Her body arching, pussy fluttering around me. My knot swelled at her entrance, locking us as I came hard, flooding her with hot spurts. She followed, screaming around Solomon’s cock, her release triggering his. He pulled out just enough to paint her tongue, then pushed back in, groaning as she swallowed him down.
We collapsed together, breaths mingling, the mirror still reflecting our tangled, satisfied forms.
“Our queen,” Solomon whispered, kissing her forehead. “Always so incredible.”
I rested my forehead against Mira’s belly. Her fingers found my hair. Solomon’s hand settled on my shoulder.
“The ceremony,” Mira said after a long, wrecked silence. “We have... how long?”
“An hour and twenty minutes,” Solomon said. He hadn’t moved his hand from my shoulder.
“We need to fix the dress.”
“I’ll call the seamstress,” I said against her belly.
“You absolutely will not. She’ll know.”
“She’ll know regardless. Lycan nose.”
Mira covered her face with both hands. “I’m being crowned in a dress that smells of sex.”
“You’re being crowned as a queen who just had two of her mates inside her. It’s no big deal here. The kingdom should be aware of what it’s getting.”
“I hate you.”
“You don’t.”
“No, I do.”
A knock at the door.
“If you three are finished in there,” Percy’s voice called through the wood, “I’ve just survived an hour of your parents explaining lycan gestation timelines in graphic detail, and I need emotional support.”
Solomon was already moving. Trousers up, shirt straightened.
“Did you know lycan pregnancies are faster?” Percy continued through the door. “Because I didn’t. And your mother had visual aids, Lucian.”
Mira was laughing so hard she couldn’t stand. I helped her up while Solomon retrieved the gown and began reassembling thecorset with the same hands that had stripped it off her fifteen minutes ago.
“You abandoned me,” Percy said when the door opened.
He stood in the corridor in his formal consort attire, silver and deep green, his hair actually combed for once. His eyes swept the room. Mira’s flushed face and Solomon’s suspiciously pristine composure.
“Oh, come on!” He spread his arms. “You didn’t even invite me?”
“You were busy with charts,” Mira said, adjusting her bodice.
“I was being terrorized. And I could’ve been here instead, contributing, participating, being included in the pre-coronation traditions.”
“This isn’t a tradition,” Solomon said.
“It is now.” Percy leaned against the doorframe and grinned at Mira. “You look incredible, by the way.”
“I look ruined.”
“Same thing. Also...” He straightened. The grin shifted into genuine warmth. “I’m officially the wealthiest noble in Veyndral. Did anyone mention that? The Kaelwyn estate. Turns out my parents were loaded. Two hundred years of compound interest managed by the most loyal servant in recorded history, and I’m richer than both of you combined.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Solomon said.
