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featherymalignancy · 9 months

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CHAPTER TEN—In Vino Veritas: A Nessian Story

Summary: Nesta Archeron is convinced she has everything she wants: a law degree from an ivy, a prestigious job, a gorgeous boyfriend, and excellent taste in wine. However, when she wanders into her local wine vendor and meets a handsome stranger unafraid to play her quick-witted games, she begins to wonder if the life she’s built is really the one she wants.

Cash Kahukore worked his entire adolescent life to become a sommelier, ignoring the slurs his mixed heritage have always earned him as he fought his way to the top. However, after five years abroad buying for Michelin star restaurants and dealing with rich white assholes, he’s grown bored with his life. When a gorgeous lawyer comes in to his uncle’s shop one afternoon, he immediately recognizes a worthy opponent in her. Undaunted by her sharp tongue and possessive boyfriend, he’s determined to be her friend, and—as time goes on and their circumstances change—possibly something more.

Check out the In Vino Masterlist HERE

This a prequel to Navy Suits and Chelsea Boots that takes place three years before. If you love Elriel (and don’t mind finding out how this story ends) check it now.

Chapter 10, Pt. 1: Dom Perignon

Though Nesta had spent the better part of a week attempting to rationalize the feeling away, by Friday afternoon she could no longer deny it: she was nervous.

Ordinarily, meeting new people didn’t scare Nesta. Winning over strangers was literally part of her job, after all, and her record in court suggested she was rather good at getting strangers to trust her. Compared to some of the juries Nesta had faced, meeting one of her boyfriend’s best friends should—in theory—have been a cakewalk.

Except that Rhysand Sadeghi was no ordinary stranger, and Nesta couldn’t deny that he had several distressingly valid reasons for not liking her. Cash had never given her any details about his weekend with Azriel and Rhys in Vegas and Nesta had never asked, in large part because she selfishly didn’t want to know what ungenerous things he may of said about her while under the influence of alcohol and the pain she’d caused him.

Still, Rhys had seemed supportive enough when Cash and Nesta first went public with their relationship two months ago, which would have been enough to assuage the worst of Nesta’s fears about meeting him had she not also surmised from Cash’s many stories that the Sadeghi family prized loyalty above everything else, and that their good opinion, once lost, was difficult to regain. She wasn’t naive enough to think that a few flame emojis on an instagram post meant that Rhys genuinely approved of her. Despite Cash’s assurances to the contrary, Nesta could see Rhys’s current trip to the States for what it really was: a test.

When she’s suggested as much to Cash, he’d merely laughed, explaining that Rhys was coming to California to finalize an acquisition deal he’d been trying to close for months, and that he’d only decided to extend his trip and stay the weekend after Cash had suggested it.

It was a plausible enough story, Nesta supposed, and she might have even been tempted to accept it was true had Rhys been traveling alone.

Except he wasn’t coming alone.

Seemingly unsatisfied with the prospect of interrogating her one-on-one, Rhys had summoned what felt like a tribunal of Cash’s closest friends, including Mor and Azriel, despite the fact the former allegedly hating getting involved with the family’s real estate business and the latter lived over six hours away.

Even Rowan was supposedly coming to their gathering this evening, and though Nesta might have otherwise been relieved to have him there as a potential ally, she felt she knew him well enough to understand that if Rowan was going to a nightclub, it was likely because Aelin was forcing him. Nesta had still yet to formally meet Aelin thanks to the latter's current AVP tournament schedule, and despite the role Nesta had played in saving Nehemiah from deportation, Aelin still remained very much a wildcard.

As did Mor.

She’d been warm and perfectly friendly the first time Nesta met her, but things had admittedly been very different then. And now…

Nesta knew that Mor was one of Cash’s fiercest defenders, and she hadn’t deluded herself into thinking Mor would ever forgive her for what Nesta had put Cash through that night at Tonga Room, even if she didn’t know all the ugly details.

Then again, maybe Mor would understand. From the little Cash had shared about her romantic history, Nesta had gathered that Mor had first-hand experience with abusive relationships. Perhaps if the opportunity presented itself this evening, Nesta could get Mor one-on-one. She knew that she had nothing to apologize for, but perhaps if she could explain her side of things, she and Mor could move past all the messiness and possibly start over. Maybe, with enough time and patience, they could even become... friends .

The idea filled Nesta with a dangerous sort of hope, and she found by the time that she got home to the townhouse she and Cash now shared that she was actually somewhat looking forward to seeing where the evening might take them.

Kicking off her stilettos, Nesta gave her grandmother’s beloved bookcase an affectionate pat as she headed up the stairs to the main floor, calling for Cash as she did.

“You still here, Mister?”

Yet another complication of the evening: Cash—who was in the final stage of interviews for the coveted North American brand manager position at Dom Pérignon—had been invited to a last-minute dinner with one of the company top executives, who’d flown in from Reims specifically for the meeting. Thrilled as Nesta was for Cash—particularly now that Devon was home and back running The Merchant full-time—she couldn’t help but be nervous for the two or so hours she’d be spending with his friends sans Cash.

Nesta glanced at her watch and frowned. It was barely six o’clock, and the reservation wasn’t until nine-fifteen; surely he hadn’t left already. Checking her phone to ensure he hadn’t texted her, she made to call out again before hearing the rumble of his voice coming from the third floor.

Abandoning her cell phone and purse on the dining room table, Nesta headed up the stairs, listening with increasing worry as Cash’s voice grew louder.

He was in the study speaking to someone via video chat through the tv which had been mounted to the wall, and as Nesta drew closer, she heard an uncharacteristic bite in Cash’s tone that instantly had her good mood curdling to worry.

“If you didn’t want to come,” he was saying, voice harder than usual. “You could have at least been straight-up with me about it, instead of putting on this dog-and-pony show just to punish me—”

“Don’t be dramatic. I didn’t plan this, and I certainly didn’t do it to punish you.”

Nesta knew that voice—that lovely, posh accent, so much colder now than the first time she’d heard it.

Mor.

And if she was on the phone, it meant she couldn’t be on a plane, and if she wasn’t on a plane, then that meant—

Nesta’s shame spiral was interrupted by the sound of Cash’s brittle laughter.

“Oh I see. To punish Nesta, then.”

Mor was silent for a moment, her voice softer but no less fierce when she finally said, “I’m not trying to punish her, either, but can you honestly tell me she wouldn’t deserve it if I was?”

Nesta’s heart sank, dragging her down with such brutal force that she had to lean against the wall to keep her balance. Every fear she’d had about meeting Cash’s friends came flooding back to the surface, and she felt the guilt she’d been trying to swallow these past months rising like bile in her throat, acrid enough to make her mouth water.

“I don’t have to justify myself to you and neither does she,” Cash said. “Jesus, what is your problem?”

Mor gave a soft snort of disgust, her own patience seemingly frayed by Cash’s accusatory tone.

“Oh, so now I’m the villain? Even though she's the one who strung you along then broke your trust? Look, I get that she’s been through a lot and that you always want to see the best in people, but sometimes you’ve got to do the selfish thing and put yourself first.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Cash demanded.

“It means that having a shitty ex—even an abusive one—isn’t an excuse for treating others badly! I’ve known a million girls just like her, and I’ve seen how this story ends. She’s a taker, and if you let her, she will take and take and take from you until there’s nothing left.”

Mor’s words struck Nesta like a blow, driving straight to the fear that most often plagued her about her relationship: that she was selfish for still wanting Cash after everything she’d put him through, and that by continuing to be with him, she was proving she cared more for herself than she did him.

Six months ago, that one thought would have been enough to send Nesta spiraling into panic and self-doubt. Today—despite the pain—she managed to catch herself, rooting down in the knowledge that what she and Cash now had, they’d built together .

Cash—for his part—seemed equally as unwilling to allow the comment to find its mark.

“You don’t know her, though. You don’t know a goddamn thing about her, because if you did, you’d understand what an absolute dickhead you’re being right now.”

Mor gave a tight, almost-pained, sigh.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you. I’m telling you because I care about you and I’m worried.”

“Well you have a shitty way of showing it,” Cash snapped. “I love this girl, Mor! Does that really mean so little to you?”

It had apparently been the wrong thing to say, because when she finally spoke again, Mor’s voice had gone cold enough to burn.

“Do what you want, then,” she said flatly. “I’m not going to pretend I’m fine with this just because no one else has the bollocks to tell you the truth.”

There was a pause before Cash replied, voice softer but no less edged, “You’re way out of line right now; if you don’t want to admit it to me, I hope you can at least find the courage to admit it to yourself.”

“Fine,” Mor said. “Anything else?”

“Actually yes,” Cash said, a renewed bite in his tone. “While we’re on the subject of messing about in other people’s business, get off Az’s back . He’s never going to be able to open up enough to meet someone when he’s terrified you won’t approve of anyone he picks.”

Mor’s answering laugh was acerbic, and though Nesta didn’t know her well, the bitterness in her tone didn’t seem to suit the bright, kind women Nesta remembered meeting all those months ago.

“Why, so he can meet a girl like Nesta?”

“You wanna lose me? Stay one more cruel thing about her, I fucking dare you.”

“Cash—”

“Goodbye Morrigan.”

Nesta listened as Cash ended the call before swearing to himself, the sound partially muffled as he presumably buried his head in his hands.

Nesta remained where she was, debating if she ought to just sneak back downstairs and pretend she hadn’t heard any of what had just been said. It would be easier for Cash if he could keep believing he’d managed to shield Nesta from the worst of Mor’s scorn.

Nesta’s mind was nearly made up when she recalled the look on Cash’s face as he’d begged her not to lie to him anymore, even in the service of protecting his feelings.

It was that promise which gave Nesta the courage to finally move, deliberately shuffling her bare feet along the rug in the hallway to alert him of her presence before pausing in the doorway.

Cash raised his head, his tender expression managing to slightly lessen the current ache in Nesta’s chest.

“Hi,” she said, leaning her head against the wall as she took him in.

“Hi,” he said, seeming to study her with the same intensity. “How much of that did you catch?”

She shrugged, not bothering to hide the truth of it in her eyes.

“Enough,” she admitted.

Cash swore softly before extending his arms to her.

“Can I hold you?”

That he’d asked—that he’d cared enough to seek her permission instead of simply reaching for her—soothed a part of Nesta she’d hadn’t realized was still healing.

Wordlessly she crossed to him, sinking into his lap and breathing in his inviting masculine scent.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Don’t be,” she said, fighting to keep the emotion out of her voice. “I understand.”

“No, please don’t do that,” he said. “Don’t internalize this.”

“She's not wrong, Cash.”

“Yes she is!” he said, his voice firm. Still, his touch remained gentle as he reached to cup her cheeks. “What happened at Tonga was between us , and we’ve moved past it! Besides—”

He let out a sigh.

“Look, this doesn’t excuse her behavior, but this isn’t about you. Mor’s got plenty of her own baggage she’s yet to fully square up with, and sometimes I think she chooses to get overly-invested in other people’s problems to avoid having to deal with her own.”

“I understand why she doesn’t care for me,” Nesta said. “If the situations were reversed, I’d likely feel the same way. I just—I don’t want you to lose friends because of me.”

“I haven’t lost anything,” Cash assured her. “Mor and I have been in much nastier fights than this before and we’ve always managed to patch things up. Besides, if she truly isn’t willing to give the woman I love a chance, she isn’t the friend I thought she was.”

Nesta nodded, desperate to take comfort in what he’d said about Mor and move on. Still, hearing the righteous venom Mor harbored had felt to Nesta the way she assumed opening that damned box had made Pandora feel, and now that the floodgates had been opened, she found there was one fear in particular she couldn’t shake.

Unable to suppress the urge any longer, she finally asked, “And Aelin?”

“Aelin?” Cash asked, brows knitting. “What about her?”

“Please don’t play dumb,” Nesta said, hating the slight pleading in her voice. “I assume she hates me, too.”

Cash gave a wry smile that she couldn’t help but be slightly assuaged by.

“On the contrary, Aelin has been picking out our wedding china since before we were even dating.”

Nesta huffed a laugh, and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“And next to Rowan, Nehemiah is hands-down the most important person in Aelin’s life. Regardless of what she may have thought before, I guarantee that after what you did to help NeNe, you have a friend for life in Aelin.”

“I’m sorry,” Nesta said. “For causing all this. I didn’t—”

She broke off, and though Cash waited for her to finish, she realized after a beat she didn't actually know what to say.

“Nesta,” Cash said softly. “I love you. Nothing anyone else says will change my mind about that, and I am never going to let anyone tear you down, whether you think you deserve it or not.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” Nesta asked, tucking a strand of dark hair that had come loose behind his ear.

Cash answering grin was soft and achingly lovely.

“Should I go alphabetically or chronologically?”

Nesta brushed his lips with the pads of her fingers, her own smile growing as well. It never ceased to amaze her how easily he could change her mood.

“Chronologically.”

“Okay,” Cash said, tugging her more fully into his lap so he could kiss her neck. “Then how about this morning in the shower?”

With similar schedules and a dual-head shower in the master bath, they showered together most mornings, a simple ritual that had nonetheless become one of Nesta’s favorites.

Most days they merely shared the space in contented silence, focusing on their own tasks and only speaking to request the other fetch the shampoo or pass the body wash. However, when Nesta glanced over that morning just in time to watch Cash tip his head back to rinse his hair, water cascading down his toned back and over his gorgeously sculpted ass, she hadn’t been able to resist. Pushing him against the wall, she’d gotten on her knees and sucked him off until his eyes had rolled back in his head.

They’d ended up staying in the shower until the water had gone tepid after that.

“That was mutual,” she reminded him.

Cash grinned, leaning up to kiss her neck again.

“The sounds you make when I fuck your ass honestly make me feel like I’ve won the lottery,” he said against her skin.

“I know,” she said with a smirk, moving to slide off his lap. “You should probably start getting ready. You need to leave in an hour and a half.”

Cash was undeterred by her prudence.

“That’s plenty of time,” he breathed, hitching up the pencil skirt she wore and toying with the waistband of her black silk thong. “Take these off and let me make you feel good.”

Nesta dug her nails into his toned shoulders, grinding against him almost involuntarily.

“Here?” She asked, distracted by the fact he was already growing hard beneath her.

“Study’s still on the list.”

It was a tempting offer, and though part of Nesta badly needed the distraction, the lingering guilt over what she’s wrought between Cash and Mor kept the worst of her selfish impulses in check.

“You went down on me in here last week,” she pointed out in deflection.

Cash, unsurprisingly, wasn’t deterred by this explanation.

“True,” he agreed. “But your sister called before I could make you come, so it doesn’t count,” he said, tugging her thong up until the fabric was roughly splitting her. “Don’t make me beg, gorgeous.”

She couldn’t hold back the groan when he gave another her thong coaxing tug, the material brushing against her unsheathed clit.

“I like when you beg,” she said, already growing breathless from his machinations.

“What’s coincidence,” he said, leaning forward to nip at her ear. “I like when you beg, too.”

“I don’t beg,” she said, not quite ready to give up their little game despite her own growing anticipation for what was sure to follow.

Cash’s answering laugh was pure sin.

“Don’t tempt me to make a liar out of you, Nes. We both know that I could have you crawling on hands and knees for me if I wanted, and that you’d enjoy every sweet second of it.”

Nesta only smirked in response, sliding off his lap in a way that made him groan in pleasure. Slowly she retreated to the opposite wall before shucking the thong off from beneath her pencil skirt and kicking it to his feet in offering.

Cash settled further into the plush velvet couch in answer, arms draped across the back and legs casually splayed.

“Good girl. Now everything else,” he said in a silken command.

She flashed him a tarty, ‘fuck-me’ smile.

“Everything?”she repeated.

He studied her with a stark male appreciation that made her instantly wet, his gaze slithering from her bare feet to the chignon still wound into her hair.

“You can leave the earrings.”

“How generous,” she said, easing the hem of her silk blouse out from where it had been tucked into her skirt and beginning to unbutton it.

Cash made a soft sound of appreciation as she finally slid the garment from her shoulders and tossed it onto a nearby club chair.

His eyes glazed a bit as she reached behind her back to unfasten her bra next. When the clasp came free, she tossed the frilly scraps of evergreen lace into his lap.

Though he hadn’t moved from his languid position on the couch, Nesta could clearly make out the consequence of her teasing as it pushed against the front of Cash’s trousers.

“Don’t stop,” he urged, voice midnight soft now.

Nesta obeyed, pulling the clip from her hair and giving it a soft shake before finally reaching for the zipper of her skirt. Cash was practically panting by the time Nesta began easing the garment down her thighs, and when she straightened to reveal her completely bare form, his eyes were dark with hunger.

He surveyed her for a moment without comment, head slightly cocked as he admired her beneath the soft glow of the office’s recessed lighting. His gaze was like warm honey, sweetly clinging to every place on her body it touched. She felt her own desire coming alive under his unceasing attention, and she rubbed her legs together to ease the ache which had begun to throb between them.

Sensing her impatience he finally rose, advancing on her with quiet intent before pushing her against the bookcase which had been built into the wall and kissing her. She moaned as he eased his tongue into her mouth, the soft material of his shirt brushing against her bare chest as he strung an arm around her waist and tugged her more fully into him.

She moaned again when his hand finally found its way between her thighs, but he only spared her a teasing stroke or two before coaxing her legs around his waist, carrying her to the center of the room and easing her onto the sheepskin rug.

She might have objected to being naked on the floor had the cleaning woman not been there the day before. Cash must have thought the same because he laughed; not at her, but in a way that told it safe to let go.

“Relax for me, sweetheart,” he said, lips brushing a spot on her neck which instantly had her melting.

Noting the change, he huffed another soft laugh onto her skin, lightly grazing the same spot with his teeth before breathing, “good girl.”

Nesta wasn’t ashamed to admit what praise did for her in bed, but she had little time to revel in Cash’s words before he was easing his way down her body, lips brushing her ribs and the crease of her hip before his tongue lazily found its way directly between her legs.

She swore at the first contact, her fingers finding their way into the dark water of his hair and tugging as he applied a small amount of pressure just where she needed him.

She could still hear Mor’s venomous rebuke ringing in her ears, but the words grew fainter with each careful stroke of Cash’s tongue, her conscious mind yielding to pure sensation.

Despite the time constraint, Cash remained unhurried in his task, and Nesta was weak-kneed and covered in a thin sheen of sweat by the time release finally found her.

Cash pulled back slightly to survey her, a satisfied smirk tugging at his full mouth when he brushed a finger down her torso and she trembled in response.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he breathed, bending to kiss her.

“What time—” she began, but he cut her off with another kiss.

“It’s 7:15,” he said against her lips. “You still have plenty of time to get ready.”

However, when he attempted to pull back she dug her nails into his shoulders to keep him close.

“Take your clothes off. I need you inside of me.”

His answering laugh skimmed across her bare skin like silk.

“As my lady commands.”

“Now, pleasant,” she said, pressing a teasing foot to the center of his chest and nudging him back.

Cash laughed again before rising to his feet and beginning to undress. When he peeled off his shirt, her hand found its way between her legs almost of its own volition, moving lazily as she drank him in.

“That’s it, gorgeous,” he said, hands at his belt buckle now. “keep going.”

“I’d rather have your fingers between my legs,” she admitted.

He chuckled.

“I wouldn’t. You know what watching you get yourself off does to me.”

“Maybe sometime you’ll let me watch you, Handsome.”

They hadn’t experimented with mutual masturbation yet, but it was on Nesta’s list.

By now Cash had shed his boxer briefs to reveal—unsurprisingly—that he was fully ready for her.

“I could come just from the way you look at me,” he said, stroking himself as he once again knelt to join her.

Before she could protest, he put his head between her thighs again, tongue focused solely on her clit as he continued working himself. When she felt herself begin to tip over the edge he pulled back, pressing a hand to the crease of her hip and sinking into her in a single motion.

It was timed perfection she could only marvel at. In several quick thrusts the head of his cock scraped her g-spot just as her orgasm had been ready to fade, and she came hard.

“That’s it,” he said as she clenched around him, trembling. “Squeeze me, Nes.”

She panted as the sensations continued to ripple through her.

“How did you even—“

“Because I know this body even better than you do,” he said. “ Fuck , that was so hot to watch.”

“Ride me,” Nesta demanded in response. “Hard.”

“Flip over,” he said.

She did, and he wasted no time in sinking inside of her again, one foot braced on the carpet for better leverage as he grabbed her hips.

“Keep touching yourself.”

“I’m not going to be able to come again,” she said.

“We’ll see about that. Go on Lovely, do it for me.”

Her clit was still throbbing from his earlier machinations so Nesta kept her touch featherlight as he began to move. Instead of thrusting forward into her, Cash instead pulled her back onto him while Nesta rocked her weight in the opposite direction to create tension. It was a rhythm they’d discovered early on in their sexual odyssey, and the friction was blinding for both of them.

The room filled with the sound of their bodies as they came together, and Nesta could feel the swing of Cash’s stones against her ass as he thrust, a depraved sensation that drove her out of her mind with want.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she demanded.

“I’m thinking that if this rug wasn’t three grand, I’d be tempted to pull out and come all over you.”

“You’re close?”

“Oh God , yes.”

Nesta couldn’t help but preen at that.

“Keep talking,” she demanded, always greedy for as much of him as she could get.

And Cash, God love him, was always just as eager to oblige.

“Do you know why I like to go down on you right before we have sex?”

“Tell me.”

His thrusts increased in intensity, a sign he was close.

“Because your gorgeous little cunt is so tight, I’m never sure if I’ll be able to last long enough to give you an orgasm.”

“You’ve given me tons of vaginal orgasms,” Nesta panted.

“Only through sheer power of will. Fuck , Nes.”

She threw her hips back into Cash’s a final time and he was a goner.

He kneaded her ass with a firm grip as he emptied himself inside her, and though Nesta felt herself going boneless as the pleasure Cash had thrust her into finally began to relax its hold.

Fisting her hair, Cash coaxed her head back for a soft kiss before pulling out and slapping her ass.

“Go jump in the shower, I’ll join you in a second.”

Nesta rose to her feet, keeping her thighs neatly tucked to avoid making a mess of the carpet after all. Cash marked the gesture before rewarding it with a cocky, bone-melting smirk. The Nesta of a year ago would have snarled at him for the stark appreciation shining in his eyes; today she could only marvel that he seemed to find her as desirable as she found him.

A beat of comfortable silence passed as they remained drinking one another in, and when Nesta’s gaze finally met Cash’s again, it was to find his expression had faded to something almost reverent, though the hunger remained.

“I know it probably makes me a total caveman, but I never get tired of seeing you full of me like that.”

The admission was so stark and primal that Nesta felt her belly clenching pleasantly.

“Maybe it does,” she agreed. “But I’m too much of a junkie for that look you’re giving me to care.”

Cash laughed.

“She digs the caveman vibe; good to know.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, even as she laughed a little herself.

“Don’t push it,” she said, turning to the door and slipping down the hall to the bathroom.

Despite his promise, Nesta more than halfway through her post-sex shower ritual by the time Cash joined her, his touch warming her skin in a way the water alone never could.

“Are you going to miss me while I’m at dinner?” He asked, kissing her neck.

“Of course,” she said, leaning in as he nipped playfully at her ear.

“How much?”

“Enough that I’m still debating if I ought to call a bomb threat into Mastro’s so dinner will have to be postponed.”

Normally Cash would have simply laughed at that, but he must have heard something in Nesta’s tone, because he pulled away slightly so he could study her, a frown tugging at his sensuous lips.

“Are you seriously nervous about tonight, because you have no reason to be; everyone is going to love you.”

“Everyone except Mor, you mean.”

Cash’s frown deepened, though his gaze remained almost unbearably tender.

“Don’t worry about her.”

“How can I not?”

“Nes—“

“It’s fine,” she said, slipping past him to grab her towel. She turned, forcing a smile as she reassured him, “I’m fine.”

She left before he could push the issue, trying to focus on getting ready as a means of distraction from Mor’s voice still echoing on repeat in her head.

Cash, for his part, seemed to sense she didn’t want to be pushed, because she was nearly through drying her hair by the time he finally re-emerged, dressed in a burgundy sport coat and slacks, his own hair pulled back in his typical style.

He didn’t immediately speak, simply leaned against the doorframe and watched her as she finished her hair and moved onto her makeup.

She allowed his silent assessment for as long as she could bear before glancing up at him in the mirror and snapping, “what?”

Her tone was slightly sharper than she would have liked, but she was still learning how to accept his concern without defensiveness.

“Do you want me to cancel dinner?”

At this she stopped what she was doing, turning from her vanity to face him fully.

“Are you insane?”

“Gabriel already told me last week that I’m Dom’s top choice. If that’s true, then they will understand—”

“I’m sure it is true!” she interrupted. “But how could you possibly think I’d let you take that risk? Especially over something so trivial.”

“Your emotional safety isn’t trivial,” he said quietly. “Not to me.”

She felt herself softening at that, especially as she noted the unbearable tenderness which had crept into his expression.

“I know that,” she said. “But you should know that I would never let you give up something this important for my sake.”

“Fair enough,” he said, but before she could revel in the knowledge he wouldn’t be risking his career over something as petty and inconsequential as her feelings, he added, “then don’t go tonight. You can meet my friends another time.”

Nesta couldn’t hold back the surprised laugh which slipped out, the sound brittle even to her ears.

“And how will that look? You can’t make it so I just decide to bail?”

“I don’t really give a shit how it looks. I only care that you are alright.”

“I am,” she assured him, and seeing that she’d yet to fully convince him, she added, “At least, I’m getting there. I know what tonight means to you, and that’s important to me! Besides, I want a chance to get to know your friends and for them to get to know me. I can’t do that if I spend the rest of our relationship casually hiding from them.”

Cash’s expression didn’t change, but Nesta could tell the idea pleased him, which only hardened her resolve to see things through.

“You’re sure?” He said.

“Seeing as we already know that my biggest detractor won’t be there, how bad can it be?” Nesta said, turning back and flashing him a sardonic smirk in the mirror.

“Too soon,” Cash said with a huffed laugh, coming over to kiss her cheek before adding more quietly, “I love you.”

In lieu of responding, she reached back to string a hand around his neck, scraping her nails along the nape in a gesture she knew soothed him.

They remained there for a long moment in comfortable silence before Cash gently extricated himself.

“I’ll let you finish getting ready,” he said. “I’m not leaving for another twenty minutes.”

Nesta nodded, leaning into him for another kiss on the cheek before attending to her makeup.

Cash was sitting at the kitchen island reviewing LVMH’s latest earning statement when Nesta finally emerged, the soft rustle of her sequined mini dress the only sound as Cash eyed her appreciatively.

“You like?” She asked, reaching the landing and giving a turn to show the open back and dangerously-short hem. “It’s new.”

“You look stunning,” he replied, eyes twinkling. “Though I would argue that has very little to do with the dress.”

She rolled her eyes even as she draped an arm over his shoulders and settled into his lap. She didn’t miss the way his gaze flitted to the forbidden stretch of thigh which was revealed as her skirt rode up to accommodate the new position.

“I assume LVMH is sending a car?”

Cash nodded, smoothing a hand down said thigh and causing Nesta’s skin to tingle.

“Should be here in five.”

She nodded, preparing to ask if he was ready for the meeting when he spoke first.

“Okay, last offer, hear me out.”

“Cash—” she began, attempting to stand up even as he coaxed her to remind where she was.

“I can tell Az we’ll just meet him at the club, then you can hang out here and wait for me and we can go toge—”

“Don’t do that, he’s probably already on his way,” Nesta cut in. “And I said I’ll be fine, so I will be. Just…stop, please.”

Cash opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue before his phone dinged, signaling his driver had arrived.

“Go,” she said, sliding to her bare feet. “You don’t want to be late.”

After a final moment’s hesitation he did the same, straightening his slacks as she grabbed his sports coat from the back of a nearby stool and held it out for him.

He obliged her, slipping his arms through and shrugging it on as Nesta came around to adjust the collar. She sometimes forgot just how much taller he was than her when she wasn’t in her typical heels, and she had to rise to her tip-toes to kiss him.

“Go kill it,”she said against his lips. “You’ve earned this.”

He brushed his nose against hers in response, an affectionate gesture that still made butterflies dance in Nesta’s stomach every time.

She could tell that Cash was fighting with the urge to offer her one final out on the evening’s festivities, but she was grateful when he chose to simply kiss her instead.

“Have fun with the boys,” he said. “I shouldn’t be more than an hour or two behind you.”

“Take you time,” she said firmly. “From everything you’ve shared, I don’t see Rhysand ending the party anytime before daybreak.”

“How very terrifying and true,” he said, eyes full of all the things still left unsaid as he grabbed his phone, blew her a kiss, and jogged down the stairs to the front door.

Nesta felt some of the fight go out of her as she listened to the door open and shut, the telltale chime of the security system being re-armed echoing up a second later.

The plan to have Azriel meet them at the townhouse for drinks prior to joining up with Rhys and the rest of their cabal had been made before Cash had known he’d be entertaining the Dom execs, and though Nesta had been adamant that they needn’t change the plan simply because Cash wouldn’t be there, she couldn’t help but wonder at her own stubbornness as she waited nervously for Azriel to arrive.

On the one hand, Nesta’s initial interaction with Azriel had been entirely pleasant, and had left her with an adequate degree of certainty that—despite the Owen debacle—she and Az could get on just fine without Cash present to act as a buffer.

However, Mor’s assessment earlier had challenged any confidence Nesta may have had when it came to Cash’s friends. Perhaps she’d been arrogant to think that Rhys and Aelin were the only one she had to be worried about winning over tonight, even with Mor temporarily out of the picture. After all, Rhys may have been Mor’s cousin, but it was clear to Nesta that Azriel and Mor had some kind of history.

Cash had never fully explained what—if anything—had gone down between them, but Nesta had always gotten the sense from his stories that Azriel had carried a torch for Mor at some point. It was only just occurring to Nesta that he very well still could. Perhaps all of Azriel’s seemingly meaningless flings were just a distraction from the girl he wanted but couldn’t have.

And even if he didn’t have romantic feelings for her, it was clear that Mor’s opinion was incredibly important to Azriel.

What was it that Cash had said earlier?

He’s never going to be able to open up enough to meet someone when he’s terrified you won’t approve of anyone he picks.

If Mor voiced her concerns about Nesta to Cash, it was entirely possible (and indeed fairly probable) that she’d shared the same—or worse—with Azriel. And even if she hadn’t, what was to say that he hadn’t come to his own unfavorable conclusion about Nesta after the Vegas trip? She could only imagine what he’d heard and seen that weekend, and frankly she couldn’t blame him if he’d decided that he hated her, too.

Nesta’s heart rate kicked up as she considered the increasingly-grim possibilities. Perhaps she’d been too quick to reject Cash’s offer to send Azriel ahead. If she hadn’t—

Nesta’s phone chimed to signal a notification, and she’d been so deeply engrossed in her catastrophizing that the sound startled an undignified shriek out of her. Pressing a hand to her chest in an attempt to slow her hammering heart, she glanced down to see an alert from the Ring app signaling someone was at the door.

Having no time left with which to ponder her potential evisceration, Nesta simply exhaled a steadying breath before heading down the stairs and disarming the security system.

Nesta felt some of her initial apprehension melt away as she pulled open the door to find that—far from the anger or aloofness she’d feared—Azriel was actually smiling, a modest bouquet of tulips tucked under one arm.

Much like the first time Nesta had met him, Azriel was in all black, from his silk bomber jacket to the well-tailored Japanese denim he wore, his designer boots—Prada, if Nesta had to guess—shined to perfection.

“For you,” Azriel said in greeting, extending the flowers, already neatly trimmed and arranged in a stylish vase, before flashing another soft smile. “I would normally have just brought a bottle of wine, but given what Cash has told me about your incredible palette, I didn’t want to embarrass myself by bringing something terrible.”

“These are lovely,” Nesta assured him. “Please, come in.”

Azriel gave a polite nod and stepped past her, waiting as she re-armed the door before following her up the stairs to the main living space. She thought to offer him a tour before remembering he’d already seen the place when Cash first moved in with her, so instead she opted for what she hoped was amiable silence as she set down the flowers on the island.

“Can I get you something to drink?” She asked, turning to the fridge in an effort to mask her unease.

Despite Azriel’s warm greeting and the flowers he’d brought, Nesta felt her nerves lingering. However, not wanting to dwell on the stakes, she simply forged on.

“I have water, wine, beer, some of those disgusting hard seltzers....”

When Azriel still didn’t reply, she glanced up to see wry amusement sparkling in his eyes, brows slightly raised.

“I have two college-age sisters,” she explained. “Feyre in particular has terrible taste in beverages.”

Azriel huffed a polite laugh, though the slight flush in his cheeks told Nesta he’d been perhaps warned off making any comment about the youngest Archeron, even if it was friendly.

Smart man.

Instead he said, “If I asked for a shot of tequila, would you join me?”

Nesta smiled, retreating to the liquor cabinet and fetching a bottle of reposado and two rocks glasses.

“I should have known,” she said, pouring the golden liquor into both glasses before raising one to him in a toast. “Cash said you’d be the one to watch out for; the knife in the dark.”

At this Azriel laughed outright, his impeccably straight teeth on display as he raised his own glass. It was a deep, rich sound, made all the more satisfying by the knowledge that it had been earned.

“I’ve been to this club before,” he explained. “Trust me when I say it’s not a place you want to go sober.”

It surprised Nesta a little that Azriel—for whom a weekend in Ibiza had been a self-professed torture—was nevertheless familiar with some gaudy nightclub in a city almost 400 miles away from his own.

She opened her mouth to say as much before remembering Cash’s sly remarks about Azriel’s dating life. It seemed a reasonable bet that the last time that Azriel had gone to Divinity, it hadn’t been for the shitty music or overpriced cocktails.

Still, that wasn’t any of Nesta’s business, so she instead replied, “I will drink to that,” tapping his glass and throwing the shot back. It didn’t burn the way the cheap tequila she’d always drank in college had, instead warming her belly as it settled in her stomach.

She poured them each a second measure of tequila—this one for sipping on—and gestured Azriel take a seat on one of the barstools studded around the large granite island.

There was a measure of surprisingly comfortable silence as they both took a sip of their refreshed drinks, and Nesta cast around for something polite for them to talk about before the moment stretched too long.

Nesta hadn’t forgotten the comments both Cash and Azriel himself had made about Azriel’s family, but unsure of where else to begin, she began carefully, “Cash mentioned you met in London. Are you from the UK originally?”

He didn’t have an accent, but that didn’t mean much. Perhaps he’d trained himself out of it as a means of transformation. If there was one thing that Nesta felt certain of in regards to Azriel Macar, it was that the man who stood before her today—hair impeccably styled and clothes tailored to perfection—was a facade crafted with the same artistry which had made him so successful as a designer.

The real Azriel, Nesta sensed, was hidden somewhere beneath all the trappings of wealth and success, and for a reason she couldn’t fathom, the idea he felt the need to keep himself disguised made Nesta’s chest ache a bit.

Azriel huffed a quiet, humorless laugh at the question, and Nesta wondered if—however innocuous—it had been the wrong one to ask. However, after another small sip of his drink, Azriel met her gaze, expression steady but guarded.

“Hardly,” he said before glancing back down into his glass. “I grew up in Oklahoma.”

It had been the last thing Nesta had expected, and her struggle to master herself earned a laugh from Azriel, this one slightly easier.

“You seem surprised,” he mused.

“I’m sorry,” she said, cheeks flushing a little. “I—”

“Don’t be,” Azriel said. “I’d have been offended if you hadn’t been. It’s a Hellhole.” He gave another humorless laugh. “Which is ironic considering churches practically outnumbered people in the town I grew up in.”

Not wanting to offend him by saying the wrong thing, Nesta settled for what felt like the safest option.

“I’ve never been to Oklahoma,” she offered. “The closest I’ve come is Dallas, and I can’t say I’m a huge fan of that, either.”

“Oh agreed,” Azriel said. “Though I wouldn’t say that in front of Rhys; you’ll break his bougie black heart. He loves Dallas.”

“For some reason that doesn’t surprise me,” Nesta admitted, and Azriel smiled.

“Then you’re a quick study.”

They fell into another comfortable silence as Nesta turned the comment over and over in his mind, debating the merits of voicing the question dangling on the tip of her tongue. The potential for blowback if she overstepped remained a clear and present danger, but Azriel’s relaxed demeanor emboldened her to take the risk.

“So…Rhysand,” she began, trying to keep her tone casual rather than anxious or over-eager. “Any tips?”

Azriel paused at this, his glass halfway to his mouth as he raised his eyebrows. Not as if he were offended by the question, but rather to indicate he hadn’t been expecting it.

He took a sip of his drink in lieu of giving an immediate answer. Nesta wasn’t sure what to make of this stall tactic, but she resisted the urge to fill the silence, waiting instead for him to speak.

Finally he said, “Rhys is like skiing. Easy to learn but difficult to master. When I first met him, it took me all of ten minutes to decide I had him all figured out and that I fucking hated him. Now we’ve been best friends for almost five years, and he still finds ways to surprise the hell out of me on a regular basis. Still, chances are that even if you don’t want to like him, you still will. He’s inevitable in that way.”

“And what about the people he doesn’t like?” She asked carefully.

Azriel’s smile had grown soft and slightly more elusive, but he answered gamely, “I don’t think Rhys has ever met a female he didn’t like.”

She didn’t know why she said it, but Nesta found herself blurting, “first time for everything, I suppose.”

It was more vulnerability than she’d wanted to show, and seeing the smile slip from Azriel’s face, she knew at once she’d said the wrong thing.

However, he didn’t immediately clap back like she feared he would, instead seeming almost...concerned.

“I know we don’t know each other that well,” he said after a beat, “but can I be...honest for a second?”

“Please,” Nesta said, despite the fact she wasn’t at all sure she was ready for whatever it was he had to say.

“I assume this has to do with Mor.”

It wasn’t a question, but it certainly answered any doubt Nesta had over whether Mor had voiced her dislike to the rest of the group.

“What makes you say that?” Nesta said, annoyed at herself for the tartness which had slid into her voice.

However, if her curt tone bothered Azriel, he didn’t show it. Instead he merely nodded, seeming to weigh his next statement before continuing on.

“I usually try to stay out of the inter-group politicking because there are enough busy-bodies in this crew as it is, but I will say this: Mor is entitled to her opinion; don’t make the mistake of assuming it’s an opinion that everyone shares.”

“I wouldn’t blame you or Rhysand if you didn’t like me,” she admitted, fighting the urge to grow defensive in her vulnerability.

Azriel only shrugged.

“Like I said, it’s not my style to insert myself into other people’s business, but…”

He paused for a second to meet her eye before quietly adding, “I saw what was done to that bookcase, Nesta. Mor didn’t.”

Nesta felt a lump swelling in her throat at the memory, Tomás’s screaming still echoing faintly in her ears.

“That’s probably more grace than I deserve, but thank you.”

Azriel nodded again, looking down into the swirling remains of his drink before adding, “And for what it’s worth, you should know that Cash has never said one ugly thing about you, even in Vegas. He had every opportunity to tear you to pieces that weekend, and he never did.”

“I think that says more about his character than mine,” Nesta admitted, “But I can’t deny it’s a relief to hear.”

“Cash may seem carefree, but I don’t think I need to tell you that everything he does, he does with intention. That includes the company he chooses to keep.”

There was a finality to the way Azriel said it, as if he’d finally exceeded his limit for getting mixed up in his friends’ personal lives and was hoping to change the subject.

Nesta rewarded his tacit request by refilling both their glasses and saying, “So, as two people who don’t like clubs, any idea what we can expect from tonight?”

“A bloody nightmare,” Azriel said half under his breath, accepting his glass back from her and taking a healthy drink. “Rhys promised we wouldn’t have to be there all night, so I’m praying he can accomplish whatever required schmoozing quickly so we can fuck off to somewhere slightly less atrocious.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Nesta said, raising her glass in salutation and taking a generous swig.

The conversation flowed fairly effortlessly after that, shifting from the friend group to Azriel’s work. He’d seemed hesitant to discuss it at first, as if he were afraid he might bore her if he talked about himself or his own interests for more than a sentence or two. However, once she’d coaxed him into opening up slightly, no doubt aided in her effort by the tequila, she found they had no shortage of topics to discuss.

Beyond his own work, Azriel was a walking encyclopedia on the history of modernist architecture and design, and he was effortless in his ability to recite fascinating anecdotes about the movement’s pioneers. The way his eyes lit up as he regaled her with a story about Frank Lloyd Wright reminded Nesta of the look Elain always wore when discussing the Papal intrigue of Quattrocento Rome, and she envisioned—not for the first time—how well those two would likely get on were they to ever meet.

Nesta was surprised when she glanced at the oven clock and realized it was nearly 11:30. Azriel must have seen it too, because he drained his glass and reached for his coat.

“I’ve unfortunately exhausted all my tactics for delaying the inevitable,” Azriel said, pulling up the Uber app on his phone and showing Nesta that their driver was six minutes away. “Shall we?”

It was nearing midnight by the time they reached the white lacquered doors of Divinity, a throng of club hopefuls already beginning to amass behind the velvet rope which snaked off to the right of the entrance.

It was only then that Nesta realized they’d never been given any instruction on how or where to find the others. However, Azriel seemed to know the drill, because he skirted the line and went to the bouncer guarding the other side of the rope, presumably the entrance for VIP guests. It didn’t take more than the words “Rhysand Sadaghi” to get them through the rope and following a hostess to what she continued to remind them was the club’s “premiere suite”.

The farther they traveled into the space, the louder the hypnotic bass became until they were skirting the massive dance floor en route to a private balcony fashioned to look like a giant cloud suspended in mid-air. Nesta swore as she picked her way up the narrow staircase leading to the box, praying none of the smarmy-looking douchebags below would think to look up. If they did, she was fairly sure they'd have a full view up her skirt through the translucent steps.

Finally, they reached the landing, and Nesta permitted herself one last steadying breath before accepting Azriel’s hand to clear the final stair.

The suite seemed to be divided into two chambers separated by a silk curtain. The initial space was currently unoccupied, but through the partition in the silk, Nesta spotted a single figure lounging in a plush armchair as it if were a throne, a drink balanced lazily on a knee as he surveyed the crowd below. However, she had less than a second to study him before he took notice of their arrival, his arms outstretched as his mouth split into a breath-taking grin.

Rhysand Sadeghi was gorgeous almost beyond comprehension. The picture of elegance and obscene wealth, he was as tall as Azriel and just as well-built, with glittering azure eyes and a smile bright enough to dazzle even in the semi-darkness.

On paper his beauty was profuse to the point of revulsion—his eyes too blue, his lips too full, his cheekbones too sharp. In short, Rhysand should have been too pretty to actually be attractive. But there was something so devilishly human in the arch of his dark brows and the curve of his smile that made him, hands-down, the most handsome man Nesta had ever met.

But not, she noted with a swell of pleasant emotion, the most attractive. Rhysand may have been physical perfection, but he would never be more beautiful to her than Cash; no man would.

Rhysand gave a cat-like smile as he approached, straightening the lapels of his Armani suit jacket as if he were preparing to step into a business meeting. The crisp shirt beneath had the first several buttons undone, and Nesta could see the making of what was clearly a very intricate chest piece tattoo peaking above the collar, the swirling lines matching the designs which covered the backs of each of his hands.

“Nesta,” he said in greeting, tone warm as if they were old friends. “Finally. I was starting to worry that Cash was hiding you from me.”

His English accent was clipped but smooth, a clear product of his education at Eton and Oxford.

Nesta turned to allow him to brush a kiss on her cheek.

“So you’re the philandering rake I’ve heard so much about,” she said as they pulled away.

It was perhaps a somewhat risky thing to say considering how badly she wanted Cash’s friends to like her, but Rhysand’s answering smile indicated he enjoyed a good verbal spar.

“And you’re even more beautiful than Cash described,” he shot back easily. “Careful, I might be tempted to steal you for myself.”

Nesta hit him with an expression Cash had affectionately termed “Disney Villainess.”

“I don’t know if I’m expected to laugh in your face, or slap you across it.”

Rhys only tipped his head back and laughed as Azriel said from behind her, “A fairly common reaction to meeting him, I’d say.”

“Drink?” Rhys asked, gesturing to the various champagne buckets scattered around the space. “What can I get you?”

He was already pouring a whiskey for Azriel before patting his friend affectionately on the cheek, a gesture which Azriel swatted away.

“No special friend with you tonight, brother? Cash said it’s been a proper revolving door since you moved to LA!”

“Oh fuck off,” Azriel said, tone light even as his cheeks pinked. “You’re just jealous.”

“Maybe I am,” Rhys said, shooting Nesta a wink. “Champagne, Nesta?”

“Please,” she said, noting the bottle of $500 Armand de Brignac nestled in the closest chiller. Being around this level of wealth was going to take some getting used to. She seemed to sense that Rhys was waiting for her to take a sip, so she did.

“It’s lovely,” she said. “Thank you.”

Rhys grinned.

“I’m so pleased you like it. Cash says you have a palette for wine that’s destined to put the rest of us to shame.”

Just then another dark-haired man appeared from the darkness, bending to speak quietly in Rhys's ear. Nesta noted the radio at his belt and the gun at his hip, and the way his dark eyes shone with an alacrity which told her he was stone-cold sober.

When the man straightened up, Rhys gestured to him with a smile.

“This is my bodyguard, Adan. Donnie, this is Cash’s better half, if you can believe that.”

“Nice to meet you,” Adan said, voice thick with a French accent. “Welcome to the court of nightmares.”

Rhys’s crushing blue eyes glittered as he laughed.

“Nightmares? Brother, this is a court of dreams! Algerians take everything too seriously,” He added with a smile. “Relax, Don.”

Adan rolled his eyes and snapped a retort in French, though his body language suggested he wasn’t actually bothered. Rhys only laughed in response before offering a rapid reply in the same language.

“Shall we, then?” Rhys said, ushering Nesta forward while keeping his hand a respectful distance from her low back.

“Your timing is impeccable as always, Az,” Rhys said, dropping onto one of the low couches with a lazy grace before kicking his feet up on the glass table. “Even five minutes earlier and you’d have been forced to make small talk with the owner. The man’s a complete knob.”

“Sorry to have missed him,” Azriel said wryly, appraising the space with a designer’s critical eye.

Rhys seemed to note Azriel’s assessment, because he gestured to their surroundings and asked, “So, what do you think?”

Azriel’s lip curled in disgust, the most expression Nesta had ever seen him show.

“It’s fucking horrendous.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Rhys said with a grin. “Wouldn’t buy this place if it were free.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, though there was no malice in the gesture.

“If that’s true, then what are we doing here?”

“You mean besides running up an obscene tab on the ownership’s dime? We’re celebrating.”

Az simply rolled his eyes again, but Nesta shrugged.

“I’ll bite; celebrating what?

“The successful culmination of a well-deserved revenge plot.”

“I’m officially intrigued,” Nesta said, and Rhys flashed her a bone-melting smirk.

“I thought you might be,” he replied, drawing a cigar from his inside pocket before lighting it and settling back into his seat.

“Six months ago the prick who owned this place called me wanting to see if we’d be interested in going in with his group on a joint venture for a new property they wanted to open in Miami. They’ve been wanting to break into the market but didn’t have the contacts to do it, so they were hoping I could provide leverage. I said I’d consider it, but the financials didn’t pencil so I thanked him for the offer but told him we were going to pass.”

Rhysand paused to take a casual sip of his drink before continuing on.

“A few days later he pocket dials me. I was getting ready to hang up when I realized he happened to be talking about me to a colleague. Didn’t catch the whole conversation, but considering the fact I stayed on the line long enough to hear him refer to me as a ‘towel-headed terrorist”, I think I got the gist.”

The champagne she’d been enjoying moments earlier turned immediately sour in Nesta’s mouth. It wasn’t always easy being a woman—particularly in a chauvinistic, ego-centric industry like hers—but even with all the wayward comments and veiled jabs she’d endured over the years, she couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to be on the receiving end of that kind of ugliness. Glancing between Rhys and Azriel, she could see in their expressions the same bleakness she sometimes glimpsed on Cash’s face, a stark reminder of the realities of racism they didn’t have the privilege of ignoring. It made Nesta want to hunt this hideous prick down and bury her stiletto into his jugular.

Azriel, for his part, only gave an unamused snort, gaze going cold. “He should meet my brother Tanner. Sounds like the two of them would get along great.”

“Indeed,” Rhysand said, his own smile razored. “I won’t bore you with the gory details, but the long and short of it is that while he’s been kissing my ass the last three days thinking I’m interested in investing in this dump, my lawyers have been finalizing a deal to buy the property across the street.”

“So you can rub what an asshole he is in his face for the rest of eternity?” Azriel asked.

Rhys opened his mouth to reply, but Nesta beat him to it.

“You wanted him to open his books,” she said, reading Rhys’s cold smile. “You needed to see his balance sheet so you’d know what it would take to put this place underwater.”

He nodded, grin widening.

“Turns out that in addition to being an ignorant piece of shit, dude’s also an idiot,” Rhys said, smoke slithering through his lips as he took another drag from his cigar. “His distributor’s been fleecing him on booze. I already have a supplier lined up who’s willing to sell to me at cost, which means I will be able to charge 30% less per drink while maintaining the same margin. This place will be lucky to last six months.”

At this his crushing gaze met Nesta’s, and she couldn't decide if he was seeking her approval or illustrating the power he had to destroy people who crossed him. The fear that it had been the latter had the instinct to go on the defensive flaring, but Nesta forced the urge down, merely raising her glass to him instead.

“All’s well that ends well, then.”

“I wouldn’t start gloating just yet,” Azriel said. “It’s gonna take more than cheaper drinks to thin this herd.”

He gestured to the packed throng of revelers below.

Rhys remained unruffled.

“True, but when have you ever known me to not hedge my bets?”

“Let me guess: you’ve convinced some Kardashian sibling to come on opening weekend and lie to their billion followers about how great it is.”

“Kardashians? You’ve got to learn to dream bigger, Azzy!”

“We’re not going to play twenty questions with you about it,” Azriel shot back mildly. “So either tell us what you’ve got up your sleeve or I’m changing the subject. Cash won’t thank you for boring Nesta to death within the first twenty minutes.”

Rhys laughed, undimmed by Azriel’s slightly-acerbic wit. It made Nesta like Rhysand slightly more than she otherwise might have, knowing that his wasn't the sort of ego that was so large it had grown inflexible.

“Conn agreed to a two-week residency when the place opens,” Rhys explained instead. “ People are going to forget this joint even exists when they find out he’s performing at such an intimate venue.”

Azriel gave an appreciative chuckle, clearly understanding who that was and what it meant. Nesta, on the other hand, didn’t have the slightest clue.

Part of her didn’t want to give Rhysand the satisfaction of asking in the event he’d only brought it up as a means of making her feel foolish for not knowing. However, a glance up at him showed that the chilly gleam in his eye from earlier had softened to pure amusement, and she decided to play nice by saying, “I admit I don’t frequent enough clubs to know what that means.”

“If we said the name ConMan, would that mean anything to you?” Azriel asked.

Actually it did. ConMan’s signature was blending classical movements by Mozart and Bach with modern electronic music, and though Nesta wasn’t usually one for house or EDM, she admittedly had more than one ConMan track on her gym playlist.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re friends with one of the most famous DJs in the world,” she said to Rhysand, and he laughed again

“Actually I met him through Cash. They grew up together in Hawai’i.”

Now it was Nesta who wanted to laugh. In all the stories Cash had told about his childhood friends, including the twins—Fen and Connall0—he’d failed to mention that one of them happened to have a Vegas residency. She loved that about him, that he wasn’t one to drop names or lord his impressive friends over her.

“I don’t know how you feel about house music,” Rhys continued, “But you should come see him spin. He’s incredible on stage. Watching him perform, you’d never guess what a massive homebody he actually is.”

“I don’t know how he does it,” Azriel added, the whiskey stones in his drink clinking as he rotated the contents with a practiced flick of his wrist. “If I were Connall, I would have faked my own death years ago.”

“I do love that the two biggest introverts I know both ended up being famous,” Rhys said with a grin.

Azriel rolled his eyes.

“I am not famous.”

Rhys only bubbled his lips.

“Bruv, you were featured in Vogue. Give it up already.”

Recognizing that Azriel was currently her closest ally in the fight to win over Cash’s friends, Nesta decided to throw him a bone and redirect the spotlight by asking, “How well do you two know the Hawai’i boys? They seem like a fun bunch.”

“Nah, they're all assholes,” a voice echoed from beyond the gauzy curtain.

They all turned at the intrusion, Rhys whistling appreciatively and rising to his feet as Rowan Whitethorn cleared the last of the stairs and emerged into the lounge.

“There he is,” Rhys said. “Nice hair, brother!”

Rowan grinned as he ran a tattooed hand through the grey strands, which gleamed silver under the club’s sleek lights.

Rhys was right; it was quite different than Nesta had ever remembered it looking. Though he still wore it in an undercut, the sides were now almost to the skin and the top longer and more ostentatiously styled, making him look less clean-cut and more...dangerous.

Nesta didn’t have to wonder too long at the change. When she’d asked Cash why he hadn’t been seeing as much of Rowan—worried that he was still avoiding his friends because of her—Cash had made a vague remark about Ro’s current caseload requiring him to work extra hours. Seeing Rowan now, she suspected that ‘extra hours’ had actually been a euphemism for working undercover.

Rowan only smirked at Rhys’s assessment, their vibe easier than Nesta might have imagined. But then, that was the magic of Cash; he could bring anyone together.

“I’m trying something new,” Ro offered coyly.

“I like it,” Rhys said.

Rowan's smile grew a little, green eyes flicking up to Rhys’s own dark hair, which was styled in a similar manner.

“I bet you do.”

“I can’t resist a bit of drama,” Rhys admitted before glancing behind Rowan. “No Ace tonight?”

Rowan's face fell slightly even as he accepted a drink from Rhys and smiled at Nesta and Azriel in greeting.

“She and NeNe were playing in a tournament in Latvia until yesterday, and her flight out of Riga got canceled because of staffing shortages with the airlines. Don’t get me started.”

For her part, Nesta couldn’t decide if she should be disappointed or relieved. She hadn’t been lying all those months ago when she’d told Cash she liked Aelin already. But after Mor...Nesta wasn’t sure how much hope she could realistically harbor that Aelin would ever like her back.

She was saved from her self-improvised spiral by Rowan, who’d finished greeting Azriel and turned his full attention on her.

“Nesta,” he said, brushing a soft kiss on her cheek the same way Rhys had. “Good to see you.”

His smile was full of meaning, and she found herself flushing a little.

“You don’t seem...surprised. To see me.”

Didn’t seem disappointed, she didn’t need to say. She could see in his eyes that he knew what she meant, and the way they softened at the corners told her that he was genuinely glad she was with Cash, even after all her mistakes.

“Can’t say I am,” he said, accepting a whiskey from Rhys with a nod. “I had faith you two would...figure it out when you were ready.”

“I’m sorry Aelin’s not here,” Nesta said, hesitating for only a second before admitting, “I was looking forward to finally getting to meet her.”

“She’s gutted to have missed it,” Rowan said. “If there was any way she could have been here, she would have.”

Rhys and Az traded a furtive glance at this, but before Nesta could worry at what it might mean, Rowan flashed a soft smile, the sincerity in it putting her at ease.

“It really is a shame she’s not here,” Rhys said as they resettled. “I like to think she would have really appreciated the unholy douchbaggery of this place.”

“That’s because she’s a godless hedonist,” Rowan said, expression neutral but tone full of affection. “Why do you think she likes hanging out with you so much?”

“You’re just lucky you met her first,” Rhys shot back easily.

Remembering how Rowan had reacted when Eris had dared to make a comment about Aelin, Nesta half expected Rowan to clap back. Instead, he only grinned, clearly at-ease with this dynamic.

“Please,” he said, taking another sip of his drink. “You two would tear each other apart.”

“Agreed,” Azriel said mildly. “She’d have your sensitive little ass in tears the first time you got into a disagreement.”

“Fuck you both,” Rhys said, grinning now too.

Friends, Nesta realized. These three, despite all their perceived differences, were genuinely friends in their own right, even when Cash wasn’t around.

“Honestly, Sadeghi,” Rowan said, “I can’t wait to meet the girl you end up with. She's going to need the patience of a saint to deal with your…”

Rowan trailed off, head cocking towards the new song currently building in the space below. Nesta didn’t recognize it, but it was hypnotic and dark, admittedly a lot better than the manic-tempo shit they’d previously been playing.

Rowan remained on alert, listening intently, and finally Nesta asked, “Is everything alright?”

“This is Ace and NeNe’s warmup track,”Rowan said, seeming almost dazed. “Connall made it for them specifically after Aelin complained women's sports don’t get the same pre-game hype.”

“How annoyingly true,” Rhys said with an almost-theatrical frown.

Despite his disapproving words, Nesta didn’t miss the undercurrent of self-satisfaction in Rhys’s tone. Rowan clearly hadn’t missed it either, because his head instead snapped back to Rhys, his expression caught between confusion and excitement.

“Is this you?” He said, gesturing to the speakers.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Rhys said, blue eyes glittering with delight.

Rhys’s reaction, despite meaning absolutely nothing to Nesta, seemed to confirm something for Rowan, and he leapt to his feet.

“No way,” he said, a smile growing on his face now. “Even you couldn’t pull something like that off.”

Rhys pretended to buff his nails on his lapel.

“Couldn’t I, though?” He said with exaggerated self-importance before gesturing to the dance floor below with his eyes.

Rowan leapt up, running to the balcony to peer over it. Still unsure of what the fuck was going on, Nesta followed, reaching the balcony just as the beat dropped, everyone in the crowd seeming to pulse in time with the music.

That was, everyone but three people, who were instead cutting a distinct path away from the stage and towards the roped-off stairs.

Even if Nesta had not recognized the gorgeous blonde leading the trio, Rowan’s reaction to seeing her would have been enough to tell her who it was.

Rowan was in motion at once, abandoning his drink on the nearby table and taking the stairs two at a time. He ignored the belch of fake fog which exploded around him as his foot reached the last stair, because by that time the blonde had noticed him as well, and in two long strides she was in his arms, the hem of her tight dress riding dangerously high as she wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him.

“Nice work, brother,” Azriel said, extending his knuckles to a preening Rhysand. “Wasn’t sure you were going to be able to pull it off.”

By now Rowan and Aelin had finished their steamy reunion and were heading back up the stairs, Aelin tucked comfortably under Rowan’s muscled arm as they continued to grin at one another.

Finally Rowan turned back to Rhys, laughing a little.

“You sneaky bastard! All those questions about Ace not being here when you knew full well she was already on her way!”

“You know Aelin tears are my kryptonite,” Rhys said, winking at a beaming Aelin. “When she called me crying earlier saying her flight had been canceled, how could I leave her stranded, especially when I knew my father’s jet was sitting idle in London?”

It was then that Rhys finally came into greater focus for Nesta. If Cash was the group’s unifying thread, weaving all the disparate personalities into a single, tight-knit clan, then Rhys was its magic wand, trailing sparks through the air and achieving the seemingly impossible with a flick of the wrist.

It would have been easy to attribute it to his extreme wealth, but watching him now, Nesta could see it was more than that. Yes, money had a way of making big problems seem small, but the finesse with which Rhys handled roadblocks told her that he was neither as frivolous nor as rash as he liked to pretend.

And he hadn’t just done it to prove he could, Nesta realized. He’d done it knowing what even one extra day together would mean for Aelin and Rowan, and so that Aelin wouldn’t have to miss out on this rare opportunity for them to spend time together as a group. It was clear watching them interact how much they all meant to one another, and how much they cherished any time they got to spend in one another’s company. More than friends, it was clear this group was more like a second family, even scattered as they were across the globe. And it was all because of Cash.

Nesta watched the joyous reunion unfold without comment, feeling so caught up in the moment that she’d nearly forgotten her own outsider status. It wasn’t until Aelin finished greeting the others that Nesta remembered herself at last, the same anxieties which had plagued her all week swelling with renewed urgency.

A quick glance over Aelin’s shoulder revealed wary expressions on both Rhys and Rowan’s faces, as if they too weren’t sure how this meeting would play out.

It was only when Aelin’s stunning blue eyes fell on Nesta that the latter realized how badly she wanted this woman to like her, despite all the legitimate reasons Aelin—like Mor—had to dislike her.

To aate her even.

It was too late for all of that though, as Aelin was making her way over, her slinky gown glittering like molten gold under the lights. Nesta guessed that even barefoot Aelin must have been over six feet, but she towered close to Rowan’s height in her spindly heels, making Nesta feel positively minuscule in comparison.

Still, she did her best to steel her nerves, unsure whether to extend her hand as she forced herself to meet Aelin’s gaze and say, “I’m Nesta.”

“I know,” Aelin said, not extending her hand either.

Unease sluiced through Nesta as she tried to decipher Aelin’s tone. However, before she could worry about what to do next, Aelin continued.

“I know we don’t really know each other, but…” she paused, glancing over her shoulder at Rowan before turning back to Nesta and continuing, “Can I hug you?”

It wasn’t what Nesta had expected, but she nodded, extending her own arms with a slightly-strangled, “of course.”

Aelin pushed forward at once, pulling Nesta to her as if they’d been friends all their lives. It wasn’t the overly-tight embrace Nesta had feared, and she found herself immediately inundated by the fresh citrus scent of Aelin’s perfume.

When they pulled back, Nesta found Aelin smiling at her, no calculation or contempt on her face.

“I want to thank you again for what you did for Nehemiah,” she continued. “We were in a proper panic until you stepped in.”

“I was happy to help,” Nesta said, grateful for the warmth in Aelin’s tone, even if she wasn’t sure she deserved it. “I’m just glad it worked out.”

“It did. Thanks to you,” Aelin said, tone full of meaning.

Nesta nodded and made to step away, terrified she might ruin the moment by saying the wrong thing. However, Aelin reached forward to grab her hand, giving a soft squeeze as she leaned forward, voice pitched low as she said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Nesta admitted, pausing before adding, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time.”

“Me too,” Aelin said with a smile. “We all have.”

Nesta could barely contain what those words did to her—how they soothed all the jagged self-loathing she’d harbored over the last several months. Aelin seemed to read the lingering pain on Nesta’s face, because her own smile dimmed slightly.

“She’ll come around,” Aelin said simply. “Just give her time.”

Nesta didn’t need to ask who Aelin was referring to, but she nodded, grateful beyond measure for Aelin’s kindness.

Not wanting to monopolize Aelin’s attention, she turned back to the rest of the group, which now included two more men she didn’t know.

Though they’d yet to be introduced, it was clear from their piercing blue eyes who they were.

The Ashryvvers, Aelin’s maternal cousins.

The blonde was the first to notice Nesta, and his answering smile was deceptively mild as he nodded to her in greeting before leaning over to his cousin and whispering—perhaps a bit louder than he’d intended, “Ella está buena.”

Despite her parents’ insistence, Nesta’s Spanish had never been nearly as good as her Portuguese. However, it was certainly good enough to understand when a man was checking her out.

Flustered, Nesta tried to keep her expression neutral. It wasn’t that she was offended; she just wasn’t sure how to proceed without embarrassing Aelin’s cousin and possibly offending Aelin herself in the process.

Fortunately for Nesta, it seemed that Aelin had also overheard what had been said, and she reacted with no hesitation.

Quick as an adder, she slapped the blonde soundly upside the head and hissed, “That’s Cash’s girlfriend, you ignorant doorknob!” before flipping into smooth, clipped Spanish and adding, “Y ella habla portugués; puede entenderte. Sorry,” she said, turning back to Nesta with an apologetic smile. “You’d honestly think these two were raised in a barn. These are my cousins, Aedion and Galen.”

“Why am I being scolded?” Galen, the darker-hair one, asked. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it,” Aelin sniffed at him. “So you’re just as bad.”

Galen rolled his eyes in defeat and turned to make himself a drink, but Aedion only grinned, seemingly unruffled by Aelin’s rebuke as he extended his hand to Nesta.

“Lovely to meet you,” he said. “Cash is a lucky man.”

“Knock it off,” Aelin said, pushing his hand aside as she steered Nesta away. “She’s probably gotten enough of that from Rhys already.”

“Me?” Rhys said, laughing. “What did I do?”

“Plenty, I’m sure,” Aelin said, blowing him a kiss. “Besides, I thought you saved the worst of your shameless flirting for me!”

“Don’t encourage him,” Rowan said.

“Don’t get possessive,” Aelin lobbed back, flashing him a tarty smile over her shoulder. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

“God, I’ve missed you,” Rhys said, grinning appreciatively at her.

“Then move to California already,” Aelin said, pouring herself a glass of champagne before topping off Nesta’s glass as well. “Then you can annoy Ro to your heart’s delight.”

“It’s tempting,” Rhys admitted. “But I wouldn’t want to encroach on Az’s hunting grounds.”

Azriel, who Nesta expected to clap back the way he usually did when someone brought up his love life, simply raised his glass in answer.

“Be my guest. You and I have very different taste in women.”

It was a testament, Nesta decided, to how comfortable Aelin’s arrival had made her, that she actually debated actually asking Azriel what his type might be. However, after a moment of consideration she decided not to push the issue, if only for fear of upsetting the delicate but promising balance she’d struck within the group.

She thought of how it had felt watching Cash meshing with her own friends, and she hoped he would be similarly pleased when he saw how easily she’d seemed to find her way with his. Because they’d all gone out of their way to accept her, even after what she’d put Cash through. Being here with them, it became dangerously easy, in fact, to imagine what a future amongst these people might look like for her.

Before tonight, Nesta had been apprehensive to plan too far ahead where she and Cash were concerned, afraid to get her hopes up while things with his friends remained so much in the air. Hard as it had been, Nesta had promised herself when they’d started dating that she would never let herself come between Cash and the people who were most important to him, even if it someday meant making the difficult decision of letting him go so he wouldn’t be forced to choose.

She supposed she’d never forgiven herself enough to actually imagine they might accept her the same way Cash had. Sitting amongst them now, listening to them talk and laugh as if they didn’t all know how selfish and broken she’d been, her heart felt full in a way even she didn’t have words for.

“Boo, we’re out of champagne!” Aelin said, pulling Nesta from her reverie as she shook the empty bottle upside down and pouted in Rhys’s direction. “Please tell me we don’t have to flirt with the horrible owner to get more.”

“No champagne?” a familiar voice called, sending Nesta’s heart soaring into her throat. “What kind of shit party is this?”

Nesta leapt up in time to see Cash emerging from behind the gauzy curtain, a huge smile on his face. A cheer went up at his appearance, but he only had eyes for Nesta, stringing an arm around her waist as she approached and pulling her close.

“Miss me?” He asked, brushing his nose against hers as he grinned.

“A little,” she said, stroking a hand down his cheek.

Before she could ask how the dinner went, Rhys interrupted with a laughing groan.

“Guess I’m going to have to order the expensive stuff, now that Kahukore is here.”

“No need,” Cash said, pulling a bottle from behind his back. “I brought my own.”

Nesta recognized the crest-shaped label and laughed.

“You got it?”

Cash grinned.

“They offered me the job on the spot. I fly to Paris next week to sign the papers. Here Sadeghi, this shit is bougie enough to get even your spoiled ass excited. Dom P3 Plentinude Brut, a gift from the personal wine cellar of Dom’s COO.”

“This beauty spends 20 years aging on its lees, and you want to share it with these animals?” Rhys asked.

“Good point,” Cash said. “We better open before I change my mind.”

Divesting the bottle of its cage with practiced ease, Cash held his thumb to the cork to keep it from accidentally popping off before offering the bottle to Nesta.

“Will you do the honors?”

She gently pushed the bottle back towards him.

“You’re better at it than I am,” she said.

“True,” he said, grin widening as she bared her teeth at him. “But I wouldn’t have gotten this job if you hadn’t pushed me to apply, so this one’s all you.”

“Nes-ta! Nes-ta! Nes-ta!” Aelin chanted, the others joining in until Nesta finally accepted the bottle from Cash, applying pressure to the cork before it finally came loose with an expert kiss of sound.

They all cheered again, Cash pouring a measure into the fresh glasses Rhys had produced before raising his own, Nesta still tucked comfortably into his side.

“Oscar Wilde once wrote, ‘pleasure without champagne is purely artificial.’ Since I’m not one to argue with the greats, I’ll simply say, here’s to genuine pleasure, friends!”

Another cheer went up as they all clinked glasses and took a sip, Nesta nearly moaning as it hit her tongue. It was even better than the bottle of Armand de Brignac they’d opened after Nesta’s trial, every carefully-cultivated flavor dialed to 11 by the lengthy aging process.

“What do you think?” Cash said quietly, studying her reaction with delight.

“Perfection.”

“Just like you, then,” he shot back easily.

Instead of sniping back like she normally would have, she merely smiled, leaning up to kiss him.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said quietly.

“Thank you,” he said. “For making me go tonight. It would have been a mistake not to.”

“No thanks necessary,” she replied firmly. “Since there was no way I was going to let you miss it.”

“Things have been going...well here, I take it?”

She took a minute to compose herself, glancing down into her glass before meeting his eye again.

“The only thing that would have made it better would have been if you’d been here.”

He studied her face, seeming to relax as he read the calm contentment on hers.

“I’ve told you a million times; to know you is to love you, Nesta Archeron. Anyone who refuses to see that is truly blind.”

Nesta's heart stuttered a bit at that, both at the compliment and the reminder that there was still work to do when it came to repairing all the damage that had been done. Still, that was a problem for another day. Tonight, they were celebrating.

It was Nesta’s phone which woke her the following morning, the annoyingly-bright chime alerting her there was someone at their front door. She turned over to wake Cash, intent on making him fetch whatever package had been dropped off so she could continue sleeping.

She was fairly certain she was going to be hungover for the next month after the bender they’d embarked on the night before, and she didn’t plan to get out of bed until she had to leave for work on Monday. Maybe not even then.

Blindly reaching for him, she found his side of the bed cool, and when she’d gathered the strength to open her eyes, she swore to find a note instead of the mass of naked man she’d been expecting.

Gone to the gym with Ro to sweat out the demons. Take the Advil I left you. <;3

She swore again at realizing he wasn’t there, and a third time for good measure when the doorbell chimed again.

“Just leave whatever it is and go!” She yelled, even knowing there wasn’t a chance in hell the delivery person could actually hear her.

When the door chimed a third time, Nesta groaned and hauled herself to her feet, slugging down the Advil and nearly falling down the stairs in her attempt to reach the front door.

Dredging up whatever decorum she could muster, she smoothed her rumpled hair and fought down the urge to snap at the overeager UPS driver who’d thought it was appropriate to ring the doorbell three times on a Saturday morn—

Nesta felt herself go pale as she wrenched open the door to find that it wasn’t a delivery at all. It was Mor, looking fresh as a daisy and distressingly composed when compared to what Nesta was sure she must have looked like.

A beat of horrifyingly awkward silence reigned before Nesta regained her wits enough to say, “I’m sorry, Cash isn’t home right now.”

“Actually,” Mor said, “I came to see you.”

The panic must have shown somewhat on Nesta’s face, because before she could manage a reply, Mor pressed on.

“I would have been here sooner, but apparently Rhys lent the jet to Aelin, so I had to fly commercial.”

When Nesta still didn’t reply, Mor shifted slightly, the first sign of discomfort she’d allowed to show.

“I know it’s early for a social call, but I thought—would you like to come to breakfast? I know a great place in Portrero Hill. My treat, of course.”

Nesta, for all her usual composure and aplomb, remained speechless. When she finally opened her mouth, the only thing that came out was “Why?”

“I was hoping we could...talk,” Mor said. When Nesta made no move to reply, Mor continued, “I wanted to apologize for yesterday, and for us to hopefully...start over.”

After another hideous beat of silence Mor seemed to relent, nodding as she stepped back, gaze falling to her feet.

“But I understand if now is not a good time. I’ll just let you get back to—“

“No,” Nesta said finally, making up her mind. If Cash could forgive her for the mistakes she’d made and allow her to move on from them, the least she owed him was to offer Mor the same chance. “I’d like that. I just need to—” she glanced down at herself. “I could be ready in twenty minutes, if that works.”

“Yes!” Mor said, eyes lighting up. “Take your time, I’ll come back in an hour.”

Mor was already heading for the stairs, and Nesta considered the courage it had taken to extend this olive branch before deciding to extend one of her own.

“Would you like to wait here instead? I can make coffee.”

Mor’s smile went from edged hopefulness to soft relief.

“I’d love that.”

@that-golden-lyre @aspidenchantress @annedub @so-chill-mochill @verypaleninja @bookofmaas @katexrenee@mightymorphingayagenda @tswaney17 @keshavomit @subhuman-queer @123moiaussi @b00kworm @sezkins79 @marnz @wesupremeginger @toallthefandomsivelovedbefore @rhysanoodle @actuallyacotartrash @empress-ofbloodshed-writing @superspiritfestival @donnarosemary @regolithheart @kingdomofbrokenhearts @mariamuses @verifiefangirl-mainblog @awesomethreedragons @awesomelena555 @kayak34

#in vino veritas #nessian modern au #nessian #acotar x tog crossover #featherywrites

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nikethestatue · 1 year

Text

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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