"Ferria said Malus needs all three of us," Briar continued. "Both pieces of you and me as the catalyst. To force reunification. To restore you to what you were before the split."
"Reunification," Eliam repeated. "Becoming whole again."
"Becoming one person again," Arion corrected, and there was a hint of fear in his voice. "Which means one of us ceases to exist."
They stood there, the three of them, while the celebration raged around them. The firelight painted everything in orange and gold, and the drums seemed to sync with the frantic pulsing of the warmth in her chest.
"This is why," Arion said suddenly. "Why I was so drawn to you from the beginning." He was looking at Briar. "Not just attraction. Recognition. You carry a power that knew what I was, even when I didn't."
"The warmth has been trying to pull you together," Briar said. "Every time you're both near me, it goes wild. It wants you whole."
"But we don't know what that means," Eliam said, his voice sharp. "What happens to our consciousness? Our memories? Do we merge or does one dominate?"
"I don't know," Briar admitted. "Ferria didn't say. Maybe she didn't know."
The words hung there, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on them. Eliam's face was a mask of controlled fury at the situation, at Malus, at the impossible choice. Arion looked shaken to his core, his light flickering erratically.
A wave of dancers crashed into them, drunk and laughing, jostling them together. Briar stumbled, and both men reached for her at the same time. Their hands met on her waist, overlapping, and the warmth in her chest erupted.
Golden light spilled from beneath her skin, visible even in the firelight. Where their hands touched each other and her, the connection flared to life—not just physical but something deeper. They all gasped at the same moment, feeling it.
The drums seemed to get louder, more insistent, pounding through their bodies. All around them, the celebration had reached its peak—bodies everywhere, intertwined, the air thick with smoke and desire and primal abandon.
The warmth was singing now, pulling them together with desperate need. Twenty-five years of carrying this power, and finally it had both halves close enough to touch.
Eliam's hands pulled her flush against him, but he was looking at Arion over her shoulder, and his expression held something she'd never seen before. Recognition. Understanding. Hunger not just for her but for completion.
Rather than retreat, Arion stepped closer, pressing against her back, and Briar found herself caught between them. The drums made thinking impossible. All she could focus on was the way their hands felt on her skin, their bodies pressed close, the warmth connecting all three in a circuit of need.
"We should—" someone started to say, but then Eliam's hips moved with the drums, pressing her back against Arion, who groaned softly. She could feel him hard against her lower back.
They began moving again, but barely, just their bodies finding rhythm together, no space between them.
"I can feel it," Eliam said as his hands spanned her bare waist, fingers spreading across her ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts.. "The pull. Not just to you anymore. To him too. Through you."
Arion's hands settled on her hips, holding her against him, and she could feel his arousal growing with each movement.
“Maybe…” Briar began but Eliam's mouth found her throat, teeth grazing her pulse, and the words died. His tongue traced the column of her neck, tasting the salt of her sweat mixed with ceremonial paint.
Behind her, Arion's hands moved up from her hips, sliding across her stomach. His fingers traced the painted symbols there, each touch sending sparks through heroversensitized skin. When his palm flattened against her belly, pressing her back more firmly against his arousal, she moaned.
The golden warmth in her chest wasn't just pulsing now, it was reaching out in tendrils, wrapping around both men, trying to bind them through her. Every point where their bodies touched felt electric.
Arion's hand slid up slipping beneath the minimal leather binding to cup her breast, thumb finding her nipple already hard and aching. His touch was gentle but possessive, and when he rolled the sensitive peak between his fingers, her knees nearly buckled.
"Here?" she gasped. "In the middle of—"
"Look around," Eliam commanded, his hand tangling in her hair to turn her head.
The celebration had descended into something primal. Drak couples and groups writhed together by the fires, hands and mouths exploring freely. The drums had taken on a deeper rhythm that seemed to bypass thought entirely, speaking directly to the body. This was what Mor'va had meant by celebrating life—pure, uninhibited expression of being alive.
"No one cares," Arion murmured against her ear, his other hand joining the first to cup both breasts. "This is what the celebration is for."
Eliam's mouth found hers, kissing her with a desperate hunger that had nothing to do with the wine and everything to do with the revelation of what he was. Whattheywere.
She kissed him back just as desperately, her body on fire from their combined touch. When Arion's mouth found the side of her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, she broke the kiss to cry out.
With a newfound sense of urgency, Eliam's fingers made quick work of the ties holding her top in place. The leather fell away, and then their hands were on her bare breasts, Eliam's from the front and Arion's reaching around. Four hands touching, teasing, making her writhe between them.
