Bran gave him a flat look that let him know his retreat from dominating Zul’s mind was a courtesy, not a necessity. He had released Zul’s mind, not retreated from it, which meant he could exert control again—and would if he saw the need. He quickly drew the blade across one palm then the other, a light slice just deep enough to bring blood to the surface. “I am Brannal, the First of the Fangrys cen’Vyr Triad.”
Palms bleeding he handed the knife to Gil who sliced his palms and intoned, “I am Gilvane, the Second of the Fangrys cen’Vyr Triad.”
His gaze more intense than Zul would have expected, Gil handed him the knife. Zul glanced at Bran who nodded at him, a gesture of mingled encouragement, approval, and expectation. A flicker of Bran’s will in his mind reminded him that coercion remained an option, but one Bran would prefer not to choose.
Zul’s upper lip lifted in a silent snarl as he sliced his palms and hissed, “I am Zullar cen’Gyrah, now the Third of the cen’Vyr Triad of Fangrys.”
The thrill of acceptance and approval filled Zul’s mind as the three males raised their hands and clasped them, palms touching palms, blood mingling with blood. Zul’s left palm pressed against Gil’s right palm, and his right palm pressed against Bran’s left. As the circle of three closed, each of them threw his head back and roared. Fire streaked through their bodies and their horns blazed with heat.
With the bond sealed, they lowered their hands and released their grips. The lacerations crossing their palms had healed, a gold scar on Zul’s right palm and a blue-green scar across his left. Bran and Gil each bore a fresh red scar crisscrossing the old bonding marks left by Crow, their former Third.
Zul shook his hands to dispel the tingling in them. Gil rolled his shoulders, which ached from tension. Bran slowly blinked those inscrutable golden eyes, the only sign of his lack of composure, and said, “Bathe. Treat your wounds. We will reconvene at supper.”
Zul nodded, resentful of his defeat. He wondered when the chains would come out and vowed he would not offer his wrists to be manacled.
“I am not Borsulvar cen’Gyrah,” Bran said in a quiet tone. His invasion and control of Zul’s mind had been complete and illuminating. “Your former prime was honorable but harsh. I will not confine you as he did.”
“And you will share our mate,” Gil said, his tone and words gentle and encouraging. “She will welcome you.”
Zul blinked in surprise, unsure as to how Gil had sidled so close without him noticing. His wrists and ankles felt the faint echo of shackles that no longer restrained him. Gil rested a hand on his shoulder. “I am the Second and Forever of the Fangrys Triad and your eternal ally. You willneverbe alone or be chained again.”
Zul shuddered as he felt Bran link them together, connecting their minds in a firm and bright bond stronger than he’d ever experienced. He felt Gil’s love and admiration for their Prime. Even more amazing to him, he felt Bran’s acceptance and welcome. The Fangrys Prime knew what he was, what he’d done, and did not judge him for it. Zul felt the entirely foreign urge to kneel before the high caste warrior and spout words of undying allegiance and fealty.
No need for that. I have no desire to be king.
Gil laughed aloud.Yes, you do. Sometimes.
Bran’s answering laughter surprised him. Borsulvar would have cuffed his Second for such impertinence.
Chapter 8
Ursula’s keen eyes did not miss the careful way Zul and Bran moved or the subtle thickness of bandages beneath the fabric of their clothing. Her voice turned thin and suspicious when she demanded, “What happened?”
Gil cupped her cheek and pressed a kiss to her crown. “Sit,elska’adir, and we shall explain all.”
Ursula waited for Gil to sit and allowed him to draw her onto his lap. Leaning against his chest as he splayed a hand across her belly, she shot a sharp glare at Bran then Zul. “I heard the commotion. The servants barred me from the corridor leading to the arena. Why were you two beating on each other?”
Bran sat down and gave her a toothy smile, a facial expression he’d learned from her. His mate’s expression didn’t change; she remained suspicious. “Be at ease,elska’adir. Your triad is once again whole.”
Ursula’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “And you had to beat the snot out of him to accomplish that?” Zul grunted in offense. He’d given as well as he’d received. She paused to consider her next words, then said, “Did you do this for me?”
Gil’s thumb stroked her, the tip gently rubbing the underside of her breast through the filmy fabric of her dress. His lowchuckle rumbled through his chest and soothed her like a cat’s purr. “No, my love, Bran did this forus.”
“Sit, Zullar cen’Vyr,” Bran bade the hulking, red berserker. “You have tonight to heal and adjust to your new triad. Before we depart, we will claim our mate together.”
Zul sat, every movement careful. He glanced at Ursula, his black gaze almost sheepish. His velvety baritone filled the room: “Only if she accepts me.”
Ursula gasped. Gil said over her soft sound of surprise, “I have registered our triad with the government. Perhaps now they will cease trying to get us killed.”
Bran nodded. “Good. It will be best if our mate conceives soon.”
“Hey, I’m right here,” Ursula announced.
Gil’s hand pressed against her belly. “Did you not wonder why you have not conceived since Crow was born? It is not because we do not fuck you.”
“I know why,” came the dry response. Ursula’s voice hardened, “But as I told you before, I’m neither your broodmare nor your fuck toy. It would be nice to be consulted and to give my consent first.”
Gil’s hand slid down her abdomen and pressed between her thighs, the loose, flowing fabric of her skirt doing nothing to prevent her from feeling his intimate touch. Ursula’s breath hitched. “Tonight we will proceed with the Rite of First Touch as a bound triad.”
