Page 125 of On Brutal Thrones

I keep turning the word over in my mind, testing it, and every time it lands with the same warm, settled certainty. Married. To three men who have carried me through fire and swamps and graveyards and canyons, and things I don't yet have names for. Three men who just stood in the firelight and told me the worst things they'd love me through, and meant every word.

I look at them. Fenric, whose eyes are still slightly red at the corners and who is clearly going to deny it for the rest of his life. Talon, who kissed my hand without a single joke and hasn't fully recovered from the sincerity of it. Thorian, who promised to love me even if I chose something else, because that's the fear he lives with, and he said it out loud anyway.

Something shifts in me. Quiet and certain and warm.

I've spent my whole life being careful, doing what was expected, being what was needed, keeping myself contained and composed and appropriate. A lady's daughter. A sister. A caretaker. Always the person who made sure everything was held together.

Tonight, I don't want to be careful.

“So,” Fenric says, and something in his tone makes me look at him. His mouth curves. “Are we going to consummate this marriage, or⁠—”

“Yes,” I say.

All three of them go very still.

Then a thought makes my smile falter. “Wait. Can Valtor see us?”

Fenric’s grin disappears. “That would put a damper on things.”

Thorian shakes his head. “The gods watch during the Trials themselves. Not every moment between them.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” He reaches for my hand. “This is ours, Nyx. Not theirs.”

I look from him to Fenric, then Talon. The thought of having even one moment Valtor can’t take from us makes my chest ache.

“Good,” I say. “Because my answer is still yes.”

I get to my feet. The firelight throws warmth across all of them, and I feel something I haven't fully felt before. It’s not nervousness, nor the sweet, uncertain wanting of our first night together. It’s something steadier and bolder than that. I know these men now. I know their hands and their voices and the sounds they make when I touch them. I know what I want.

I go to Fenric first, because he started it, and I take his face in my hands and kiss him slowly, the way I've wanted to all day. He makes a soft sound against my mouth and his hands move to my waist, but I pull back before he can take over.

Talon is next. He raises an eyebrow when I turn to him, but it drops again when I press my mouth to his, and for once he lets me lead, which I suspect costs him something. I feel his smile against my lips before I pull back.

Then Thorian. He watches me come to him with that dark, intent expression, and when I reach up and pull him down to me, kissing him with everything I have, his control lasts approximately three seconds before his hands are in my hair.

I step back. "Want to see me naked?"

“Fuck, yes!” Fenric says, rushing closer.

They undress me slowly, passing the task between them, unhooking and unfastening and peeling each layer away with a patience that would be maddening if I weren't watching their faces the whole time. Thorian's jaw is tight. Fenric keeps exhaling slowly, like he's managing himself. Talon doesn't look away from me once.

When the last of it falls away, I reach for them in return, and what follows is considerably less patient on my part. Buttons, laces, fabric, all of it gone, until the firelight touches all of us equally and I can look at them the way I've wanted to all day.

Then I sink to my knees.

I feel Fenric's sharp inhale above me. I take him in hand first, learning the weight of him, and when I take his cock into my mouth he makes a sound that travels straight down my spine. I learn quickly what he likes, guided by the catch of his breath and the involuntary tightening of his hand in my hair, and when I feel him start to shake I pull back and turn to Talon.

Talon, to his credit, stays very still. His hands stay at his sides. His jaw, however, is doing something complicated as I slowly wrap my lips around him and draw back and forth. I go slowly at first, then faster, changing my suction, my pressure, according to the way I feel his body move.

By the time I reach Thorian, I’m wet and turned on. He’s enormous, so I start small, sucking on his tip, then taking him slowly deeper. When I try to take him all the way, I gag, but I fight through it, and he makes a strangled sound and breaths harder and harder until I know he’s close.

The act of sucking on the three men has wound me up completely, warmth pooling low and insistent. I can feel my inner muscles tightening and loosening, desperate to have one of them inside of me. Even my nipples are hard and painful.

I need them. I need their hands on me. I need to feel them come inside my body and leave me sticky with their seed.

“Someone come fuck me,” I say, standing naked and vulnerable, knowing exactly what I need.