“Take us both,” Malik growled in my ear. “You want that, don't you, Mvarra? You want our dicks driving into your ass and pussy together, stretching you until you can't take any more.”
“Yes!” I cried. “Oh, fuck. I need more. Give me everything!”
Cyprian and Malik sped up, finding a rhythm that forced the other men from the bed. It didn't matter, they still felt our pleasure, and when I opened my eyes, I saw Kyrian and Everan watching us avidly—faces strung tight with need and warrior hands working their weeping cocks. I spread my legs wider, grabbed my knees, and lifted my legs up and out. Malik and Cyprian snarled as one and drove themselves even deeper.
The slap of skin—of demanding cocks in wet flesh—grew louder and louder, adding to the steady grunting of my lovers. The Fusion opened up and dragged us all down into one churning pot of pleasure—mine and theirs—shared by everyone. I felt the sensation of entering my own body and the taste of my blood lingering in my mouth while I showed them what it felt like to be penetrated and made whole.
“Malik!” I screamed. “Now!”
Malik sank his teeth into my neck and we all came in one glorious, wet, groaning, clenching explosion.
Chapter Fifty-Two
The ballroom of the Northern Castle exceeded my expectations. It perched at the top of the central keep and was capped by a glass dome, its clear panels held in a golden framework and united by a central, gold medallion. From what I could see of them, the walls were mirrored but most of those reflective surfaces were covered by the lush growth of potted plants. From low bushes to soaring trees, the layered lines of greenery turned the ballroom into a garden and created little nooks for private interludes.
My men and I strode across a deep green marble floor, toward the dais at the other end of the room. The thrones atop that dais weren't our destination. There were only three of them and they were reserved for the Royals of the North. Instead, we headed for the collection of grand chairs set at the base of the dais—seats for the visiting monarchs. My grandparents and uncle were already seated there, along with the other royals—another courtesy to show equality.
The center of the ballroom was full of couples dancing to the Danutian music that filtered in from hidden speakers. The scene looked like a recreation of several different time periods on Earth. Like a movie with shoddy research: the costumes a bit too strange, the ambiance too alien, and the people, well, the people were too exotic to have come from anywhere on Earth. But this scene was grander than that in any movie and was no replica. Handsome courtiers spun delicately beautiful women across the glossy floor while more of the glittering throng congregated around the edges of the dancing area, speaking and laughing and drinking Danutian wine from crystal glasses.
I wore one of my mother's old gowns and received more than one shocked look from the Northern Danutians for it. I looked a lot like her so I imagine it was like seeing a ghost for them. I trailed my fingers nervously along the straight neckline that ran across my shoulders. Is it still technically a neckline if it doesn't line the neck? I wasn't sure; fashion, although I appreciate it, has never been my strong suit.
Kyrian and Everan split off from our group to get all of us drinks while Cyprian, Malik, and I continued toward my grandparents. We had already eaten in the dining hall, one floor below, but there was still a buffet table to the right of the dais with appetizers and drinks. That was where Everan and Kyrian headed. The rest of us reached the royals before Ever and Kyrian reached the drinks.
“Amara, I didn't have the chance to tell you at dinner, but you look...” my grandmother left the sentence hanging as she stared at me. Her eyes started to glisten.
“Beautiful,” my grandfather finished for his wife as he took her hand. “You look absolutely beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I took the seat beside my grandmother and kissed her cheek. “You look lovely as well. As always.”
“Oh!” She slapped my hand playfully. “You delightful girl!”
Malik smirked at me. Despite my grandmother's protest, she was obviously aware of her own beauty. She may be a grandmother, but Queen Salana looked like a woman in her twenties and not just any woman, but a supermodel.
Then a murmur went through the crowd, calling our attention to a man who had just entered the room. His height and build dwarfed those around him and were doubtless what had caught everyone's attention. The new Danutian clothing he wore—clothing that must have been hastily sewn specifically for him—enhanced his strong physique with its sleek cut while the dark green of the tunic brightened his hair. He had that fiery hair braided back and had shaved—both of which made his jawline sharper and his features more pronounced. Braxis looked like a god of war slumming it among mortals. Except these weren't mortals and he was no god.
Still, a shiver ran through me as his stare unerringly found mine. Once connected, he refused to let me go and held my gaze as he crossed the room. Malik, who sat on my right, tensed and took my hand. I squeezed him back reassuringly and finally found the strength to look away from Braxis.
“You have nothing to worry about,” I whispered to Malik as I turned to face him. “I'm yours. Have been since the moment you first touched me.”
Malik's shoulders relaxed and he lifted my hand to kiss it tenderly.
“Amara, may I speak with you?” Braxis interrupted the sweet moment.
Malik growled.
“If it's all right with you, Prince Malik,” Braxis added.
Malik ground his teeth together and looked at me. I just stared back calmly and waited for his decision.
“Very well.” Malik grudgingly released me.
“He is not the Ruar of our fusion,” Kyrian noted casually as he handed me a glass of wine.
“What is a ruar?” Braxis asked.
“It's the alpha of the union—the one who gets the final say in most matters,” Cyprian explained. “And that would be me.”
Braxis took a deep breath, released it, and nodded. “Very well, would you—”
