous cock just about bursting from his powerful rubbing, and she was unable to stop herself, the sight of the thick pink head so tempting that without him prompting her, she wrapped her lips around it.

“Fuck, Elain,” he howled, “pinch me, babe!”

She couldn’t help but laugh over the dick that was now crowding her mouth, and then pinched his shoulder, as he laughed too. Grabbing the back of her head with a tight grip, he pushed whatever fit in her mouth, uncaring about anything, but the soft red lips wrapped around his length.

“God you are fucking gorgeous with my dick in your mouth!” he growled, his voice so low and thick, she barely made out what he said. He also suddenly developed an acute English accent. That would have to be a question for another time, because it was the first time she was holding a dick in her mouth–and what a dick it was. Start with the best, she figured, swirling her tongue around the smooth head.

“Baby, will you swallow?” he asked, the accent still there, his tone almost pleading.

She nodded easily, because she couldn't even wait.

Nothing was happening according to the plans that she’d made in her head, but that was alright–she wanted to drown in this whirlwind of passion and unexpected sex acts, though being with Fenrys and Ruhn–what else would she expect?

He rubbed himself fiercely, the thickness of his shaft taking up her whole mouth, and she watched with fascination the workings of his tattooed fingers. Like the other brothers, his fingers were tattooed, though besides that, he only had Gavriel written on his chest. The other two were much more heavily inked, Ruhn especially, but Elain recognised Ruhn’s work on Fenrys’s hand.

His cock twitched and he released himself with a groan of pleasure, his eyes closing, and a blissful exhale escaping his lips. His orgasm face was just as, if not more beautiful, than his normal face and even if Elain was surprised by the new sensation of her mouth filling with his semen, she couldn’t tear her away from how fantastically beautiful he was. She swallowed rapidly, but there was so much cum, he spilled out of her mouth and down her chin.

He smiled at her, smearing it with his hand over her mouth, her face, while the water that was beating down on them, erased all traces of it at once. She wiped her lips, swallowing the remainder and then loudly kissed the tip of cock. He dropped on his ass and propped himself against the wall, draping his arms over his knees.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” he winked at her, smiling. “Did you enjoy your first breakfast?”

She flushed, understanding the joke and nodded.

“I liked my first breakfast.”

“Yeah?” his dark eyes glittered with humour and delight.

“Feed me like that every morning?” she proposed.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he drew his thumb over her lips, and she asked, “but a first breakfast?”

“Yeah!” he was up, his recovery time less than a minute apparently and then he pulled her up to her feet. “We got shit to do! Let’s go.”

Elain was ready in 15 minutes, her hair haphazardly dried, but she plaited it into a messy braid, slapped some blush on her cheeks and lip gloss on her lips. She wore a simple blue dress, a denim jacket over it and suede ankle booties. Fen recommended that she wear something on a warmer side, though he refused to tell her what they’ll be doing. Surprise.

The hour was early–not even 8 am yet, and when Elain made it downstairs, no one was there, except for Fenrys. He was dressed in his usual fashion–a white shirt, unbuttoned to the chest, black Diesel jeans, but today, he also sported biker boots and a leather jacket. Somewhat unusual for him.

He took her hand and threaded his fingers with her, holding her close.

They left the house, crossed the lawn and entered one of the Kings’ buildings.

“We’ll have to print you for access,” Fenrys decided and Elain nodded.

“Yes, like yesterday!” she exclaimed.

He chuckled, “Where you gonna go, babygirl?”

“Work!”

“Not doing a runner?”

“What’s with the English accent?!?” she exclaimed finally, looking at him in confusion.

He laughed and then…

“Ohmygod…” Elain just about screamed, her question forgotten.

Because they were inside a vast garage. A garage filled with every imaginable expensive, or rare car, as well as motorcycles.

Fenrys was amused by her reaction, not expecting her to be this excited about cars.

“A car enthusiast?” he inquired.

“I love cars!” she roared.

Under his breath, he muttered ‘Italians’ and then explained,

“American muscle cars and hotrods are Ruhn’s–he loves that shit and likes working on them too,” he waved to one wall of the garage.

Then, continued, “The Italian stallions are for his majesty, the Italian King,”

Elain smirked, murmuring, “Az…”

“Oh yeah, Ferraris, Maseratis, Alfa Romeos, no Lambos of course, because that’s ‘ for rappers and Paris Hilton ’,” he made air quotes for emphasis and she laughed.

“He isn’t wrong,” Elain noted. She then turned to the opposite wall, which was lined with motorcycles, Aston Martins, even a Rolls Roys, Minis and Bentleys.

“I am assuming that this is yours?”

He grinned proudly, nodding. He walked to a BSA motorcycle, hopped on it and patted the seat behind him.

“Hop on, princess!”

“A bike?” she moaned.

“A bike. Come on, now,” he started the bike and winked at her, “wrap those little hands around me, nice and tight.”

Elain climbed on behind him and gulped nervously. She’s never been on a bike before.

“Trust me, you’ll appreciate it when we don’t have to fight traffic,” he promised and they zoomed out of the garage and onto the street.

Elain has never been this scared. Not even when her father’s car was sprayed with bullets, and she was inside. Thank god for bulletproof windows.

But riding with Fenrys was an experience not for the faint of heart. He drove with complete abandon, zigzagging however he pleased, dodging trucks, vans and the sea of cars on a Tuesday morning in Manhattan.

“You are not allowed to kill me today!” she yelled into his ear, clutching at his waist, not caring if she was going to bruise his cartoonishly solid abs.

“Baby, there is a whole lot of fucking I want to do with you yet, for me to kill us today!” he announced jovially, taking a sharp turn.

“Jesus fuck!” she screamed.

She’s been steadily cursing into the back of his neck ever since they left the garage and he laughed.

“Didn’t know you were such a potty mouth!”

“I am not!”

“Is it because you swallowed a ton of my cum and now it’s coursing through your body, along with the essence of me?”

“You are gross and I am not swallowing anything of yours anymore!” she warned.

“Come on, I taste good! Pineapple juice every day,”

“What?”

“That’s right. I am a thoughtful lover. I drink pineapple juice–even though I am allergic to pineapples–to make my jizz taste nice for the ladies.”

“Seems kind of drastic,” she shrugged. “Especially if you are allergic. Though I am not sure I believe you,”

He was laughing, absolutely not paying attention to the road, while she kept trying to keep his head straight and make him look where he was going.

“Was your shower even broken today?” she queried with a frown.

“Fuck no!” he laughed loudly. “How the hell would my shower be broken and everyone else’s working? But I am glad you fell for it!”

“I hate you.”

“You adore me!”

About 20 minutes later–and really, it should’ve taken them at least twice as long, under normal driving circumstances–Fenrys stopped next to a posh boutique hotel. He gave the keys to a valet and helped Elain down. Keeping his promise, he gallantly offered her his arm, and there was no additional touching as they entered the lobby and he made their way towards the restaurant.

They strolled in and were greeted by a maitre’d, who ushered them to a table, but before they could be seated, Fenrys decided, “We prefer the one by the window,” and before the man could protest, pulled the chair for Elain. She sat down, hiding a smile and he sprawled across from her.

“Good man,” he addressed the maitre’d, “we’ll have a full English, black pudding and all,”

“Sir,” the man stuttered, “I must inform you that we don’t serve a full English breakfast on weekdays. Only on weekends,”

“I am sure you can finagle something,” Fenrys winked, “and I’ll have a cuppa, though my lady here, will have a coffee,”

“Sir,”

Ignoring the protesting server, and fascinating Elain with his accent, Fenrys continued, “something else to drink, darling?”

“Umm,” she reached for the menu, too taken with the entire exchange, but Fenrys asked, “something fruity?”

She hummed, but having nothing to lose at this point, she requested,

“I’ll have a Scotch whisky, single malt, neat.”

Fenrys’s eyes lit up and he grinned like a fiend, nodding his approval.

“As my missus said. I’ll have one myself, good fella, but make it Irish and a,”

“Sir, it’s not yet nine o’clock,” the man muttered with desperation in his voice.

“Well, right you are,” Fenrys glanced at his vintage watch and added, “we’ll start with the whiskeys and you see about breakfast,”

“Sir, I simply can’t,”

Another man hustled over, and quickly said,

“Mr. King, sir, good morning. A full English, as usual?”

Elain was amused, watching all these exchanges, especially when the second waiter just about dragged the first one away from the table.

“I gotta ask,” she said, once they were alone, “what’s with the English thing?”

He smiled and then declared, “That’s because I am English, darlin’.”

Elain looked at him, rolled her eyes and then muttered, “now he is English’.

The waiter brought them their whiskeys and Fenrys raised his tumbler to her, announcing,

“To my hot as fuck wife!”

He took a sip and muttered, “you know, that’s not half bad!”

Elain drank her whisky, which scorched her throat pleasantly and before she could say anything, Fenrys reached for her hand and took it in his.

“Let’s make this official,” he said, “shall we?”

He pulled something from his pocket and showed her a ring. It was identical to the other two she was already wearing, but there was a tiny blue sapphire amidst the diamonds on this one.

“Never wanted to marry anyone, until you, my Elain,” he whispered earnestly. “Accept this as a sign of my love and fidelity.”

Fen placed the ring on her finger and said, “the blue stone–that’s from my da. My gran’s ring. I wanted you to have that part of me. Of my heritage.”

Elain looked at her hand and rubbed the three rings with her thumb.

“Thank you, Fen. You are, like…my favourite person,”

He preened and smiled at her, wide and happy.

“Yeah?”

She nodded, “yeah. You make me feel…Like no one else makes me feel.”

She sipped her whisky and asked, “Now, stop weaseling out of the question. What’s with the English thing?”

“I am English,” he repeated with a laugh. “Why is it so hard to believe? I thought that the blond hair and the pale skin would be a giveaway?! You know a lot of Italians with golden hair? Who are 6”5?”

“Okay, not a lot, but?” she frowned, not comprehending. “You are a King. Their brother,”

“Cousin,” he corrected. “I am their cousin.”

Their food was delivered promptly–shocking, how the restaurant indeed managed to ‘finagle’ a full English breakfast on a weekday–and Elain whistled softly.

Toast and eggs and thick rashers of bacon and blood sausage and mushrooms and tomatoes and baked beans.

“I am going to be eating this until the Second Coming,” she grunted under her breath.

Fenrys was brought his own cute teapot, while she was given coffee, but Elain changed her mind, and demanded her own tea. Fenrys laughed, while the waiter scurried to get the order.

“About the second coming,” he began, a wild smirk on his lips, and she rolled her eyes. “Not at the table!”

“Okay, under the table?” he proposed.

“Oh lord, I can’t with you,” she complained.

“You can and you did,” he parried. “And my second coming will be coming up sharpish.”

She repeated, “sharpish” shaking her head.

“My ma was a King,” he explained at last, tucking into his food.

“This is good,” Elain moaned over the amazing bacon and the succulent mushrooms.

“She was the sister of the Old King, of your ever so charming father-in-law,”

Elain only grunted at that.

“She was a beauty–not surprising, I don’t think. She was engaged to the don of the Chicago Outfit, but before their wedding, she took a trip to England. Her first and only trip abroad.”

He poured Elain her tea and shrugged, “Don’t know why she chose England. She hadn't even been to Italy before that.”

Elain wondered, “And what happened in England? Something that I guess led to your birth?”

He chuckled and nodded.

“Knowing where she was going, her father of course gave her a little missive to deliver, to the Firm, since she was going to be there anyway. And the person she met with was Gabriel Moonbeam,”

“Your surname is Moonbeam?!” Elain couldn't contain her laugh.

“Listen, darlin’,” he warned her, “I’ve heard it all before. And I don’t care. That’s my pa’s name and I am a Moonbeam!”

She nodded with understanding, though she was still smiling, “So I am Elain Moonbeam King to you?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, some kind of pride and satisfaction glaring in his expression.

“I like that,” he decided, “I like it a lot. Elain King Moonbeam, I think it has a nice ring to it.”

“So, what happened?” Elain fearlessly sliced into a huge plump sausage, soliciting an appreciative humph from him.

“They eloped, in three days, after meeting,” Fenrys saids, smirking. “Da couldn’t wait and couldn't let her go. So they took drastic measures and got hitched,”

“And how did that go?”

“About as well as you’d expect–the Kings almost declared war on the Moonbeams. The Genoveses of the Outfit almost declared war on the Kings. The usual…” he shrugged.

“Literally WWIII then,” she sipped her tea.

“Literally.”

“And then things normalised because baby Fen was born?” she smiled.

Fenrys glanced out of window and called the waiter over and requested, “My good fella, another one.”

Though he was scandalised, the waiter nodded primly and then returned with another whiskey for Fenrys.

“Madame?” he asked curtly, but Elain decided not to add fuel to the fire and told the man that she was fine.

“For a period of time,” Fenrys said thoughtfully, taking a big swig of his drink. “Things were okay for almost a decade. But I suppose the Genoveses could never forgive the slight that they felt my mother caused to their family. When I was 10, they put a hit on my da and he was gunned down –problem was that my mum and my brother Connall got caught in the crossfire as well.”

Elain’s cutlery cluttered on the table.

“They murdered your whole family?” she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

“Sucks to be me,” he chuckled mirthlessly.

She reached for him and took his hand in hers, squeezing tightly.

“Fen…”

“It’s alright, El,”

“It’s not alright!” she snapped. “It’s not alright at all!”

She gulped down all of her whisky in one go, angry.

“What happened then?” she demanded.

“I was shipped off here,” he said. “My uncle agreed to take me on, because I didn’t matter,”

“How do you mean?”

“I ain’t Italian, darlin’,” he opened his hands. “So I can’t inherit any of this. I’ve taken the King name out of respect to my uncle and my brothers, but I am a Moonbeam. So while my uncle lives and the old rules stand, I am just a third wheel. My uncle is an asshole, who brutalized my brothers, and shaped me into this thing,” he pointed to his chest. “This enforcer man, though he recognised my penchant for schmoozing and making deals and convincing anyone of anything,”

Elain smiled at that.

“And I guess here we are.”

“What happened to the Genoveses?”

Elain couldn't imagine that revenge wasn’t swift and merciless.

“Still in Chicago…The Moonbeams tried to deal with the situation, when I was…oh, I must have been 18 or so. Murdered the Genovese heir, Claudio.”

“Well, that’s something,”

“Not really,” he argued, “because they retaliated and attempted to murder Az. Az survived, but his girlfriend, Morrigan, blew up in the car,”

Elain’s eyes popped open in shock.

“What?”

Fenrys made a wide gesture with his hand and said,

“You ought to know– all of this, these marriages, none of it means anything, until,” he stopped abruptly.

Her brow furrowed,

“Until what?”

He sighed and rubbed the rim of his glass,

“Until the ties are solidified with a happy, healthy and male bundle of joy in your arms. That’s how it all works.

“Other clans, families are stacking up against the Kings. We are powerful, but we are alone here. The Moonbeams are allies, but they are in London. Then there is you–the Archerons–but until you produce a baby, there is no alliance or agreements,”

“Jesus Christ,”

“It would’ve been easier,” he scratched his head, “if you were just a girl.”

“And what am I?”

“Someone we feel so very strongly about,”

“ Fenrys King !”

A male voice bellowed and interrupted them.

Elain had many questions. She wasn't particularly surprised by the baby announcement, having assumed that she’d have to have a kid with Azriel at some point, but now…now things seemed personal somehow. It wasn’t just about marriage. It was about three males that she was now irreversibly tied to, and there was blood and vengeance and families all tied together, all vying for power and yearning to avenge their loved ones. And somehow, she was suddenly in the middle of it all.

“Vinny,” Fenrys said calmly. “Right on time.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want you throwing a fit if someone was a minute late. Or is it the anal retentive Azriel?”

A heavyset middle aged man pulled up a chair and sat down at the table.

“Tardiness,” Fenrys announced, his English accent gone at once, “is a sign of weakness.”

“I do love me a lecture from a little stuck up prick,” Vinny said.

Fenrys did not react to the insult, but it made Elain wince, which in turn, attracted Vinny’s attention.

“Bringing your bitches now to meetings meant for men?” Vinny grabbed a piece of toast and bit into it.

Fenrys maintained his placid expression, which surprised Elain just a bit, though she supposed that that’s what made him such a good negotiator and, as he called himself. A ‘schmoozer’.

“Vinny, meet Elain King. Azriel’s wife.”

Vinny blanched a bit and coughed, chewing on the dry toast.

“Apologies for my tone, Mrs. King,” he had the good sense to say, his ruddy face flushing, but then turned away from her as if she wasn’t there and addressed Fenrys, “guess my invitation got lost in the mail,”

“Guess it did,” Fenrys agreed.

“What do you want, Fenrys?” Vinny asked impatiently.

He looked around, searching for a server, but Fenrys made a barely perceptible gesture with his hand and the servers all conveniently disappeared.

“Simple really,” the blond King said, taking a measured, relaxed sip of whiskey, “Az would like to know why you are poking your noses on our turf? The Marinos know not to cross into Harlem, and you and your boys have definitely been crossing,”

“We haven’t!” Vinny argued immediately and Elain didn’t need to look at his face to know that he was full of shit.

“No, you definitely have,” Fenrys insisted, and Elain nodded, having heard of the Marino family, a small-time gang that recently began making small waves.

“You have,” she piped and Vinny whipped his head to her and snapped,

“Shouldn’t you be painting your nails, honey, and let us big boys have a conversation,”

“A conversation?” she huffed dryly. “Using the big words I see?”

“Pipe down, girl,” he threw at her.

Fenrys’s beautiful face contorted with rage and he growled under his breath,

“Do not dare speak like that to my wife!”

Vinny glanced at him in confusion and grunted,

“ Your wife?”

Elain paled. Fenrys wasn’t supposed to have said that. Not now. Not ever.

“You just said she was Az’s wife?” the fat man continued. “Oh…” his flushed sweaty face broke into a lascivious smile, “ohhh, hahaha,” he laughed, “you crazy bastards. You are all sharing her!?? I’ve heard that about you,”

He grabbed another piece of toast and waved it about, asking, “How does it work? You all do her at once? Take turns?”

Elain blushed furiously, her hands shaking on her lap.

Fenrys snapped his fingers and said,

“Not the time or the place, Vin. Back to business,”

Elain was surprised by how easily Fenrys dropped the subject.

“If you want to play in our sandbox, you gotta play,”

“I don’t think he ’ll go for it, Fenrys,” Vinny protested.

“He needs to send someone who can negotiate on his behalf then,” Fenrys shrugged indifferently. “If you're not the man for the job, then I need to talk to someone who is. 20%, non-negotiable,”

“It’s not going to happen, Fen,”

“I think he’d rather talk to me, than Az. In fact, I am convinced that everyone would prefer to talk to me, rather than Az.”

Fenrys drummed his long fingers on the table, and Elain, who’s been sitting quietly, noticed that the tattoos on his fingers were names, written in Celtic script.

Gabriel.

Dahlia.

Connall.

Vinny got up and said, “I’ll pass the message to him. It’s in his hands,”

“Actually, it’s in ours, if it’s all the same to you,” Fenrys corrected him. He also rose to his feet, and took out a wad of cash from his jacket pocket, peeling off two hundreds and tossed them on the table.

“We’ll walk you out, Vin. Elain,” he extended his hand to her, and reluctantly, she took it.

She was mad. Mad at her silence. Mad at Fenrys for not putting Vinny in his place. Mad at how Vinny made her feel. She wasn’t ashamed of being the Kings’ wife before. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

Downstairs, Vinny climbed into his Buick and said,

“Congrats on the marriage, boys! However it all works for you.”

Fenrys smiled mildly and said, “Until we meet again’.

The valet brought over Fenrys’s bike and Elain climbed in the back.

“You alright?” he asked, and tipped her chin up.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“Liar,”

“Let’s go home,” she said instead, unwilling to argue.

“We have a stop to make first,” he said, climbed on the leather seat and then grabbed Elain’s hands and wrapped them around his middle. His hand smoothed over her thigh and he turned and winked at her.

“Chin up, darlin’!”

“Watch the road!” she yelled at him.

“Yeah, yeah,”

They took off, but instead of going towards their compound, Fenrys veered off, and as Elain peered over his shoulder, she noticed the gray Buick ahead of them on the road.

“You are following him?” she asked, when they stopped at the stop sign.

Fenrys stroked her thigh, slipping his hand under her dress, unconcerned by the curious glances that the people around them were throwing their way.

“You didn’t like how I handled the situation?” he inquired, stroking her skin.

“Not my place to say,” she answered flatly.

“Is it not? I took you on the job with me,” he reminded her.

“I thought it was just breakfast,”

“It wasn’t,” he said firmly. “So, let me know what you think,”

She bit her lip and said, at last, “No, I didn’t like it. He made me feel dirty and you should’ve put him in his place.”

Vinny apparently had a few stops to make, because he made the rounds, going from small shops, to restaurants, to convenience stores–no doubt collecting.

Fenrys and Elain followed him patiently and carefully, Fenrys excelling in being careful not to be spotted, telling Elain to snap photos of every location, which she did. It was exciting, doing something like this, something that Elain never thought she’d have the opportunity to experience.

A couple of hours later, Fenrys pulled into an alley, grimy, smelling of garbage and cat piss. Before that, he just waited on the street, but as Vinny made his way into a Chinese restaurant, Fen rounded the corner, killed the engine and got off the bike.

“Stay,” he warned Elain.

“Wait,”

He walked down the alley, almost to the street, but remained by the building, waiting. Finally, Vinny appeared again, and Elain, who didn’t listen and got off the bike, watched the portly man stop, once he saw Fenrys.

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard from Az,” Fenrys lied.

That’s when Vinny made the mistake of stepping between the buildings and following Fenrys down the alleyway.

“What did he say?”

In a lightning fast move, Fenrys turned around and Elain saw a blade in his hand. Vinny must have seen it too, because he attempted to turn and run, but Fenrys was faster. In one powerful move, he slammed his fist into Vinny’s throat, rendering him silent and fighting for breath.

The knife sliced into the man’s belly, while Fenrys growled,

“Don’t,”

Stab.

“Ever,”

Stab.

“Look,”

Stab.

“Or talk,”

Stab.

“To. My. Wife.”

Stab.

“Again.”

Blood was flooding the dirty asphalt, while Vinny was gasping for breath, his stomach a sieve of gaping stab wounds.

He was clutching and ripping at his throat, unable to make a sound, grunting and gurgling blood, his eyes wild, as he experienced the coming of his own death.

Fenrys watched him impassively from his towering height, and then he opened his arm and Elain slid under it, wrapping her arms around his torso.

“Thank you, husband,” she murmured, watching the horror that once was Vinny, as the man still clawed at his jacket, the brick wall, watching them with terrified eyes.

Fenrys turned her face to him and crashed his lips to hers, taking her in a wild, hot, passionate kiss. Hit tongue battered through her lips and he licked on her tongue with an animalistic groan, grabbing her hip with his hand that was still clutching his knife.

“You are mine,” he ground out into her mouth, biting her lower lip, “and no one will ever walk away alive from insulting you. Ever.”

He pressed his lips to her neck, to her violently beating pulse point, feeling the hot blood bubbling excitedly in her vein.

She cupped his face and smiled at him, just as Vinny took his last gasping breath at their feet.

“Elain Moonbeam,” she vowed.

“Elain King Moonbeam forever,” he nodded, kissing her hands, her face, her lips, her hair.

Once they finally separated, Elain looked down at the corpse on the piss-stained ground and sighed.

“What are we doing with this? Are we disposing of the body?”

Fenrys’s eyes twinkled with delight.

“You are a bloody fierce one, aren’t you, darlin’?” he chuckled, switching to his English accent.

She laughed.

He bubbled his lips and said, “Well, since I only have the bike, I think we’ll need some additional manpower to handle our friend Vinny here.”

He took out his phone and dialed.

“Cass. Cleanup on aisle seven, mate.”

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