Ravyn's Mates

Citation preview

 

Ravyn Warriors 5 

Ravyn’s Mates After years of waiting, Michel and Cord have finally found their third mate in the Ravyn warrior Druas. When a demon Prince sends them on a mission that will allow them to grow closer to the object of their mutual affection, both men jump at the offer. The demon’s easy acceptance of their unconventional relationship wasn’t something they were prepared for, but neither is willing to question it. Druas never dreamed his next mission would result in finding he had not one but two shape-shifting mates. After the initial discomfort and aggression caused by Michel and Cord’s mating pheromones, Druas is happier than he ever thought possible. But one fateful battle changes everything when Druas is kidnapped and his memories are erased. Can Michel and Cord open their mate’s eyes to the truth, or will the Ravyn be forced to face the loss of more than just his recollections? Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Fantasy, Ménage a Trois/Quatre Length: 60,757 words

 

RAVYN’S MATES Ravyn Warriors 5

Jana Downs

MENAGE AMOUR MANLOVE

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Ménage Amour ManLove RAVYN’S MATES Copyright © 2012 by Jana Downs E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-817-3 First E-book Publication: July 2012 Cover design by Jinger Heaston All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers Dear Readers, If you have purchased this copy of Ravyn’s Mates by Jana Downs from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book. The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment. This is Jana Downs’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Downs’s right to earn a living from her work. Amanda Hilton, Publisher www.SirenPublishing.com www.BookStrand.com

 

DEDICATION To everyone who loves the Ravyns as much as I do and who has been here since the beginning. Thank you, guys.

 

RAVYN’S MATES Ravyn Warriors 5 JANA DOWNS Copyright © 2012

Chapter One Druas inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent of desert and air unpolluted by factories, cars, or anything else he had come to associate with Earth. His beloved Demontian desert embraced his sleepy body in the warm but not uncomfortable open air of the southernmost region of Prince Salvatore’s kingdom. He was as close to asleep as he could be without actually passing out. It had been a long day of walking, tracking one of the nomadic tribes that dotted this region. They were some of the last remnants of lingering support for Salvatore in all of Demontia. Druas and the two shifters his prince had sent with him, Michel and Cord, would catch up with the largest tribe tomorrow. The demon’s mind drifted in his half-awake state, a dream already tickling the edges of his consciousness. Then the rain began to fall. He cursed and sat up in his pallet as the first thick drop hit his cheek. It was nearly freezing, but that was normal in Demontia. The weather, like its people, was as vast and as variant as the terrain. “Michel, Cord, put your crap under the tarp,” he barked at the snoozing shifters on their shared pallet on the other side of the fire. They stirred and began to do as he bid. He looked away as they rolled to their feet, both of them as naked as the day they were born. He

 

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wished they wouldn’t sleep nude. It was distracting. A familiar resentment filled him as he watched them gather up the comfortable bedding and place it under the tarp they’d erected to house their things. He didn’t know why he didn’t like the two new Ravyns, but he just didn’t. At first they’d just made him uncomfortable. Ever since he’d had to deal with them every day in such close quarters, he’d found his reaction to them less and less tolerable. He was edgy and unable to relax. He was beginning to hate them. “All done, Dru,” Michel murmured in a sleep-rough voice as the raindrops began to fall in earnest. The other male was Druas’s height, which was no easy feat considering he was well over six feet. His tan skin practically glowed as rain gave it a sheen in the hissing light of their dying fire. The shifter tilted his head back and let the water fall into his perfect face. Druas found himself admiring the long curve of the shifter’s throat. He shook his head to clear it of the thought. No point in even going there. One, Dru didn’t even like the guy, and two, the shifter was mated to the other half of the shifter duo that Salvatore had saddled him with. “Rain should be over fairly quickly,” Cord, the other sandy-haired shifter said. He took his place by Druas and felt the skin of the Ravyn’s rain-slicked cheek. “You should get under the tarp as well, Druas. This rain is going to chill you.” Shifters ran even hotter than demons, and they wouldn’t suffer even in a chilly downpour. Dru deliberately took a step back out of Cord’s reach. He felt strange when they touched him, achy, pliant, weak. He hated it. “I’m fine, thanks. Besides, there isn’t enough room.” The bite in his voice made the other man take a hasty step back. Pain flashed over the shifter’s pretty features before his face blanked completely. The bond between the Ravyns flared, and Dru resisted the urge to rub the spot on his chest where he felt the new Ravyn’s pain echo along their connection. They all sat around their dying fire and waited for the rain to stop. Druas was wet, miserable, and more than a little grouchy by the time

 

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the rain slowed before stopping. As Cord had predicted, it only lasted long enough to thoroughly soak them and drop Dru’s core temperature a few degrees. The demon gritted his teeth and attempted to stop their chattering. His muscles danced beneath his flesh as his body tried to warm him with internal vibrations. Man, this sucked. What he wouldn’t give to be back in his nice warm room back in Haven, surrounded by his brothers, right about then. Granted, he preferred Demontia hands down on most days, but at times like this… “You need to bring up your temperature. You’re going to catch a cold,” Cord said sagely. Michel stood and crossed over to the tarp and took out their bedrolls. He tossed one at Druas, making the other man nearly drop his into the mud puddle that had formed at his feet. He offered a glare in thanks. His leathers were soaked and beginning to chafe his skin. He wished he had more clothes, but he didn’t want to risk soaking two pairs in case it rained again. Mentally, he shrugged. There was no reason he should be embarrassed about getting naked in front of the two of them. They were shifters and didn’t sexualize nudity. He pulled off his boots and socks before unbuttoning the top button of his pants and shimmying out of them. He wore nothing underneath, because the traditional hide pants didn’t allow much room for undergarments. He glanced up and saw Michel and Cord placing their pallet in a dryer place and bedding down together. Michel wrapped his big arms around Cord and spooned up behind him. A spike of jealousy speared Dru, and he forced himself to look away from the scene. Gods, how he hated the two of them. He’d never felt such strange urges until he’d met them. It didn’t help that when they thought he was asleep they fucked and sucked one another like there was no tomorrow. It was fucking frustrating. He stomped over to a dry-ish place on the ground and rolled out his bedroll. The thin blanket that was on top did not look appealing. He grumbled as he lay down and pulled it up to his neck. When he did, his feet hung out from the bottom. Dammit. Sometimes it sucked

 

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being so damn tall. He closed his eyes and tried to drift back to that happy place he’d been in before the rain had started. He shivered harder. He was so fucking cold. The blanket wasn’t worth a damn. He cursed. The damp was soaking into his bones. His teeth were chattering harder. He sat up. There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight. He eyed the two shifters as they slept. What the hell. He was too damn tired to keep his distance. He knew they were warm, and he was sick of being so cold. He crawled in between them and was surprised when Michel slid back to accommodate him. Dru was instantly encompassed in a warm embrace. Sweet relief poured through his muscles. It wasn’t long before he fell right to sleep, inhaling the scent of Cord’s golden-blond hair in front and feeling the warmth of Michel’s breath on his neck. **** Warm fingers wrapped around his dick as warmer lips caressed the nape of his neck from behind. Dru groaned and pumped his hips forward and ground back against the hard length that pressed insistently on his backside. The fact that it was another man’s cock didn’t even register in his sleep-laden mind. He was warm, and he was feeling good, and the combination just made him want to relax into the unfamiliar embrace. The warm body at his front stirred, and then there were a pair of lips on his. His lips parted on their own accord, and their tongues met in a languid, savoring kiss. Hot hands caressed the planes of his chest and tweaked his already-hard nipples. He gave a little moan of appreciation, and the person at his back gave a little growl in answer. He felt the impression of teeth as the kiss at his throat changed to a pinch of pleasure/pain as it turned into a bite. For some reason that just made him harder and want to come more.

 

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The person at his front was fondling his balls gently now, rolling them in their hands like the delicate sacs they were. “Yes,” Dru murmured between kisses. He was lost in this dream world of three hundred sixty degrees of pleasure. He wanted to orgasm so badly… “Harder,” he mumbled. The hand on his cock obliged him, and the hard press at his back became even more insistent. Yes. That was exactly what he wanted. The one desire he never shared with anyone was the desire to be wanted and to be shown that want. Like this, it was impossible to even begin to hide it. The hand that had been fondling his balls came up and intertwined with the other hand on his cock and created a delicious equal pressure on both sides of his hard length. Dru was panting in earnest now, rocking against the two stimuli as tongues, mouths, and teeth danced along his back and chest. Had anything ever felt so good? Warmth splashed against his lower back. Cum? He didn’t know. Didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was close, so very close to release. Little whimpers of need were exiting his throat in regular intervals, adding to the night in a way that made the soft whisper of wind against the landscape pale in comparison. “That’s it, Dru. Come for us,” a familiar voice growled in his ear. “Be with us, sweet demon. At last.” Harder touches now. Dru was past the point of talking, thinking, dreaming even. The figure at his front suckled his nipple. The sensitive appendage brought him dancing to the edge of satiation. More warmth splashed against his crotch, the sticky substance lubricating his weeping erection as the hands moved faster, jerking him with a surety that surpassed even Druas’s own masturbation techniques. “Gods, you’re so beautiful.” Another familiar voice, this time in front of him. More kisses, licks, nips. Dru felt the pressure building in his spine as his sac tightened, signaling his impending orgasm. He cried out into the mouth pressed against his, his whole body jerking as if he’d stuck his hand in a light socket. He might as well have for all the currents of electrical pleasure that were passing

 

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through him. His powers crackled down the lines of the Ravyns’ bond and reverberated through him. He writhed against the sensations as the hands milked him of seed until he was twitching in overstimulation. Finally, he sagged into the combined embrace, panting. The sleep cleared from him as he came down from the high of release. His eyes popped open, and he flinched. “What the hell is wrong with you guys? Get the fuck off me!” he screeched as the two shifters stared at him in bewilderment. Well, he couldn’t exactly see Michel’s expression from behind him, but he imagined it was the same one that Cord was wearing in the nearcomplete darkness. The liquid warmth he’d felt splash against him begin to cool and slide down his body. Oh my gods. His cheeks heated in embarrassment. They just came on me. The thought should not have given him a little thrill, but it did. Gods dammit! They were mated. Why the fuck would they want to include him in their sex? He didn’t want to be just a third wheel of a fuck fest. “Calm down, Dru. We thought you were ready,” Michel snapped, wrapping his arm around Dru’s waist and squeezing until it was uncomfortable. “Get that fucking snarly look off of your face. You’re hurting Cord’s feelings.” “Oh, my bad! Hate to hurt your mate’s feelings and all. I mean come on, really? You two just fucking molested me! And what the hell was the whole ‘we thought you were ready’ bullshit?” Druas demanded, struggling against the hold Michel had on him. Cord’s hands went to his chest, and he felt the instant warmth of his powers through their bond. Cord was a healer, and he had the unique ability to calm any of the Ravyns down almost instantly with a simple touch. It just served to piss Dru off at the moment. “Fuck you! Don’t pull that Jedi-mind shit on me, Cord. I mean it!” “You climbed between us,” Cord said, deliberately ignoring Druas’s command and forcing his heart into a steadier, more relaxed rhythm. “We thought that meant you wanted us.”

 

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“I was cold,” Dru murmured. “I was cold, and you were warm.” It made sense in his head. Why didn’t they understand? Was it a braindead shifter thing? Cord sighed heavily. “Then we were mistaken. Forgive us. We thought you wanted our attention.” The arm around Dru’s waist tightened. “What bullshit! You did want us. You don’t come apart in someone’s hands like that without wanting it.” Michel gave an animal noise of frustration and set his teeth on the point where Dru’s neck met his shoulder. The Ravyn had to resist the urge to moan as his teeth scraped over the imprint of a bite obviously given in the heat of the moment. “S–Stop it,” Dru managed through clenched teeth. Even he wasn’t convinced at the sincerity in his tone. “No one who moans like a five-dollar whore when I touch them can deny wanting it. Give me a damn break, Druas,” Michel rumbled. “Don’t push him, Michel,” Cord cautioned, his hazel-and-gold eyes filled with a pain that was obvious even in the low light. “He’s not ready.” Dru growled. “I was half asleep! Ready for what? What the hell? We’re on a mission, guys! What’s with the fucking hanky-panky? We’re brothers now. There can’t be any…” But there wasn’t really a rule against it, was there? He’d never viewed any of his other brothers sexually. Maybe it was because they were new Ravyns. He had certainly discovered the fact that the two of them were definitely male, and he’d obviously enjoyed the discovery if his sticky cock was any indication. Dammit. “Druas, we need to tell you something,” Cord murmured. Oh shit. Really? He didn’t want to know. “We’re kinda balls-deep in a mission, Cord. Can it wait?” Can everything wait? I can’t handle anything else tonight, and if I make any more discoveries, I’m going to blow my fucking head off.

 

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Cord shook his head, and Druas’s heart sank down into his churning stomach. “I think it’s time we told you. It’ll explain a lot.” He sighed softly as if he were gathering his courage. “You’re our mate.”

 

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Chapter Two “What the hell? You two are mated to each other!” Druas’s protest was definitely higher pitched than normal, the panic in his voice quite evident. Cord’s hand came up to rest against his chest again, calming him. Even Michel’s big paw of a hand was stroking his side as he held him. “Shifters mate in threes, Druas. Always have. Some psychologist somewhere said that’s for the survival of the species or whatever. Born shifters are much stronger than our turned cousins, so it’s better to make more shifters the good old-fashioned way. Since the mate bond only happens once, with two mates there is a less likely chance of a breeding-able mate to be left infertile if one of the mates dies.” Cord said it all in a bland voice that would’ve been awesome to listen to if he was watching fucking Discovery Channel. “We’ve been looking for you for years, pretty.” Michel nuzzled his neck, and Druas winced at the contact. “Stop it,” he snapped. He turned his attention back to his argument. “In case you all missed it, we’re all dudes. We can’t exactly ‘breed,’ can we?” Please say no, because that will freak me out even more than I already am. “Unfortunately, no. But we can adopt kits if you want to. There are plenty out there who need homes,” Cord said warmly. He evidently wanted kids, er, kits. Whatever. Druas slowly counted backward from ten, trying not to either lose his temper or vomit in shocked nervousness. “We do not have time for this. We’re on a mission for Prince Salvatore. This, this, whatever this is, is going to have to wait until we get back to Earth.” And then

 

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I’m going to run like hell, because I don’t know if I can handle the two of you. Two mates? And guys at that? Jesus Christ! This was what he got for being lonely Earth side. He’d put the idea out into the universe, and the universe was now laughing its ass off at him. “We were going to use this trip so you could get to know us,” Michel murmured from behind him. Gods, why wouldn’t he let Dru have some space? It was weird being spooned like this and knowing that the spooner’s spunk decorated his ass and lower back. “Your body recognizes us, Druas. It has from the beginning. You liked us then, right?” Dru thought back. Yeah. He supposed he did. He’d actually really gotten along with them when they’d been assigned to guard duty with the Ravyns. He wasn’t sure when that had changed, only that it had indeed changed at some point. He nodded. Michel continued. “You got edgier the longer you were around us. More, I don’t know, tense. Like you were waiting for something, and the other shoe never dropped.” “How did you know?” Dru asked in surprise. He hadn’t thought he was so obvious about it. “It’s natural,” Cord said. “When mates meet, it sets off a chemical reaction. Our pheromones stimulated you, readying you to be our mate. It’s pretty standard for shifters to claim their mates immediately, but we didn’t want to risk being removed from guard duty. We like being around to protect you.” Protect him? Seriously? He was the biggest Ravyn out of the bunch! “We thought we’d wait until we were a little bit more established in the Ravyns to start courting you.” “But then all that mess with Salvatore happened, and we had to delay again. You were so emotionally on edge anyway that we knew if we pushed, we might push you too far,” Michel finished for Cord, pressing a kiss to that damn bite mark again. Dru couldn’t suppress the shiver that time. Damn. It felt good to be touched like that… “But now it’s getting too hard to deny our own instincts. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined bending you over and fucking you

 

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since we started this trip.” Dru’s cheeks heated. They’d been here almost two weeks. Michel had been thinking about fucking him for two weeks? Gods! “Plus our pheromones were about to drive you up a wall. You’re not slick enough to pull off being strung so tight without it being noticeable.” He conceded to that. He was not known for being Mr. Mysterious. He was a very straightforward kind of guy. “I don’t know if I’m up to this,” he admitted. “I feel…” He trailed off. Well, right now he felt relaxed. Insanely relaxed and not just from Cord, either. The itching, twitchy tension that he’d been experiencing had ebbed to a more reasonable level. “Your orgasm with us helped calm your body’s urges down, but it’ll be back soon if we don’t consummate our relationship,” Michel said, reading his mind. It was the R word that had Dru struggling again. “Yesterday I didn’t know that you guys had bonded to me, and today we’re in a ‘relationship’? What. The. Hell.” He pinched the skin on Michel’s forearm, but that only served to make the shifter tighten his grip. Cord’s hands cupping his face stilled him. “Demons are, by your own admission, base, instinctual creatures. How long do you usually wait in your culture to claim your beloved?” Cord’s carefully framed question gave Dru pause. It was almost immediate. When demons got the urge, they usually took what they wanted. They may not mate for life, but they loved fast and hard and often. He tilted his head to the side, nuzzling Cord’s palm before he thought better of it. The shifter gave him a smile that melted Dru just a bit. “We’ve got to stay focused on the mission.” His last protest. The one he was holding onto because he had nothing else to cling to. “We will,” the two said in unison. Druas’s resistance was fading, and he was hardening again. His body was screaming at him to take them up on it. He felt like he’d been waiting forever to have sex even though he’d just come.

 

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“I don’t bottom,” Dru found himself saying. He realized he was scared of that. He didn’t want to be hurt. Even the few tangles he’d had in the past with men had never had him giving up that sort of control. “You will, and I promise you’ll enjoy it.” Michel growled, pressing his own half-hard length against Dru’s ass. “O–Only if I get to do you, too.” Gods, had he really just said that? His cheeks heated again. He was losing his ever-loving mind. Michel gave a low, slow chuckle. “You think I’m too much of a man to enjoy it? Fuck, pretty. I let Cord do me regularly even though he enjoys bottoming much more than I do. We’re mates. Everything feels good between us.” The mental picture of Michel and Cord fucking nearly had him unhinged. Damn. That was hot. Michel openly laughed. “Like that image, pretty?” “Pretty?” Dru asked, trying to ignore the combined heat of his mates. Mates. Christ. “First thing I ever said about you,” Michel said. Cord nodded. “It’s true. The first thing he ever said was, ‘my gods, look at that pretty thing, Cord.’ I got pissed at first, but then I smelled you…” Dru was surprised when Cord pressed his lips to him. He probably shouldn’t have been, but he was. Mmm, he tasted good. “My head’s spinning,” he murmured against Cord’s lips. He inhaled the scent of his two fellow Ravyns. Gods, they smelled like the perfect combination of fall and earth. “It’s the pheromones, pretty.” Whatever. He didn’t even care. He was freaking buzzed. “Want to fuck now,” Dru murmured. Whoa. Where had that come from? His thoughts were getting hazier by the second. “Cord?” “Hmmmm, don’t take him yet. He’s still overwhelmed,” Cord answered. His hand snaked between them to cup Dru’s erection. Damn, that felt fantastic. “Use his mouth.” Mouth? Druas had never given a blow job either, that he could recall.

 

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“Want him inside you?” Michel asked. “Mmhmm. Go grab the lube from my pack, please.” Cord kissed him hard, and Dru found his mouth opening to accept his tongue. The next thing Dru knew, he was leaning over Cord, kneeling between the shifter’s spread thighs. A warm, lubricated hand was coating him, and he was panting for breath, trying not to come too soon. He speared Cord’s tight body with a vicious thrust forward. Cord’s head tilted back, exposing his throat. A hissed “Yes!” escaped the shifter as Dru’s hips began to work inside the clenching confines of his mate’s ass. He was tight as a fist, and his whole body vibrated with passion as he whimpered and cried out for Dru to give it to him harder. Still, something was missing. Michel straddled Cord’s head so that his hard cock jutted over the space between them. Dru leaned forward and sucked the pre-cumdecorated tip into the hot cavern of his mouth. He moaned as the bitter taste slid over his tongue. Gods, yes. This was exactly where he belonged. He told them so with the inarticulate cries of happiness and want that came out of him. This was like coming home. At last. “Gods, pretty. You look good with your lips around my dick,” Michel complimented in a rough tone. “Especially when you’re fucking Cord’s ass. He’s tight, isn’t he?” Dru’s eyes rolled. He’d always been one for dirty talk, and now was no exception. “Cord, how’s he feel, baby?” “He fucks so good,” Cord managed to grunt out as Dru slammed into his body over and over with increasing urgency. “Gonna come soon.” He gasped. Dru understood the feeling. He was pretty close himself. The sensation of Cord’s tight buttocks wrapped snugly around his cock was making his balls draw up tight to his body in impending orgasm. “Go ahead, baby. Show him how much you like what he’s doing to you,” Michel said. That encouragement had Dru’s body rushing toward release, racing to completion with Cord. A second later, Cord cried out, and Dru felt the satisfaction of warm, sticky liquid smearing

 

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their merged torsos. Michel’s fists came up to grip Dru’s hair as he fucked his mouth, panting more heavily. “So beautiful,” he murmured. “So fucking beautiful. My mates.” Dru whimpered around his cock. He had to give the shifter credit. Despite the sexual desperation of the moment, Michel was acutely aware of how hard and how deep he could fuck Dru’s previously unused mouth. It just made him want to make the shifter come all the more. He suckled harder, his mind spinning with the scent, sound, and feel of his mates. “Come for me, pretty,” Michel begged. Dru obeyed the command with an enthusiasm that staggered him. His hips pounded forward a few more lunges before every muscle in his body clenched as he came. In his delirium, the idea of his seed smearing Cord’s insides, marking him, gave him a feral, uncompromising satisfaction. Then the first salty expression of want from Michel’s thick cock hit his tongue. Dru sucked and laved the jetting member, milking it of seed until his mouth overflowed and Michel’s release ran down his chin and cheeks. He drew off Michel with a suctioned pop. Then they were kissing him again, and bonelessly, he let them. Someone produced a wet cloth from somewhere and wiped off the evidence of their play from his skin. But the scent lingered. It would take more than a wet cloth to wipe away their sex. Dru smiled and settled back down between them. That was all right with him.

 

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Chapter Three Michel woke first as he usually did. The sun was just peaking on the horizon, and the heat was already starting to rise with the rays. It wouldn’t be long before it would be unbearable. He stayed right where he was for longer than usual, inhaling the scent of shifter and demon and sex that still clung to their collective skins. A sense of peace filled him for the first time in his memory. His mates. His lovers. Together at last. He pressed a kiss to Cord’s cheek and another to Druas’s forehead before rolling over so that he was off their makeshift pallet. The red earth dug into his knees, but it didn’t really bother him. His skin was growing accustomed to the harsh southern clime. He should’ve shifted and went to hunt something for breakfast, but something stilled him. Maybe it was something in the air that gave him pause. He sniffed. Nothing unusual, sand, sun, no wind. Hmmm… “Fuck!” The barked sound had Michel’s head whipping around. Druas struggled against Cord as the shifter murmured to him, obviously trying to calm him down. The demon looked furious. “What the hell is going on?” Michel roared, quickening to their sides. “Stop touching me!” Druas snapped, shoving Cord away from him. “Just stop it! I can’t think when you do that!” Michel didn’t understand why the guy was panicking. What was it with demons fighting their mates? Seriously. Had any of them ever just fallen into bed with someone and been okay with it? He was beginning to wish that he and Cord had just found a mate within their own tribe. Gods! The hurt that played over Cord’s face made him so

 

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damn pissed off. He growled a warning to Druas, who continued to flop around like a damn fish, backpedaling physically and mentally from the place he’d been last night. “Sometimes the morning after just fucking blows, doesn’t it?” Michel asked, stalking up to Dru and picking the other man up by the arm. They were almost eye to eye, and the fear was evident in Dru’s gaze. “What is your problem?” He didn’t even understand why the hell he’d asked. He already knew what his problem was. He was scared of this relationship, scared of them, pissed over his newfound sexuality… “I had a nightmare.” The words were completely unexpected. “Huh?” Michel asked. “A nightmare. I had one.” Druas shuddered and gravitated closer to Michel’s body. Michel dropped his arm so that he could wrap the other man up in his arms. He was completely dumbfounded. “I dreamed Desmond took it all away from me. He took you and Cord and my prince. Hell, he even took my soul. It was fucked up.” Cord was standing by then and boxed him in between them. “No worries, darling. It was just a dream. No big deal,” Cord soothed, petting the Ravyn’s back. He was grinning over Druas’s shoulder and mouthed “I told you it would be okay” to Michel. “You’re not mad that you slept with us?” Michel asked, still not believing that the same guy who had snarled at them for the past few weeks was actually completely okay with what they’d done the night before. Druas lifted his head and gave him a look that asked if Michel was out of his mind. “Um, no. Why would I be mad? It was the pheromones that were keeping me pissy, right?” Michel nodded. “Well, then why would I be mad? If anything, I should be mad that you didn’t tell me earlier. That was some bullshit.” Michel just knew his mouth was hanging open. “What’s with the look?” Dru asked. “I thought you said you were straight,” Michel heard himself say.

 

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“Well, I guess I’m bisexual now. I mean, I don’t hate women or anything, so I guess that’s the label. Besides, my brothers and my prince are into dudes now, so why not?” That was the most flawed, simplistic, and backward-ass logic Michel had ever heard. “You’re strange, demon,” Michel muttered, looking down at his mate. “I’m strange? I didn’t start having a nightmare until you crawled your big ass out of bed, jackass. What gives with you leaving the cuddle fest?” Dru wondered. His golden eyes sparkled with amusement, and his other mate was already laughing at him. Michel opened his mouth to deliver an appropriate sarcastic reply, only to slam his mouth shut as the wind changed. Every muscle in his body tensed, and fangs exploded in his mouth, top and bottom. Cord had already turned toward the scent, his own fangs dropped and ready to tear into someone in a partial shift. His eyes already belonged to his inner cat. Druas didn’t hesitate, either. He ducked in between them and beelined to the tent and his weaponry. The instinctive urge to follow after him and make sure he was safe was tempered, barely, by the knowledge that Druas was a warrior in his own right. “Fuck!” Druas barked as the ground started to shake. “Link up with me.” Michel reached for the newly formed bond that the demon prince had created to bind them to the other Ravyns. It was an internal cord in his mind that blazed bright white with his mental touch. He was instantly swamped by the combined minds of Cord and Druas. “Pull back,” Dru commanded through the link. “You’re not merging with us. Pull it back just a little.” Michel did and found the odd perception of more than one set of senses dulled. Thank gods. Though, the empowerment still remained. It was like being shot full of adrenaline. His heart hammered, his mind was incredibly attuned to his environment, and power poured into him through the cord. The ground bucked, nearly sending them sprawling. “Shift forms. You’ll be a hell of a lot stronger now. I need you battle ready. They’re

 

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close.” At least a dozen demons, if Michel’s nose was correct. He reached for the animal while holding onto the Ravyns’ bond. His beast rushed at him quickly, swamping him with the wondrous sensation of what he could only describe as magick considering he didn’t know the humans’ technical term for it. Fur flowed over his skin. His bones popped, structure shifting, body rearranging into the familiar shape of his cat. Their souls merged easily, as they always did when he was shifting forms. He felt the spirit of his other self rub along his human self in greeting. His vision shifted to that of his cat. He didn’t see detail and color as well in the full daylight, but his other senses were so well attuned that it made up for the deficiency. He let loose a snarl designed to be a warning to the approaching demons. His mates were here. If they dared to come too close, they were going to get torn apart. A voice sounded out after his warning, the words in a guttural and unfamiliar tongue that he’d often heard Druas curse in. He tilted his head to the side, listening closer. By all rights, he should know what it meant, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Cord screamed in cat form, readying himself to pounce. **** “I have arrows tipped with Nawshan pointed at you all. I suggest you drop your weapons.” Druas heard the heavily accented High Demonish a second before they came into view. Nawshan poison was derived from desert toads whose insides were literally a paralyzing agent. Much like Earth’s cobra bites, Nawshan would slowly kill the victim by paralyzing first the outer extremities, then the lungs. It was not a pleasant way to die, and there was no cure. There were a dozen or more warriors surrounding them, all with weapons drawn. Others had their arrows pointed toward them, the quivers a bright red against the tanned skin of the desert tribe. He bypassed all of them, looking for the leader. Like shifters, demons

 

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tended to look toward one person to lead them against all enemies. He wouldn’t waste his time talking to just any of them. “Who threatens us?” he called back in the desert dialect Demonese. The fact that the demon leader had recognized him as aristocracy didn’t bode well. Most tribes were no longer fans of Desmond or his lackeys. “General Natiri Kaden, leader of the desert tribes of southern Demontia.” It was then the massive demon came into view. How the hell Dru missed him to begin with was anyone’s guess. He topped Dru’s respectable six-four frame by over half a foot. He wasn’t just tall, either. His shoulders were easily as wide as Dru and Michel standing side by side, but it was all muscle and firm skin. On top of being massive, he was gorgeous, with sandy-colored hair, blue-andgold eyes, and tan skin. This was the legendary general of Salvatore’s father’s army. Michel gave a feline snarl of dislike almost instantly as the tribe leader approached, and Dru tossed his weapon in the dirt to grab hold of the scruff of his pretty furred neck. The last thing he needed was Michel to attack the guy. His shifter mate was all instinct in his feral form, and he was having to provide a constant balm of calm to his lover’s mind just to keep him from losing it. “Cord.” He spoke the word, and the smaller of the two shifters was immediately pressed against his leg. He wasn’t happy though, and the nervous energy was making him twitchy enough that he kept knocking into him, nearly toppling Dru over. Natiri’s gold-and-blue eyes took in the movement. “Slaves of yours?” he asked. He was only about six feet away now. “No. They’re my mates.” Despite the situation, voicing their mating aloud for the first time gave Druas an absurd sense of satisfaction. “Ah, so you’re not completely without honor.” Well, at least he got some points in his favor. Michel’s and Cord’s lips peeled back in unison as Natiri took another step closer. The shifters revealed black

 

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gums and very dangerous-looking teeth as they called out in warning. “They protect you,” he stated. Dru nodded. “They are my lovers and my brothers-in-arms. Salvatore sends his greetings.” It was forbidden to invoke the rightful prince’s name without Desmond’s express permission. If Natiri had changed sides at any point, they were dead men. “You lie!” Natiri thundered. The force of his shout literally caused the ground to jump. He had to have been a monster force of nature to make that happen. Dru twisted Michel’s and Cord’s ears as they started forward. The reminder had them pressing back against him. “Good kitties,” he thought at them with a smile. They turned and hissed at him in unison. “I do not,” Druas said aloud in a calm voice. “Prince Salvatore Demante of the Dragon Throne, true heir to Demontia’s kingdom, calls you to his assistance.” The formal words were meant to be spoken in high court Demonish, but he spoke in the language of the tribe’s people. He saw the men shooting each other anxious looks, wondering if he was telling the truth. “You’ve proof?” Natiri demanded, playing with the edge of a dagger that was massive enough to be considered a short sword by anyone else’s estimations. This was the part he’d been dreading. “His father gave you three words of power when he sent you into the desert to await Salvatore’s maturity. They would kill anyone but Salvatore’s Ravyns.” Both Michel and Cord shot him a look. Their thoughts were harder to understand when they were in animal form, but the implied “What the fuck?” was there all the same. They were larger than life. A normal jaguar would come up to midthigh. With the addition of their Ravyns’ power, they gained several inches and a lot more muscle. When Michel raised his head, he bumped the underside of Dru’s ribcage. They were also beautiful, and he sent him the thought along with his calm. “You are prepared to take the test?” Natiri asked.

 

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Dru nodded. “I am.” He glanced down. “Michel, Cord, move out the way. I’m not sure you could withstand this. You’re not original Ravyns, and I’m not sure if the spell works properly on you.” Michel glared. “No.” It figured that the one word that he could manage was no. Cord bumped him and bit at his shoulder. Michel looked at Cord. “No,” he repeated more forcefully. “Your cats do not seem to be as cooperative as you would like,” Natiri noted. Dru nodded. “They are protective.” “As they should be with their mate.” Druas sidestepped around the two of them as Cord tried to muscle the much-bigger Michel away from the line of fire. Joint growls filled the air, and then the feel of warm fur was once again pressed against him. Natiri chuckled as Dru made a noise of frustration. They wouldn’t leave him the heck alone so that he could do his job. Then Natiri opened his mouth and began to speak in their ancient tongue, three short bursts of words and phrases. Dru braced himself for the impact of the spell. It was gentler than he’d imagined, almost a caress of magick rather than a painful thrust of violent energies. It swirled around him in a violet-colored display before settling against his skin. Michel and Cord hissed in unison, their large feline eyes watching the energy as it settled. Dru felt it as it seeped into him and hit the chord of his Ravyn bond. It tested the strength of it twice before dispelling all together. “Welcome, Ravyn,” Natiri said, bowing low. The rest of his tribe did the same, mimicking the respect that Natiri was giving him. He felt rather than saw Cord shift back to his human form behind him. “What now?” the jaguar asked. The other demons turned and began to make their way out of camp. Dru snatched up his discarded pants and shook the red dust from them. “Now we grab whatever we can and follow them.”

 

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Chapter Four Cord threw all he could into his knapsack as Michel did the same beside him. Their mate was off somewhere, keeping track of the tribesmen as they went along so that they could catch up. He’d sent mental instructions to them to track him down as soon as they finished packing up camp. “Is that bag too heavy?” Michel asked in his normal gruff voice. Druas may not have realized how scared the previous encounter had made Michel, but Cord certainly did. The larger shifter’s greatest fear had always been the idea of being alone. He’d been on edge for days, because the Doves, the Ravyn’s enemies, had been a day behind them, but only just. Hopefully, now that they’d found Salvatore’s general things would start looking up. “Don’t worry, big guy. I’m a warrior, same as you. I can manage,” Cord assured, swinging it onto his back. Michel would already be carrying enough since he was getting Druas’s stuff as well. The guy could carry as much as a pack mule. He’d always been excessively strong and a good bit bigger than majority of their clan. They’d been mates since they were kits. They’d met at the school the Entertainer Line had set up for the jaguar shifters under their protection and had immediately bonded. They’d been lovers and friends ever since. A big chunk of their childhood had been spent training with one another to become bodyguards for the Entertainer house. It was all either one of them had wanted to do. Their shared passion for the job was one of the things that enabled them to be such good partners.

 

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They’d been open to a third for years, knowing that it would be another guy. However, it had seemed such a long stretch to find another person to fit so intimately with them. So they’d contented themselves with the idea that they might only have one another for the rest of their considerably long lives and put the thought of desiring one more in their bed behind them. When the Ravyns had arrived and joined Master Alexander’s household, all that changed. Now that they finally had Druas with them, Cord wasn’t exactly sure how they’d ever survived without. He’d tried to be patient and wait for Druas to come around, but the pheromones had just made him more and more irritable the longer he was around them without being claimed. Cord had managed to calm him with his scent and touch, but he knew it was only a matter of time before Dru and Michel came to an all-out war over their mutual frustrated attraction. He was very happy Dru had climbed in between them last night. He was even happier at his reaction this morning. His easy acceptance of them was a load off Cord’s mind. Most demons didn’t mate in threes from what he understood of demon society. “Are you happy that he’s with us?” Michel asked as he slung his own packs onto his shoulder. The only evidence left that they’d been there at all were the remnants of their campfire. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time,” Cord answered honestly. “How could I not be? He accepted us. We anticipated a fight, and he really didn’t give us much of one.” He followed after Michel as he set a brisk pace in the direction the group of men had gone. He bypassed the shuffling footsteps of the other warriors until he got to the tracks that smelled like their mate. “He’s following on the high ground. Smart mate. He’s making sure that they’re not setting a trap.” Michel noted as he studied the tracks as they took off up the hill. The scent was easy enough to follow. Cord could’ve done so blind if necessary. “He’s an ancient warrior. Of course he’s smart,” Cord bragged a little, following Michel up the hill. Michel laughed at him.

 

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“You’re smitten,” he accused with a smile in his voice. Cord couldn’t resist the temptation to reach out and pinch the firm buttock walking ahead of him. Michel jumped and threw a glare over his shoulder. “Not funny, Cordy.” “It’s hilarious,” Cord said, sticking his tongue out at his mate. “Besides. He is an excellent lay, and I’m still experiencing afterglow. Sue me.” Michel snorted. “He must be great if you can completely ignore the danger we were just in and mentally skip right back to the sex. We could still be in trouble.” “You worry too much.” Cord sighed. “Let me enjoy our new completeness, Michel. Please. If we aren’t able to explore the intricacies of our relationship until we return to Earth, at least let me savor our one moment of joy with him. He’s back to business now.” Their mate was deadly serious when it came to his duties and to his prince. Well, Salvatore was their prince as well now, but they didn’t have the same intimate bond with him that the rest of the Ravyns did. No doubt that they would be loyal, but they weren’t close friends with the monarch, unlike Druas. Druas’s focus was something that Cord admired deeply about his mate, but it didn’t mean that his absolute devotion to the protection of his prince didn’t act as interference in his social life. A relationship with a warrior was hard to maintain, thus why Cord was so grateful that Michel and he were warriors. They understood one another. **** Dru hoped that Natiri was as loyal as he thought he was. If he wasn’t, then the Ravyns were royally screwed. He’d been out of Demontian society long enough that he’d completely forgotten the custom of “invitation.” As an acting dignitary sent from Prince Salvatore, Dru was obligated and honor bound to stay with General Natiri in his home in his tribe lands until their business was complete.

 

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It made Dru uneasy, but he had little choice. To refuse would be an insult to Natiri’s honor. He knew that the other tribesmen realized he was up here. Every once in a while one of them would lift his head and scent the air as if making sure they knew exactly where he was at. That was fine so long as none of them tried to attack him. He was following their lead but only because it would take him back to their camp. Southern demons were nomadic for the most part. These men were no different except that they kept their families and mates with them as they traveled and were loyal to the true monarch. He kept his eyes on the back of Natiri at the front of the pack of warriors. He wasn’t sure what struck him as odd, but there was something shimmering on the back of the other male’s neck. The wind, his power, swirled around his hands. Something was definitely odd about the male. And it wasn’t just his larger-than-life size. If this guy was his former king’s prime general, he was an ancient warrior in his own right. Yet, he didn’t look any older than Druas. He should be showing some kind of age at least. Demons had longevity, but they did age. The legends he’d heard about Natiri dated him older than Salvatore’s father had been, and the former king had been over ten thousand years old. When he’d died, he’d looked to be around sixty by human standards. Demons aged pretty regularly until about thirty. After that, their aging slowed down to a crawl that was almost nonexistent. It was highly unusual that demons died before their allotted time. The fact that the danger of Demontia had been so great as to necessitate multiple incarnations of the Ravyns spoke of the seriousness that Desmond posed to the natural order of things. A warm male hand slid over his naked lower back. He’d left the shirt off. The now-familiar touch of his mate didn’t even cause him a ripple of concern despite the fact that the two shifters had snuck up on him.

 

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“You’re going to burn if you don’t put on something,” Michel chided, giving the skin a brief caress. “Likewise, kitty cat,” Druas shot back. Michel’s hand slid to his hip and gave it a squeeze. “Careful, Dru,” Cord said. “Michel likes being teased, but he isn’t good at keeping his hands to himself. He’s especially weak when it comes to nicknames, so unless you want to get naked, leave those for the bedroom.” Dru felt a grin stretch his lips. His mates were definitely strange. “I’m happy you two told me,” he admitted. He wasn’t talking about Michel’s love for pet names, either. Their mating seemed so obvious now, but the confusion he’d felt over his unexplainable reaction to his lovers before had worn him out. He was glad to have a reason for all of it. He reached out and linked hands with Cord. His pretty mate blushed, which was a pleasure to see considering all three of them had gotten very deeply tanned over the past few weeks in the Demontian sun. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to lose sight of his goal. The sooner he accomplished Salvatore’s mission, the sooner he could get back to starting something serious with his mates. He still couldn’t believe he had two of them. “I smell women ahead,” Michel said, drawing his attention back to the objective at hand. Dru was grateful for his attention to detail. Not for the first time, Dru realized that the two of them made excellent Ravyns. “Their camp must be getting close.” Dru let his power disperse back into the universe. If they were this close to their families, the other demons would take any drawn weapon as a sign of hostility. “My swords?” he asked. “In the bag I’m carrying,” Michel said, petting his head. “No worries, pretty. We got this.” ****

 

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“You can come down from your perch now, Ravyns. As you can see, you’re quite safe,” Natiri called up to them as they watched the warriors from the tribe disperse throughout the campsite. The general was the only one who stood at the foot of their small hill, looking up at them with his massive hands on his hips and his feet splayed. The three of them exchanged a look and hesitated. Dru finally nodded to his head. They needed to get this done, and the only way to find out if this was legitimate was to go ahead and go down there. They walked down together, Dru in the middle, Michel at his right, Cord at his left. It seemed that Natiri got taller the closer they got to the man. He really was a giant. It called into question whether or not he was full demon at all. Was he part giant or something? “Dragon,” Natiri answered Dru’s unspoken question. “Well, half dragon anyway. I understand your caution, Ravyn. But rest assured, if I didn’t trust you, you would be dead by now.” “What’d he say?” Michel asked, a frown on his face. Dru had completely forgotten that they didn’t speak any of the demon tongues. “He said that he trusts us,” Dru supplied. He made a mental note to start teaching them at least the basics of his native tongue as soon as he could. It was going to get really annoying translating everything for them all the time. “Your mates don’t know the Tongue?” Natiri asked, smiling. He switched to English effortlessly. “That is fine. I will speak in this one. Being half dragon enables me to be quite gifted in languages. I can speak any that I have heard spoken.” He nodded to the pair of shifters. “It is good to see a Ravyn who is also a family man. It put the men at ease to see that you brought your loved ones with you.” “It’s a recent mating.” Dru felt the need to give the disclaimer. “None of us are very used to the idea.” He was actually surprised that the demon so readily accepted the three-way relationship. While it wasn’t looked down upon, per se, it still was an oddity considering how territorial most demon males were with their lovers.

 

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“Have you wed yet?” Natiri asked. Dru shook his head. “Then perhaps you’d honor us with a ceremony? Our people love celebrations, and to be wed amongst us would show great good will.” Dru paled at the thought, and Natiri chuckled at him. “Or perhaps you will wait on that. You just seemed supremely comfortable with one another, thus why I ask. Will you do me the honor of sleeping in my tent tonight?” Dru bowed his head. “Of course, General Natiri. It’s customary.” He waved a hand to his mates. “They will stay with me, of course.” “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of separating mates. Shifters are curious creatures. They wane when they are kept from their objects of affection.” Natiri turned his head slightly and looked down on Cord. The glittering Druas had seen had been scales. They were blue and gold, the same as Natiri’s eyes, and disappeared underneath his shirt collar. His dragon heritage explained that, though Dru had been under the impression that only those of the royal line had claim to that title. “Are you related to Prince Salvatore?” Dru asked before he could edit himself. Natiri turned and walked the path that ran down the center of the middlemost rows of tents. Dru walked beside him and felt the eyes of his lovers on his back. The demon general glanced over at him. “No. I was actually born in Draak, the dragon realm. My mother was a demon from this plane. I acted as a dignitary for Salvatore’s father before I made Demontia my home. We became friends, and I stayed here to act as a sort of permanent advisor for the family through the ages. Since the Demante line was blessed with dragon power, I was kept on to instruct them in dragonii magicks when each male heir came of age.” Ah, well that would explain why Salvatore had such a difficult time finding his own powers. Dru wondered what other family secrets the Demante line had lost or forgotten due to Desmond’s treachery. They stopped suddenly as they came to a massive tent that was bigger than the next two tents over combined. These tribes often stayed in place for only a few weeks, so taking the time to erect such

 

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a monstrosity would’ve taken a lot of effort from a lot of different people. “Please, let us take our repast inside my quarters. I have some fruit and bread along with some Glamora honey if you’d enjoy it,” Natiri offered graciously. Dru’s mouth watered at the mere mention of Glamora honey. It was a sweet treat that he hadn’t had in years. He motioned for his mates and followed the general inside.

 

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Chapter Five “Fuck me. That’s good.” Michel groaned as Dru fed him the honey-soaked piece of bread that Natiri had laid out for them while he’d ducked into the back flap of the tent to retrieve something from his quarters. Dru smiled as he licked the rest of the honey off of the demon’s fingers like the cat he was. The shifter noted the stirring of an erection behind the confines of the warrior’s suede pants. He returned the smile Dru was sporting. This felt so right. Cord leaned into his side and opened his mouth like a little baby bird asking for treats. “You, too? I thought you didn’t like sweets?” Dru asked, laughing now. “If Michel makes that noise while eating it, I’m down for just about anything,” Cord said saucily. Michel reached over and gave a quick grope to the other man’s backside. He was stuffed full of good feelings when it came to these two. It was a real effort to keep himself in check. All he wanted to do was go to the floor and make love to both of his mates in every conceivable position possible. Dru swallowed hard. “Not yet.” The words were a warning, and Michel nodded to acknowledge the wisdom of them. The Ravyn was right. It wasn’t near time for them to go to sleep yet, and they had business to attend to. Hopefully, between the three of them, one of them could keep them all on task. “Gods, you both smell like sex,” Cord whispered in his husky bedroom voice. Gods, he was right. If they didn’t calm down the tension in the room, they were going to end up naked before their host came back.

 

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“Do you think his intentions are on the level?” Dru asked. He didn’t sound like he really wanted to know, but if talking business helped him out, Michel was willing to do so. “He seems legitimate. I can’t smell any sort of deceit on him, but that doesn’t mean much. Some demons are very good at lying. However, we would do well to trust what allies we have in the coming conflict. He seems to have remained loyal, so it’s best to think of him as such until he proves otherwise.” Michel discreetly moved Cord’s hand as it found its way into his lap. He reached out and took a bit of bread and dipped it in the honey before shoving it into Cord’s mouth. “Chew on that and get your brain out of the gutter.” How Cord managed to pout while he chewed on the gods’ gift to all kind was beyond him, but he managed it. Thankfully, Natiri arrived then to distract them all from their shared arousal. “Sorry I took so long, gentlemen,” he apologized smoothly. With surprising grace, the giant sat down across from the trio, folding his legs neatly under him so that he was sitting in a lotus position. He had a rolled-up piece of cloth in his hand which was red and gold in coloration with two carved wooden cylinders on either end decorated with golden tassels. It looked like something Cord would’ve picked up at a Chinese district back home. He loved all sorts of Asian art and trinkets. Michel watched as Dru’s eyes zeroed in on the cloth. “Is that his legacy?” he asked in a hushed voice. Whatever the miniblanket was obviously got him excited. “Yes. A last gift from his father.” Natiri’s face held a world of sorrow as he spoke. The demon general unrolled it. The cloth was surprisingly long for being so narrow. “His entire history, every member of the family down through the generations, is listed here. Salvatore is the last on the main line, and Theron is the last on the secondary line.” He fingered the soft, silk-like material. “I have been waiting ages to be able to give this to him.” He rolled it back up

 

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carefully and handed it across the table. “Please, give this to him for me with my regards.” Dru nodded solemnly. “I will.” “Why is that important?” Michel asked, watching the exchange in curiosity. Natiri answered him. “It proves his bloodline and his right to rule. The cloth can’t be altered by any sort of physical or metaphysical means. What is written therein is absolute and irrefutable truth.” It seemed like a load of bull to him, but then, the demons were a superstitious lot. Even the Ravyns, who were far more adaptive to Earth than most, had rituals and customs which they followed strictly. “Now, what sort of fighting force has Salvatore gathered?” Talks of war had begun. **** The night fell faster than Dru expected it to. Talks of war, strategy, and troops dominated the conversations from daybreak until almost sunset. They’d only taken brief respites to take care of their physical needs like food and bathroom visits. For the most part, it had been a breakdown of what had occurred since Salvatore left the palace to present, as well as what their future plans were for taking back over the kingdom. Working everything out was pretty exhausting, but Druas was happy with their progress. He’d even momentarily forgotten about his distracting desire for his new mates. “The fires are burning,” Natiri noted as the world began to take on the characteristics of night. “You’ll join us for our evening meal? It would do my people good to see the Ravyns amongst them again.” His eyes flicked to the shifters, who had been actually quite helpful during their conversations. “Seeing new Ravyns will give them even more hope. It’s good to see Salvatore extending his reach even in small degrees.”

 

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“We’d be honored to eat the evening meal with the rest of the tribe,” Dru said. Cord had long since given up the fight of trying to retain good posture and leaned heavily against his side. His little mate was so damn cute. Cord might be a warrior, but the difference in their size made Dru feel all kinds of protective instincts when it came to his well-being. He’d forever think of the other man as cute. Natiri left to go get them a small bowl of water so they could wash themselves before the meal, leaving the three of them alone once more. Michel wasted no time nuzzling Dru’s neck. Maybe it was a shifter thing, but both of them were extremely touchy. It wasn’t that they even touched inappropriately, but they were constantly giving him little caresses as if to reassure him that they were there and to take comfort from his presence. Demons were demonstrative when it came to affection, but shifters were even more so. “What do you think you’re doing, Michel?” Dru asked with a smile. He was really enjoying the touching, but he had to protest just a little bit. He didn’t want his mates to think he was too overeager. “Taking a much-needed break from thinking of troop formations and weapons,” Michel murmured against his skin. A tongue caressed his pulse point. Dru shuddered, and his body immediately started priming for something more than a brief caress. Being mated to two shifters certainly put his libido in overdrive. “We don’t have time for this. Natiri will be back any second now.” Dru sighed. He really couldn’t wait to get back home. The thought of being able to have some downtime with them was incentive enough for him to get this mission done with as early as possible. With the negotiations and planning with Natiri going so well, it should only take a few more days before they were ready to return Earth side to the rest of the Ravyns. Cord’s hand had found its way into his lap and was caressing the hardening bulge he found there. “How long is a demon second?” he asked, grinning like the evil kitty he was. Druas didn’t even bother to

 

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suppress the groan that worked its way out of his throat at the deliberate caress. “You two are going to be the death of me,” he complained. He removed the gripping hand and put it back on his knee. “Stop. Both of you.” “Ah, young love. You are newlyweds if you can’t keep your hands to yourselves for the whole five minutes I was gone.” Natiri’s voice made Dru blush. Shit. How long has he been standing there? The demon general put a wooden bowl of water and three cloths on the center of the table that they’d cleared only the moment before of battle plans. He gave them a wink and turned back toward the door. “In five minutes’ time, can you all be presentable and join me by the fire?” He sounded way too amused. Gods. Dru was so embarrassed. “We’ll join you then,” Michel spoke for him. He sounded mildly annoyed. Dru poked him in the ribs. It wasn’t like Natiri had interrupted them on purpose. There shouldn’t have been anything for him to interrupt. When he was gone, Cord started laughing. “Not. Funny,” Dru said miserably. Then Michel started snickering. “Seriously, you guys, can we please maintain some level of respectability with the general of my prince’s army? Gods.” They just laughed at him harder. He sighed but couldn’t help but smile. He grabbed up one of the washcloths and dunked it in the bowl of water, soaking up some of the life-giving liquid in the rough material. He wrung it out and twisted the towel, eyeing Cord’s bare chest with evil intent. He let it fly, cracking it against the shifter’s exposed skin. “Ouch! Motherfucker!” Cord yelped, covering the little red mark Dru had made. Michel turned his attention to Dru as the Ravyn wound up the cloth and let it fly once more, nailing Michel in the stomach. “Ow!” Michel growled, snatching up his own cloth and tossing it in the bowl before twisting it in similar fashion to how Druas had done. “I’m going to teach you a lesson about smacking us with towels, pretty.”

 

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“Ha, bring it!” Druas laughed, scrambling up as the big shifter slapped the cloth at him. Cord quickly followed suit, and soon they were chasing one another around the tent, trying to smack one another with the towels. “I don’t think this is what he meant about presentable,” Cord said, collapsing on a pillow in the corner. He was grinning from ear to ear and just looked too fucking perfect to resist. Dru went to his knees beside him before leaning over until they were chest to chest. Cord looked up at him and tilted his head up. Dru took the invitation and kissed him. Kissing a guy was infinitely different than kissing a girl. It was somehow more intense to Dru. Maybe it was because these men were his mates. It didn’t matter. All he knew was that when they touched him, it was perfection. Utter and absolute perfection. “They’re waiting for us, lovers,” Michel reminded. His voice had deepened in what Dru was beginning to recognize was arousal. Their lips parted, and Cord gave him a wink. “Soon.” It was a promise. Yeah, lights-out couldn’t come fast enough. He just hoped that they would be in an isolated enough area to be able to make good on that promise.

 

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Chapter Six “Nice of you to join us,” Natiri greeted as they made their way outside to the massive circle of people who were situated around the fire. Dru noted that most of them were men, a few women, and children, but for the most part they were all fighting men. Natiri had said that the tribesmen had been tracking them across the desert since they’d arrived in tribe territory. The warriors and their families were only a small fraction of a much-larger group of warriors that were divided into four subgroups and scattered throughout the southern region. According to him, there were well over ten thousand ablebodied warriors that were just waiting for a call to arms. Druas sat down, Cord and Michel framing him as they faced the massive bonfire that the tribe had erected. Young men in various forms of dress danced around the wall of heat to the sounds of flutes and drums that the tribe had brought out while they feasted on their evening meals. It wasn’t much, just dried fruit, bread, and more honey, but to people used to living on very little, it was a lot. “Is it safe to have a fire that large out here? It’ll be visible for some distance.” Dru was still worried about the Doves that had been tracking them. He would hate to be the cause of Desmond’s cronies wreaking havoc in the main camp. It was one thing to have a potential attack against other warriors, quite another to involve families of those warriors. “The Doves that were tracking you have already been dealt with. Nawshan delivered via arrow right before we came into your camp this morning. Be of ease, Ravyn. It is safe here,” Natiri reassured as one of his warriors took a position in front of the fire ahead of them

 

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and began a sexy dance in a pair of low-slung leather pants. His hips swayed back and forth with the drumbeats, and he tossed a saucy grin over his shoulder. The general rumbled low in his throat in appreciation. “Looks like someone likes you, Natiri,” Cord teased, picking up the wine cup someone had thoughtfully put in front of them. Dru hoped he didn’t drink that too fast. Demon wine went down very easily, but it was very potent. He’d be stumbling drunk on two glasses if he wasn’t careful. Natiri chuckled. “Trying to get me to wander into someone else’s tent for the evening?” Dru watched the exchange with growing interest. It seemed his mate was quite at ease with the big general, an aspect of the dynamic he’d failed to realize while they were working on war plans. Cord nodded. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.” Dru nearly swallowed his tongue. Had his mate really just asked Natiri to occupy elsewhere so that they could have alone time? “It’ll be no hardship,” Natiri said with a wink. He beckoned the young warrior closer, and the younger man slid into the giant’s lap with ease. “Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Laden. He’s one of my archers.” The other man spoke in a soft, lyrical voice in the demon tongue. “Nice to meet you, Ravyns.” “Nice to meet you as well,” Dru answered back for them all. It was then he remembered his earlier thought of teaching Michel and Cord a couple of demon dialects. “Do you have a Neuro-Net Impulser here?” he asked Natiri. The technology would be very helpful in the teaching process. It would take a matter of hours to master the language as opposed to days. Natiri shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. The only one near is in the city of Ashewrath.” That wouldn’t do. Ashewrath was still under Desmond’s control.

 

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“That’s all right. I just wanted to start Michel and Cord on lessons in both High Demonish and Demonese. I think it would be useful to them, but it’ll just have to wait until we go back home.” It struck him that he’d called Earth home. He hadn’t thought of it like that before. He glanced at his mates. It was because of them, had to be. There was no other reason for Earth to be home other than that was where his mates were and that was where he could be with them freely. In Demontia, he’d always have responsibilities and obligations to take him away from them. Realization dawned. After the war was over, he didn’t want to settle back in his home realm. He wanted to stay with them Earth side. “Everything okay, pretty? You’re frowning,” Michel said, concern in his voice. Dru shook his head to clear it. “I’m fine. Just thinking about the end of the war.” “End of the war? We haven’t even started it yet,” Natiri boomed, tightening his arm around Laden’s waist and nuzzling the warrior’s neck. “I know. But, I just realized that I had no idea what I was going to do when everything was finally finished.” His heart constricted as he spoke the last word. He’d not known peace for a thousand years and had never really known contentment. He met Michel’s lovely, lightcolored eyes and felt his chest expand. He saw the potential for true happiness with them, and the idea both elated and scared the shit out of him. “Don’t let your heart get ahead of your mind, Ravyn,” Natiri warned. The general lit a twisted wooden pipe that he pulled from his pocket and sucked on the end. A sweet-smelling smoke emerged. If Dru wasn’t mistaken, it was Habisi, an herb smoked for taste and for relaxation. It was sacred to some southerners and often smelled like candy while it burned. It was another Demontian tradition he’d all but forgotten about. The general extended the pipe. “Would you care to have some, Ravyn?”

 

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Dru considered it for a moment then shrugged internally. Why not? “Sure.” He took the pipe and inhaled the burning herbs therein. Almost instantly, calm washed over him, and a tingle of pleasure curled along the nerves in his cheeks and spine. A grin stretched his lips, and he handed the pipe back to Natiri as he exhaled slowly. Wow. It had certainly been a while. He leaned back into Michel as his limbs became boneless. “What was that?” Michel asked with a frown. He didn’t direct the question at Dru but to Natiri. So Dru stared into the fire and watched as tribesmen danced, sang, and ate around it. Demons were truly beautiful beings. They were incredibly full of life, and this was the sort of life they should be living. Desmond’s cold world was not meant for them. Natiri laughed. “It’s just an herb, Ravyn. Relax. He’ll be more at ease and sleep better tonight than the entire time you’ve been here. I imagine he needs the tension drained from him. Why don’t you all go back to the tent shortly and get some rest? We’ll finish up negotiations tomorrow after we’ve all had a good night’s sleep.” He gave Laden a squeeze. “I will find a bed for myself elsewhere.” “I wanna dance,” Dru said suddenly, sitting up and stumbling to his feet. He beckoned to his lovers, grinning from ear to ear. Michel and Cord glanced at one another before nodding and letting Dru pull them to their feet. **** Druas had a wild look in his golden eyes that Michel had never seen before. The Ravyn wasn’t nearly as uptight as his brother, Tony, but he had always maintained an air of seriousness when it came to his mission and his prince. To see him so carefree was a treat. “You think he’s okay?” Cord asked. Their smaller mate grabbed one of his arms as Dru swayed dangerously close to the flame and Cord pulled him back toward them. Michel shrugged. Natiri said he

 

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would be fine. He sniffed and immediately got a contact buzz off the scent alone. His body processed it like any other relaxant. “He’s fine. It’s like he took an anxiety reliever. Smell,” Michel commanded. His smaller mate did so and nodded a second later. “Dance with me,” Dru complained as he swayed his hips to the drumbeat. Their participation seemed to incite the musicians to an even more enthusiastic rhythm and the other dancers to more fervent dance moves. Michel growled at the sight of his lover grinding in time with the music. Dru had learned how to dance like the humans since being Earth side. Some of the other demons mimicked his motions, beginning their own seductive rhythms that were probably better suited for the strip pole than a village gathering. “Let’s show them how it’s done,” Cord said over the beat of the drums. He had amusement in his eyes, and Michel nodded his assent. They would show these demons what dancing was. **** Dru’s head fell back against Michel’s shoulder as the larger male came in behind him and took his hips in his hands to bring their bodies flush together. Dru wasn’t intoxicated, but he was certainly relaxed after his smoke. Even now the feeling was fading though, replaced by something headier, something that was sharper and more potent. Cord stepped into his front, using his body to bracket in Dru’s own. The three hundred sixty degrees of sensation had Dru biting back a groan. It felt extremely good to be in between his mates and it was more than a little arousing. Then they started to move. It was slow at first, trying to establish a routine of touch that would enable them all to sway appropriately. Dru wasn’t blitzed enough not to realize that the dancing had gotten purely sexual in the past thirty seconds. Michel’s hard cock dug into the upper part of his ass with every deep grind. Cord was practically riding the ridge of Dru’s cock as he straddled his legs and twisted his hips up against

 

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Dru’s tightening package. Somewhere, the deep baritone of a warrior rang out in song. It was tribal and beautiful and so right. He belonged with Michel and Cord, just like this. Their movements quickened as the song neared a crescendo. Michel’s teeth grazed the part of his neck where it met shoulder, and Cord nipped at the hard muscle of his pectorals through his loose shirt. Had touching ever seemed so intense before? Had desire ever seemed so sharp? “We need to take this elsewhere,” Cord whispered, his voice barely audible above the music. “Agreed,” Michel said back. He gave the skin of Dru’s neck one final lick. “How you feelin’, pretty?” “I’m really chill right now,” Dru said, turning in Michel’s arms so that they were practically chest to chest. He raised his lips for a kiss, and Michel didn’t disappoint. Their lips met, tangled, caressed. Dru groaned into the wet cavern of Michel’s mouth as Cord stepped in behind him and ground his hard cock against Dru’s buttocks. The Ravyn wanted his two shifter mates so much. He’d never considered the possibility of bottoming, but he would for these two. He knew he would. Without a single doubt, he knew he’d give them everything. “Mating is forever, Druas,” Cord murmured against the shell of his ear. “Let us love you right.” Dru found himself breaking the kiss to nod. “Love me, then.” **** Even though the Ravyn didn’t have much on, they took their time stripping him down to nothing. There was something to be said about moving through lovemaking slowly. Natiri had given them a grin and told Cord where to find his oils back in the tent and sent them on their way with a wave, the young warrior still perched on his lap like the prize he undoubtedly was. Cord shuddered and squirmed in desire.

 

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His beast, his jaguar kin that was a deep part of him, raised its voice for the first time. Ours, it said. The echoed thought shook him like nothing else. Druas was theirs, in every conceivable fashion. This was going to be the first time that there could be no excuses between them. It wasn’t the irritation of pheromones that was getting Dru to come to them. It was pure unadulterated desire. “You know you’re beautiful, right?” Michel asked as he slowly pulled the leathers down Dru’s hips, baring his already-straining arousal to the warm night air. Cord shivered at the tone of his lover’s voice. He loved when Michel’s tone took on that sexy, husky timbre. He usually used it only when he was going to fuck Cord stupid, so he knew that Dru was about to get the same treatment. Cord couldn’t wait. They’d lit a few candles, casting the dark world into shades of gold. The atmosphere was ripe for a passionate encounter. Michel instructed Dru in a soft voice to lie down on the padded area that acted as their bed. With a few well-placed pillows under his hips, Dru was ready to be thoroughly debauched. Cord’s passage clenched. He knew exactly what Michel had in mind for playtime, and he couldn’t wait. He popped the button on his leathers and let them slither down his hips to the floor and watched Michel do the same. The whole time, Dru watched them with heavy, hooded eyes that bespoke of his desire and stroked his straining length languidly. The sight was mouthwatering. “Love you, Cord.” Michel’s gruff voice caused him to turn his attention from his prone mate to the one standing beside him with a small bottle of oil. “Je t’aime, Michel,” Cord answered him, smiling. Dru sighed in appreciation from his place on the pallet. Michel popped the cork from the bottle and immediately the tent was filled with the scent of rowan and jasmine. It was an unexpected and welcome scent after all the foreign ones of this land. Cord had been surprised at how many

 

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plants crossed the dimensions. Those two were apparently some more of them. “I’m going to get you ready for his cock so that you’re stretched when the time comes,” Michel said as Cord shot him a questioning look. His big mate tapped him on the shoulder, signaling that he should get on the floor. Ah. That was a position Cord was very familiar with. He went to his knees first and then to his elbows, ass up in the air to await Michel’s attentions. His eyes were glued to Druas’s face as the male jerked his cock to the sight of them together. A warm, lubricated finger circled his tight entrance before dipping inside, loosening his entrance with sure pushes. Cord couldn’t help the moan that issued from his mouth as another of Michel’s thick digits joined the first. “Fuck that’s good,” Michel said from over Cord’s shoulder. His shifter mate loved to watch Cord be stretched. Michel found the sight of fingers plying Cord’s hole to be erotic as hell. Cord smiled at the thought. Michel was going to lose it the first time Dru did it to Cord. For endless minutes, Cord was stretched and lubed while he squirmed against the welcome pressure of Michel’s hands. The whole time, Dru watched with hooded eyes and a slight smile on his lips. His golden eyes and blond hair were a striking combination. Their mate really was a beautiful being. The gods had truly blessed them in their choice for a third member of their family. Beyond the gorgeous looks was a loyal heart and an easygoing spirit. He was perfect for them. Dru interrupted Cord’s slow eye fuck. “Stop lollygagging, Michel. You’ve stretched him enough. Let me have him.” Cord felt his stomach knot in anticipation. “Let you have him so that I can have you?” Michel asked with a smile that was all hunger and no humor. Dru swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in sudden nervousness. “Yes.” He whispered the word. Cord thought his nervousness was endearing. They would take such good care of him

 

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that the claiming Michel was going to give him would not be too unsettling to the Ravyn. With every encounter, they would inevitably get closer to one another. Cord couldn’t wait to feel Druas as deeply in his soul as he had Michel. The Ravyn stopped stroking his cock and rolled so that he was kneeling behind Cord’s prone body. The sound of lips meeting had Cord turning his head to look over his shoulder. The sight that greeted him had his own dick leaking a steady stream of pre-cum on the ground beneath him. Michel and Druas kissed like they were fighting. Their tongues tangled, meshed, their lips pressed hard against one another demanding a harsh touch in return. They were both fairly dominant men, so Cord supposed that made sense they would kiss for dominance as well as pleasure. Cord just found the sight incredibly hot. He could care less about whatever other instinctive reasons they needed to have to touch like that. Dru broke the kiss with a whimpered noise of desire. “Enough, Michel.” Cord watched as his big mate groped the Ravyn’s buttock. He could tell by the look in his gaze that Druas was nearing the edge of desperation. Their mate was impatient for them. “Fuck him,” Michel demanded, turning Dru so that he had a lovely view of Cord stretched out for their pleasure. Cord arched his back like the cat he was and enjoyed how his lover’s eyes darkened at the sight. Dru wasted no time coming between his lover’s thighs and spreading the twin globes of his ass. Cord bit his lips to keep from groaning at the sensation. Yes, mate. Take me. His thoughts held the delirious quality of true pleasure. Then the press came. The realization that Dru was forging his way inside him made Cord tremble with lust. The thick head of the demon pressed inside of his body. The muscled entrance flexed around the hard cock before giving way to stronger desires. Dru pressed steadily forward until he was seated fully inside the tight confines of Cord’s ass. Cord resisted the urge to

 

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rock back into his lover, demanding he be fucked with all the enthusiasm the demon could muster. Michel needed to have his fill of their demon lover as well. All three of them joined together would be a bliss without equal. Druas panted loudly behind him as Cord stared at the rich silks of the tent ahead of him to watch the shadows of his two lovers mingle on the makeshift walls. This was going to be something extraordinary. Cord spread his legs wider to allow Dru total access. He was so impatient for Dru to get on with it, yet he couldn’t help but acknowledge the importance of this moment. This wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just release. It was a claiming. They were claiming Dru. **** Dru’s whole body felt like it was vibrating as the muscled ass before him tightened rhythmically around his cock. That alone would probably have him shooting in no time, but he forced himself to stay still. Firm male hands cupped his ass, massaging to loosen the clenched flesh that was there. Dru swallowed. He was more nervous than he had been in his entire life. “Don’t worry, pretty. I’ll take care of you.” Michel’s words soothed him. He was usually the one who made Dru the most uncomfortable but now…Now, all Dru wanted to do was lean back into the other male’s embrace and find the pleasure that both of his mates had promised he could have. Warm oil dribbled down the crease of his ass, running down the valley and making Dru shudder as it slid over his virgin hole. In all of his lifetimes, he’d never allowed anyone to take him. He jumped as his cheeks were spread, and Cord moaned as the motion sent his cock jerking forward in Cord’s body. The urge to fuck his smaller mate as he clenched his passage had Dru instinctually pushing and withdrawing his hips in small degrees.

 

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One of Michel’s hands came down on his unguarded backside. “We’re doing this together, pretty. Be patient.” Easy for him to say. He wasn’t being driven insane by being at the center of attention of two gorgeous shifters who were hell-bent on making him come. A finger circled the fluttering entrance, seeking to loosen the tight flesh. It felt strange. He’d never had anyone touch him in such a manner, and Dru found himself blushing because of it. The urge to tighten up and deny Michel the ability to touch him there at all was strong, but Druas resisted. He wanted to please Michel, needed to, really. Something inside him would accept nothing less. “Spread just a little wider, pretty,” Michel encouraged. Dru did, whimpering as the finger that had been teasing him began to push inside, just past the tight ring of muscle that guarded his entrance. Fuck! That felt fantastic. It didn’t even hurt. It was just a strange stretching sensation that made nerve endings, which up until now Dru didn’t even know existed, come to wonderful life. “Push out when I press in.” Michel fucked his thick digit in and out of Dru’s body to the first knuckle. “Is he as tight as I think he is?” Cord asked, gasping as Dru began to change his rhythm to match that of Michel behind him. “Tighter.” Dru groaned. “Stop talking like that. I can’t concentrate.” A fine sheen of sweat soaked his skin, and his muscles were already trembling as sensation after sensation swept through him. “That’s okay, pretty. Just want you to feel right now. Feel me inside that tight ass of yours.” The guttural quality of his lover’s voice made Dru want to please him, take him deeper. For the first time, real desire to have Michel’s thick cock inside him had him trying to force his body to loosen. It took longer than he’d expected to get his body ready. Michel’s patience as balanced by Cord’s desire had Dru snapping his hips forward before driving them backward on Michel’s fingers. Finally,

 

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two fingers stretched his passage, and the sensation of being filled was one Dru knew he wouldn’t forget in a thousand years. “Almost there, pretty.” Michel’s voice was so deep now that it sounded barely human. He imagined that it would be even more animalistic when they got to the actual fucking. He couldn’t wait. “Please!” Dru heard himself beg as another finger joined the two already inside. He felt stuffed and knew that it would only be greater as they drew closer to the actual act. “I need you inside me.” It was true. It wasn’t a want. It was truly a need, the need to come together with his mates. “Sweet demon,” Cord murmured, drawing his attention back to his lust-filled face. “You feel so good inside me.” He didn’t know how Cord managed to string such a coherent sentence together. Dru honestly didn’t know if he could manage more than what he’d just said. It had taken a few minutes of gasping before he’d even managed that. He looked down into Cord’s eyes and saw something shimmering in their depths that he had not expected. The shifter really cared about him. It was apparent for anyone with eyes. “Beautiful kitty cat,” Dru teased, his hips moving a little faster so that Cord was shaken by the thrusts Dru was giving him. As he scored the other male’s pleasure spot, Cord began babbling and groaning with every subsequent lunge. “You’re ready,” Michel announced from behind him, drawing his attention away from the twisting pleasure on Cord’s face. “Hold still, just a second.” Dru managed to do so, but it wasn’t easy. His instincts were demanding he fuck Cord and fuck Cord hard. But just as demanding was the instinct to submit, to allow Michel entrance into the part of his body that no male had ever been granted permission to enter. He winced as the head of Michel’s cock pressed through the ringed entrance to his body. His ass throbbed as he pressed forward steadily until he was buried deep inside him. The feeling of finally having both of his mates with him was almost overwhelming. A sense

 

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of rightness so complete that Dru had to blink tears from his eyes to keep from crying at the beauty of it made the moment that much sweeter to him. He’d fucked. He may have even loved before. But not like this. Never like this. Michel began moving, slowly at first. His thick member pulling and plunging in a rhythm that was as old as time itself had Dru shuddering. “Fuck, that’s good!” he cried out as Michel’s dick finally scored his prostate as he changed angles. He felt fucking fantastic, pinned by pleasure in both directions. Cord’s body was rhythmically squeezing around Dru’s cock, tighter than anything he could ever remember having before. Behind him, his stronger mate fucked him with abandon, drawing pleasure from a place that he hadn’t even known he wanted before. “Michel, Cord, gods!” The words that spilled from his mouth, the praises, were nonsensical even to him. His eyes were sightless as they squeezed shut in an effort to deny the swirling sensation that was winding through his body and attempt to slow down the orgasm that was threatening to send him into the next life early. “It’s okay, pretty.” Michel grunted in his ear, fucking him harder now than ever before. The sound of slapping flesh filled the air. “You come for me, for us. Use Cord’s tight body and fill him up with your seed while I do the same to you. You’re ours now, Druas. Say it.” Dru whimpered at the command. Normally, he’d try to knock the guy out for trying to make him say anything. But in his current state, all he could do was whimper, whine, and beg for more. “Yours. All yours. Cord. Michel. My mates. Mine.” That was the most articulate thing he could manage. Michel pressed a kiss to his taut shoulder as his hips worked harder against his lower half. Dru cried out, knowing what was next. The vampires lived with a bunch of shifters, and they always talked shit about how animal their matings were.

 

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Teeth pierced his skin where his neck met his shoulder. His body flushed hot and then cold in quick succession. Every nerve ending in his body fired at once, and he heard himself shout out something in the demon tongue as he spewed the proof of his pleasure deep in Cord’s milking depths. He hung, suspended between them. Cord screamed, the animal sound feline and satisfied. Michel did the same, growling around the skin that was still pierced with his teeth. Cord wasted no time in pulling off of Dru’s cock and flipping around so that he was face-to-face with Dru. His fangs were also brushing his bottom lip. Druas shuddered, his cock still half stiff and dripping as Michel continued to pound his ass. “Love you, sweet Ravyn.” Cord murmured, putting his mouth on the other side of Dru’s neck and licking the sweaty skin. His teeth pinched the skin the same way Michel’s had, and Dru screamed as pleasure tore through him once more, tightening his body and causing him to come yet again. Warmth splashed his insides and the dick inside him jumped as it continued to fuck him hard. Something hard fused his and Michel’s bodies together from the inside. Whatever it was drew out Dru’s pleasure as he came helplessly in a continuous fashion until the two shifter’s fangs finally lifted from his skin. He was breathing like he’d run a marathon. His head spun, and words that were half formed came out slurred. Pleasure the likes of which he’d never experienced had just occurred, and he felt like he should say something. He just couldn’t get it out. Michel kissed his neck and slowly laid them down among the pillows, still inside him. “Shh, easy, pretty. No need to do anything elaborate. Hush now. Just enjoy it.” Cord came down as well, pressed snuggly to his front. “We’ll take care of you always, Druas. I promise.” Promises like those meant something. Dru had been taking care of people for so long, he didn’t know if he knew how to be taken care of. The murmuring in his ear continued as Michel told him how much he meant to them and how they would build a home together when the

 

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war was over. How they were never going to be apart again. It made Dru’s heart swell impossibly. This was where he belonged, with his mates, between them. Always. **** Michel watched his demon mate fall asleep cushioned between Cord and himself with a smile on his face. He’d accepted them fully, and already he felt the weaving of their souls as the mating bond tied them together with a permanence that couldn’t be broken by anything but death. “He’s so perfect,” Cord whispered, stroking the blond hair back from Dru’s sleeping face. A soft snore answered his proclamation, which made them both chuckle. “He is,” Michel agreed, tightening his grip around Druas’s waist. The barb in his cock was retracting by slow degrees, but it would still be another minute before he was able to pull out of Dru’s backside. He hoped he hadn’t been too rough with him. “I can see every expression on that face of yours. You did well.” Cord reached over their slumbering lover and petted Michel’s side. “He didn’t even feel any pain.” The sentence had sharp relief filling him. The last thing he ever wanted was to harm his lovers in any way. Cord was right on that. He was a big softy when it came to his mates. “He took the bond very well.” “He’s probably used to it with the Ravyns. The magick isn’t unfamiliar to him.” Cord managed to get a blanket with his toes and pull it up high enough so that he could grab it to pull it over the three of them. Michel snorted. “You should’ve been a monkey.” “You’re just jealous because I have all the skills.” Cord seemed happier than he had in weeks. The thing that his smaller mate craved

 

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most of all was unity, and now that they had their third, they would have that. A new anxiousness filled him. Michel wanted to get his mates out of this dangerous area and back home where they could be safe. There was no way that he’d let Druas put himself in anymore danger. He was a warrior, but he was also mortal. That combination didn’t make him feel any better about this situation. From what he’d gathered, King Desmond had a vastly superior fighting force. Even with the men that Salvatore had gathered, Druas would be in great danger just participating in the war. “You shouldn’t worry so much. You can’t cage him, love.” Cord’s voice broke him out of his cyclical imaginings of war and death and fear. “He’s fighting for what he believes in. You have to support him on that.” Michel sighed and kissed Dru’s neck. “It doesn’t mean I’m happy about it,” he grumped. “In fact, I would prefer if I hid the two of you in a cave somewhere far away from the conflict.” “He’d never accept a cage any more than you would, Michel.” Cord stroked his side again. “Sleep now, love. When we wake, we’ll have this mission to finish. Let’s enjoy this peace for the time being, yes?” Michel nodded and closed his eyes, content to dream with his two lovers by his side.

 

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Chapter Seven Dru woke stiff and aching. It wasn’t an unpleasant ache by any means. He felt utterly and thoroughly debauched. He stretched his hands above his head, trying to loosen up the muscles that were sore from use. He felt so damn good. The scent of his lovers clung to his skin, and he wanted to wallow in the smell. The heat of the southern sun was already beginning to warm the world around them and the inside of the tent, while not sweltering yet, was beginning to make the thin blanket that was pulled over the three of them a little uncomfortable. Dru pushed it down so that it hung low on his hips. He looked left and right, grinning like a fool. His two lovers were curled on their sides, both facing him in sleep. It was a hell of a sight. The Ravyns were never going to believe this. Thinking about his brothers shot a familiar twinge of longing back through his chest. He missed them. They had been the steadiest thing in his life for so long that it was hard to imagine even a few months separate from them. He hoped Germany had fared well with the vampires. Communicating across planes was never an easy task, and they really hadn’t had time to do so even if they wanted to expend the energy. It made him sad. He wished he had a mirror of Abyssal with him. Those things were near indestructible and allowed for communication on any plane anywhere. Whoever he wanted to communicate with just had to have a matching mirror. Unfortunately, his prince had lost all of theirs somewhere along the way.

 

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“Hmm, morning,” Cord greeted, drawing Dru’s attention away from his brothers. His gorgeous hazel eyes popped open, and a sleepy smile stole over his face. “Morning,” Dru returned. He just knew he sounded as love besotted as he felt. He could hear the gooey note in his voice, but he was helpless to stop it. His face was going to be sore if the grin on it stayed in place for any length of time. A firm hand pinched his ass. “No good morning for me? Both of my mates are cruel.” Dru turned raised his eyes to see his larger mate’s sleepy countenance. “Us? Cruel?” he asked. Cord gave him a wink and then jumped over Dru to land on his other mate. Dru laughed and did the same so that Michel had his hands full of two enthusiastic mates who pressed kisses along his jawline and nipped at his skin in protest to his words. Michel started cracking up, and soon the three of them were laughing like a pack of hyenas. It was the first time Dru could remember hearing Michel laugh, and the deep note of amusement was probably the sexiest thing he had ever heard aside from Cord’s cries of completion from the night before. How did I get so lucky? He’d spent a large chunk of his existence alone. The fact that the gods had blessed him with not just one mate but two filled him with a deep sense of pleasure. Dru’s lips met with Michel’s, and they shared a deep kiss before he turned his head and did the same to Cord. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t wait to have his own life separate from his brothers. He reached into his body to feel of the bond that was between the three of them. It flared a scalding white-blue color as he touched it. His eyes widened, and he pulled back from it with a gasp. “What is that?” The Ravyns’ bond was gold. Always had been, and always would be. It was like something had added energy to the connecting cords.

 

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Cord grinned. “It’s our Mate Bond. It’s a lot like a vampire’s Bride Bond. It enables us to stay connected over long distances and binds us together for the rest of our lives and beyond.” “The bites did that?” Dru asked. “Yeah.” Cord paused. “You mad?” Dru shook his head. “Of course not. I just thought it was more complicated than that. I mean, even Bride Bonds take two weeks to really solidify.” “We’re animals, pretty. We don’t require elaborate rituals. We’re of the earth. It’s as natural to us as the rising sun.” Michel nuzzled him, and Dru tilted his head to the side to let him do more. “That was incredibly poetic of you,” Cord teased, tickling his side. Dru was surprised when the big shifter squirmed and had to bite back laughter. “Stop it, brat!” Michel snapped in mock anger. Dru grinned at the both of them. He really was a lucky man. Of course, that led to another wrestling match of sorts that made them even later getting up than they already were. Someone had thoughtfully left them a basin of water, oils, and a small metal tool designed to scrape off the oils that they put on their skin on the high table beside Natiri’s papers. Dru took his time washing both of his mates. It wasn’t the elaborate shower that he wanted to give them, but it was enough that he felt close to them in some small way. He washed Cord first and then Michel. They wanted to wash him as well, but he waved them off. “I wanted to give that to you, mates. Let me give it to you freely.” They seemed touched by the idea and so allowed him to do as he wished. His mates were definitely more receptive to his sweet-talking than to his orders. He grinned. “One day you two will have to let me brush those pretty kitty coats of yours. You’re gorgeous in your shifted forms,” he

 

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complimented as he finished brushing Michel’s hair. Cord blushed, and even Michel looked pleased at his words. “It’s a very intimate act to allow someone in their human form to touch you in our culture,” Cord explained. “Usually, only mates do that.” Dru winked at his smaller mate. “Well, then I qualify.” **** “Welcome to the land of the living, Ravyns. You were sleeping like the dead.” Natiri’s booming voice caused him to jump as they came out of the tent some twenty minutes later. “We almost packed you up along with my tent. Everything else is ready to go.” “Forgive us, General. We took our time getting ready this morning,” Dru explained. A round fruit was tossed at his head, and Michel grabbed it from the air and growled in Natiri’s direction. Natiri grinned unapologetically. “Fruit will have to suffice for breakfast, Ravyns. You missed the larger breakfast this morning. I’m surprised the bustle of the camp didn’t wake you. We just received word from our sentries that Desmond’s Doves are on the move. There are six of them, and I don’t want to risk them catching us unawares. So we’re moving camp deeper into the desert, near an oasis that will act as good protection at our backs. We’ll see them coming if they come after us.” “Why don’t we just go after them?” Cord asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I mean, wouldn’t it be better to take them out before they found us?” “Desmond employs a lot of specialized demons, babe. It wouldn’t make sense for us to attack them without knowing their powers. He probably didn’t send a bunch of water elementals out into southern Demontia. They’re probably very prepared to deal with this environment and are ready to do battle with the people from here,”

 

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Dru explained. His attention turned to Natiri. “Do you want us to go out with a hunting party?” “Not necessary. Your main priority is to get your mission complete and to go back to your prince. I don’t think it’s necessary to have you and your mates put in unnecessary danger,” Natiri said. He motioned for one of his men to come forward, and he passed him a rolled-up scroll, no doubt containing orders for the men who weren’t in the immediate camp. The demon took off like a shot. Huh. He hadn’t seen an air demon in a while. They usually lived more toward the eastern part of Demontia, nearer the capital. “All kinds are called to serve the true heir to Demontia,” Natiri said sagely. “Walk with me, Ravyns. I want to show you the rest of camp before sending you off. There are a few men I want you to meet.” **** The men in question ended up being more of Salvatore’s potential generals, ones who had earned their names in battle and who had a deep, unending grudge against the current monarch. They all smelled like loyal men, so Michel thought that their addition to their forces was a good decision. He’d tell Salvatore so when he got back. He’d also be announcing their mating if Druas wished to do so. He understood if Dru wanted discretion, though. His brothers had been through a lot emotionally over the last few months. He couldn’t be sure that the other Ravyns would be encouraging of a three-way relationship, and the last thing he wanted was for the other Ravyns to upset Dru. He might end up busting one of them in the mouth. “So, were you planning on learning Demonish while you were here?” Natiri asked, drawing Michel out of his contemplation of returning home. They were walking along the outside edge of the campsite now, surrounded on all sides by red, rocky desert. “While

 

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we don’t have Neuro-Net impulses, we have a very good tutor who is in charge of teaching the younger members of our camp.” “I’m not very good with languages,” Michel hedged. He didn’t want to be put in with the cubs. “It would be worth your time to do it, Michel.” His demon mate’s voice made him pause. “Why?” he asked, pinning his lover with a look that conveyed his displeasure. He didn’t fancy being made to study like a cub. His school days were well past him. “Because, it might prove useful in the future,” Druas lectured, bumping their shoulders together. Michel looked over at his lover. “For the war?” Druas shook his head. “No. For when the war is over. I’d like a home in Demontia.” Michel’s face broke out into a grin. “You wish us to travel with you, then?” “Of course.” Dru’s golden eyes lit on him. “But, I would prefer that you learn the language so I don’t have to babysit you.” Michel sputtered, and Cord started laughing. “You should see the look on your face, big guy,” Cord teased. He gave Dru a wink. “We’ll take lessons.” It seemed his smaller mates were going to be ganging up on him quite often if the conversation was any indication. Michel smiled and laced hands with his mates. That was okay with him. He’d get them back later. “Of course, I can always give you private lessons in the evening afterward.” Dru squeezed his hand as he spoke. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy learning it better that way.” “Mmm, a tutor who teaches us naughty phrases. I’m liking this idea,” Cord added. Michel’s body was instantly primed for the idea. He looked at the two men on either side of him and saw they wore mirrored grins. Oh, they are mischief incarnate.

 

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Natiri started laughing. “Exactly so, Ravyns. The best part about learning your lover’s native tongue is to understand their bedroom language.” More seriously, he added, “And it will greatly help you when I leave in three days’ time.” They all stopped walking at the unexpected statement. Dru dropped his hand and turned to face Natiri full on. “Where are you going?” the demon demanded. Michel really didn’t like this. It seemed sudden and unexpected, two things that no one wanted when dealing in war. Natiri’s unusual eyes looked hard and contained no small amount of unease as he spoke. “Salvatore’s father set up another set of allies that I will be going to collect from a higher realm. They are…” He seemed to search for a word. “Unusual. No one but me is entitled to go into their world, and I have to leave someone in charge while I am away.” He put a huge hand on Dru’s shoulder. “I hope that you will be the one to take on the task. You are Ravyn warriors. The people respect you. I would not ask this if I had any other choice. But, time grows short. If we are going to be ready for war, it must be done.” “But I don’t know these people!” Dru protested. He looked like Michel felt, ready to vomit. “They are your prince’s people. They will follow you. My warriors will be at your disposal. More and more will be arriving as the days wear on. Messengers have already been sent out to the other tribes, calling them home. I will be gone for two weeks. No more. No less. If I’m gone for longer than that, I am dead.” Natiri took out a dagger from his side pouch and handed it hilt first to Druas. “I am giving the power of my people over to you until I return. If you need to report back to your prince, leave one of your men here to act in your stead.” His eyes rose to pin Michel with a steady look. “Learn our language so that you can be the best leader for your mate and your prince.” Michel nodded. “It will be done.” He took his duty more seriously than almost anything else in his life. If he looked at learning

 

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Demonish in that fashion, then it would be accomplished in no time flat. Cord squeezed his hand, conveying his nervousness with the simplest of touches. Michel returned the gesture. “No worries, lover mine. We will not disappoint our mate. I’ll learn it.” Michel tried to reassure him through their mate bond, which was connected with their Ravyns’ bond as well. It was an odd tangle in his mind. “It is not us that I am worried about. Our mate has a terribly weighty responsibility to begin with. This added stress isn’t good for him.” Leave it up to Cord to be so worried about their warrior mate’s mental health. At any other time, Michel would have smiled and shook his head over it. “Our mate was born for this, Cord. It is his decision and his destiny to take this on. Besides, we will be here to support him the entire way.” Dru sighed. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in charge of soldiers. Tony would be better suited for this.” “I’ve seen you interact with the men, Druas. You will do just fine,” Natiri said. “I would not go if it were not necessary.” Michel reached out and linked Dru’s mind up with theirs. “You can do it, Druas. Truly. You are a Ravyn warrior.” “We’ll be here the entire time. No worries, my love,” Cord seconded. Druas’s lips twitched. “Thank you for the pep talk, boys. I think I’ll be all right.” His eyes went to them as Michel took a step forward and draped his arm around his shoulders. Along the cords of their bond, the feeling of contentment radiated off of the demon warrior. It made Michel happy to feel him there. “I’m honored you’re leaving the camp in my care, Natiri.” There was a renewed strength in his voice. Michel felt himself swell with pride. His warrior was a man of worth.

 

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Natiri’s eyes lit with mirth. “I’m honored you and your mates accepted the position so readily. It’ll do everyone good to see the monarch, even by extension, moving among the people.” It struck Michel then that this war was no longer a distant possibility. It was going to occur and soon. Cord bracketed Dru on the other side, meeting Michel’s gaze as he had the same realization. They would protect their warrior mate from the things that were to come, fight by his side until their last breath. Dru must’ve sensed their thoughts because he leaned up and pressed a kiss first to Michel’s throat and then leaned down to kiss Cord’s lips. It was a gesture of thanks that went beyond words. “Come, Ravyns. We’ve got the rest of the camp to see and lunch to get to. Worry about war when war arrives.” With that, they continued to follow him through camp. A feeling of purpose infused their steps, and it fairly radiated off Druas as they passed tents and were shouted greetings by various warriors. But Michel couldn’t help the niggling sensation of dread that followed him as they walked. He tried to shake it, but the feeling of impending doom shadowed his every footstep.

 

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Chapter Eight Druas was in great spirits the morning that Natiri was scheduled to leave. The three days spent in preparation of the camp being turned over to him and his lovers was over, and he felt fairly confident that he could run it with a modicum of efficiency in the general’s absence. On top of that, Michel and Cord had picked up a lot of the language already. Both of them were incredibly bright, and he was so proud of them for their efforts. Three days was far from enough time to master the language, but he was fairly certain that they knew enough to take on a simple conversation. “Do you have any idea how incredibly hot is it to see you in that outfit?” Cord’s amused voice broke through his contemplation of his duties over the next few weeks. Dru glanced down at the outfit he had on. He’d picked up some clothing from some of the other warriors in the camp recently. A simple pair of brown animal-hide leggings and supple boots were the only things he was wearing other than the ornamental general’s cord, which was a collection of gems arranged in a specific pattern that indicated his elevated status and bisected his chest like a sash. “Yeah, Conan the Barbarian is a good look for you,” Michel echoed from his place on the mats they shared as a bed. Dru smiled. “Glad you approve. I figured I better look the part of demon general if I am going to be acting as one. The warriors meeting this morning went well, and Natiri seemed to be in good spirits when he left.” “I wonder where he went. I mean, how many of the other realms could’ve remained allies for over a thousand years?” Cord asked.

 

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The Ravyn often wondered that himself. While it made sense to him that some demons still had ties to the royal line, why would other species have the same ties? He shrugged. “No idea. But I’m glad we’re having some additional assistance. I hope that Ger is successful with the vampires, but I’m not counting on it.” Cord walked up to Dru, and the warrior felt his heart do a somersault in his chest. Gods, he was so very blessed. A hand reached out and teased his nipple on the right side before trailing lovingly down his stomach to toy with the hem of his pants. “I find that outfit incredibly sexy.” Damn if Dru’s body didn’t start hardening in response. His smaller mate was trouble with a capital T. He reached down and grabbed the wrist that was sliding even lower down his body. “I don’t have time for distractions, love. I’ve got to go to the center of the camp and meet people.” And man, did he regret it. He wanted nothing more than to take Cord up on the offer that was shining in his eyes. Without encouragement, his mind was already drifting back to the previous night when he was sandwiched in between his two lovers, giving and taking pleasure from each of them in turn. As usual, it had been explosive and oh, so wonderful. But duty came first, always. Cord pouted his lips. “No time, even for a quickie?” Dru chuckled and traced his lover’s cheek with his fingertips. “Not even time for a quickie. I’d like the two of you to open up a gate and message my brothers on the Earth realm and see what’s shaking there. Let them know what we’re dealing with on this side. Ask them to forward all that to Salvatore.” Michel rolled to his feet and walked over to the two of them. “I’d feel much more comfortable if you took one of us with you.” Dru inhaled the scent of his lovers. It was a heady fragrance. Having them this close to him wasn’t good for keeping his priorities straight. “It’ll take your combined energy to open the gate and keep it open for the amount of time you’ll need.” “You don’t need two Ravyns to accomplish it,” Michel protested.

 

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“No, I don’t. I’ve been using demon magicks for a long time. You two aren’t demon, so therefore it’s harder to control with you. Please, don’t argue with me. After you’re done, you’re welcome to join me.” Dru tried to explain the best he could without seeming offensive. To be honest, they probably could open them on their own considering that they were so intimately tied to Dru, but he didn’t want them to tire themselves out. Besides, it’d be a huge distraction to have them both at his elbows while he tried to deal with the minor problems that accompanied running the camp. “You two need to drop by the teacher’s tent and do your lessons of the day before you come to me anyway.” Michel growled. The sexy sound skittering across Dru’s skin left goose bumps despite the heat of the air. “I think he’s trying to get rid of us, Cord.” “Hmmm,” his smaller mate teased. “I think you may be correct.” “Guys, don’t—” His words were cut off as Cord tugged his neck downward so that he could lay a kiss on his lips. It was a kiss that quite boldly stated that Dru was irrevocably his and Dru just better get used to the idea. The possessiveness made Druas’s body throb in want. He was panting by the time their tongues stopped dancing and Cord pulled back. Of course he had no room to breathe afterward either, because then Michel guided his head up to kiss him as well. His larger mate kneaded the globes of his ass as the kiss continued onward for an indeterminable stretch of time. Another set of lips kissed his neck, nipping the place that his shoulder met his neck. He wanted Cord to bite him there. He groaned into the recesses of Michel’s mouth as Cord ground against his ass and, subsequently, Michel’s hands as well. Finally, Michel pulled back from the kiss, grinning as he did so. “Still want to get rid of us?” he asked, panting slightly.

 

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Dru let out a moan of frustration and reached down to adjust his erection within the confines of his leathers. “You’re both so dead meat when I get back tonight. That was so vastly unfair.” Cord gave his body one last grind against Dru’s ass before pulling back as well. “So is walking around looking like that and expecting me to behave.” He had a smile in his voice as he said it. “Brats,” Dru declared. “The both of you.” Michel shrugged. “If it’ll make you hurry back to us, then yes. We’ll be brats to you.” Dru sighed dramatically but couldn’t really summon the energy to be annoyed. He’d have to work on getting rid of his hard-on on the way to his meeting. His damn mates were just too freaking tempting. He could have them for an eternity and never get bored with them. He kissed them both chastely before turning toward the entrance to Natiri’s tent. “I’ll see you both a little later. Try and behave.” His mates’ laughter echoed in his ears as he left. **** Cord had just finished copying the last bit of the demon alphabet into his book when the feeling of absolute agony struck his chest. He gasped, momentarily incapacitated by the sheer weight of the pain as it pressed against his soul. Distantly, he was aware of Michel letting out a strangled noise that indicated that he was feeling whatever this was as well. At that same moment, a chorus of alarms and shouts rang out over the camp, signaling trouble. Cord held the place over his heart as he tried to work past the pain. The Ravyns’ bond tore, the metaphysical cord unraveling inside him as Cord felt the event unfold. He screamed as feelings of absolute loneliness and cold penetrated places inside him he’d never even known existed. Finally, after endless grueling minutes of it, only a thread of the original bond remained. It flickered, and the blue light of its energy dimmed to almost black.

 

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Panic followed on the heels of pain. Cord immediately reached for his mate bond and sighed in relief as it flared to wonderful golden life. Oddly, the energy caused the Ravyns’ bond to pulse a little brighter as well. “Something is wrong,” Michel managed to say, his voice choked. “Druas…Something is wrong with Druas.” **** Cord’s heart was pounding as they raced through camp in the direction of the big bonfire that lay in the center. Around them, other members of the camp were arming themselves, running around in panicked circles. Other warriors were trying to organize their confused comrades by shouting orders at them in the demon tongue. Michel’s longer legs sprinted ahead of him as Cord kept pace a few feet behind. The same tormented thoughts percolated through both of their minds. “He’s all right. He has to be all right,” Michel repeated as they ran. Adrenaline raced through Cord’s blood in time with the frantic beat of his heart. “Hold it together, baby. We’re coming!” He hoped that Dru could hear his mind shout. “Never should have let him go by himself. Never should have let him out of my sight.” Michel was about to have a panic attack. Cord could feel the hysteria building steadily inside his mate’s mind. “Panicking won’t help, Michel. He’s strong, baby. He’ll be okay.” He didn’t know if he believed the words, but Michel needed to hear them. He knew that it was Michel’s worse nightmare. “We just found him. I can’t lose him!” Michel screamed in his mind in a strangled voice. If they went into a battle situation right now, Michel would go down like a ton of bricks. He wasn’t thinking straight.

 

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Cord grabbed his mate’s arm and jerked him backward, causing him to stumble. Michel snarled in his direction, his eyes already shifted into his feral form and his fangs elongated top and bottom. He tried to pull out of Cord’s grip, but the smaller mate dug his nails into Michel’s forearm to stop him. “Shift,” Cord commanded, tightening his grip. Michel hissed. “We don’t have time for this!” he shouted in Cord’s face, trying to intimidate him with his larger bulk. Cord didn’t flinch away. He’d known Michel too long to be bowled over by his intimidation tactics. “You’ll do Dru absolutely no good if you go charging in like that. You’re not thinking, and if you don’t think, you’ll end up dead. Are you going to leave us alone by doing something stupid like getting yourself killed?” Cord knew that the only way to get through to his mate was to invoke his sense of duty to his mates. Michel loved them both too much sometimes. Finally, Michel nodded and shucked his clothes in a few economical moves. Cord felt the burst of energy a second before the flash of light that signaled a change blinded him. When it cleared, Michel’s massive feline form stood there, glaring daggers at Cord. “Let’s go, lover,” Cord said, running a hand down Michel’s flank before taking off in a sprint toward the center of camp. Michel loped beside him, his movements infinitely more graceful in his feral form. Cord glanced at the unfamiliar sky of a foreign world and prayed to whatever gods listened on this plane of existence that they were not too late. They tore around the corner that put them in direct line with the bonfire. It seemed they had found the battlefield. Bodies littered the ground, some of them warriors from the camp, others garbed in uniforms that Cord didn’t recognize. They didn’t appear to have any wounds on them, yet they lay stiff, unnaturally still and frozen in twisted positions. It was right out of a bad horror movie back home. On the outskirts of the area, nearest the tents, small skirmishes were ensuing between various types of demons. But Cord’s eyes

 

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swept over them, not really seeing them. Michel was already sniffing the air, scenting their mate through the plethora of sweat and sand and men that permeated the area. “Any scent?” Cord shouted over the clash of steel and the war cries of demons. He sidestepped as a pair of them nearly bowled him over as they grappled with one another. Michel swatted at them with one massive paw just as an arrow flew through the air and stuck in the uniformed chest of one of the demons. “Michel, focus! Where is our lover?” Cord repeated, unsheathing the demonic dagger that Salvatore had given him on the day they became Ravyns. It was made of the same alloy that the Ravyns’ swords were made of. Michel gave a shake of his golden head, huffing as he did so. A sudden howling filled the area, and the wind picked up to an almost impossibly high level. The dirt and dust kicked up into the air. The demons stumbled back away from the area closest to the bonfire pit, and finally, Cord got an uninterrupted view of the space. His heart stopped. Dru was struggling between two massive demons with wicked, curved-looking weapons. Both seemed to be living shadows despite the full sun and moved with an almost-liquid grace. Dru’s blood streamed down in bright red rivers down his chest and abdomen in a long line to his hipbone. He swung at the demon nearest him and nearly fell over. As the shadow demon lunged, the wind kicked up again in a burst and knocked him backward. Dru visibly panted and stumbled again, throwing his hands up in a protective fashion as the second demon dug the curved weapon into Dru’s side and twisted. Michel didn’t even wait for Cord. He just leapt toward Druas as he fell. Cord watched as the scene unfolded in slow motion. It seemed utterly unreal as the bond between them once again wavered and flickered as Druas’s soul seemed to pull away from theirs. He might’ve screamed, but he wasn’t sure, wasn’t sure of anything really other than the fact that his mate was hurt and that in the span of an

 

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hour, his path to happily ever after was quickly disappearing. Distantly, he realized he was moving forward, barreling over anyone who made the mistake of getting in his way. One of the big demons turned from Dru, dismissing him as a threat by presenting his back. Cord lost it then, lunging at the demon in a partial shift. His claws buried themselves into his enemy’s chest, tearing through muscles and bones like it meant nothing. Far away, he heard Michel’s roar of triumph as he took out the other one. He couldn’t feel the satisfaction that Michel did over the kill, not when Druas was lying there so very, very still. “Dru!” He shouted the word, needing some response from his fallen mate. He got none. He dropped to his knees beside his mates and sank into blood. A scream rent itself from his throat as the smell assaulted his nostrils. Not like this. It can’t end like this. We just found him. Please. Please. Whatever they’d hit him with was still lodged inside him. Cord touched it tentatively with his fingertips, wondering if he should pull it out. “Don’t. He’ll bleed out if you do.” Michel must’ve shifted back because there he was, over his shoulder, a comforting presence at his back. “He’s dying.” Cord choked on the words, but his animal instincts didn’t lie. He could already smell death clinging to his mate’s skin. Michel growled, the low, feral sound one of agony. “No. We won’t let him.” Cord really didn’t see how they would get a choice in the matter. They couldn’t open the gates between worlds by themselves, and the only chance seemed to be back on Earth. He thought about going back to just him and Michel, and the thought killed him. He belonged with both of them. Mating meant forever. Mating meant that they would never have to be alone. He sobbed, uncaring if another enemy came upon him. His soul felt like it was being ripped to shreds.

 

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“Cord!” Michel shouted, pulling his arm to the side as the shadows they’d just dispatched sprang back to form, shaking off death from themselves like it was nothing. What. The. Hell. He half shifted, his vision going feline as he eyed the demons coming at them. He would find a way to make them dead for what they’d done to Druas. For every second they wasted with them was one last second they could spend with Dru, and that was utterly and absolutely unacceptable. Instead of attacking them like Cord assumed, they turned to Druas and snatched up his body like it was weightless. “No!” Cord shouted, lunging at them as they held Dru between them. They seemed to go through his damn fingertips, a hell of a lot less solid than he’d originally assumed. Michel snarled and lunged at the shadow as well, only to fall through. The shadows thickened exponentially, completely obscuring Dru from their eyes. Cord whimpered and stretched his hand toward his lover. They couldn’t lose him like this. Please, gods, not like this. The black smoke cleared as Michel charged it head-on. But neither the shadow demons nor their mate were there. Michel turned back toward Cord, his eyes filled with unshed tears. Cord fell to his knees, his heart fracturing and the jagged pieces piercing his chest in painful shards. Michel’s strong arms circled around him, and two feline voices rose in screams as the battle raged around them. **** Freezing water sluiced down Dru’s chest, bringing him to screaming wakefulness. His eyes dragged open to see ugly gray floor that was made of broken stone. The light was dim at best. The yellow glow swung, illuminating the stained stone on stone walls and floors. He appeared to be alone, but he couldn’t be sure. His ears were still ringing and his heartbeat was so loud in his ears that it was impossible

 

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to hear himself think. Parts of him were burning with cuts and whatever was in the water was not helping. “Good. He’ll live. So will you.” The low, gravelly voice sounded to his right. Dru lifted his head, and the world spun. His neck wouldn’t support the weight, so it lolled back down to rest on his chest. Distantly, he realized the additional aches in his shoulders were from the fact that his arms were twisted by chains above his head at an odd angle. His muddled mind took a minute to realize what exactly had transpired. “It hasn’t taken effect quite yet. The blade we pierced him with contained the king’s essence. It shouldn’t be much longer now.” A wispy voice that sounded like something out of his nightmares rasped from his left, just outside the swinging lamplight. Dru shivered and screwed his eyes shut. Gods, no. He’d been captured by the enemy. He took a deep breath and gasped at the effort. It hurt to breathe too deeply. After a few minutes of controlled breathing, he made a pledge to himself. I will remain strong. He anticipated torture followed by a painful death. It made his heart ache to think that he’d never see his two mates again. “I’ll make my way back to you,” he promised to the empty mate bond as his eyes started to tear. “If it takes a thousand lifetimes, I’ll come back to you.” “Shall we interrogate him?” the voice to his right asked. The voice to his left sounded. “No need. He’ll tell us everything he knows just as soon as the blade starts working.” “If he would’ve died, the king would’ve had your head.” “I’ll never tell you anything!” Dru snapped. He didn’t sound as forceful as he wanted to, but he couldn’t help it. The two men in the room just laughed.

 

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Chapter Nine Michel rocked Cord back and forth in the tent that they shared, inhaling the scent of Druas that was already fading from the area as the desert wind carried it away. The battle had ended with victory on the behalf of the nomads. The warriors had either killed or driven Desmond’s forces out of the area. But the victory was bittersweet. While it increased the morale of the troops they’d come to Demontia to protect, the losses had been painful. Druas’s loss was going to haunt them forever. Michel knew in his heart that his other mate was dead, and he couldn’t help but think that if he had insisted on going with him that morning that Michel could’ve protected Dru from the demons’ attack. “Maybe he’s alive.” Cord sobbed into his chest, clutching at his waist as Michel continued to rock him back and forth in an effort to calm his hysterical mate. As bad as it sounded, Michel used his smaller mate as a focus to keep himself from descending into the feral mourning he wanted to engage in. As long as he had Cord to take care of, he could hold it together. Michel sighed and squeezed his lover tighter. “I’m sorry, baby. The bond doesn’t lie. Our Druas is gone.” He choked up at the last part, his throat closing around the words as if to strangle it out of him. The tears that slid down his cheeks couldn’t be helped. “Don’t say it. Please, just don’t say it.” Cord dissolved into sobs once again. Michel felt so fucking helpless. “We just found him, Michel. How could the fates do this? How could they give him to us just to take him away?” “I don’t know, baby,” Michel whispered. “I just don’t know.”

 

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The flap to the tent was pulled back and one of the tribe’s warriors stepped into their space before kneeling before them on the carpet. “Forgive me,” he said, lowering his eyes respectfully. “I know that you need time to mourn your mate, but the warriors are growing restless. They wish to move deeper into the desert, away from this site. Would you be amenable to the discussion?” Michel swallowed. He’d forgotten that they would be in charge if Dru was out of commission. “Is that what you guys usually do in this sort of situation?” “Yes,” the warrior said. “Then do it. We need to get somewhere safe and regroup.” Michel heard himself say the words, but it was just an automatic response. When it came right down to it, he’d never been in charge of anything but patrol groups before. He wasn’t an alpha or a pride leader. The warrior stood and gave another low bow. “Very well. I will tell the warriors’ council of your decision and send a few men along to take down the tent and pack General Natiri’s things.” He paused as he turned on his heels. “A word of advice?” “Speak,” Michel said. “I would advise that you travel with both a translator and an elder warrior of council to advise you…since your mate is no longer able to provide you with those services.” Michel nodded and then realized the warrior couldn’t see him. “Yes,” he answered. “I will take your advice.” “I hope you and your mate find peace,” the warrior said as way of good-bye. He left without another backward glance. **** Cord wept until great hiccups replaced his sobs and his eyes ached from crying so hard. He wanted nothing more than to curl onto the mat that they’d slept in the night before and sleep until he found Druas in the ether. But he couldn’t. They had to move, and Michel

 

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forced him to move along with them. A half dozen people showed up and began packing all of Natiri’s things. Cord snarled as they came near Druas’s things. He wanted to pack those personally, and so he did with the utmost care. He cut a strip of cloth from one of Dru’s shirts and tucked it in his pocket. As silly as it was, he felt closer to Dru having a piece of him near him. “The rest of the camp will be ready within the hour,” the translator they sent, a young boy of no more than nineteen, spoke as they finished clearing out the last rug and putting it on a huge cart pulled by beasts similar to Earth’s horses. Their colors were not similar, though. They were dull green, orange, and deep purple. “Odd beasts to have in a desert,” Michel said, voicing Cord’s thoughts before Cord could form the words. “They are better desert travelers than most others. They come from a world with no water. They don’t depend upon it. The desert people breed them for that reason. Also, they have fine temperaments, gentlest beasts you’ll ever encounter. They call them the healers of the sands. Supposedly, if someone makes friends with them, they allow for you to visit others in your dreams.” The idea had Cord’s heart flip-flopping. Michel let out a low rumble and grabbed the boy by the arm, hard. “Be quiet, you little idiot. Our mate died today. Cord is fragile enough without you spouting that nonsense.” “F−Forgive me, Michel! I meant nothing by it!” the boy babbled in a strangled voice. “Leave him, Michel,” Cord demanded, reaching into his pocket to touch the piece of Dru’s shirt. It calmed him somewhat. “There has been enough violence today. We need to get out of here.” “Do you feel like running shifted?” Michel asked, his voice much kinder as he spoke to Cord. He was treating him like he’d fracture apart at any moment. Of course, he was probably right. He was about to break into a million pieces. Hope was the only thing keeping him on his feet. Surely, Desmond’s cronies would’ve wanted to keep

 

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Druas alive for some purpose. Cord was going to get him back. Somehow. Even if it was only to bury Dru, he would bring him home. Cord sighed. His lover had given him a mission. He would carry it out no matter what. “No. But I have no choice. No beast will carry a jaguar shifter. The predator frightens burden beasts.” “The Adamar will carry you. I told you, they’re frightfully intelligent,” the boy piped up. “Ride them up front with the other warrior council.” Hot relief poured through him. His beast was going to be even worse in mourning than he was. The cat within him didn’t understand why they were doing anything but going after their mate. A step away from the spot where his cat had last seen Dru was a step away from the path they should be taking. “You’ll ride on the back of the Adamar then, Cord.” Michel demanded, drawing Cord out of the place he’d slipped into in his mind. “Or better yet, the cart.” “I’m not an invalid,” Cord protested. “I won’t ride in the back and make others carry equipment. I’ll ride an animal like the rest of the men.” “But Cord—” “Please,” Cord interrupted. “Please, don’t fight with me. Just…let me be.” He looked up at Michel and begged for his understanding. He was holding onto his control by the most fragile of threads, and he couldn’t stomach any conflict with Michel right now. Michel nodded. “Very well, my love.” Cord hefted the pack on his shoulder and walked toward the outside of the collection of animals and carts. He just needed to breathe and couldn’t do that in the middle of everyone. At least they were dealing with a rocky desert as opposed to a sandy one. Cord hated sand. A giant purple beast with a lavender-colored mane shuffled closer to Cord. Sky-blue eyes regarded him. Cord reached out his hand and touched the neck of the creature.

 

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“Pikachu, I choose you,” he murmured, petting gently. He smelled the boy as he walked up behind him. “He likes you,” the boy murmured. “This is Star. He’s usually shy with strangers. He probably senses your sadness. Yes, he’ll do nicely. I’ll saddle him and bridle for you.” “Why isn’t he already?” Cord asked, half turning to the boy. He didn’t want to admit that he had never actually rode a horse of any kind, never mind one from another plane of existence. “We were going to hitch him to the cart, because he gets shy with unfamiliar riders but…I think you and he will get along nicely. One minute and it’ll be done, Cord.” The brown-haired boy smiled, revealing white teeth. “Just relax. Star will take care of you.” The tribesmen must’ve been used to moving at lightning speeds, because it was literally two minutes tops before the boy had the horse saddled and ready to go. Cord eyed the stirrup as the boy handed over the reins. “My name is Bekil, by the way,” the boy said, petting the Adamar’s neck as Cord put his foot in the stirrup. Bekil frowned. “Are you planning on riding backward?” “Of course not,” Cord snapped. His nerves were frayed as it was. One more “helpful” suggestion by the boy was liable to send him into fits. Bekil looked nervous as he motioned to Cord’s foot. “Um, then you might want to use the other foot to get up in the saddle. Just, um, a suggestion.” Cord looked down at his foot and instantly realized his mistake. “Christ. I’m helpless today. Sorry, Bekil. Thanks.” He corrected his footing and swung his other leg over so that he could straddle the animal. It took a little fumbling to get situated, but once he did it felt almost natural to be sitting on the back of the huge animal. These Adamar seemed to be a bit bigger than Earth’s horses as well. The average-sized ones seemed to be about the size of a Clydesdale.

 

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“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Bekil asked, looking up at Cord as he wrestled with the reins. Cord let out a long string of French curses. “No!” he said in English. “I have no fucking idea, but I’m going to deal with it anyway. So can you kindly let me fumble on my own?” His sentence ended in a shout, something he rarely did but seemed unable to help. Michel came hurrying toward him, looking concerned. Cord sighed. He needed to hold it together better. He needed to act a little more like his mate. Michel was being so strong… “Hey, are you all right?” Michel asked, coming to stand beside the horse Cord was on. He reached out and touched Cord’s thigh, conveying with his touch the comfort that he was so good at giving. Cord shook his head, his heart clenching again. “Not really. No. I don’t know. Everything hurts, and I just want to be left alone.” “When we get to the next campsite, you and I can talk about what to do next,” Michel said. “I want to go after Dru.” Cord tried to keep his voice even, but it cracked toward the end of the sentence. Michel sighed. “We need to contact Salvatore.” “How can you say that?” Cord asked, lashing out with his words. “Our mate could be somewhere dying, and you are just calmly going about the mission like nothing happened!” “That’s not it, and you fucking know it, Cord. I’m hurting just as much as you are. I just don’t have the luxury of falling apart right now. These people are still relying on us.” “Fuck them! Our mate—” “Our mate would want us to take care of them!” Michel interrupted. “Gods, Cord, get a grip for two seconds and think past your pain. Baby, I love you. If Dru is alive, and that’s a big if, we will get him back.” Cord made himself take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just…I can’t think.”

 

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“It’s okay, baby. I know. I know.” Michel reached out and took one of Cord’s hands and pressed a kiss to the knuckle. “Ride safe and just try and not think about it for a while.” It was a lot to ask, but he would try. **** They rode until sunset. The more permanent encampment was a few more hours from here, according to the translator. The warrior accompaniment that was supposed to keep them company was more or less dealing directly with Michel and leaving Cord the hell alone, which suited him just fine. The large jugs of water that the tribesmen had pulled off the carts were distributed and Bekil handed out some food for the Adamar with a pouch for feeding. It took Cord a minute to figure out how to hook it around Star’s head, but he managed. The bedroll he’d had in his pack was unrolled just outside one of the fires that they’d started for cooking, and he staked out a place to keep Star near him. The metal rod didn’t provide a ton of resistance for the animal, but it let him know his boundaries. Cord lay down on the mat, stretching out and listening to the sound of Star munching his food, which resembled the healthy fiber cereal that Michel made him choke down back home for health reasons. “My world fell apart today,” he said to the Adamar as he munched his food and flicked his tail. Cord knew most would say it was silly to talk to animals, especially ones that weren’t sentient beings, but he found comfort in the nonjudgmental way that they listened. “I miss him so much already…” Tears sprang to his eyes again, and he tried to get past the lump in his throat by taking a swig out of his waterskin. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to clamp down on his growing misery. He wasn’t entitled to fall apart just yet. A soft velvet head knocked against his jaw, making a spark of pain. “Ow!” he rumbled, opening his eyes. He looked up into skyblue eyes of the Adamar. He reached up and rubbed his jaw, brushing

 

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his other hand against the animal’s neck. “You’re not supposed to knock me around, you know? That doesn’t make people feel better.” The Adamar just huffed. “I know, I should be proactive not reactive. I got it.” He reached up and unconnected the feeding sack attached to the animal’s head. “I bet you’re a real brat, Star.” He paused. “But you’re cute enough that I guess that’s okay.” “Baby?” Michel’s voice asked, drawing his attention away from the animal. He sat up, pushing Star’s head away. “Hi,” he said. He hadn’t really talked to anyone today, Michel included. His big mate had been engaged in discussions with warriors for most of the day. Cord had stayed toward the back with the carts. Michel lifted his hand, showing off a steaming bowl in his hand. “I brought soup for you.” Cord lifted his head and sniffed. Wild onions, some kind of potato, and meat. He shrugged. It was edible, but he wasn’t hungry. “You’re eating, Cord,” Michel commanded, taking a seat beside him on the ground. Cord took the bowl. There was no point in arguing with Michel when he got that stubborn look on his face. He took the wooden spoon and put it in his mouth. Immediately, the heat assaulted him, scalding his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He made a noise of pain and clamped a hand over his lips. Shit. Shit. Shit. Ow! “Damn. Sorry, baby! It’s hot,” Michel said, petting him on the back in soothing circles. Cord swallowed. “Thanks,” he said sarcastically. He opened his mouth for another scathing retort only to get a good look at Michel’s face. He looked pinched, about to break. Cord instantly softened. He put his bowl on the hard ground beside him, and he opened his arms. Michel came willingly into them. His huge mate curled into him, silent sobs wracking his huge frame. Cord held onto him, comforting him as best

 

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he could. When at last the sobs died away, Cord kissed his lover’s temple. “You okay?” he whispered. He knew better than to ask that question. Neither one of them was really okay. They were either coping or ignoring the problem. It felt like they’d never be “okay” again. Michel wiped his eyes with the back of one sweaty, dusty arm. “I don’t know.” At least he was honest. Cord knew how he felt. Deep down, his cat cried out, eager to throw off human confines and mourn properly. “We’re resting here for the night?” Cord asked, changing the topic so both of them could breathe again. Acknowledging Dru’s loss was almost as bad as continually reliving it in every painful detail. “Yes,” Michel said. “Do you feel like resting?” “Not especially, but the other tribesmen do.” “Will you run with me?” Cord asked. The tiredness from before disappeared as the possibility of letting his cat run became a desire that thrummed through him in time to his heartbeat. Pain became energy that needed to be worked off with a long and thorough exhaustion of the body. Michel nodded. “Yes.” They stripped in silence, their clothing falling away without hesitation. Shifters were pretty blasé about nudity in general, and the thought of some of the demons seeing them take off their clothing was of minimal concern. Naked, Cord looked up to the unfamiliar sky and saw deep purple clouds rolling across a glittering star field. It was as good a night as any to run across the red plains that made up Demontia’s southlands, the lands that Druas loved. Without ceremony, he called the animal from the depths of his soul. It flowed over his body like water over a creek stone, natural and smooth. His body shimmered and seamlessly stretched into his feline shape. It didn’t hurt like the movies said it did. Shifting was like

 

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putting on a very familiar coat. He moved his shoulders, and it settled onto his skin. His back twisted, forcing him to his knees. Within twenty seconds he shook himself and stretched his clawed paws into the red earth. The signature jaguar spots looked even darker black by starlight, though even the blond of his unspotted hair was growing gray as the clouds moved over their heads. Michel’s massive body rubbed along his in a caress. He was roughly twice Cord’s size in shifted form, even bigger than most males of their kind. It was one of the many reasons that Michel was often chosen to be an enforcer for their colony. Cord descended into his cat, who gave a cry of pain as the full impact of losing his mate hit him like a freight train. The sound was a feline cry of sheer agony. The tents that had been erected closer to the fire stirred with internal movement. His mate gave a warning growl and rubbed along his flanks again. This was no place for those kinds of noises. It would only stir their companions and freak them out. Michel shouldered him once more, pushing him away from the tents and into the open desert. Dusk and dawn were their favorite times to run, and Cord felt the unique rush of it now. The area was cooling, but the lingering heat felt good against the pads of his paws. He let his cat take over and lived only in the moment. He knew only the feel of wind as it flowed through his fur, the slightly rough ground beneath his feet, and the thrill of movement as his muscles moved in perfect unison over the ground. Ahead of them was a collection of piled boulders conveniently placed in their path. He gave a little huff of desire and increased his speed. He wanted to climb. It was natural for his kind, and he wanted to be somewhere off the ground for a little bit. Michel hissed at him and tried to push him off his path. Cord was having none of it. He wanted those boulders and that height. He wanted to go there and mourn. A small animal about the size of a rabbit was stirred by his passing and darted along his path.

 

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Michel pounced on it before he could turn direction, shaking his head and snapping the animal’s neck without even ten seconds’ pause. Michel trotted behind him at a slower pace, letting him have his way for once. That was good. He was so deeply merged with his cat that he wouldn’t have been able to logic through Michel’s forceful caring. He leapt the first six feet up onto the rock and scrambled for purchase on the surprisingly smooth sides. His claws scraped like nails on a chalkboard, but he managed to pull himself up. The next two leaps were easy, and then he was at the summit, lifting his face to the now-darkened sky. He let out his cry of mourning then, screaming his agony to the heavens. Another voice joined his from below, a deeper scream that joined his in harmony. His voice gave out before the pain did. It was only when his vocal cords would produce no more sound that he shifted back to his human form. His naked body lay panting on the rough stone perch, and tears fell in dizzying regularity down his cheeks. A warm furred body rubbed against his. He raised his eyes to the very feline face of his mate. It was as familiar as his own. He reached out and traced Michel’s black lips, lifting the edges and tracing the long canines that were used to pierce prey. “Did you eat the rabbit?” Cord asked, his voice hoarse. Michel began purring. “Glad it was good.” He turned his head toward the horizon. It would be daylight soon. He could already feel the stirrings of creatures around them. The minute ones, the insects, were ready to greet the hot day with enthusiasm. “We should get back,” he told his mate, forcing himself to sit up. He was surprisingly sore. The muscles in his backside and thighs were throbbing. Apparently, they hadn’t been kidding when they called it being saddle sore. Who could’ve guessed that riding a horse was a physical exercise? It was surprising that it had taken this long to notice it, though.

 

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Michel shifted and sat beside Cord. “We should. Do you want to walk back in our human bodies? Give our cats a rest?” “I want to go after him,” Cord said. He couldn’t think of anything else. “And where would you go, baby?” Michel asked softly. “Where would you start to look for Druas in this vast world?” Cord rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I don’t know.” “Let’s just walk back, baby. Maybe we can find a way to the other Ravyns and they can help us find Dru. We have nothing to go on.” Cord knew Michel was right, but he didn’t like to admit it. The hollowness in his chest just wouldn’t give him any relief. He ached, and there was nothing he could do to ease it. “Okay,” he said after a minute of silence. “We can walk back.” Inside, his cat cried for his lost mate.

 

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Chapter Ten Michel walked down a rusty dirt road that ran through a sunflower field under a purple sky. The yellow of the flower petals was particularly vibrant as the sky rolled with thick purple rain clouds. He had to get somewhere. He was late. Though he couldn’t remember what he was late to. He began to walk a little faster as a boom of distant thunder sent off the internal alarms that said rain was coming. He didn’t want to be caught out in it if he could help it. But he was still so far away… A figure stumbled out of the sunflower fields on his right up ahead. Those fields were so vast that whoever had found the road was lucky. Someone could be lost forever if they didn’t know the way. The person looked around, bewildered and looking haggard. His clothes were torn, and it was a him. Michel could see that clearly now. “Hello!” he called out in greeting, quickening his pace before the stranger disappeared into the sunflowers again. The journey had been long and lonely to get here. Michel really wanted some company. The figure looked up, and his golden eyes looked lost, an odd confusion playing in the depths of his irises. Michel nearly stumbled as he recognized who it was. “Dru?” “Is that my name?” Druas asked, pushing the hood of the torn cloak he’d worn off his head. His bright ice-blond hair was sticking up in all directions like it hadn’t seen a hairbrush in days. He looked so lost, Michel’s heart constricted. “Yes, pretty. That’s your name. What are you doing here?” This was a long way from Cord and home.

 

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Druas shrugged. “I don’t know. I was walking to get away from someplace.” He chewed on his bottom lip. “I was getting away from the bad place.” He looked forlorn for a second. “They’ll find me. They always do. I’ve run away twice.” “Who? Who finds you, pretty?” Michel reached out and took Dru into his arms, holding him tightly to his chest. He’d missed the Ravyn so much. Druas sighed. “The monsters.” He sounded so lost and alone that it reminded Michel of a child complaining about the boogeyman. A lone howl sounded from somewhere beyond the horizon. “I hate the monsters. They took the important things from me.” “Like your name, Dru?” Michel asked, stroking his lover’s back in slow circles. “Everything. I’ve forgotten everything.” The sentence ended in a sob. Michel had never heard Druas sound anything less than strong and capable. He just seemed lost now. “Do I love you?” The question cut into Michel much deeper than it should have. It felt like someone was strangling him, and his throat was so tight that he wasn’t sure for a minute that he could get air into his lungs. “I hope so.” “Okay,” Dru said, laying his head on Michel’s shoulder. “Keep the monsters away for me?” “Yeah, pretty. I’ll keep you safe.” **** “Michel, wake up.” Cord shook Michel’s shoulder as he made a little noise of distress in his sleep. They’d arrived back in camp sometime right before sunup and had been snoozing on their mats while Star munched on the food that had been left out for him. Cord had hoped that what the demons said was true and he would dream of Dru, but his sleep had been empty of any visions.

 

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Michel’s eyes opened slowly, the bright blue irises dilated from sleep. “Um, hi,” he said, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “I had the weirdest dream. Sunflowers, purple skies, and Druas.” “You dreamed about Dru?” Cord asked, his heart aching. That just wasn’t fair. He wanted to be the one gallivanting through the dream world with their dead mate. A scream stuck in his throat at the idea. He wasn’t dead. How could Cord even think that? He wasn’t dead! Michel frowned and sat up, grabbing the back of Cord’s neck and pressing their foreheads together. “Breathe, Cord. Breathe.” Cord sucked in a breath. “Please, God, please don’t let him be dead.” The tears flooded his eyes and cascaded down his cheeks in a sudden burst of emotion that left him shaking. “Easy, baby. I’ve got you. Dru will be fine. We’ll bring him back. I promise. I promise you.” Michel said the comforting words in the same tone one might use to calm an irrational child who was scared of the dark. Cord held onto that confidence and took deep breaths until he got control of his lungs and his mind was no longer spinning with erratic “what-ifs.” “Better?” Michel asked as Cord evened out. Cord nodded. “I think so.” “When Natiri comes back, we can call the Ravyns on Earth. I’m sure he’ll have a way to either get us there or communicate with the other side.” As much as Cord didn’t want to leave Demontia without Druas, he knew that it would be next to impossible to navigate the world without some help from the Ravyns. Two shifters would stick out like a sore thumb in the cities, and that was most likely where they’d taken Dru. He hated it, but Michel was right. He needed to show a little patience. Unfortunately, patience wasn’t his strong point by any stretch of the imagination. “Okay.” There wasn’t really anything left to say. Agreement was probably wasn’t what Michel was expecting without a fight, but Cord

 

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was very, very tired, and he felt so brittle that arguing would’ve made him shatter. Michel sat up, the last sleepy look on his face fading as his takecharge expression took its place. “I’ve got to get the men organized. We’ll be arriving at the main base camp tonight. The scouts have been sent on ahead, and if they come back and have good news, we’ll move forward in a bit. Why don’t you resaddle your horse thing while we wait?” “His name is Star,” Cord corrected as the big animal perked up at being mentioned. He was beginning to get attached to the pretty purple beast that was his ride. “He’s supposed to grant dreams of lost loved ones. Guess he gave the dreams to you last night.” Michel gave him a strange look before leaning forward and giving Cord the briefest of kisses. “Dru isn’t lost, Cord. He’s only lost when there is no hope left. There is definite hope here.” Cord didn’t agree with him, but what choice did he have? Hope was all that there was left to have in this place. It was odd, but he really wished they’d never come to Demontia. Michel had had the right idea. They should’ve taken Druas and bought a place on Earth away from the conflict and coming war. He looked at the warriors who were getting ready to leave a few feet away. He reached for his pants with his left hand and tugged them onto his legs. Well, he supposed the war was already here. “Coming” would mean that it hadn’t started yet. The first causalities had fallen yesterday. Salvatore’s war for Demontia had already begun. **** Druas woke in the dungeon. That wasn’t unusual. It was the place he’d woken up in the last several times he’d managed to claw his way to consciousness. The screaming pain that caused him to black out off and on for however much time had passed was gone at least. His first two tormentors had long since thrown him into a dingy cell on the

 

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other side of the vast darkness and had left him to his own devices. Oddly enough, he was sure that he had known who they were to him before the pain had begun. Now, he wasn’t even sure who he himself was. “Are you going to live?” a gruff voice asked from the inky blackness at his right. Dru turned his head in the direction of the sound. “I think so.” “What have you done to anger the Doves, friend?” Druas didn’t understand the question. Doves were servants of King Desmond, the ruler of Demontia. What did they have to do with him? “I don’t know,” he answered. The voice paused. “I heard them call you Raven. Is that your name or your occupation?” Dru frowned. “What’s with the twenty questions? My name is Druas. Raven is neither my name, nor my occupation.” Unless the voice was referring to the legendary Ravyn warriors, Dru didn’t see how being a raven was an occupation. “My brothers and I are Cranes. That’s why I ask. If you were a Ravyn warrior, you might have brought news of my Lord Theron.” The voice paused. “Any news?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Druas said. His whole body was hurting, and now someone, who was obviously in the same fucked-up position as he was, was interrogating him about birds, warriors, and lords. He didn’t understand any of it. “I’m Kith,” the voice said. “My brothers and I have been here for almost a year now.” Dru strained his eyes in the pitch and saw nothing. “I only hear one of you.” “We’re here, forgetful Ravyn. We’re just not as chatty as our dear brother.” Sarcasm laced the new voice. “Kith, leave the Ravyn alone. He obviously has been tampered with by Desmond’s men. There is no telling what he is going to do.” “But, Kit, maybe he could help!” Kith protested.

 

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“And maybe he’ll tell Desmond whatever we say so that the king can use it as leverage. Use your fucking brain, Kith, and shut the fuck up.” Anger fired in Druas’s chest. Who the hell did this guy think he was? “I’m not a Ravyn, but I’m not a big mouth, either, asshole. I’m just—” “Confused?” Kit asked, amusement lacing the word. “Fuck you,” Dru snarled. Silence fell between them. It was just as well. Dru didn’t need their voices in his ears anyway with a headache coming on. He felt like he’d forgotten something important, well, several somethings that were important. He remembered his name. He remembered that he previously worked in eastern Demontia in herbs, and he remembered that he’d been traveling to the south for some reason. Then, nothing. Something must’ve happened on the way to the southlands, but what? The creek of a door opening from somewhere in the depths made Dru’s thoughts pause. Maybe the Doves would assist him. Though he’d never had personal interactions with them and had never really agreed with Desmond’s policies, they were the law. “Excuse me,” he called into the darkness. “I would like to speak with someone about this situation. I think there has been a mistake. Can I speak with someone?” “Wasting your time, Ravyn.” A third voice added commentary. Dru ignored it. “Seriously, I need to speak with someone!” A sudden light burst into being, illuminating the area in front of the cell and blinding Druas for a minute as pain lacerated his eyeballs. Jeez. How many more things were going to hurt him today? When he was able to open his eyes without his head throbbing, he saw two huge guys, both in identical gray-and-gold uniforms, standing outside his cell. Dru blinked and took in their regal and absolutely formal appearance. The one on the right was the taller out of the two and was holding his glowing hand up to illuminate the space.

 

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“Oh, thank the gods you’re awake, Druas. We’d feared that you wouldn’t be able to take the high level of magick that we needed to perform on you to rid you of the evil cast on you,” the human torch said. Dru blinked. “Evil? What in the name of the underworld are you talking about?” The other man’s eyes widened for a second before he sighed loudly. “I was afraid you might have some memory loss on account of your ordeal. Do you remember the exiled Prince Salvatore cursing you?” Dru shook his head. He didn’t remember anything like that. He’d heard that the exiled prince was somewhere in Demontia, but he hadn’t personally seen the guy ever. Desmond had even ordered the destruction of every picture of the prince when he was declared a traitor. It didn’t make any sense. “Why would the demon prince attack me?” he asked. The two Doves looked at one another. Torch boy spoke. “Druas, you’re one of us. A Dove. You were trying to apprehend the prince when it happened.” “Crock of shit!” Kit, or was it Kith? One of his cell mates called out, “That boy is a Ravyn.” “Quiet, traitors,” the second Dove that Dru hadn’t heard speak before said. “So if he was such a pal of yours, why’d you stick him in the dungeon with the rest of the ‘traitors’?” the Crane snarled. “He was crazed. He thought he was a Ravyn and was attacking all of the guards. Dru, you even joined up with a few of the southern tribes before we finally caught up with you.” Torch boy looked really serious. Acting like that was hard to do. “I don’t remember anything,” Dru said, rubbing his suddenly screaming temples. “So we’re friends?”

 

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“We fight in the same unit as you. This charming guy with me is named Rican, and I’m Crave.” Torch boy gave Dru a smile that looked both weary and friendly at the same time. Weird. “He’s a fucking liar, Druas. You were a Ravyn, and they did something to you. It’s another of Desmond’s tricks. He’s a fucking monster.” Dru turned his head toward the right and saw three almostidentical men who were clearly warriors leaning against the dull steel bars. They were all dark haired and dark eyed with pale, creamy skin that looked soft to touch, but there wasn’t a doubt in Dru’s mind that they could hold their own. They were shirtless, and every rippling muscle was on display, along with matching tattoos on the space above their hearts that looked almost like a cattle brand in black ink. The words were visible even in the moving light of Crave’s torch hand. Out of darkness, light. House of the Dragon. At the center of the emblem was an outline of a crane. It was no doubt a sign of devotion and loyalty. Dru felt a glimmer of respect surface in his chest and couldn’t quite figure out why. “He is your king! And as such will be respected!” Crave shouted, the light he was emitting glowing brighter with his anger. It reminded Dru of someone, but he couldn’t remember who. Maybe it was Crave. Germany. No. That wasn’t right. He didn’t know anyone named Germany. “Can you get me out of the cage?” Dru asked as a wave of dizziness hit him. Maybe once he got out of the dungeon he could think a little more clearly. The Dove turned his attention back to Dru. “Yes, of course. That’s why we came to get you. We had to make sure that you were you first, but we’d planned on bringing you above. King Desmond wants to see you personally and congratulate you on your loyal service.” Dru couldn’t help but feel flattered at that. He’d never met royalty before. “Don’t trust it, Druas,” one of the Cranes warned.

 

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“Give it a rest, Kit. He’s already bought the fucking shit they’re shoveling at him. He’s lost,” another of them said. The third Crane sighed. “So much for him telling us if Theron is all right.” Dru’s head throbbed harder at the mention of Theron. Who the hell was Theron? And why did the name ring a bell? “Prince Theron has agreed to become a spy for His Majesty, traitors. He no longer believes that opposing King Desmond is an accurate course. When he returns from his mission for Desmond, you all will be released into his care.” Torch boy sniffed. “If, and I do mean if, you can prove that you’re not betrayers.” “Fuck you, you son of a pig. Theron would only do that if he was made to, and I know we’ll never leave this cell,” one of the Cranes said darkly. “However, if we ever do, I plan to take each and every one of you fuckers out when we go.” “Can I leave now?” Dru asked, wanting out of this conversation. The tension was thick in the air, as if a fight was about to erupt. The quieter Dove, Rican, stepped forward with a boatload of keys and inserted one into the lock. Dru took a step back and waited until the door swung open to the fullest before stepping out into the yawning emptiness of the dungeon. It really was empty except for the three other men in the adjoining cage. Desmond must not have too many political enemies if his prison was so empty. “Come on, friend. We’ve got your room all ready and some fresh clothes upstairs. You’ll be dining with His Majesty tonight, so you’ll have time to relax a bit and get your bearings.” Crave slapped him on the back in a friendly gesture that was reminiscent of a touch Dru must’ve had before. “I’m really tired,” he admitted as the Doves framed either side of him. “Do you think my memories will come back soon?” “We hope so,” Rican said. “All we have is hope, though. The physicians weren’t sure it was reversible.”

 

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“But don’t worry. You’ll have the support of your unit and the rest of the Doves to get you through it,” Crave added. He seemed like a really happy guy. Dru began to relax by slow degrees as they climbed the never-ending stairs that led to the main part of the palace. His stomach rumbled loudly. Crave chuckled. “We’ll have a snack sent up to your room as well as a bath. How does that sound?” “Sounds fantastic,” Dru replied, his mind already keen on the idea of hot water and good food. This felt a little strange still, but he could get used to it. If it was just some spell that someone had cursed him with, it was only a matter of time before Dru remembered who he really was. He’d try not to think too hard about it in the meantime. After all, the Doves seemed familiar somehow, more familiar than anything else he’d encountered since waking up. He thought about what the Cranes had said in the dungeon. “They are usurpers who believe in the old government too much. Theron will change their minds when he returns,” Crave said. The guy must’ve read his mind because Dru was sure he hadn’t spoken aloud. “Who is Theron?” Dru asked, instead of drilling Crave on how he knew what he was thinking. There were too many unknowns and factors and stuff that was so beyond Dru’s realm of thought that it would be next to impossible to think about it without a massive headache ensuing. He needed some quiet time and a bath for sure. Crave answered Dru’s question in the same amiable fashion he seemed to use with anything Dru asked about. “Theron is King Desmond’s younger half sibling. There was a rumor that Desmond was trying to kill him, completely false, of course, so his younger brother joined up with the rebels. It was a big royal scandal. Anyway, Theron has since come back into the fold and is now acting as a spy for His Majesty. It’s quite daring. Like a detective novel or something.” Sounds risky to me. Sounds really damn stupid, too. Why was there anger roiling in his gut at the idea of Theron acting as a spy?

 

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What was the source of it? He banished the emotion as well as the inquiry. He was finally safe and with people who would give him answers to his questions. There was no reason to give himself a migraine trying to tackle it himself. Besides, Crave seemed to be a pretty honest guy. He just needed to relax. The headache behind his eyes pounded on.

 

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Chapter Eleven The camp life wasn’t as bad as Michel had thought it would be. Despite the fact that there weren’t as many amenities, Michel and Cord had been relatively comfortable. They focused solely on putting one foot in front of the other and getting things arranged for Natiri’s return as well as keeping the camp running smoothly. It had been Druas’s request, and Michel took the duty left to him by his mate seriously. “I need you to go to the far side of the camp and retrieve the correspondences from Ura and Meta,” Michel instructed as he finished signing the last proposal for an additional barrel of water to be sent over to the growing region of the camp where they were putting the new warriors who arrived daily. Natiri was supposed to be arriving back from the dragon realm within the next few days. Michel had lost track of exactly when Natiri was supposed to be coming back into town, but he was ready when he did. Slowly but surely, he’d picked up the demon tongue in both dialects and now could stumble on with only the limited aid from the translator. Bekil nodded and bowed before hurrying out of Natiri’s huge tent. Alone for the first time in days, Michel took a deep breath and let his spine relax and his body bend forward toward the low-sitting table. Cord spent his days between the stables, where the demons kept the Adamar, and the tent of children, orphans of fallen families that the desert people looked after when their parents were killed in raids or battles with Desmond’s forces. They seemed to love Cord’s cat, and it gave his smaller mate a level of comfort to be among them.

 

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Michel knew in his heart now that Druas was dead, and he thought that Cord was slowly beginning to accept the truth of the reality of the situation as well. The bond between them had been empty for too long. If Dru had been unconscious or somehow incapacitated, it might have made the bond waver, but it was completely silent all the time. The truth was that Dru was never coming back, and that was hard as hell to take. Healing from this would be no easy feat for either of them. Michel thought those who said that it was better to have love and lost than never to have loved at all should try it sometime and see what the fuck they felt like afterward. “Hey, Michel,” Cord greeted, ducking through the heavy cloth door. His eyes traveled over the table where Michel had spread out to work. “Getting things done?” “Yeah, I am,” Michel said, pushing away from the table so he could roll to his feet. He was never going to get used to sitting on cushions on the floor all the time. He was American. He liked chairs. “I came to see if you wanted to lunch together.” Cord lost a good ten pounds over the last week and a half. Between the heat of the desert and his adamant refusal that he “wasn’t hungry,” the man had dropped weight like crazy. It was the first time he’d shown an interest in food, and that made Michel excessively happy. He smiled. “Absolutely. I’ve got some snack-type stuff here, and I can go get some meat if you like.” The idea of being able to get his mate to eat made a sense of urgency wash through him. He needed to hurry and get some food before Cord changed his mind and decided eating was bad form when mourning or something. “Whatever you want to do,” Cord said, shifting from foot to foot. He looked nervous. Michel’s eyes narrowed. Usually, that meant his mate was up to something, but with everything that had been going on, Michel couldn’t imagine what. “Michel?” “What is it, love?” “Would you be mad at me if I asked you something?”

 

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Michel gave him his best warm smile. “Of course not, baby. Whatever you want to ask me, ask.” Cord graced him with a smile that reached his eyes, and Michel’s heart tripped over itself. They had been together forever, and Cord’s smiles could still make him into a big marshmallow. “I want to invite two people to lunch with us.” Michel frowned. “Who?” It was unusual for Cord to want to share their time with anyone else. The idea of Cord already finding someone to fill Dru’s spot was ridiculous. First, because Druas was their mate and second, because Cord was far from fickle. “They’re twins, Iso and Hardwin.” “From the orphanage?” Michel asked in confusion. Cord nodded. “Yes. They’re identical and so boisterous.” He grew animated as he talked about the children, his eyes glowing with the same light that it did when he was amped up about something. “They’re not kittens you go to adopt at the shelter, Cord.” Michel hated to have to burst Cord’s bubble, but someone had to. Children were not replacements for the hole in Cord’s heart. Cord’s expression darkened. “No, they’re not. But they need someone to take care of them, and they’ve attached themselves to me. I want you to meet them.” “We’re not bringing home two children with a war coming on, Cord.” “Why the fuck not?” Cord snapped, his hands balling up into fists. “They need me, and I need them. I want something that reminds me of Dru.” Michel sighed, knowing the fight was going to get ugly. “Cord, baby, listen to me. You do not get children to give you comfort.” “I want to take care of them.” Cord’s eyes were tearing, and Michel’s chest tightened at the sight. “They’re beautiful, and they look just like him. They don’t have anyone, Michel. I can’t just let them go. They don’t even remember their parents.”

 

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“I don’t know if you’re doing this for the right reasons, baby. We lost Dru a week and a half ago. You can’t expect these children to fill the space he left behind. It’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to yourself. You wouldn’t want to do that, would you?” Michel knew the second Cord broke. Through their mate bond a screaming pain echoed through the line. “When I’m with them, I feel like everything will be okay,” Cord said, dropping to his knees. “I feel like I can push through this and be okay if I can just make the world right for them. Please, just meet them, Michel. Please.” He looked up, and his hazel eyes glittered with unshed tears. “Please, Michel.” Michel went to his knees beside his mate and wrapped his arms around him. “All right, baby. All right. I’ll meet them. Promise me that you’ll really think about this before you decide for sure that they’re coming home with us.” “I promise, Michel. I promise.” They held onto one another, and Cord cried for a few minutes before he seemed to collect himself and pulled out of Michel’s arms. “Okay, so I’ll go get them and you go get something to eat for the four of us?” Michel nodded. Yeah, he was a sucker for his mates. He thought about what Druas would say about the situation, only to realize that they’d never really talked about how he felt about kids so soon. He’d said he wanted to settle eventually but hadn’t mentioned wanting kids so quickly. Michel swallowed. It didn’t matter now. Maybe Cord was right. Maybe this was what it would take to fill a little of the space that their mate had left behind. He still fully intended on going to the Ravyns and asking for their help, but the hope that he would still find their mate at the end of the day was slim to none. **** It had taken Iso five minutes of sitting around the table with Cord and Michel before he’d decided to climb into Michel’s lap and suck

 

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on his thumb in the cutest fashion Michel had ever seen. The twins were four years old and looked just like Dru, sandy blond hair, golden eyes, and all. Iso was the shyer out of the two and seemed to need the security of the bigger men much more than Hardwin, who was a chatterbox that talked a mile a minute in a garbled mix of English and Demonish. He was almost impossible to understand, but Michel could already see Hardwin sizing him up as he chattered on. They were impossible to resist, and Michel could definitely see how Cord had fallen in love so quickly. They were adorable. The food Michel had managed to rustle up was simple, some kind of beef and broth, equivalent to the beef stew that Michel and Cord had at home, with bread, and some fruit for dessert. But everyone seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the meal, so Michel took it as a win. “Mi-mi?” Iso asked around the thumb still in his mouth. Why he’d shortened Michel’s name to Mi-mi was anyone’s guess. “You like us?” The question held such a vulnerability to it that Michel’s heart expanded. Yeah, he could definitely see why Cord had fallen hard for these two. “I like you very, very much, Iso,” Michel said with a warm smile. The little boy beamed up at him, his small mouth stretching so that the smile seemed to take up his entire face. “Cordie say you like us,” Hardwin said, drawing Michel’s attention to the other little rascal that was shoveling food into his mouth at a speed that was frightening. He was going to choke if he kept it up. “I not believe it till I seed it. I seed it now.” His broken English made Michel smile. Cord knew him so well. “All right, lambs. I’ve got to get you two back to the tents and let Michel get some work done.” Cord’s statement was immediately greeted with a chorus of “Awwww” from the two blond-haired imps sitting with them. “Can I stay wiff you, Mi-mi?” Iso asked with big, golden, puppydog eyes.

 

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“You heard, Cord. We’ll come get you for last meal and the fireside dances, how about that?” Michel asked sternly. He didn’t want to appear to be a pushover with the two rascals. Iso nodded with a sigh of a boy used to getting his way and climbed off his lap. “Okay.” He went over to his brother and took his hand and pulled the other boy up. Hardwin waved with his free hand. “Bye, Mi-mi.” “See you later, little ones.” Cord stood as well, gathering the two smaller children to him before walking toward the front entrance. He turned and looked over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in a bit.” Michel inclined his head and began clearing off the table and the mess they’d made. **** Dru adjusted the lapels of his uniform and tried to reconcile the image in the mirror with what he knew of himself. He certainly looked every bit the warrior they told him he was. Something in him rebelled about the dove-gray uniform with its gold accents, but he couldn’t think of a single reason that he really had to resent it. Besides, he did look fantastic in it. “You’ve got to meet the king, stupid. It’s necessary,” he told his reflection, fiddling with cufflinks for perhaps the millionth time. He felt like a snake who’d outgrown his skin. He met his blue eyes in the mirror. They were rimmed in gold, a leftover from the spell that had been cast on him, or so he’d been told. He turned his head and saw the hickey on his neck that he’d found when he’d stripped out of the dirty rags he’d had on before his shower. He hoped the king wouldn’t be offended. Dru had no idea how it had gotten there. A sudden image left him gasping. He was pinned between two other men, one was buried deep in his well-stretched ass, and the other rode his dick with the skill of any

 

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courtesan Dru had ever had the pleasure of having. They bit him on either side of his neck, making him splinter apart and climax so hard he was sure he’d found nirvana. “Shh, easy, pretty. No need to do anything elaborate. Hush now. Just enjoy it.” The smaller man came down as well, pressed snuggly to his front. “We’ll take care of you always, Druas. I promise.” Promises like those meant something. Dru had been taking care of people so long, he didn’t know if he knew how to be taken care of. The murmuring in his ear continued as Michel told him how much he meant to them and how they would build a home together when the war was over. How they were never going to be apart again. It made Dru’s heart swell impossibly. This was where he belonged, with his mates, between them. Always. Dru gripped his suddenly swollen cock through the material of his trousers. Fuck. What the hell was that? He felt like he was about to come. Something white hot and powerful shot through his mind, flickering for a full minute before going out again. Loneliness speared his chest, and a sob escaped his mouth before he could hold it back. He gripped his temples tight as he searched for the reason behind his distress. Nothing came to him. No memory. Nothing. Yet the tears kept falling and his chest kept aching as the white-blue energy cord flickered on and off as he struggled to remember. “Druas? Are you all right?” Crave’s voice made him jump as he raised his eyes and met Crave’s in the mirror. The Dove’s eyes were narrowed in suspicion. “I don’t know.” He took a deep breath. “I think it’s just residual stuff from the spell. I don’t know what else to call it.” Crave nodded slowly. “After your reinitiation, that should fade. It’ll be a few weeks before we can do it.” He seemed apologetic as he spoke. Druas gave him a shaky smile. “Can’t wait. This feeling is…unnerving.”

 

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“No doubt, brother,” Crave said, clapping him on the back. “Come on. Our king is eager to see you and pick your brain. His magicians have already gotten so much from your memories of the time you spent with the enemy, so you’re being heralded a hero.” Dru was very uncomfortable at the thought. “That’s why I can’t remember the past few weeks?” “You can’t remember any of the time you were with the enemy. The Court’s magick users have sifted through them to find useful information. No worries. It was painless,” Crave said, his voice laced with overconfidence in abundance. Dru didn’t believe him. **** Cord shuddered as a flicker of awareness nearly brought him to his knees. For an instant, Druas’s mind connected to their mate bond, flicking off and on in rapid succession. “Cordie?” Hardwin asked, reaching up and tugging on Cord’s hand. “Okay?” Iso grabbed his other hand as Cord gasped for breath. What came through the mate bond was a confusing mass of puzzles, bewilderment, confusion, relief, yet an intense discomfort. He tried to call out to Dru through the bond, but it was so shaky that he couldn’t manage to force it to go through. “Cordie?” Iso whimpered, tears pouring down his cheeks at whatever expression he saw on Cord’s face. Cord tried desperately to hold onto the mate bond as it flickered again. “Please, Dru, baby, please,” he begged aloud as the words he was screaming in his mind wouldn’t press across the narrow opening and connect with Druas. Hardwin started crying as well. “Cordie!” The connection went out. “Fuck,” he cursed, tears flooding his eyes. He looked down at the two children he was holding and closed his eyes. They were in the

 

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middle of the rows of tents. They were still about a hundred yards from the children’s tents. “Cordie?” Iso’s bottom lip was trembling now, stark terror in his eyes. “It’s okay, baby. I just got a little dizzy is all. No worries.” He went to his knees on the rocky ground, tugging them both into his chest in one swift motion. They instantly wrapped their short arms around his neck. He gave them both kisses on the cheek and a brief hug before standing. “Come dance wiff us?” Hardwin asked. They were really afraid of rejection for some reason, needing constant reassurance. It reminded Cord a lot of some of the orphaned pack kids back home. He volunteered with them twice a week when he and Michel had off time from working for the vampires. “We promised, didn’t we?” He smiled at them and winked. They grinned at him with identical smiles of mischief. “Yesh,” they said in unison. Cord and Michel were really going to have to work on their English when they got back to Earth. As adorable as the heavily accented words were, they were difficult to understand at the best of times. The high-pitched yowl of a cat drew their attention back the way they’d come. Michel’s massive cat form loped down the road, his musculature grace giving the motion an almost-ethereal quality. Iso and Hardwin squealed, pulling out of Cord’s arms and running full out at the giant spotted cat that was coming toward them. Cord stayed where he was and watched the interaction with mixed feelings. The playful way they collided and tussled in the street made Cord smile with appreciation, but on the other hand, he knew why Michel had come tearing out of Natiri’s tent to come find him. He’d felt Dru as well. The boys climbed on Dru’s back like he was an Adamar, and Michel padded toward Cord with careful steps designed not to jostle the young ones off his back. Cord reached out his hand, and Michel

 

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lapped the back of it like a giant house cat. His tongue was like sandpaper though, not very pleasant to get a bath from. “I see you decided to walk us the rest of the way?” Cord asked, knowing the answer already by the nod of the other jaguar’s head. Michel turned his gaze toward the street once again and walked in the direction of the children’s tents. Cord pushed himself to his feet and walked beside them. They would talk after. Hope sang in his veins like the headiest of wines. Dru was alive, and they were going to find him. The gods had truly had mercy on him. He needed his two mates. Someone must’ve known that, because they’d given him back to him. **** Michel licked both the kids good-bye before shouldering Cord toward the exit. As usual, his mate was reluctant to leave the little ones. He’d always been that way with children. They walked at a pretty brisk pace back toward the tent they shared. At least when he was shifted Michel didn’t have to worry about messengers or people stopping him with correspondences from all over the camp. They’d grown to over four thousand people in the days since arriving here. “I felt him, Michel. I felt him through the bond,” Cord said, the excitement stark on his face along with so much joy that Michel knew that he was already planning a happy reunion. He rubbed against his lover’s legs. “Don’t be overeager, baby,” he managed to say via their mate bond. It was much harder to form sentences in animal form. He gave up on anything more complicated than that. Instead, he just let himself enjoy the simple pleasure of knowing that his other mate was out there somewhere. He dashed in through the opening to Natiri’s tent and flopped onto the plethora of pillows where they slept. He shifted forms, his muscles stretching and then reshaping into his human body.

 

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“If nothing else, it is cooler without fur,” he said, putting his hands behind his head. “He’s alive. Can you believe it?” Cord chattered excitedly. “He’s alive, Michel!” Michel couldn’t help the grin that broke over his face then. “He is indeed, my love. Our pretty is out there.” A steely determination filled him. “And we will find him.” “Of course we will,” Cord said. The smile vanished off his face. “Do you think he’ll be all right with Iso and Hardwin?” Michel nodded. “I don’t see why not. He may be uneasy at first, but Druas has a heart large enough for all of us. I’m sure of it.” “Desmond has him, doesn’t he?” Michel didn’t know if he liked the anger behind that question. When people were that angry, they did stupid things. “Most likely. Doesn’t matter, though. We’ll get him back.” His mates were the most important things in his life, and now the hope of reunion allowed for no other option.

 

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Chapter Twelve Royal parties were not his thing. Scratch that, royal anything was not his thing. It was worse than that. He hated royal things. “Absolutely ridiculous,” he muttered, sipping out of his ridiculously thin-stemmed wine glass. There were diamonds encrusted in the rim of the glass and on its base. He almost hoped that the damn nobility choked on them. “You should enjoy your party, Druas,” Rican said, sidling up to him and picking an invisible piece of lint off of his collar. All of the dozen Doves were in uniform, and all the other men and women of court were dressed in their most-expensive outfits. Everyone seemed to glitter. My party? For real? Seems like a great excuse to throw one hell of an expensive shindig. The very idea that this kind of party could be for him was ludicrous. His idea of a good time was a half pint and a dance floor with his…His thoughts scattered. With his what? Where had that thought been going? “I feel like I’m trying to fit a round peg into a square key hole right now,” Dru said, trying to chase the thoughts down in his head without being rude. Rican nodded. “Well, that’s understandable. You’ve been through a pretty traumatic event.” Druas grunted in way that could’ve been agreement or dismissal and hoped that the other man would take the hint and fuck off. He didn’t. “You should spend more time with the men. It would give you comfort,” Rican continued, raising his own ridiculous glass to the

 

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salutation of some passing Doves. “Our numbers aren’t so vast just yet to make us strangers to one another.” A sudden idea struck him. “How do you maintain a mental bond between a dozen people? It’s hard enough in smaller numbers.” He didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. For some reason, he was quite sure that the idea of maintaining that sort of partnership and retaining power was next to impossible. “You’re a clever one. We give a part of ourselves to King Desmond at the Ascension. Our souls are cleaved in two. His Majesty consumes half of it. He is the link that binds us together. He ensures we are all of one mind.” A quiet horror filled Dru. That was wrong on so many levels. It was fucking monstrous. No man should hold so much sway over one man’s destiny. He turned from Rican and walked toward the exit. This place wigged him out, and he was done with creepy rituals, Doves, and stupid parties. He just wanted to go back to his room and sleep. A hand clasped his shoulder, and he turned with an openmouthed growl in the offender’s direction. Then he realized who he’d just snarled at. Desmond. Fuck. “Easy, Druas. I thought I saw you making a run for it and thought to address you before you left,” the king said, a smile of amusement on his face. He was dripping in things that sparkled. His crown, necklace, and rings alone could probably feed Dru’s whole village for a month. A resentment started to rise up, but then he got to the man’s face. He looked familiar somehow. His rusty-red hair and smooth complexion was something right out of the memories that kept trying to bubble to the surface. Had he loved this man? He felt like he had. But not like a lover. No, he’d loved him like a friend, a brother, a confidant. He bowed without thinking, his hand over his heart. “My lord,” he said, “forgive my hurry. I just feel a little overwhelmed.”

 

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Brown eyes regarded him. The color made him a little uneasy, but he brushed it aside. Something in this place felt familiar, and he was clinging to the feeling. “These things are quite stuffy, aren’t they? I much prefer something simpler, but the nobility are fickle creatures who are prone to excess.” “I can see that,” Dru murmured. Was it appropriate to talk like that with a king? Did he give a shit? Nope. I don’t give a shit. The thought made a ghost of a smile coast across his lips. The king reached out and took his hand. “Why don’t you and I go on to my special party in the back? This is too much posturing even for me to take.” Dru hesitated for a moment. He couldn’t really say “no,” could he? “Sure. That sounds good.” Maybe they’d have something a little heartier to drink. Dru had the feeling that he was going to need it. **** Michel and Cord watched openmouthed as they came into camp. Natiri had not returned in the fashion he’d left, that was for sure. “Those are fucking dragons, Cord,” Michel said, his eyes wide. “Real dragons.” Cord stared just as intently as he did. “Yeah. They are. Um, close your mouth, Michel. You’re gawking.” All around them, the demons were obviously as spooked by the appearance of several larger-than-life reptiles outside their encampment. There wasn’t sign of Natiri yet, but the appearance of the dragons had to mean he’d come back. At least that was what Cord hoped. “They pretty,” Hardwin said, clinging tightly to Michel’s pants leg. Iso was likewise hanging onto Michel’s shirt as the other shifter held him in his arms. Hardwin was right about them being pretty. Iridescent scales of blue, green, black, red, and gold glittered in Demontia’s morning sunlight. The wings of the creatures seemed to

 

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have the pearl quality of an opal, the color changing with every movement in the light. If it weren’t for the wicked-looking teeth and lack of emotion on their scaled faces, they’d be downright enchanting. As it was, no one was chancing going near them and possibly becoming lunch. They were still a good fifty yards out of camp, but they were so massive, the distance seemed insignificant. If they wanted to harm the encampment, the demons had no chance in hades of being able to defend themselves. From the center circle of dragons, men emerged and began making their way toward the camp. Michel turned to the children. “Iso, Hardwin, you two get inside the tent and wait for us there. There are a few games to play on the table as well as things to write with.” “But! Mi-mi!” Hardwin protested, obviously not wanting to miss out in the excitement. “No buts. You heard me. Either I can trust you to be a good boy and stay in the tent like you’re told, or I can drop you back off at the children’s tents and you can wait for us to finish speaking to the dragons with no possibility of seeing them up close.” It was strange that Cord found Michel’s “daddy” tone to be an absolute turn-on, but he did. The fierce protectiveness in his voice sent off all kinds of happy vibrations through his body. “We stay. Be good,” Iso promised for the both of them, pressing a kiss to Michel’s cheek that was designed to wrap Michel around his little finger. It worked every time. Cord watched Michel melt. “All right. Be good boys, and we’ll be back soon. You can have some bread and cheese if you get hungry.” He set the little ones down and shooed them into the tent. He looked at Cord. “You think they’ll be all right?” Cord nodded. “They’ll be fine. They’re good boys. Let’s go find Natiri so we can get in touch with the other Ravyns.” He was eager to get the twins somewhere safe and get on the path to Druas.

 

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Michel reached for his hand and Cord laced their fingers. Michel smiled. “Love you, baby.” “Love you, too, Michel.” **** Michel frowned. “What the hell do you mean that Natiri isn’t coming back yet?” he demanded of the massive, nine-foot giant that had climbed off the back of one of the blue dragons that had appeared in the desert near the demon encampment. The dragons were even bigger up close than they had been from afar. The smallest of them was the size of a whale shark back home. Cord was staring at them like he was scared they were going to eat him. Michel would’ve understood the sentiment had he not been annoyed. “He has been detained in the capital by one of our princes of the Crimson kingdom,” the dark-haired, red-eyed emissary said, crossing his massive, muscled arms over his wide chest. “Why has he been detained? Did something go wrong with the negotiations for troops? When is he coming back?” Michel asked. He would not be intimidated by anyone, not even the dragon shifter. The dragon nodded and had a smirk on his face that said he appreciated Michel a bit for speaking his mind. “He hasn’t been detained. He’s getting married to fulfill the agreement that was arranged by your former king and the king of the Crimson kingdom. Natiri is to marry the eldest of King Matra’s seven sons. He’ll be back after the honeymoon. King Matra sent us on as a good-faith reward. There are seven of us, and the rest of the army will be here within the week.” “So he’ll be here within a week?” Michel tried not to show the annoyance over having to wait yet another week to go after Dru. They didn’t know if there was a time constraint, but the sense of urgency was definitely there.

 

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“Time passes differently between planes, but the portal they are to pass through will definitely will open within a week.” The dragon paused. “Were you waiting on something other than Natiri’s return?” Cord spoke before Michel could. “Our mate was taken by Doves two weeks ago. We felt him recently and have been eager to get in touch with the other Ravyns so we can go after him.” The dragon seemed surprised. “Your mate? You must be dedicated to the cause to hold off on seeking him out. Dragons are fiercely protective of their mates. It is good to see that the demons are as dedicated to this as we dragons will be. Our king was right about your kind, and I’m glad about it.” He stretched out his hand, and Michel shook it. “If you need to contact the Ravyns, myself or my brother, Lager, can help you out.” Relief flooded Michel. “We would appreciate it a lot. I’m sorry. What was your name again?” “I am Rasta. My dwelling will be the red-and-gold one when it is erected. Come back tonight after the meals, and we will speak further. I need to help my men get everything erected.” That was a dismissal if Michel had ever heard one, so he dragged a protesting Cord away from the dragon, who had immediately started shouting at dragons in a guttural language that sounded more like animal snarls than any language either man had ever heard. “I wish he would’ve gone ahead and let us contact the Ravyns,” Cord griped as they trudged back across the separating expanse of desert and back into the demon camp. “Hey, at least we get to contact them tonight. He could’ve made us wait until Natiri returned. Druas will only have to wait a bit longer on us,” Michel reminded. It was unusual for him to be the levelheaded one. He’d finally found the one thing that Cord was unreasonable about, his mates. Michel had to admit that it was a good thing to be unreasonable about. ****

 

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Night couldn’t fall fast enough. Cord was almost squirming in impatience by the time the meals were served, the children were in bed back at the tent, and Michel had agreed that it was appropriate that they make their way back to Rasta and the dragons’ camp. It had to be obvious to the local authorities that the desert people were building an army by now, but if so, they either weren’t taking it seriously or were ignoring it. Both possibilities made Cord a little nervous. He took a deep breath. One problem at a time, Cord. His eyes widened as they approached the vastly illuminated camp. What had taken the demons all day to put up, the dragons had managed to do in a matter of hours. Every tent was the size of Natiri’s, and everyone seemed to represent the allegiance of whatever dragon had taken up residence in it. They were a kaleidoscope of green, blue, red, gold, and a dark chocolate accented in gold topped with crests and flags. Torches were placed at every ten feet in such regularity that Cord was sure that it was measured somehow. “Rasta wasn’t kidding when he said his tent would be impossible to miss,” Michel murmured, looking ahead of them on the lighted path. Cord followed his gaze and saw exactly what his mate meant. His mouth hung open at the sheer massiveness of the tent at the center of the camp. It would definitely fit a dragon in it and was bright red with gold-and-black metallic trim with a massive red-and-gold dragon painted on the side of the red material. Torches lined the entire tent, illuminating every stylized nuance of the cloth. “Where did they stash the fabric for all this crap?” Cord wondered, looking around. It would take a boatload of transportation vehicles to be able to move all this stuff. Michel shrugged. “Gods only know. I mean, they’re the oldest species in the universe and magick as hell. Who knows? Maybe they have a big magick bag or something.” “Or something,” Rasta said, stepping out of the front of the tent, if the sheer size of it even qualified it as one, and came toward them.

 

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“I’m glad you’ve returned, friends. Let us get you the means to find your mate. Shall we?” It was the best suggestion Cord had heard all night. They followed him through the open tent flap and onto a plush red-and-gold carpet. Cord was immediately struck by the sheer opulence of the room. It even had a hanging light from the center beam of the ceiling. There were no tables inside. Instead, there were a few lap desks and literally hundreds of pillows in various sizes and colors scattered on the posh carpeting. Dragons apparently loved to be comfortable. To one side of the tent were four huge chests of gods knew what, and near them, five other men played some kind of dice game on a hard wooden mat. “My mates,” Rasta said by way of introduction. Michel’s mouth went slack. “All of them?” Rasta nodded. “They are my Clutch, my warriors, and my lovers. Most dragon warriors have one if they are noble enough. The exception is our princes. It is believed that the princes are better leaders when they only have one or, at most, two mates to look after. Most nobility do not have the responsibilities of royalty.” “So you’re a noble?” Michel asked. Rasta nodded again. “That’s unusual. In our world, the nobles sit back and watch the commoners fight their wars.” Rasta snorted. “A noble who doesn’t either mate a warrior or become one himself is banished from our ranks. Dragons have no tolerance for such cowardice.” He raised his head and nodded to the biggest male in the group, who gave him a little wave in return. “And I thought our matings were complicated,” Cord murmured. He couldn’t imagine keeping up with five other mates. That was just insane. There was a black circle of pillows on the white carpet to the right, and it was there that Rasta led them. At the center of the circle was a softly glowing orb held up on a wooden pedestal.

 

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“Dragons have mastered interplanar communication. I’m happy to help you contact your fellow warriors. Sit down on the pillows and I’ll set up the link. You’re contacting Earth?” Cord nodded. “Yes.” “Great. Give me two minutes.” His impatience grew with each passing second. Cord tried to distract himself, but he tapped on his thigh, drumming out a beat in an effort to keep him mind from wandering into “what-if” territory. “Okay. I’m connected. You need to think of your Ravyns so I can hone in on them. Earth is a big plane,” Rasta said. The glow from the orb increased, becoming a yellow wall that almost completely obscured Rasta, who sat across from them. It pulsed white, then soft blue. Like the static of a television, it fuzzed for a second and then, as if it tuned into the correct channel, it cleared, and Cord found himself staring at Allasandro as he came out of the studio where he and Damian often worked on their singing. They were at the theater. “Uh, hi,” Allasandro said, staring at them curiously. “Michel? Cord? What are you doing in the hallway?” “We’re communicating through this dragon ball thing,” Michel said articulately. Cord rolled his eyes. He should’ve at least given its proper name…not that they knew it. Allasandro’s eyes widened almost comically. “You’re using an Orb of Dragos? Fucking awesome! That’s hella cool!” He frowned suddenly. “Wait a second, where’s Druas?” “He’s been taken by the Doves,” Cord said softly. Ally immediately let out a string of curses that were so violent that Cord winced at their expression. “Motherfucker! Is he—” He swallowed. “Is he alive?” Michel nodded. “We know he’s alive. We suspect that Desmond is keeping him prisoner and trying to get information out of him or something.” “Hold on. I have to get the others,” Ally said.

 

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Cord felt him reaching along the bond toward the other members of the Ravyns. The connection actually gave him a measure of comfort. It was the first time Cord realized the strain of being separated from the rest of the Ravyns. They hadn’t been kidding when they said the connection was deep. When Druas had come to them and asked if they wanted to join the Ravyns on a permanent basis, Cord and Michel had said yes automatically. They got along with the other warriors, and they knew that, being members of the brotherhood, they would be in constant and close contact with their mate. It had been a no-brainer. The true depths of the connection hadn’t been obvious until now. Within a second, Germany appeared beside Allasandro, and Alex flashed in a second later with Dageus. Cord frowned. How the hell had Germany done that? “Oh, by the way, Germany is kind of a vampire now. Just thought you should know,” Ally explained, reading Cord’s mind. “Um, okay. Congratulations, Ger,” Cord said, looking at the quietest Ravyn strangely. He wondered who he’d mated to get turned. “Dru hasn’t been in contact. We’ve only felt flickers of him from time to time, which means he’s either incapacitated in a way that keeps him from calling out to us or unconscious a good amount of the time,” Michel said, turning their attention back to the problem at hand. “Okay. We need to move fast because I’m afraid Desmond won’t keep him too much longer,” Dageus said. “I’ll go to Tony in the faery world and get his opinion on how to proceed. Ally, you need to stay here and hold down the fort in case we need some correspondences between the worlds. Ger, I need you to go on to Demontia and help Michel and Cord out.” Ger nodded. “That’s fine. I need to go there anyway. I promised the vampire Helios that I would take him to the demon realm as part of the bargain with the Council, so that’ll work out nicely. I’ll drop him off in the city and go over to Michel and Cord.”

 

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“Do you really think you should waste time taking some vampire into Demontia while Druas is probably being tortured somewhere?” Michel snapped. Cord looked at him in surprise. His mate had been so level headed in this entire situation that Cord hadn’t realized that he was that close to losing his temper. Dageus frowned. “Dru knew the risks of being a Ravyn. He knew the risks going into Demontia. He is a Ravyn. He’ll hold onto life as long as he is able. It’s his duty.” “If it were Master Alex in danger, would you be so nonchalant?” Michel asked. Dageus’s frown deepened. “Of course not, but Alex is my lover, not another Ravyn warrior.” “Then you should understand our position. Dru is our mate and a Ravyn. Every second you waste getting here is another second that our lover is in immediate danger,” Michel said, glaring at the other Ravyns. A flicker of shock went across each of their faces in turn before resolve took its place. “I’ll get there as soon as I’m able, Michel,” Germany reassured. “I will be there tomorrow. Be ready to leave when I arrive.” Cord nearly sagged in relief. They were going to fetch their lover. It was going to be okay. An idea occurred to him. “Wait, we need to get the children to Earth.” Everyone on the other side of the connection froze. “Children?” Allasandro asked. “Yes. We sort of…adopted two,” Cord said, blushing lightly. He didn’t know what he had to be embarrassed about, but he was. “Could you watch them while we get Dru? Iso and Hardwin are really sweet boys.” Allasandro grinned. “Seems to me that all the Ravyns are warming up to the idea of family. Yeah, I’ll come get them now before everyone leaves. I’ve already got babysitting duty for Jeremy while Ger’s gone, so it won’t be an issue to have a couple more.

 

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Santiago would watch him full time, but it’s hard for him to maintain his insane training schedule with Jeremy underfoot.” “Jeremy?” Cord asked. “Yep, little smart-ass that belongs to Santiago and Ger. He’s a cute kid. He’ll love having someone else around. How old are they?” Allasandro asked. “Four. They’re twins.” Allasandro nodded. “Yeah, Damian is going to love me for this. He has been chomping at the bit to have some little ones underfoot. Okay, give me a second, I have to work up the spell.” He disappeared from view after that. Cord looked at Michel. “Should I go get the twins?” “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll talk strategy with Ger while you’re gone and fill you in when you get back,” Michel said. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Cord’s cheek. Cord looked toward the Ravyns again who were watching their interaction with curiosity. “You both are his mates?” Ger asked. Cord nodded. He was proud of the fact. Dageus smiled. “It makes sense. Dru always was more primal than the rest of us, and shifters always mate in threes. I’m glad it was you two.” “Thanks, brother,” Cord murmured. “You guys rock.” He pushed himself to his feet, nodded to Rasta on the other side of the orb, and took off at a jog toward the exit and the demon encampment.

 

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Chapter Thirteen Druas woke and still felt drunk. The more-potent alcohol of the private party Desmond threw in the back chambers had gone to his head faster than anything Dru could ever remember drinking. They’d smoked too much, drank too much, and gambled far too much as the night had worn on. He did feel a little closer to the men who were supposedly his brothers-in-arms, but something just felt like it was missing. He opened his eyes in his still-darkened bedroom and let the world spin. He felt empty, so very empty. He rubbed the place on his chest above his heart and wondered if it was possible to miss something that he couldn’t remember. The dream he’d had the other night replayed in his mind. The gorgeous, blond-haired giant had held him so nicely. Maybe the dream man was an old lover or something. It had felt right to be held by him. The worry had melted away. His eyes slid shut once again. Unbidden, an entirely new image ghosted up into his mind. Whether it was fantasy or memory, he wasn’t sure, but it made his arousal go from zero to a hundred in five seconds flat. Dru worked his hips forward, shoving his hard cock deep into the willing channel of his smaller lover’s tight ass. A carefully positioned mirror let him have a full view of the blond-haired giant from his dream’s tight buttock and thighs as he bent forward and sucked the smaller man Dru was buried inside. “Fuck yeah,” Dru murmured aloud, his hand finding his dick beneath the heavy coverlet.

 

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“Dru,” the smaller man gasped, throwing his head back so that it rested against Druas’s shoulder. He squeezed his ass rhythmically around Dru’s plunging length, and Dru couldn’t help but moan at the sensation. He watched as his lover’s hands wound in the big blond’s hair and fucked himself between the lush lips wrapped around him. “Mine,” Dru growled aloud as he tightened his grip on his dripping arousal. With the other hand, he reached down and fondled his already-tight balls. “Both mine.” He shuddered. The words felt right. The fantasy shifted. The blond giant was behind him, fucking his ass hard as the smaller lover fucked his mouth. Dru felt like a receptacle of pleasure. He felt out of control, and to be able to let go and let himself just take the pleasure given to him by his lovers was a hot experience. He grunted as the man behind him scored his prostate with every forward lunge. He begged with his body for them to come. To fill him up. He wanted to taste his smaller lover on his tongue while his other one filled up his clenching ass. So much pleasure. I don’t want it to ever end. He was delirious with the need to come. The salty taste of his lover’s pleasure splashed against his lapping tongue, and his eyes rolled into his head. The telltale jet of fluid into his needy hole set him on fire. Dru shouted, coming apart at the seams and jetting into the tight circle of his fists as he jerked himself hard at the mental images flickering in rapid succession through his mind. He panted hard as he tried to regain his mind and his breath. Afterward, he lay there, just letting the relaxation of the endorphins content him for a moment. At least he knew for sure one thing about himself. He liked boys. A lot. He chuckled at the thought. Well, he liked two boys in particular. He wondered if they’d show up at some point once he wasn’t under “supervision” by King Desmond and the other Doves. He hoped so.

 

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**** Someone had replaced his uniform from the night before with some “casual” court clothes which were still of better quality than anything he remembered owning before. He fingered the gray-andblack outfit. It was soft, flexible, too. The material was definitely fighting friendly. Beside the outfit was a one-handed axe made of demon alloy. Dru picked it up and swung it experimentally. It felt awkward in his hand, as if his body didn’t remember the weapon at all. He frowned. They would know that he wasn’t used to using it, wouldn’t they? If they worked together so closely, they would give him his favored weapon. He swung the axe again and nearly hit his leg. No. The muscles of his body didn’t remember this weapon at all. It was puzzling. With a mental shrug, he dropped the sheet he’d wrapped around his waist and shimmied into the shirt and pants, taking time to lace up the new boots they’d left for him as well that came up to his knees. He frowned. Had they had nothing of his to give him? The boots were clearly new, not used to his feet. Everything about this felt new. A sharp knock to the door had him looking up an instant before Crave stuck his head in and gave him a once-over. “Looking good, Druas,” he said. “His Majesty wants you to keep him company at Court today. He’s supposed to hand out assignments after he hears the nobles.” “Okay. One of the servants will show me to the throne room?” Dru asked. “Yep. Just ring them on the side bell when you’re ready.” Crave waved his hand and then closed the door behind him once again. Dru let out a breath that he didn’t know that he was holding. He seemed to tense up whenever the Doves were around for some odd reason. He shook his head to get rid of the sensation. He needed to relax. The thought that he’d soon be bound to Desmond like the other Doves shouldn’t fill him with such ill ease. He’d done it before, even

 

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if he couldn’t remember it. Maybe he’d feel differently after the ceremony. They’d all talked excitedly about it last night. Two more days of confusion and then he would be a part of them once more. He felt weary at the prospect, though. So long as Prince Salvatore was still alive, which the magicians had learned from his memories was still the case, there would never be true peace in Demontia. This tension and threat of war between the two monarchs was making the entire country tense, and it had been in even the scope of Druas’s memory. “Once Salvatore is dead, we can all take a break from the life of an on-call warrior, my friend,” Crave had said. “Help us do that and we can all settle down and only be called in times of necessity. Maybe we could even find families of our own, eh?” The idea sounded great to Dru. Peace was the desire of any warrior with a lick of sense. War was a tool, a necessary evil. Peace was the goal of any conflict. He belted his trousers and put the axe and dagger on his right and left side. A quick glance in the mirror was a disorienting experience. He raked a hand through his sleeproughened hair and tugged on the outfit that was decorated in the colors of the king. Somehow he would push aside his discomfort and make that dream a reality. The rebels wouldn’t know what hit them. **** “You behave for Uncle Ally-cat, okay?” Michel asked, kissing Iso and Hardwin each in turn before handing them over to Allasandro, who stood before the opened bolt hole that led back to Earth. The villagers in charge of the orphaned children had been informed of their decision to move Iso and Hardwin to Earth since the conflict was heating up, and they had agreed. “Hurry it up, you two. I gotta get back and holding this gate open is a bitch, er, a pain,” Ally said as Cord once again stepped forward to kiss the little ones. Michel knew it was silly, but he was already

 

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intensely attached to the twins. He hoped Dru would be as happy about them as he was. At least they’d have the journey back to get him used to the idea before springing it on him. “Thanks again for doing this, Allasandro,” Cord said as Iso started to silently cry. Ally hefted Hardwin higher up on his hip and gave him a squeeze. “No problem. We’re Ravyns. We always stick together. Whatever you guys need, I’ll do.” He grinned. “Besides, I don’t mind playing babysitter. It gives me good practice.” He turned his attention to the twins. “Don’t worry, you guys. We’ll have a blast at the theater.” He looked back to Cord and Michel. “Bring back Dru, guys.” “We will,” Michel reassured. The portal widened and engulfed the Ravyn and the twins, and in another blink they were gone. “I can’t maintain the communication much longer, Ravyns. I’m getting tired,” Rasta said from the other side of the orb. He sounded a little strained. “We’ll talk to you guys later,” Michel said, addressing the two other Ravyns. “And we’ll see you tomorrow, Germany.” Germany nodded. “Yes. I’ll be there around noon. Be ready to leave. Have a couple of Adamar ready to go when I arrive.” “Will do,” Cord said. They waved at one another, and the connection blinked out. The Ravyns’ bond shuddered and then once again went silent. Shit. That was a weird sensation. Michel looked over at Rasta who was sagging on the pillows across from them. “You okay?” The dragon nodded. “Yes. I think so. Very tiring to keep the portals open. But that’s all right.” “Our clutch mate is a believer in the sanctity of the bond. Romantic to the core,” the biggest male out of Rasta’s clutch said, coming up behind Rasta’s exhausted body and scooping him up like he weighed next to nothing. “Go, Ravyns. We need to tend our mate.”

 

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Michel understood the need to take care of one’s mate better than anyone. He nodded and took Cord’s hand. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. **** Once the nobles had filed out of the throne room and the dozen or so Doves were left kneeling on the runner on the floor in front of the throne, Desmond turned his attention to them. Dru was secretly seething. The king had been a real asshole all through Court. The nobles who held his favor won every dispute, regardless of the fairness of the proceedings. The people who had legitimate complaint were not allowed a voice at all. Instead, the common man had to file some kind of report which His Majesty would review at his convenience, aka never. Everyone seemed to be viewing the interaction as par for the course, but Dru was sick of it. The division between the king and everyone else was obvious, and the king apparently followed no one’s laws, not even his own. The Doves he hadn’t met last night were in attendance of Court today. Some of them practically reeked of bad energy, going so far as to brag about the evils they’d inflicted on others to the delight of the listening nobility. It was disgusting. The king began his address. “All right, gentlemen, your assignments are as follows. Ced’s unit is going to one of the Northern provincial regions and taking care of an uprising there. Apparently, there is a bread riot or something. Anyway, it’s causing noise. Take care of it.” A group of Doves stood, and a short fellow who had to be Ced spoke. “Yes, my lord. Right away.” They marched out of the throne room quickly. “Next, it has been brought to my attention that there is an army gathering in the southlands. The rebels are finally making their move.

 

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I hadn’t anticipated quite the showing. Crave, you and your men go into the camp discreetly. Kill the leaders. That should break their backs. They apparently learned little since the last time you went into their camps.” Desmond grinned, and the expression was far from pleasant. “Take Druas with you. Show them that their work has been undone.” He paused. “That is, if you’re up to the task, Druas?” Dru considered it. The thought of staying here and having to deal with more obnoxious parties, spoiled nobility, or Desmond’s corruption didn’t appeal. “I’ll go,” he said. Rican elbowed him. “Er, my lord.” “Excellent! Then we’ll do the binding now instead of in a few days.” Desmond pushed himself from his throne and pulled out a bejeweled dagger. Crave’s eyes widened. “But, Your Majesty, the magicians said that he wouldn’t be ready, that he’d still be vulnerable.” Desmond waved a hand in dismissal. “Old men know little of the binding arts. Druas, give me your hand.” Dru hesitated a second before presenting it to the approaching king. Crave cursed softly before grabbing Dru’s hand and entwining their fingers. Dru shot him a What-the-fuck-are-you-doing look but didn’t say anything. Desmond pulled a necklace from beneath his robes that glowed a red-hot light. “What the hell is that?” Druas asked, his insides screaming that he should get the fuck away from whatever that light was now. “This is a necklace known as the Amani-Ra, the stone of souls. My soul rests inside,” Desmond explained, a weird grin still plastered on his face. “As well as pieces of ours,” Crave murmured, his eyes glued to the floor and not the king. “It is why they are all of the same mind, Druas. Because their minds are mine. Right and wrong do not matter. Only my will has sway over their actions.” King Desmond motioned him to lift his hand

 

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higher. Druas started to sweat. Fuck. He didn’t want him to touch him with that. “Don’t worry. This doesn’t hurt.” Dru so didn’t believe him. Crave squeezed his hand hard, and their eyes met for a brief second. Pity swam in the depths of the Dove’s eyes. Yeah, this wasn’t fucking happening. He shoved away from the king, backpedaling away from him and the maniacal look in his eyes. Other hands grabbed him, forcing him back into position. “I like my soul where the fuck it’s at, thanks!” Dru snapped, struggling against the dozens of arms that held him in place. “Don’t worry, Druas,” Crave murmured, still holding onto Dru’s hand. “You won’t mind afterward.” “I mind now, fucktard! Get the hell off me!” Dru shouted, fear swamping him. This felt wrong so very, very wrong. The glow of the necklace grew brighter, nearly blinding in its intensity now. This can’t happen. I’ve got to get back to them. Get back to my mates. He wasn’t even sure what that meant, but he knew that whoever he spoke of was the most important thing in his life. An image of the blond men he’d been with in his fantasies came into his mind the same instant that the king’s blade pierced through his hand and Crave’s in one downward motion. Druas screamed as the light from the necklace seemed to engulf the entire room. A strange tearing noise filled his ears, and the pounding of his heart was so brutal he was sure he was going to go into cardiac arrest. He felt like he was spiraling downward, falling forever. His voice echoed down the chasm that threatened to engulf him. Yet, something tethered him in place despite the downward rush. He felt the cord inside him, focused on it, the blue-white light of it keeping in place as pieces of him were sucked into the vortex of the king’s making. He would never touch this part, it was a part that didn’t even belong to him anymore. It belonged to the two men in his dreams. The men he…loved? A scream was wrenched from him as Crave’s blood mingled with his own. It felt like acid burning his skin. The sensation traveled up

 

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his arm and into his chest. Still, he held onto the blue rope inside him. He felt so small now, so insignificant. He wrapped himself up in the comfort of the blue-white light and whimpered, praying for relief. From the shadows of his mind, where all the stuff that had made him who he was once stood, came a man who looked frighteningly like him. Except an aura of pure darkness clung to him like a second skin. He smiled at Dru, the only part of Dru that had been left in the king’s wake. “Who are you?” Druas asked the creature in his mind. “I’m Druas,” the being replied, grinning. Dru shuddered. This is so fucked. “Sleep now, boy. Sleep and let me do the will of the Lord.” Dru was so tired, the suggestion actually made sense. He didn’t want to see the monster that wore his face anymore anyway. He shut his eyes. Please, he thought. Michel, Cord, forgive me.

 

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Chapter Fourteen The Adamar were saddled and ready to go when Germany came into camp the next day. The warriors had been told that Natiri would be returning soon and they were to carry on as usual until either the Ravyns or Natiri returned. Hunting parties had been brought in to gather supplies in the mountains for the camp, but for the most part, their supplies were fine. Cord was relieved that everything seemed to be in place, and Michel seemed to be perfectly happy to turn it over to the demon warriors for a few days. Even the dragons seemed content to let them go on ahead since everything was right on schedule and in place. Ger swung himself onto the back of the dark green Adamar with the grace of someone who had done it more times than Cord could count. “While I was in the western province of Verna, I heard that they took the prisoners to the capital. It’s going to be hell to find him in the city, but I think with my connections I can find a way in. It’ll actually help that you two are shifters. That’ll at least get us in the city. You two can pose as my slaves,” Ger said, adjusting the side saddles so that they were more evenly weighted on both sides. “Shifters are the favored slaves of the Demontian nobles currently. They think of them as exotic pets.” He shot a look at them sideways. “Sorry about that, guys.” Cord shrugged. “Whatever we have to do to get Dru back, we’ll do. I don’t give a crap if I have to pose as a tranny, I’m game.” “Agreed,” Michel seconded. He mounted his own Adamar and frowned. “Though to be honest, I make one hell of an ugly woman. Just so we know.”

 

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Ger sniggered a little bit. “Yeah, no doubt.” Cord climbed onto Star’s back and petted the Adamar’s neck as he did so. He had dreamed of Dru all night last night and was giving all the credit to Star, despite the silliness of the superstition. “Ready to go?” Michel asked. “Yep,” Cord answered automatically, eagerly, too, if truth be told. Ger smiled. “Absolutely. Follow me?” Michel squeezed his thighs together and clicked to the Adamar in a fashion that perfectly imitated the sounds the desert people made to urge the beasts on. “Sure thing, Ger. Lead on.” Cord patted Star’s rump. “All righty, Star, let’s get moving.” “You’re too gentle with that horse, Cord,” Michel called back, laughing. “Bite me, mate. Bite me real hard.” The words were offset by the playful tone he used. Ger laughed at both of them and smacked his Adamar’s flank. It bolted, thundering down the path that led out of the encampment. Cord watched him in admiration as Ger maneuvered the horse expertly. “Show off!” Michel called after Germany. He sat back in the saddle and gave a sigh. “I’m not breaking my neck to keep up with him.” Cord laughed at how jealous Michel looked. “Yeah, well, he’ll slow down outside camp if he wants us to come with.” “You know, I always wanted to learn to ride as a kid,” Michel admitted as they plodded out of camp. Cord turned to him in surprise. “You never told me that.” They’d practically grown up together. He’d thought he’d known everything about his mate. Michel shrugged. “There was no reason to say anything. Horses back home are terrified of our kind.” “We should take a couple Adamar with us when we get a place on Earth,” Cord said. If it made his mates happy, they could have a

 

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whole stable. Plus, the Adamar were a part of Iso and Hardwin’s heritage, and Cord wanted to preserve that. Michel shot him a look. “Well, I’d agree, but Druas wants to live in Demontia.” “Oh, yeah, I’d forgotten he’d said that.” Cord thought about living here, and the thought didn’t thrill him. He loved the people and loved that they’d come together here in Druas’s native land. But if they stayed here permanently, he’d miss the clan and the vampires, the Earth and all of its conveniences. “Maybe we can get two different residences. Like one of them can be a vacation house or something,” Michel suggested, obviously noting Cord’s expression. “How are we going to afford that, Michel? We’re essentially bodyguards. Our salaries could barely afford a place near Haven. How would we scrape enough together to be able to purchase two houses?” Cord asked. They were legitimate questions. He’d had enough stresses on this trip without worrying about what they’d do when they got home. When they’d first come together, everything had seemed rosy, but what if they got Druas back only to have him leave them over something silly like where they were going to live… “Cord, we will confront the problem when it gets here. You are borrowing trouble. Nothing matters but being together. We will tackle these issues together as a family.” Michel’s voice was beyond reproach. He was deathly serious, and Cord knew that tone well. It was the Cord-you’re-being-a-worrywart-stop-it voice. Cord sometimes let himself get wound up over things in the future. Michel was right. He needed to calm down. Dru was going to be excited to see them. There was no way he’d be anything less. **** “Give me a demon sword,” Dru commanded, taking off the axe and tossing it to the side in the armory.

 

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Crave gave him an odd look. “No one uses demon swords. They’re the weapons of the Ravyns, our enemies. We use axes or scimitars.” Dru shrugged. “I don’t give a shit. I want a demon sword. I can use it.” “You really were a Ravyn, weren’t you?” Crave asked, looking out at him behind lowered lashes. Dru shut his own eyes, and something in his chest gave a painful spasm. Immediately, he felt Desmond inside his mind smoothing things down. “I don’t know. Doesn’t matter now, though.” The only thing that mattered was serving Desmond and killing anyone who opposed him. “Whatever I was, whoever I was, is dead. Now give me the damn sword.” Crave nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” Dru listened to him bang around in one of the many alcoves the armory and tapped his foot in impatience. They needed to get moving. Everything was in place for the spell that would take them within a few miles of the enemy’s camp. The rest of the strike team was waiting for them. “Hurry up, Crave,” Dru demanded. He could feel Desmond’s desire to kill those who stood against him. The urge, the want, pounded through his veins like the thickest of liquids. It clogged up his mind until he could think of nothing else. “The urges get easier to handle. It’s overwhelming at first. Especially when he wants to fuck or fight. But it does get easier,” Crave said, coming out of one of the smaller rooms with a sword resting casually on his shoulder. “How’s this look to fight with, big boy?” Druas grinned. “Looks fucking fantastic.” The sludge in his veins sang. ****

 

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He wrapped the cloth around his face and tried to remind himself that the cloaks that Crave handed out were supposed to obscure their power signatures as they approached the massive camp. It was infinitely larger than it had been purported to be. Even from this distance, it was obviously several thousand people. Getting into the center and taking out the leaders was going to be harder than they’d originally planned. “Hold!” Crave’s sharp bark drew his attention toward the front of the procession and halted his forward progress. “We’ve got three riders heading out of the enemy camp.” The hissing voice of the shadow who traveled with him made Dru’s teeth on edge. He’d taken an instant dislike to him and his fighting partner, Trat. But they were his brothers, so he might as well get used to them. “Leave them. Who cares about three strays?” one of the Doves rumbled from behind him. “They could be messengers. It might be wise of us to take any dispatches from them,” Dru said, fingering the hilt of his demon sword. The scythe-like implement on his back would get good use today. He was almost giddy in anticipation. Desmond’s bloodlust was thick. “What the hell would the newling know?” The Dove who’d said to leave the three riders sneered. Dru turned and let the maniacal grin stretch his lips so that his expression was almost feral. “Enough to realize that letting our enemies receive messages from their base is stupid. Communication is the key to winning battles. But please, keep up the protests. They’ll have cavalry here before we take the first rebel down, and my sword will have more lives to take.” “Druas is right, Hex. We take them out now,” Crave agreed, his voice full of authority. “If His Majesty knows we didn’t kill anyone who could be important, he’ll be unhappy.” The idea of Desmond’s unhappiness made them shudder in unison. When Desmond wasn’t happy, no one was fucking happy.

 

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Dru drew his weapon. “Plan?” “Three of us will strike from the front, and the rest will hang back in case we need assistance. Those of you who aren’t doing the frontal assault will circle behind and keep them from retreating.” Crave slapped Dru on the back. “Since the young blood is eager for battle, he will accompany myself and Gorgeous.” Gorgeous turned out to be the hulking man who took up the rear of their group. He wasn’t as tall as Dru, but he was almost twice as thick through the shoulders, which was saying something, because Dru was far from a tiny guy. His nickname was obvious. While he had the body of a warrior, he had the countenance of a courtesan. It almost hurt to look at him he was so good looking. Apple-green eyes, dark hair, and a deep tan complexion made Gorgeous something out of any red-blooded male’s wet dream. “He gets embarrassed if you stare at him,” Crave said, walking beside Dru as they came at the riders at an angle so it wasn’t obvious if they happened to see past the thick magick disguises. “Our Gorgeous has a bit of an ugly-duckling syndrome. He wasn’t always so pretty.” “He was an ugly duckling?” Dru asked in disbelief. There was no way. No one that good looking was ever anything less than beautiful. Crave nodded. “Apparently. He was cursed with that face of his. Some kind of faery thing who Gorgeous’s father screwed over cursed his first-born child. He was given infinite, unending beauty, but it came with a price. No one can look at Gorgeous without wanting to yield to him, but Gorgeous desires only to yield to another who is stronger than him. That man was given his size and strength but no desire to use it. So he never finds satisfaction. King Desmond drafted him into the Doves years ago.” “Seems like an interesting problem to have.” Dru recalled his own dreams of “yielding” and shuddered at the memory. Yielding was fun but so was taking. Dru needed both to be at peace. Crave shrugged. “Some would say it is. I feel bad for him.”

 

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“Why did you join the Doves?” Dru wondered. Crave wasn’t a bad guy. He didn’t seem to be particularly malevolent or anything. “I wanted to bring glory to my family name. I’m a commoner by birth and knew of no other way to gain nobility. I joined the Doves when I turned eighteen.” Crave said it in the nonchalant way of a man unattached to the event. There was no pride in his voice, only fact. The lack of emotion, more than anything, made Dru wonder what Crave had done to cause him to regret his joining. “Get ready,” Gorgeous said. His voice was beautiful, deep, like velvet-lined fur or something. Dru looked at him. Damn. That man has a beautiful voice. Apple eyes turned to him. “Look on, newling. The riders approach.” Dru turned his attention back to their objectives and tensed, readying to strike. **** Michel sniffed the air, and a low growl worked itself out of his throat to play on the dry desert air. “Hold on, Ger. Someone is up ahead waiting on us.” Michel spoke the words and scanned the horizon, slowing his Adamar with a pull of the reins. “I don’t sense anyone,” Ger admitted, his eyes scanning the area as well. He sniffed. “I smell something faintly, but my nose is nowhere near as good as Dageus’s. Can you tell where?” “Up ahead on the right. They smell like anger and bloodlust. They mean to overtake us.” Michel was sure of it. “Hmmm, I hope they like sun bathing, because my power is going to give them a tan. Might spook the Adamar, though. Should we hop off and leave them here for the charge?” Ger asked. “It seems reasonable. They’ll be easy to round up if we do it like that. Besides, they might get hurt if we stay on their backs when they attack us,” Cord piped up. Leave it up to Cord to be worried about the

 

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damn horses. Michel couldn’t help but smile at that. Cord may be a warrior, but he was the most tenderhearted warrior he’d ever met. “Agreed. You two shift, and I’ll cover you with my power,” Ger instructed, sliding off his Adamar to the ground. “They’ll probably see us coming.” “Let them see and let them be afraid,” Michel rumbled, leaping off his Adamar and kicking off his clothing. In seconds, he was naked and shifting. Cord followed his lead and did the same. Ger looked ahead and took out his demon sword, swirling it in a graceful arc. “Here they come,” the quietest Ravyn said. Michel was not in the mood to deal with stupidity today. Every delay was another second they weren’t in pursuit of Druas. He gave a jaguar battle cry and rushed at the three figures who appeared in his line of sight. They were dead men walking. They just didn’t know it yet. **** Dru saw the massive gold-and-spotted jaguar collide with Gorgeous and sink its massive claws into his arms. The dripping fangs snapped at Gorgeous’s face, and the impact forced Gorgeous to the ground where they proceeded to struggle. “Shifters!” Crave shouted, swinging his axe at the cat on Gorgeous’s back. No shit! Dru thought as another shifter barreled toward him. He managed to deflect it with his sword, an arc of blood following the action. He’d nicked it. A thrill shot through him, and Desmond’s desire to end the lives of his enemies pulsed through his being. The cat landed on its feet but was limping now. Dru circled it, growling as he did so. The damn cloaks they were wearing made movement more difficult, but he couldn’t exactly call a time-out so that he could throw it off.

 

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A glimmer of movement in his peripheral vision had him dodging to the left as another demon sword made a dangerous arc toward him. He felt the breeze off the weapon as it moved past him. He snarled and made a hard swing. It was another demon. As their blades crashed together, a flicker of uncertainty filled Dru. This felt really damn familiar. He looked at the face of his enemy. “Ravyn.” He said the word, knowing in the depths of his soul that was who he faced. These were Salvatore’s legendary warriors. He’d felt their blades come together before. He was sure of it. They’d fought. Gorgeous screamed as the thing pinning him to the ground clamped its jaws down on his shoulder. Dru’s concentration wavered, an urgency of a different type filling him. If that man was his brother, he needed to help him. The feeling conflicted so greatly with what he knew of Desmond and his wishes that he couldn’t move for a second. The Ravyn used the opening to thrust the weapon in his hand into Dru’s side, reopening the stitched wound that was still in the process of healing. The tangy smell of blood filled the air. “Motherfucker!” Dru shouted, pressing a hand to the wound. It wasn’t too deep, but it had reopened and was seeping blood through the cloak. He had to ditch it. War cries from the rest of the Doves signaled their cavalry. Relief filled him. The Ravyns were dead and good riddance to them. There was no way they were getting out of this. Dru smirked and shoved the Ravyn hard with the hilt of his weapon. The dark-haired Ravyn stumbled. For a split second, Dru forgot about the cat he’d injured and he paid the price for it. Searing pain licked up his leg as the smaller jaguar sank its teeth and claws into his thigh. He fell backward onto his ass and clawed at the eyes of the creature. It was a weak attempt at best. He flushed hot and cold in rapid succession as the pain pulsed on and on. However, pain wasn’t the only thing that pulsed through him.

 

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Desire, white and hot, rode hard on the heels of pain. He moaned. A memory teased on the edge of his consciousness, a fantasy of teeth and cock and men. I’m going to come. He was seconds from it. His dick was so hard it was already dripping. He shuddered as the claws were withdrawn and the blue eyes of the animal looked up at him, surprise evident behind those too-intelligent eyes. Dru raised his hand and pulled the cloak off his face at the same time the cat removed his teeth from his thigh. Blood immediately gushed from the wound, and Dru’s head spun. He was going to bleed out if he didn’t stop the fluids from leaving his body. He struggled to clamp his hand on the geyser, but he found touching the wound just sent a fission of pleasure through his body. Dru tore his eyes away from the shifter and looked up as the sky was obscured for a moment as a large shadow passed overhead. Holy fuck. Those are dragons. His eyes took in the awesome sight as three massive dragons descended, and the Doves who had joined the fight ran for their lives if they could. He hoped they managed it, because he wasn’t looking forward to being eaten. His eyes returned to the shifter whose shape shimmered for a moment before a naked man stood in its place. His head spun as he met the eyes of his fantasy. “Dru,” the man sobbed, pushing Dru’s hand away from the wound and replacing it with his own. “Druas, oh gods, I’m sorry.” The strangest urge to comfort the man shook him. Dru struggled to sit up. “No, baby. You just lie still. I’ll fix you.” The fighting around them had stopped. Dru tilted his head and looked around. Gorgeous was still breathing, but he was pinned beneath one massive clawed foot of a dragon. Funny, he looked tiny in comparison. Crave was also in the clutches of a dragon and was shouting obscenities at the top of his lungs. Rican was dead, and another Dove who Dru didn’t recognize lay beside him, unmoving. Desmond was going to be so utterly disappointed.

 

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The sound of rending fabric brought him back into the moment, and he saw the smaller man ripping the cloak he’d worn and wrapping the strips tightly around his leg. Dru reached for the anger and resentment he’d felt toward the other Ravyn in order to apply it to the one tending him, but he just couldn’t manage it. He looked at the little blond and felt nothing but acute relief and something extremely close to adoration. It was fucking odd considering the man might’ve killed him. “Good gods, Druas.” Another voice drew his attention to the left and hatred surged. The golden-eyed Ravyn he’d fought stood over him. He snarled. He wanted a weapon. He wanted to kill. He wanted to— A huge blond-haired guy threw himself at Dru and wrapped his arms around Dru’s prone body. “Pretty!” Tears fell onto Dru’s face as the stranger pressed kisses to his cheeks and lips. “Gods, I thought I lost you. I thought I lost you forever. I’m never going to let anything happen to you ever again, pretty. I promise.” Dru’s head spun. What madness was this? Tears cascaded down his cheeks, but Dru couldn’t find the reason behind the unbending emotion. Desmond’s will was still there, but when the two shifters touched him, he felt more like himself and less like the puppet of someone else. The smaller shifter rested his head against Dru’s stomach, and the feeling of completion made the muscles that had been tense instantly relax. He didn’t understand what was happening. “Round up the Adamar. I don’t think they’ve gone far.” The Ravyn was instructing one of the dragons who had come to their aid during the battle. “We need to get Druas back to camp and get those wounds looked at.” “I’ll carry him,” the bigger of the two shifters said. He leaned down and kissed Dru’s lips. Druas couldn’t resist deepening the kiss slightly before the shifter pulled away. What spell had they cast on him? What weird shifter magick had been implemented to make him so vulnerable to them? His sword was still within reach, but his hands

 

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refused to obey the dictates of his mind. In fact, there was no way he was going to hurt the two shifters. Ever. Now that he’d touched them, he couldn’t contemplate even wanting to harm them in any way. Frantically, he searched for an internal solution. Some of the other Doves had slaves. They would be his. It didn’t matter that they apparently had rebel ties or that they were traveling with a Ravyn. They would belong to him, and Dru would teach them to obey the laws of their king as well as Dru’s will. Not that it was much. His will was merely an extension of Desmond’s. The thought made him frown. These men were his. He wouldn’t share them, not even with his king. “You can’t carry him, Michel. It’ll take too long. Ride with him on the Adamar,” the Ravyn instructed. The dragon which he’d addressed the moment before came back with a few Adamars in hand. “They didn’t wander far. These are loyal creatures. You’re lucky, Ravyn,” he said, handing over the reins to the Ravyns. Dru resisted the urge to sneer. The Ravyn was a coward and a traitor. He deserved the foulest death imaginable. It was then he realized they hadn’t taken his dagger off his hip. Golden eyes turned to look at him as the two shifters pulled him up to his unsteady feet. He couldn’t put weight on the leg the shifter had bitten into, but the wound itself tingled pleasurably. “At least his mate bit into him. That would be painful otherwise,” the dragon said, smirking a bit as Dru accidently touched the wound and moaned as pleasure wrapped around his dick. “I’m so, so sorry, Dru,” the smaller shifter apologized, his dirty cheeks tearstained. Even then he was beautiful. “It’s okay,” Dru murmured, not sure why he gave the reassurance but desiring to do so anyway. The Ravyn stepped toward him, and Desmond’s anger exploded inside Dru. The others must’ve gotten back to the palace. Without thinking, he grabbed the dagger at his hip and lunged at the Ravyn. A look of shock passed over the dark-haired Ravyn’s face an instant

 

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before Dru’s blade buried itself into his chest. He was almost immediately jerked backward as the rest of the party exploded into action. “What have you done?” the bigger shifter shouted, yanking him off his feet and back onto the hard ground. Dru winced but didn’t cry out as his side collided with a rock. “S’okay. He missed the vital bits,” the Ravyn wheezed, clutching his chest. Dru started struggling. No. He had to kill him. Had to kill him. Had to kill him. He lunged up only to be slammed back down by the shifter. The two of them lay on top of him, the smaller shifter wresting the knife from his grip. The Ravyn swayed a bit on his feet. “Be careful, guys.” “I’ll carry you back to camp,” the dragon who’d been assisting them offered. He picked up the Ravyn in his arms and walked over to one of the massive lizards off to the side. “We’ll ride in style.” “Dru, what’s wrong with you?” the smaller shifter asked as Dru struggled against them. He needed to get back to Desmond. Desmond wanted him back, and he wanted him back now. “Get off me!” Dru shouted, throwing a clumsy punch at him. The bigger shifter growled and caught the punch before pounding that hand back to the ground. Dru’s energy waned, the injuries obviously more serious than his energetic display exposed. “Lover, please…” The smaller shifter was crying again. The sound twisted Dru’s heart into a knot, and it just pissed him off more. He lifted his head and opened his mouth to give a scathing remark, but the bigger shifter’s teeth closed over the place where his neck met his shoulder and bit down with just a hint of fang. Dru went rigid, and his eyes crossed as stars danced through his vision. He came hard, his hips arching despite the pain in his body. The big shifter’s hands found him through his uniform and guided him through the orgasm as his neurons fired. The shifter lifted his head as the smaller shifter crawled to his opposite side and bit into the other side of his neck. Dru brought his

 

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hand up and caressed the back of the smaller shifter’s head as his teeth bit into the muscle, spirals of pleasure shooting through him at the touch. “Settle,” the big shifter commanded. “Settle, Dru.” Dru felt himself falling into that voice. Desmond’s will faded into the background and a white-blue cord inside his mind blazed to life, drawing Dru to the shifters in an irrevocable fashion that he didn’t want to escape. The smaller shifter pressed a kiss to the bite he’d made. “We need to get you some medical care, Dru. Okay?” Dru sighed. “Okay,” he agreed. He didn’t want to fight them. He would fight the world and fight for Desmond, but he wouldn’t fight them.

 

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Chapter Fifteen “He’s wearing the uniform of the Doves and attacked us with them. To say something is strange is a vast and absolutely ridiculous understatement,” Ger said after Michel and Cord had settled Druas into Natiri’s tent. They’d had to restrain him as a precautionary measure. Ger’s chest was bare except for the wrap around his chest, which had an angry red stain where the dagger had pierced him. “He didn’t even seem to recognize us,” Cord whispered, his bottom lip trembling. His heart was sick at the thought. “The Doves had to have done something to him.” “The Ravyns’ bond was obliterated. He doesn’t even feel like Druas to me. However, the mate bond you guys have seems to still be in place. It may save him yet,” Ger said softly, his fingers flipping through his little black notebook. “We need to get him to Salvatore and Judgment.” “I agree, but we have to wait till Natiri returns and Dru is well enough to travel,” Michel said, nodding his head in agreement. “We need to spend as much time together as possible.” Ger frowned. “Why?” “To strengthen the bond,” Cord answered for Michel, reading the other male’s mind. “Dru is in there, but we have to keep him with us mentally. Enhancing our connection will help with that.” The other Ravyn nodded. “I get it. The longer you guys are together, the stronger it gets.” “Exactly,” Michel said. “Will you hold down the fort while we stay with Dru? Natiri is supposed to arrive soon, but I just want someone available in case.”

 

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“I can take over for the time being. As a Ravyn, it’s always been my destiny to lead other demons in the pursuit of the reinstating of my prince. This is a duty I am familiar with.” Ger paused. “Good luck with Druas.” “Thanks,” Cord said. He looked back toward the tent’s entrance. “The medical person packed his wounds, right?” “Yep and stitched him up. He’s doped up right now for the pain but keep a close eye on him,” Ger said. He reached up and rubbed the bandage where his stab wound was. “Speaking of which, I need to see him for some extra bandages. Damn thing keeps bleeding.” Michel draped his arm around Cord’s shoulders. “What about the other Doves? I think it’s best if they’re kept separate from Dru right now.” “The dragons are handling them. I have no idea. The big blue one is keeping one, and Rasta said he’d take care of the other,” Ger said. “I’ll go check on them after supper tonight.” He shooed them toward the door. “You two are stalling. Go on. Dru needs you more in there than I need you out here.” “The warriors are going to be upset if they know it’s Dru,” Michel said. Cord didn’t understand what his mate was asking. “I’m not going to say anything. As far as I’m concerned, Druas is injured and incapable of making any sort of decision. Salvatore and Judgment will take care of that issue when we return. Until then, no one is going to be allowed to go into Natiri’s tent. Okay?” Ger asked, rubbing his chest a little harder. Cord thought it was a gesture of nervousness as much as it was an expression of pain. “All right,” Cord said before Michel could ask any more questions. He looked up at his mate. “Dru needs us.” And he did. Whether he knew it or not. ****

 

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Michel was afraid in a way he hadn’t been before. He’d been so sure that once they got Druas back things would fall easily into place and they would start their happily ever after. It had seemed so simple. Michel knew for a fact that the Druas inside the tent wasn’t the same man who’d been taken from them. He was different in a way that scared the hell out of Michel. There were equal parts madness and confusion in those golden depths that he loved so much. The idea startled him. Holy shit. I love him. He’d never loved anyone but Cord before. “I don’t know if I can do this,” Michel murmured, beginning to shake. He didn’t want to see disgust or resentment in Druas’s eyes. The memories of his surrender were too perfect, too new, for that type of rejection. Cord squeezed his hand. “He’s in there, Michel. We just have to find him.” Michel tried to take comfort from that. Dru hadn’t been himself, and no matter what this new Dru said, their Dru was in there somewhere. They came to the place where they’d left Dru lightly snoozing. The mountain of pillows on the mats they’d been sleeping on was as comfortable as they could make it, and even the binding on his wrist, which was bound to a large pole that held up the massive tent’s supports, was long enough so that he could move relatively easily. Cord immediately settled in beside Dru, dropping to his knees before snuggling up to Dru’s side. The Ravyn opened his eyes for a brief second before inhaling Cord’s scent and settling back into his snooze. Dru seemed to take a lot of comfort from Cord. But then, that was the way it always had been for them. Cord was the nurturer. Michel was the one Dru fought with. It was that simple. Dru’s eyes opened once again and rose until they clashed with his. There was a question there, but Michel wasn’t sure what he asked. Dru scooted closer to Cord and wrapped an arm around the smaller man’s waist,

 

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leaving enough room for Michel to scoot in behind. Relief filled him. This wasn’t going to be as difficult as he thought. He dropped to his knees and crawled in behind Dru, curling up to him so that Dru’s body was pressed against his from head to toe. The cat inside him purred in contentment. The simple enjoyment he gained from lying there with his mates couldn’t be expressed adequately no matter what he said or thought. It was the measure of true peace. He let the thought carry him off to sleep. **** Dru woke up disoriented and sore. The first wasn’t unusual, he’d been nothing but confused since waking up in Desmond’s palace, but the second wasn’t necessarily standard. He ached in places that he hadn’t before. His hand flexed, the tear in the flesh a throbbing reminder of the bond between Desmond and himself. However, the throbbing in his thigh was another sensation of pain altogether. He reached down and rubbed the offending wound and was surprised when a shiver of desire went through him at the action. What the—Memory hit him like a freight train. The Ravyns, the battle, the dragons, the shifters. Oh shit. He’d been captured by the enemy. His eyes popped open, and he was immediately aware he wasn’t alone. There were two veritable heaters on either side of him, bracketing him in in the most delicious fashion imaginable. His cock instantly started to harden. It was then that he realized he was buck naked. “How are you feeling, Dru?” the little shifter asked, turning so that his ass was no longer nestled against Dru’s crotch. He was either oblivious or playing coy. “Who are you?” Dru demanded, ignoring the desire and the question. He needed to get back to Desmond and had to figure out who he had to kill to get there. His king wanted him back. The weight

 

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of Desmond’s will against his mind was unpleasant. The sooner he got back to Desmond, the better. “Dru, be nice.” The voice of the other shifter rumbled in his ear from behind, the breath skittering across his skin and leaving goose bumps in its wake. He resisted the urge to grind his buttocks back against the cock that was cradled in the crack of his ass. Instead, he leaned forward, away from the dick and the man attached to it. Of course, then he had the opposite problem. He was almost on top of the smaller shifter. “Who the fuck are you people?” Dru snapped. The smaller shifter gave a shaky smile and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m Cord. We’ve met before.” Dru winced and moved away, downward this time so that he could escape them both. “I know. I’ve dreamed of you two. Did you put a spell on me or something?” Dru’s thigh throbbed as he moved into a crouch. He stumbled forward, and the big shifter caught him. Dru tried to push away, but the shifter wouldn’t let him. The shifter gripped him tighter. “You’re going to hurt yourself. Stop being stubborn.” “Michel, please, don’t be too hard on him. He’s confused,” Cord said, kneeling before the two of them. “Please, watch your temper.” “Michel, is it?” Dru sneered. “What kind of girlie-ass name is that?” “Shut up,” Michel said, nuzzling his neck. “I can’t handle your mouth right now.” Dru sputtered. Who the hell did he think he was ordering him around like that? Cord reached up and put his hands on Dru’s hips. “Druas, please don’t be a jerk. I understand that you’re frustrated and think you should hate us, but we love you.” Dru opened his mouth to deliver a scathing comment, only to feel that connection to them flame to life once again. Pure, unbending affection came streaking down its shiny surface and into his body. It warmed him in a way that

 

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he hadn’t been since waking up in Desmond’s dungeon. He felt both of them inside him, deeper than even Desmond went. “I—” He struggled for the words he wanted to say. “I feel you. Inside. We were lovers?” “Mates,” Michel corrected gently, giving him a squeeze. “Newly mated but mates nonetheless.” “You work for the Ravyns.” It wasn’t a question. “No.” Cord shook his head. “We are Ravyns. And so are you. A couple weeks ago the camp was attacked by Doves, and they took you with them.” The fact that they were Ravyns should’ve sent him into a rage, but there was nothing but a sick sense of rightness and a dread. Dru felt the truth in Cord’s words through their bond. He really believed it. Either someone had lied to the shifter, or he really had been…He swallowed. Well, fuck all. He sighed. “It doesn’t matter.” The words needed to be said, even if they tasted like ash in his mouth. Cord frowned. “Why doesn’t it matter?” “It’s too late. I belong to the king now.” That wasn’t something he had an option about. The ritual had sealed his fate. “He bound me to him as one of his Doves.” Michel cursed, and Cord’s frown deepened. “He owns me.” “No,” Michel said firmly. “We’ll figure out a way to undo this.” Dru laughed bitterly. “The only way my service ends is by my death or his. There is no undo button for this. I will fight to the death for him. Kill whatever enemies are his. Whatever he wills of me, I will accomplish or die trying.” “Why? Druas, why can’t you just stop? You know I’m telling the truth,” Cord pleaded, the grip on Dru’s hips tightening with his words. “He doesn’t want to. He has to,” Michel said. Dru looked up and saw that Michel understood. He could practically see the gears grinding. “This binding, what did he do?” “King Desmond has a necklace where he keeps the wills of the Doves. He replaces that will with his own. We are puppets to him.”

 

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He shouldn’t tell the enemy his king’s secrets, but it just came out of him. They wouldn’t betray him. They were his. His…mates? Yeah. That was the word that they’d used. “We’ll find a way to help you find peace,” Michel promised. “Do you trust us?” Dru searched for an answer to that loaded question. He did. They were the only things he trusted. As much as he wanted to lash out at them, he wanted to run to them more. “Yes.” The word was soft and reverent, almost a pledge. “I can’t guarantee I won’t fight you, but I want to be with you. It doesn’t make sense, but you two are the only things that seem to anchor me. I feel… disjointed. Like there are two parts of me that don’t fit together.” He didn’t care about his fellow Doves, not really. He didn’t care about anything of that place but Desmond. His disgust for the nobility and Court didn’t stop, but he felt Desmond’s amusement and his pleasure in it, so in turn he reveled in it as well. It was a confusing division within himself that Crave had promised would fade over time. The problem was, he knew that when it did, all he would care about was what Desmond wanted and he’d no longer care about himself or his own wishes. He’d truly be a puppet then. This choice was unexpected. He wanted this choice. “Are all the other Doves like this?” Cord asked, resting his head against Dru’s chest. Dru shrugged. “I don’t know. I suspect that it’s that way for some of the others.” “You’re all prisoners of a type. God damn, Desmond is a dick,” Michel rumbled. The sound sent shivers down Dru’s spine. He tried to ignore the part of him that demanded he take up for his king. He felt like he hadn’t been touched in forever. His earlier arousal was starting to stir again. “I smell your hunger, mate. Can we sate it for you?” Cord pressed a kiss to Dru’s naked pectoral muscle, flicking his tongue out to catch the flat disc of his nipple.

 

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“Gods, yes.” These men were his. They’d always been his. It didn’t matter if they were Ravyns or enemies or anything else. His connection to them was greater than the one he had to his king, and that was all that mattered. He felt Michel’s hesitation before he spoke. “Druas, you don’t remember us.” “I don’t give a fuck. I feel you inside me.” He turned his head and met the sparkling blue eyes of his soon-to-be lover. “I want to feel you inside me in more ways than one.” It excited him to tangle with the two of them. He wanted them with a fierceness that had him so hard his cock curved up toward his navel at the thought of being sandwiched between the two of them. “You’re hurt,” Michel argued. “We’ll be gentle, Michel,” Cord interrupted before he could argue further. “He won’t be hurt anymore.” Gods, maybe they would bite him. He knew from the dreams he’d had that he’d really, really like that. He wanted to be buried inside them, mark them with everything he was…and be marked in turn. “Gods, he smells fantastic,” Michel rumbled, rubbing his hard cock between the valley of Dru’s buttocks. The sleeping-while-naked thing had its benefits. “I’ll get the oil,” Cord chirped, scooting away from the two of them and scrambling backward to the chest where they must’ve kept the oil. Dru raised his hand to pull Michel’s head down for a kiss only to realize that it was tied with a thick leather strap and connected via chain to a pole. Annoyance flickered through him. “Take this off. I won’t hurt you,” Dru commanded, half turning toward Michel. He’d rather die than hurt either one of them. “It’s not us we’re scared of you hurting. It’s other people here in camp,” Michel said. He hesitated for a minute before reaching for his discarded pants beside the pillow pile. “While we’re here, we can keep you untied, but when we’re not, we’ll have to restrain you. Okay?” Dru seethed. It must’ve showed on his face because Michel

 

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stopped rummaging in his pockets and looked at Dru full-on. “It’s just until we get you back to Salvatore and we figure out what to do about the binding. Please, Druas, you said you’d trust us.” Reluctantly, Dru nodded. He had said that he would trust them. “Fine. Please, just take the fucking thing off.” Michel reached up after he’d found the key and unlocked the mechanism on the leather cuff. “I love you, Dru. I thought you should know that.” The statement nearly brought Druas to his knees. His heart beat wildly, and tears instantly sprang to his eyes. He felt like he’d been waiting forever to hear that. “I love you, too.” He knew it was true. He looked over and saw Cord returning with a small vial of oil. “Well, I love you both as well,” Cord piped in. “And since we’re all about the love, let’s make some. Shall we?” Dru laughed at his smaller mate. He just seemed so happy and absolutely nothing would dampen his spirit. “Yes, and I love you, Cord.” He reached for his smaller mate and pulled him into his arms. Cord tilted his head up, and Dru obliged him by pressing their lips together. The kiss sizzled just as Dru knew it would. The heat of the desert had not dried out the luscious lips caressing his own. The smaller man whimpered as Dru lapped at the entrance to his mouth, demanding he open for him. Their tongues slid along one another, pushing and withdrawing in a clear imitation of sex. He ran his hands down the tight body before him. The hard lines of Cord’s body thrilled him. He could already imagine himself buried inside him. Something was missing, though. Michel’s hands came down on his hips, and that feeling vanished. “Get me ready,” Dru commanded, breaking the kiss for a split second. Michel’s hands trailed down his ass and moved to the crease. “Going to fuck you, pretty,” Michel rumbled. “Okay?” Dru could only nod his assent. He wanted nothing more. Cord tossed a small vial of oil at Michel who caught it easily.

 

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“We’re going to have to be quick,” Cord reminded, already fisting his cock as Michel’s hands slid back down to Dru’s crease and teased the puckered entrance he found there. Dru had never seen himself as a person to be fucked, but damn if he didn’t want it with a passion right now. Something inside him bristled. He should fight, if for nothing else other than the opportunity to be held down. He snarled and twisted, slamming his lips down on Michel’s so that the kisses they’d shared the moment before transformed into a battle. “Gods, that’s hot,” Cord said, his hand working his dick harder at the sight of the two of them. Michel growled and shoved one of his fingers deep into Dru’s ass without warning. Druas gasped and rocked his hips, wanting and fighting at the same time. He pushed his hips back, fucking himself on Michel’s digit. “You want my ass?” Dru groaned against Michel’s lips. He’d definitely done this before. Definitely experienced the sheer awesome power of this man’s hands. “You want my cock?” Michel returned, just as aggressively as Dru. Perfect. “Fuck, yes!” Two more fingers joined the first, roughly readying him for the sex that was to come. The shifter spread his cheeks and drizzled what was left in the vial down the valley of Dru’s ass crack. The feeling sent a shiver of want through him. The fingers were removed and the thick head of Michel’s cock pushed against his tight hole. Dru gasped, writhing against the invasion. So good. So right. He twisted, trying to throw Michel off halfheartedly at best. It was like a wrestling match, but it could only end one way. Michel’s cock shoved deep, skewering Dru with pleasure as his thick prick shuttled its way in and out of Dru’s muscular ring. All the fight went out of him in an instant. Yes. Yes. Yes. More. Fuck! He wanted his lover’s cum inside him, needed to be marked internally as well as externally. This was the only man allowed to dominate him like this. The only man on the planet that was allowed to own him.

 

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Well, except for Cord. He would allow Cord to fuck him, but it wouldn’t be the same. With Michel, it was a toss-up of who would really be the winner in a contest of wills. The shifter set a beautiful, hard pace that was designed to drive Dru over the edge in no time flat. Dru felt mindless in his arms, completely and utterly helpless against the power of his mate. He lifted his eyes and met Cord’s as he jacked his cock in rhythm to Michel’s thrusts. He licked his lips. His smaller mate groaned and shuffled forward, jerking himself off close enough that Dru could smell his arousal. Michel drove into his ass, hitting his prostate with every feral lunge. “Mine!” the shifter snapped. “Fucking take it. My ass. All mine.” “Yes. Yours. Fuck. Michel. Yours.” Dru didn’t care what he had to agree to in order to get Michel to never stop, but he would say it. The pleasure stretched on and his cock hurt it was so damn hard. A final lunge sent Dru over the edge, screaming his pleasure to the rooftops as Michel bellowed his own from behind him. Dru leaned forward and sealed his mouth over the head of Cord’s dick as the smaller shifter shot. He swiped his tongue over the hole, coaxing the burst of seed as it erupted into his willing mouth. They stayed that way for a frozen moment before his mates pulled back with near-identical groans of satisfaction. Dru smiled dizzily. Nothing felt as good as this. Michel’s hand snaked down and wrapped around his still-half-hard cock. He nipped Dru’s neck. “Ready for round two?” His half-hard length stirred in renewed interest. Oh hell yes. “Knock, knock, guys!” the Ravyn from before called out a second before he stepped into the tent. Dru snarled at the interruption. He was fucking aching for more attention from his mates. It was just another mark against the Ravyn he was tempted to bury six feet under. Michel’s arms wrapped around his middle and squeezed in warning.

 

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“Ger, this better be good,” Cord griped, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the Ravyn. “Well, it is. I wouldn’t interrupt otherwise,” Ger said, his eyes flicking over their nude forms before hitting the carpet. “Natiri’s back with his new husband, and they want to come in and see you guys. Thought I’d warn you before they got here.” “Get dressed,” Dru snapped at Cord, who he just realized was naked. At least he was standing in front of Michel. Cord chortled a little at his command before bending over and collecting his pants from the bottom of the pillows. “You, too,” he said over his shoulder. Michel kissed his neck and gave his hips a squeeze. He felt him move out from behind him. A thought occurred to Dru. Germany raised his eyes and met his. The evil Desmond put inside him reared its head. He felt his body move before his mind could process what he was doing. Salvatore’s pet Ravyn would look fantastic with Dru’s hands wrapped around his throat. One less Ravyn would mean Salvatore was weakened, one step closer to ruin. He hated Salvatore and everything he represented. Desmond was the rightful heir. Ger raised his hands in a defensive position as Dru reached for him. He was going to kill that little fucker… Pain exploded in his nose and head as Germany moved faster than Dru could follow. His head whipped back, and his back collided with the floor of the tent. How the hell did that happen? He groaned and clutched the offending pain in his face. He’d have black eyes in a few hours, he could almost guarantee it. He froze as a blade was laid on his throat, pushing down hard enough to bite. “Brother, you touch me again, I will drop you where you stand. Again. Got it?” Ger asked, his voice deadly. “I love you, but you’re not free-for-alling on my ass. I forgive you for what you do because I know you’re not right in the head right now, but this whole trying-tokill-me thing won’t be tolerated.” He raised his eyes without removing the blade at Dru’s throat. “I thought you said you tied him.”

 

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“We untied him while we were with him.” The sheepish voice of his bigger mate reached his ears. Ger rolled his eyes. “Don’t do it again. Keep him leashed until we fix him. I don’t care if you have to tie him with one of those baby leashes to you and Cord. Keep him tied.” “Don’t you order them to do anything, ever, Ravyn. Do you hear me?” Dru snarled. It would’ve been more intimidating had he not been flat on his back. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you. You’re the big, bad Dove. I got it,” Ger said sarcastically. “They’re mine,” Dru snapped. “Being a Dove has nothing to do with it, you Ravyn bastard.” Ger just laughed.

 

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Chapter Sixteen Cord knew the shackles they’d put on Dru’s wrists and ankles didn’t make his mate pleased, but he’d proven irrevocably that he couldn’t be trusted not to act on the impulses that drove him. Ger scribbled in his notebook on the low-lying table, glancing up occasionally as Michel and Cord hand-fed Dru from their plates. They’d had to change Dru’s dressings because of how active he’d been since he’d awoken, which had been about as pleasant as a root canal. The sharp intakes of breath that escaped Dru as well as the death glare he leveled at Germany whenever something was painful enough to make him cry out let everyone know exactly how he felt about the subject. His sullen mate looked vastly unhappy, and Cord could sense how much pain he was in. There was a certain amount of guilt attached to that knowledge. After all, Cord had been the one to bite into his leg. “Wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know, and I would’ve killed you if given half a chance,” Dru said, swallowing the bit of bread that Michel fed him. Their bond was open to its fullest extent, the cord wide enough to allow their thoughts to mingle on a level that almost made the mates’ thoughts innate to one another. Cord sighed and leaned his head against Dru’s arm. “Do you want me to go to the physician and get some herbs for pain?” “No. It makes my head feel like it’s filled with spiderwebs. Pass. I’ll deal with it.” Dru used both his hands to pick up his cup and take a swig of the wine Michel had poured him. “Where the hell is this general of yours? I want to get this over with.”

 

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“He’ll be here soon, Dru. Please, show a little patience,” Michel said, reaching out and rubbing Dru’s rigid back. He frowned. “Your back is knotted all to hell. I’ll have to give you a rubdown later.” “A back rub sounds good to me,” Dru murmured, his eyes only half mast. He was getting tired already. It had been a very active and very long day. Despite their earlier nap, his body was demanding he heal, and to do so he had to sleep. “Where are Crave and Gorgeous?” Ger looked up at that. “The other Doves you were with?” “Yeah.” “They’re prisoners of the dragons over in their encampment, far out of your reach,” Ger answered. He shook his head. “It’s so weird talking to you like an enemy, brother.” He paused. “You don’t even feel like Druas anymore. At least not completely.” Cord felt the whiplash of regret go through Druas and crowded closer to his side. The idea of Dru being less than himself made his mate depressed. Cord wished that they’d been able to make love before Ger had come in. He thought it would go a long way toward lifting Druas’s spirits. Dru felt okay when he and Michel were around, but Cord imagined he would feel even better if he felt closer to them in the both physical and mental sense. “He’s still Druas,” Michel said firmly. “And you’re upsetting my mate, so hush.” Ger fell silent once more and continued writing in his notebook. Cord drummed his fingers on his thigh. Man, this is awkward. This didn’t resemble the close brotherly tie that he’d grown used to when being around two or more of the Ravyns. They’d even opened their family to include Michel and Cord, and that inclusion had meant a lot to the both of them who’d never really fit into the traditional roles of even their own people. Working so closely with the vampires had separated them largely from the other shifters, but they were separated from vampires because they viewed them as employees. They’d found a place among the Ravyns unlike anywhere else. The fact that their mate had been a member of the group was icing on the cake.

 

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It was a relief when Natiri ducked into the room. The seven-foot general gave them a smile that didn’t quite go all the way to his eyes. He looked…tired. “Hello, Ravyns. My camp hasn’t burnt down in my absence, despite the fact that you’ve had trouble. Thank you,” Natiri said, walking farther into the room and flopping down on a set of pillows they’d left out for him. “Where’s the new husband, Natiri?” Ger asked, smirking slightly. “Never thought you’d settle down, old man.” Natiri snorted. “A marriage that was arranged between monarchs that I was never privy to is not exactly my idea of a romance, but what’s done is done.” His eyes flicked toward the door. “He’ll be along, I’m sure. His royal highness is courting, so he believes that we should be attached at the hip.” “You’re not liking the courting?” Ger asked. Natiri snorted. “I’m not a maiden.” Cord couldn’t help but agree. Natiri was massive, the biggest man Cord had ever seen with the exception of the dragon clutch that belonged to Rasta. To think of a man courting him seemed almost silly. He was a man used to being in charge, and Cord imagined he wasn’t happy at being slotted into the position of beta male. “The circlet looks nice,” Cord said, wanting to contribute something to the conversation. The thin, gold circle was simple with only the subtlest of decoration in the forms of Celtic knot work in the metal. Again, Natiri snorted. “Yeah. It was the simplest one in the treasury. At least he knew better than to pick out one of the godsawful ones that had all the dangling, sparkly gems. Dragons feel like they have to wear half their hoard all the damn time.” He made a sound of disgust and touched the gold on his head. “Trying to convince them that I really don’t want something glittering and I’m not being modest is like convincing a dog to leave a bone alone after he’s claimed it. It’s bloody well impossible.”

 

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Okay, well, so much for trying a neutral subject. Cord watched Michel hide a smile behind his napkin as he wiped his face of crumbs. The connection between them wavered, and Michel and Cord turned to look at Druas, who had perked up and tilted his head like he was listening to something none of them could hear. “What is it, pretty?” Michel asked. Fear started trickling into Cord’s mind. What was wrong now? “Desmond is holding Court. He’s just announced that there is to be a draft. He’s not happy about the reaction to it.” Dru sounded dazed as he spoke. “The nobles are arguing with him. No one argues with him. Gods, he’s pissed.” “That is fucking creepy,” Ger said softly. Dru surged to his feet and nearly fell over for his trouble. “I’ve got to go. He’s calling us.” “Us?” Cord asked. “The Doves. I’ve got to go. Unhook these things,” Dru demanded, extending his hands toward Michel and Cord. Ger huffed. “He has obviously missed the whole point of being a prisoner of war. Desmond’s mind fuck certainly didn’t affect your stubbornness.” Cord saw the frustration building in Dru’s face, and he knew that his mate was heading for another explosion. “Unhook his binds,” he instructed Michel. Dru turned toward him. “Want to go for a walk, baby?” Dru reminded Cord a little of the turned cats who, for whatever reason, were infected by the spirits of the shifter’s beasts and turned into unstable creatures somewhere in between human and shifter. Sometimes it helped to get them out of the situation and let them walk off the feral energy. Dru nodded. “Yeah.” He sounded strained. “Yeah, I’d like that.” Ger opened his mouth. “Do you think it’s a good—” “Trust me, Ger,” Cord interrupted. He saw the indecision on Ger’s face, but he got a nod anyway. They were Ravyns. They backed one

 

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another up. It was almost the first time Cord had been showed so completely that he was a part of the brotherhood. “I’ll have a couple warriors follow you,” Natiri offered. Cord nodded. “Fine, just have them hang back.” “Will do.” Michel unlocked the bottom half of the chains to free up Dru’s legs and pressed a kiss to his injured thigh and then unlocked his wrists. “You sure walking will be okay?” “I gotta move,” Dru muttered, his eyes already darting to the door. “I’ll bring him back,” Cord said. “You stay and get the info on our departure. Okay?” Michel agreed and gave both of them kisses before ushering them out into the sunlight. It was early evening by then, the sun making its trek toward the horizon and turning the regularly golden-orange sky into something of burnt sienna. They walked in silence for a good twenty minutes, watching the demons as they moved around camp and went about their business. They moved farther out from the busy center toward the lesspopulated area at the edge of the tents. The open dessert was beyond the line of tents, and Cord hoped that Dru would be okay with staying in the stretch between the demon tents and the dragon’s site. “I hate this,” Dru muttered, kicking a rock about the size of a yoyo out of his path. “I was uncertain before, but now I feel…torn.” Cord listened to the misery in Dru’s voice and ached to take it away. “I’m sorry, baby.” “You two are the only thing I’m certain about.” Dru seemed to take comfort in that, which pleased Cord to no end. “I mean, you’re mine.” “Yes,” Cord agreed. “I am. So is Michel.” Again, they fell silent, each seemingly lost in their own contemplations. His mate hadn’t even grabbed a shirt when Cord had made the suggestion to walk, so everything showed in his musculature. Cord watched as the muscles

 

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slowly relaxed in Dru’s shoulders. The walking was doing the job he’d hoped it would. “How did you know?” Dru asked suddenly. Cord looked up. “How did I know what?” “That I needed air.” “Ah, well, I’ve seen similar reactions in turned shifters from my clan. When the soul is in conflict, anxiety spikes.” He paused. “Plus I’m your mate. I’m supposed to know you better than I know myself.” “It’s kinda nice.” Dru looked almost shy when he said it. The wind changed direction and blew the slight scent of arousal into Cord’s nostrils. The anxiety had turned to need. He’d never met anyone else’s needs but Michel’s. His eyes scanned the area and saw a small rock outcropping fifty feet away. The bond warmed, and he knew that Dru could sense the direction of his thoughts. Without a word, Dru reached over, took his hand, and tugged him in the direction of the rocks. They just needed a little privacy. Cord’s heart thudded in his ears as he was led to the rocks. He’d never been with just Dru before. It felt like an intimacy that he’d never experienced. He was already hard as a virgin on his first fuck. It actually made it hard to walk because his dick was rubbing uncomfortably against the rough material of his pants. He was extremely glad they only had a few more feet to go. Dru squeezed his hand and pulled him behind the rocks. Dru’s lips were almost instantly on his, and Cord gasped as his tongue forced its way into his mouth. The dark edge of dominance made Cord shudder. Oh yes. He wanted Dru and felt the need to come together with him, to reinforce the bond which had been so new before Dru had been stolen from them. “Are you ready?” Dru murmured against his lips. “Yes,” Cord breathed, already panting lightly. He’d lubed himself up early in preparation for the lovemaking that was interrupted. “Good.” His hands went to Cord’s pants and pulled the button free of the loop. He groaned, eager to have Dru’s hands on him. His mate

 

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carefully unbuttoned the line of buttons which held his pants together until his cock sprang free and waved eagerly for Dru’s attention. Cord blushed at the vulgarity of it. “You have a pretty dick, baby,” Dru purred, reaching out with one hand and pumping his dick with expert strokes of his fist. He swiveled his hips, fucking into that tight grip. “Gods, you make beautiful noises when you’re touched.” He licked his lips. “I want to suck you, baby. Will you let me?” Cord swallowed hard and nearly came at the thought of Dru’s mouth on him. “Only if I can suck you, too.” It was something that he and Michel had enjoyed in the past, a secret fetish of his in which he hadn’t been able to indulge in a while. Both of his mates loved fucking too much to let him have some mutual fellatio. “Done, baby,” Dru murmured, unbuttoning his own pants and laying them out carefully in the longest part of the shadow from the rock. The sun was setting quicker now, and the shadows played over all the tan skin Dru exposed to him. Cord pushed his pants the rest of the way off his hips, kicked off his shoes, and stepped out of them. As a shifter, nudity was natural. However, when Dru’s eyes were on him, he felt sexy in his nakedness. Dru flopped down on the pants he’d discarded and motioned for Cord to join him. Cord obeyed without question and licked his lips in anticipation. Without warning, Dru flipped him to his stomach and hauled his leg over his head so that he that he was straddling Dru’s face with Dru’s cock in his own. “Dru…” He groaned the word. A finger circled his hole, making him jump before he relaxed into the touch. The digit teased him until he was pushing his hips back in a silent plea for penetration. “Suck me, Cord. Now.” Cord couldn’t resist the dark rumble of command in Dru’s voice. He was dying for a taste of his lover anyway. Leaning forward, he took the head of Dru’s hot cock into his mouth. The salty, liquid precum exploded on his tongue, and he couldn’t help but suck harder to

 

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draw some more of that flavor into his eager mouth. The moan his lover issued gave him a sense of intense satisfaction. He suckled eagerly, bobbing his head up and down. A warm, hot cavern engulfed his prick, and the finger that had been teasing him plunged into his ass. Cord suckled his dick in thanks, loving it with all the muscles of his mouth to try and convey his adoration. My mate, gods, my sexy mate. His hips plunged downward, fucking Dru’s face as the demon managed to master Cord’s reaction despite being the one on bottom. He commanded Cord with clever licks of his tongue and plunges of his fingers. Cord was making little noises of need in the back of his throat as he was toyed with by his larger mate. He sucked harder on Dru’s cock, focusing his energy on giving Dru the blow job of his life to keep from losing himself and coming too quickly. Dru spread his legs wider and gave a moan of his own, bracing his legs so that he could get leverage to fuck himself upward into Cord’s mouth. Cord indulged the feral thrust by relaxing his throat and taking everything Dru had to give deep into the back of his mouth. It just seemed to incite Dru more, because the mouth on his dick sucked almost desperately, and the fingers moving in and out of his ass flexed with greater urgency. Who’s the boss now, my sexy mate? He would’ve smirked had his mouth not been stuffed full of his lover’s body. The fingers working him hit a bundle of nerves particularly deep inside, and a spasm of sensation ricocheted through him. Dru pulled off his cock for a second. “Come for me, Cord.” The command made his brain turn to absolute mush. Cord continued with his task of driving his mate crazy, but he knew he was approaching the edge of no return. He could feel the orgasm burning up his spine, filling his mind with the urge to come down his mate’s willing throat. He resisted the urge to plunge his arousal deeper into Dru’s mouth. As much as his lover wanted to please, he was still relatively new to the

 

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act of giving head and Cord didn’t want to gag him. But, gods, it felt so damn good… A scrape of teeth on Cord’s sensitive skin made him shudder and grunt out praises around the object in his mouth. He was close. So close. The fingers fucking him twisted and set off those nerves once again, and his eyes rolled. Dru did it again. And again. Gods, I’m going to come so fucking hard. The thought flitted across his mind an instant before he climaxed. His whole body convulsed as pleasure swamped him, stealing away thoughts of fear for the future or for his mate’s sanity. Nothing existed but the cock in his mouth and the man in his arms. Cord spiraled down from his high in an almost-lazy fashion. The fingers were withdrawn from his still-clenching butt, and the mouth came off his arousal with a final lick. Still, Cord concentrated on nothing but Dru and giving his mate pleasure. I love this man. I love this man. I love this man. It became a mantra in his head. Finally, Dru gasped around Cord’s length, and an accompanying flood of fluid shot into Cord’s mouth. Cord sealed his lips over the crown of the jerking head, swallowing as much of the flow as he was able as his mate gave him his pleasure in a gush of physical desire. Dru reached around and pushed on his shoulders, signaling for Cord to take him deeper. Relaxing his throat once again, Cord indulged him. They stayed that way for an endless moment before Dru started to soften in Cord’s mouth and made a little sound of protest as Cord lapped at the ultrasensitive tip. He drew off Dru’s length with a pop of satisfaction. Licking his lips in search of any stray hints of pleasure, he rested his head against Dru’s hip. It was full dark now, the world a nest of shadows and the only light the red glow of fires from the numerous encampments around them. “Gods, that was beautiful,” Dru whispered softly, pulling Cord up and around so that he was resting against Dru’s chest. “Is it always like that?”

 

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“Pretty much. Except it gets better with time, or so I’m told,” Cord answered. He pressed a kiss to Dru’s sweat-slicked chest. They were both probably covered in the red earth they’d been lounging in, but he didn’t give a shit. He felt close to Dru for the first time in weeks, and damn if it didn’t feel right as rain. Dru snorted. “If it gets any better, you’re going to have a demon with cardiac arrest or an aneurysm or some crap on your hands.” Cord rolled his eyes but smiled all the same. It was nice to be content for once. Everything had just been crazy since they’d first come together. A rocky start to a mating was okay, though. It made Cord appreciate his mates all the more. “Cord, I remember touching you,” Dru said unexpectedly, squeezing him to his side. “I may not remember anything else, but I remember my mates. You and Michel are everything to me.” The words set off a cacophony of sensation in his chest. It felt so good to hear, but the knowledge that they’d come damn close to losing Dru made him sad in a way that wasn’t rational. He tried to shrug it off, but he’d believed for weeks that Dru was probably never coming home. The mourning had taken its toll. Dru turned his chin up. “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you sad.” Cord swallowed. “I’m okay. I’m sorry. I just, I was just so scared…” “Shh, mate. I’m here now.” He paused. “I believe you when you say I was a Ravyn. I believe you when you say I was never on Desmond’s side. I want…I want to break the connection between the king and myself.” “Thank gods,” Cord murmured, relief washing over him like a soothing balm. “You won’t regret this trust, Dru. I promise.” They fell silent again, just enjoying the company of each other as the sound of wind moving over the desert lulled them into a place of peace. Cord’s stomach rumbled, interrupting their moment. He blushed, embarrassed. Thank the gods it’s dark. My cheeks are on fire.

 

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Dru chuckled. “Okay, let’s go back. You need some food.” **** Michel felt the bond pulse in time with his mates’ lovemaking. Discreetly, he pulled a pillow into his lap to keep his reaction to the arousal his mates were sending down the line hidden from the other men in the room. Though, if the knowing looks were any indication, they knew perfectly well what he was feeling. Ger finished scribbling in his notebook and slapped it shut. “There isn’t a reason to delay our return to Earth. We need to get this situation with Druas taken care of ASAP, you feel me?” “I feel you,” Michel said. “And furthermore, I agree. Think you can handle things from here, Natiri?” The general nodded. “I can. I’ve already been in contact with Prince Salvatore. The army starts marching on some of the larger southern cities in a few days’ time. You Ravyns need to return to Prince Salvatore’s side as soon as possible to ready yourselves for the whiplash that is to come. Desmond will send everything he has to try and get rid of the problem at its source.” “When your mates get back, we’ll leave for Earth and then go on to the faery realm. It’ll be the best place to hold a defensive position or to launch an offensive one. The guys and I have already discussed the necessity of it,” Ger said. “We’re going to move all our families out of Haven for the time being. The Entertainers have properties in New York that we’ll use until this is over.” “Is leaving Haven really necessary?” Michel asked. The Entertainers had been there for hundreds of years. It just didn’t make sense to move them. “It’s either leave or shut everything down entirely, which Santiago would have a fit about. They’re not warriors, and we need the space as a base for the vampires from the other clans to leave from. We

 

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don’t trust Desmond not to strike out at our lovers and children.” Ger sighed. “This isn’t easy.” Michel shook his head. “No, it’s not. It might be best to move them to the faery realm as well. I mean, it is a fortress of sorts.” “There are problems with that as well, but we can talk it over with Salvatore when we get back,” Ger said. They were interrupted by a huge nine-foot giant who ducked through the door only to hit his head on the beams overhead. Michel’s eyes bulged. Christ! Where do they grow these people? The fact that there was someone alive who was in fact bigger than Natiri was a shock to him. Rasta’s clutch had never been that close to him. He had to be a dragon. He had jet-black hair with red streaks throughout and a pair of ruby-red eyes that were almost the same shade as Salvatore’s. “Sorry I’m late, Natiri. I was enjoying some of the children you have down the road. You did not tell me you collected orphans,” the huge man said, smiling softly to reveal white, straight teeth. Natiri rolled his eyes. “I don’t ‘collect’ orphans. They’re the children of my people who have died in battle. I can’t very well leave them parentless and homeless, can I?” “It is a noble thing to care for the offspring of your warriors. They will come back with us to our kingdom when we return.” The giant seemed to be completely ignoring Natiri’s thunderous expression and less-than-welcome tone. “We are not bringing thirty kids to the dragon realm. They’re demons. They will stay in Demontia,” Natiri said firmly. “Where will they go while your warriors fight? How will they survive when war tears this world apart? They will absolutely go to our kingdom. If you do not wish to keep them as heirs, then we will find a way to adopt them to other creatures who desire children.” The male sat beside Natiri and draped his arm over Natiri’s shoulders. “We’re opening a freaking adoption agency now?” Natiri rumbled, clearly unhappy.

 

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“Hush, lygan. I told you that I would take care of things in your life when we wed, did I not?” The giant smiled at Ger and Michel, and Michel couldn’t help but feel like he was being sized up. “Are you not introducing me to your Ravyn friends, lygan?” “Stop calling me that,” Natiri snapped. It was the first time Michel could recall seeing Natiri ungracious. “This is Germany and Michel. They’re the Ravyns I’ve been telling you about. Minus the two that are out walking.” The dragon inclined his head. “It is nice to meet you, Ravyns. I hope that in the future your Prince Salvatore, may he attain his true crown, and my family can resume favorable relations once more. It has been too long since dragons and demons were friendly to one another.” “Begging your pardon, my lord, may we have your name as well?” Germany asked, smiling a little sheepishly. “Natiri didn’t give us your name.” The dragon frowned. “Ah. Of course he didn’t.” Was that a flicker of annoyance in his expression? “I am Prince Dyend of the Crimson line. The same line your prince is from, I believe.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Prince Dyend,” Michel said. “Rasta has been a great help to my fellow Ravyn and my mates since he’s arrived. I just thought you should know that. Your people have been wonderful.” “Hopefully, they will be of greater use in the future, but that is neither here nor there,” the prince said. His eyes turned to the general. “Natiri, it is time we go rest. You’ve been traveling too long, and I have need of you, lygan.” Michel heard the dismissal. He could totally relate. He couldn’t wait to grab some alone time with his mates, either. The problem was how he was going to stand up and not prominently display for the entire room the fact that he was hard. “I am not tired,” Natiri rumbled. “Besides, I want to go to the fireside dances.”

 

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“You will rest first.” “You don’t get to order me around, Dyend. I am not a weak-kneed pup you get to train to your likings.” “I didn’t say you were.” “You didn’t have to.” Ger grabbed Michel’s arm. “Leave them to it. Marriage isn’t agreeing with Natiri, apparently.” The Ravyn was smiling. Michel frowned. “That’s cruel.” He let the other Ravyn tug him to his feet, and he managed to adjust himself with his spare hand as discreetly as possible before walking out of the tent. “It’s not cruel. I don’t remember ever seeing Natiri so interested in someone and fighting the attraction so damn hard. It’s cute,” Ger said after they’d wandered a few feet away. Michel gave him a look that said he was out of his mind. “That’s him being attracted to someone? It looked like he couldn’t stand the guy.” “You have to learn to understand demons a bit better, friend. The stronger they react to something, the more vulnerable they’re feeling. Natiri likes his new husband and is trying very, very hard not to seem like he likes him too much.” Ger grabbed the arm of a passing soldier. “Go to Natiri’s tent and collect the things belonging to the Ravyns Michel and Cord. Bring them to the seer’s tent.” The soldier nodded before dashing off. “Why are you getting my stuff?” Michel asked. “Because we’re leaving from there. I’ll go ahead and get the power collected to open the bolt holes. Speaking of which, you two really need to learn how to do that. It’s ridiculous that two Ravyns can’t even get home.” Ger took a right between a row of tents and then a left down another. He pointed to the brown, unimportantlooking tent on their right. “That’s the seer tent. All magickal activities are supposed to be performed there. It’s the central power hub of the whole encampment.” He ducked inside, and Michel had little choice but to follow.

 

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“We have need of the space, sister. May we use it?” Germany asked in Demonish to the short, squat woman who was grinding herbs on a small table in the corner. “Of course, Ravyns. This place is always open to you,” she answered with a smile. She stopped her task and stepped around the table before vanishing out of the back entrance. “So now what?” Michel asked as Germany took a seat in the circle of the carpet on the floor. “Now we wait for your mates to get back.”

 

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Chapter Seventeen “Mi-mi, Cordie!” Two squealing tornados threw themselves at Dru’s mates’ shins as they stepped through the bolt hole to Earth. The gate hadn’t even shut behind them when the two small creatures were running around their ankles like puppies. Michel bent over and scooped one of them up and started scattering kisses over the little one’s face. The other one walked right up to him and stared up at him, raising his thin arms as if he wanted Dru to pick him up. “What the hell is going on?” Dru asked. I wouldn’t have forgotten children. Surely I wouldn’t have forgotten if we had freaking children. Two pairs of golden eyes turned toward him and regarded him curiously. They were imitations of his own. Damn. We have children. He swallowed hard. He felt strangled by the thought. Being a father was a terrifying prospect. “Daya?” one of them asked. It was the demon word for daddy. Fuck. I’m a dad. He knelt carefully and opened his arms. “Look, Iso, it’s Daya!” the little one squealed, throwing his arms around Dru’s neck and burying his little skull against his throat. The one in Michel’s arms started squirming until he put him down. He immediately threw himself at Dru. “Daya!” “You waited until now to tell me we had children?” he asked in a strangled voice. He held on tightly to the child in his arms and forgot how to breathe. “Um, it’s sort of a recent development,” Cord said, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. “You didn’t know about them before you were taken to Desmond’s.”

 

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“Then why are they calling me ‘daddy’?” he snapped. The little one in his arms made a noise of distress, and he instantly regretted his tone. “I’m not mad.” He huffed, trying to make up to the child. Children were so fragile. He was so damn big! He didn’t know how to be gentle. “Sound mad,” the kid muttered, raising his head to look at him full-on. Twins. We have twins. He was going to throw up. “Welcome home, guys,” an unfamiliar man greeted in a cheery voice. Dru looked up at the extra guy in the room. He had a wise-ass grin on his face, but when the twins looked at him, it turned into an instant pout. “I see how you two are. Two seconds with Daddy and his boyfriends and you forget all about Uncle Ally-Cat.” He gave Dru a wink. “So since Santiago and Ger are Father and Sire, what are you all going to be?” “Whatever they want to call us,” Michel said instantly. Yep. Dru was pretty sure he was going to throw up. “Daya, no worry so much,” one of twins demanded, cupping his cheeks in tiny hands. Gods, they’re so small. “What’s your name?” Dru managed to ask around the lump in his throat. “Hardwin,” the child said proudly. “And you?” he asked the other one. The little one worried on his bottom lip and looked down bashfully. “Iso.” His heart expanded impossibly, opening up to the two of them in that instant. They felt like his. Not like Michel and Cord felt like his, but they were a part of his family nonetheless. He smiled as he settled into the thought. He was still terrified, but the what-the-hell-am-Igoing-to-do feeling was fading as the two of them regarded him. “Those are pretty names. You two have been waiting here for us?” They nodded. “Have they been good to you here?” Again they nodded. Good. I don’t have to beat anyone’s ass. The protective

 

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thought startled him. He’d been a dad less than five minutes, and he was already super protective. Gods help me. Germany stepped around him so that he could get out of the portal’s entryway and close it behind him. “You need to get in contact with the fae and see when they can get people over here to take us to the other realm. We’ve got the first battle scheduled in a couple days’ time, and Desmond is very aware of everything we’ve been doing.” The stranger frowned. “Get the lead out, Ally-Cat. There is no time.” “Yeah. I missed you, too, jerk,” Ally said. “So what’s up with Dru? He’s being weird, and the bond is silent as the freaking grave.” “It’s a lot to explain. Suffice it to say, he thinks he’s a Dove. I’ll explain everything when we get to Prince Salvatore. I need to talk to Santiago and make arrangements for the troupe to get the hell out of Haven,” Ger said. He was looking pretty strained. The sense of satisfaction that filled Dru at the fact also came with a healthy dose of shame at the pettiness of it. “The fae realm is our safest bet.” “Once we secure the prince, you’re going hunting, aren’t you?” Ally asked, the first serious look Dru had seen plastered on his face. “I’m coming with.” “Yes. Hunting is just what I anticipate doing. But that’s ultimately up to Salvatore. If he decides to allow me the hunt, I will of course take you along as well.” Ger looked at Druas. “But first we gotta deal with that.” “While you run around, shall we take Druas to his room with the boys? I want to keep his stress down. If we start exposing him to too much, I’m afraid he’ll lose control,” Cord said, smiling at Dru apologetically. He was probably right, but… “I would never do anything to frighten the children,” Dru rumbled. His grip tightened on the two of them. “He knows that, pretty,” Michel said. “He just wants to keep the stress level down until everything gets settled. Jumping between worlds and moving half a household is a difficult and stressful task. Let Germany and Allasandro deal with all the legwork. We’ll go pack

 

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things for us, and we’ll need to go shopping at some point before we leave.” “Shopping?” Dru asked. “Yes. The children are going to need some clothes and things. Plus, it’ll be Christmas soon, and they’ll need something to open,” Michel said. “Actually, it was Christmas five days ago. Happy New Year,” Ally interrupted. “We bought them some stuff already, but I’m sure they’d like something else from their papas.” “We missed Christmas?” Cord asked, looking pained. Dru frowned. “What the hell is Christmas?” “Is where everybody gives presents, Daya,” Hardwin piped up. “Ally said we could get everything we wanted at kaskas.” The market. “We got lots.” He beamed proudly, and Dru found himself smiling. “Sorry, Cord. You did miss Christmas, but that’s okay. The little ones got a ton of stuff from all their uncles. They were in hog heaven. Damian was friggin’ loving it.” Ally laughed. “He called the adoption agency we’re going through at least five times since the little ones got here trying to hurry the process along.” “They’ll still need more,” Cord said stubbornly. “Come on. We need to start packing either way.” Dru agreed. “Yeah. They need something from us.” He leveled a glare at Ally who held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, we’re just trying to make them feel at home. They missed you guys.” “I’ll catch up to you two in a bit. Dru needs to rest,” Michel interrupted before an argument could ensue. “Come to Mi-mi, boys. Let Daya up.” They went willingly but did look at him, almost making sure that he was following. He so didn’t believe them that this was the first time he’d met these two. They were way too familiar with him to just be meeting him. But then again, what did he know about kids?

 

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They’d apparently been in the lower levels, because they trudged up three flights of stairs before they came out to the main level of the house. It was a massive residence. His leg and side were aching by the time they reached the marbled landing. “Ngh,” he grunted as he stepped down on his legs again and pain shot up it. “We need to get that leg examined by a real doctor. You demons may have some killer home remedies, but some actual medicine would not be amiss,” Cord said, immediately coming to his side. “We’ve got one more set of stairs to go up to get to the Ravyns’ rooms. Is that okay?” “I’ll make it. The tear in the muscle is just bothering me. It should be healing faster than this,” Dru griped. Iso and Hardwin swiveled their heads around to look at him. “Daya sick?” Iso asked, his bottom lip beginning to tremble. “I’m fine, kiddo. No worries,” Dru reassured. He’d have to watch his reactions from now on. He didn’t want the little ones to worry about him. “I could carry you,” Michel offered, swinging around toward them. “Cord could carry the kids.” “I’m fine, I said,” Dru rumbled. He would not be carried up the stairs like a 1920s heroine just because he had a little scratch on his leg. “More of a puncture, love,” Cord commented, reading his mind. Dru rolled his eyes and stomped toward the stairs as gingerly as he could manage without losing his all-important image of masculine strength. Demons displayed their strength to the nth degree. He was no exception to the rule. After two short pauses and a few moments where Dru wasn’t exactly sure he could make it to the top, he hit the landing. “Stubborn,” Cord muttered, hovering hear his elbow as he took a wobbly step forward. “Bite me, kitty cat.”

 

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Michel snickered. “I’m calling the doctor when we get to the room.” They slowly made their way down the hallway and paused outside a room numbered four. Dru looked at his mates. Were they going to open it or what? “We know where it is. We’ve never been inside,” Michel explained. “Go ahead, Dru. Open it.” Dru hesitated for the barest of moments before he opened the door. The first thing he was hit with was the wide windows whose curtains were pushed back to the brink to allow as much light as possible to shine through them. The second thing he noticed was that the whole place was a jungle. Plants and water decorations littered the space, making it into a sort of jungle oasis with the bed as the centerpiece. Huh. I really brought the outdoors in. Two sets of rumbling purrs rose up to caress his ears. He looked at his mates who regarded the room with no small amount of appreciation. They apparently liked it. The canopy bed at the center was a mesh of blue and green, a combination of earth and water. It really was beautiful. “Hiya, Asshole,” an alien voice squawked, nearly making Dru jump out of his skin. On the right side of the bed where the nightstand should’ve been was a twisted hunk of wood that was carved out with places for swings and toys of various types. Atop it, tethered by a thin string, was a gorgeous red, blue, and yellow bird. Dru blinked. “That thing just talked.” Demontia didn’t have any talking wildlife. Holy shit! Too-intelligent eyes regarded him. “Hiya, Asshole,” it repeated. Michel started laughing as the kids stared at it with the same fascination as Dru. “It’s called a parrot, a Macaw to be exact.” It ruffled its feathers and opened its wings. “Come here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” it said. Cord giggled a little at that. “They’re really smart. You never told us you had a bird, Dru.”

 

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“Um, well, in my defense, I don’t remember having a bird.” Dru continued to stare at it. It really was beautiful. Was it his pet? He supposed so. He approached it cautiously, and it seemed to get really excited the closer he came. It bobbed its head back and forth, nearly dancing in enthusiasm. He reached out his hand, and the thing nuzzled him like a cat. Smiling, he scratched behind its head, and it made a little noise of contentment. It turned its head and took Dru’s finger in its mouth, not hurting, just holding on. It was almost like a handshake. “Wanna see. Wanna see, Mi-mi!” Hardwin demanded, squirming out of Michel’s grip. “Sit on the bed, Hardwin,” Michel commanded. “You want to see the birdie, too, while Mi-mi makes a phone call and Cordie starts packing Daya’s things?” he asked Iso. The shyer boy nodded and let himself be put down. The twins climbed onto the canopy bed, and Dru gave the bird one last pat before kicking off his shoes and joining them. Normally, he would’ve insisted on helping Cord out as he went to the closet and started taking out clothes, but he was just so damn tired from everything. It had been night in Demontia, but it seemed to be midday here. Couple that with his injuries and it was no wonder that he wanted to lay down and sleep. The twins cuddled to both sides of him, and the bird moved closer, examining the two smaller versions of Dru as if trying to figure them out. “What’s his name, Daya?” Iso asked in his soft voice. “I don’t know,” Dru answered truthfully. He closed his eyes and felt the two warm bodies beside him. Hopefully, he’d have answers for them soon. “He named Pretty. Like Daya,” Hardwin insisted, his little skull pressed against Dru’s chest. “Like Michel calls me?” Hardwin nodded. “Yep. Like Mi-mi calls Daya.” The little one paused. “You sleepy, Daya?”

 

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Dru tried to force his eyes open, but they just wouldn’t cooperate. He was too tired. With a sigh, he gave up the fight for consciousness and let himself slip into a dream. **** Cord packed everything in the variety of duffle bags that Dru had stuffed into the back of the closet. His weapons had their own special cases, but he figured he wouldn’t be giving him access to them anytime soon. Dru and the twins had dropped off to sleep about twenty minutes ago, and so he worked in relative silence as he did his task. He longed to go curl up in bed with them, but there was just too much to do. Though, the calming sound of water flowing over rocks and the smell of jasmine weren’t exactly conducive to him moving any faster. He could hear Michel’s muffled voice on the other side of the door, talking to the vampires’ doctor. He was arranging for a home visit, and that suited Cord just fine. Dru really did need a professional looking at his wounds, though he knew Dru healed quickly because he was a demon. Michel ended his phone call and stepped back into the room. “The doctor will be here in about an hour to look at the wounds. Ger texted me and said Santiago has agreed to transport everyone in the Entertainer line plus some into the fae world. We’ll be going over earlier with Allasandro, though. Apparently, Salvatore is all about seeing Dru and what has happened to him.” “Shhh!” Cord shushed, glancing at the lightly snoring Dru and the equally unconscious twins. “They just dropped off a minute ago.” Michel chuckled quietly. “That didn’t take long. I was only on the phone for twenty minutes. Can I help you pack anything?” “Can you take the weaponry down to the basement where they’re going to open the gate? I don’t want Dru to get any weird ideas.” Cord smiled at his lover and gave him a kiss in gratitude when he

 

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nodded. He wondered what it would be like to have a home with his mates and the boys. The Ravyns had made it clear from the beginning that they always lived with one another, but the war would hopefully be over soon. What would that mean for the brotherhood? “I’ll start hauling this crap downstairs, then,” Michel said. He grabbed up the two heavy, plastic weapon cases and headed back toward the door. He looked at the bed. “Let them sleep.” The three of them curled up on the bed was the most adorable thing Cord could remember seeing. For not being related to Druas, both Iso and Hardwin looked a lot like the Ravyn. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” he asked as Michel reached the door. The bigger shifter’s gaze flicked over to the bed. “They’re beyond beautiful.” Cord couldn’t agree more.

 

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Chapter Eighteen The blond-haired advisor to the Faery King escorted them down never-ending hallways past very relaxed-looking guards. Dru rubbed his chest as the ache he felt there grew with each anticipatory step. They had dropped off the children in the massive children’s room where Jeremy, Ger and Santiago’s son, was already installed with all his video-game consoles. The guards had assured them that Allasandro had ordered the toys that had been given to the twins brought up while they went to see Prince Salvatore. Therein lay the reason for his extreme nervousness. Though he was several worlds away from Desmond, his will still held sway over Druas’s mind. A deep, unbending hatred bubbled like sludge in his heart at the thought of the man who caused Desmond so many problems. The idea of being in the same room as that man made him fear for his sanity. If he got the opportunity, he wouldn’t be able to resist the impulse to kill him. A man Dru hadn’t met before stepped out into the hallway. His golden eyes swept over them before he crossed his arms over his chest. “He stinks of anger and evil thoughts.” The man sighed. “He doesn’t feel like our Druas, though I can clearly see that he is him.” He shook his head and turned his back. “Bring him in. Prince Salvatore and Judgment are waiting.” Dru felt a surge of adrenaline wash over him as the door opened and the guards moved back out of the way. He itched for a weapon of some kind. The enemies all around him made him twitchy. No matter how much he told himself that these people weren’t really his enemies and that his mates had told him the truth when they said that

 

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he wasn’t actually a Dove, he still felt like he needed to act on the aggression pulsing through his veins in time with his heart. He stepped through the door with his mates right behind him. It opened up into a massive library of some kind. On the desk was a statue of a raven that had to be as tall as his smaller mate and looked heavy. He was intensely glad he hadn’t had to lift it for some reason. Swallowing hard, he stepped far enough into the room so that the door could snick shut behind them. His eyes went to the two men who stood on either side of the statue. The smaller of the two had a black faux hawk, dark eyes, and facial piercings. He leaned against the back of the chair on the left. The other had brilliant red hair the color of blood that was cut into artful spikes, and he had bright red eyes. Instant recognition filled him, and he trembled under the impulse to launch himself at the deposed monarch. He clenched his fists and commanded himself to breathe. Through the haze of the desire that ordered him to strike, to kill, the bond between himself and his mates flared bright, eclipsing the urge. He relaxed into the sensation and let it calm him. The man who had greeted them in the hallway took his place beside Salvatore with his dagger drawn. “Thank you, Tony,” the smaller man with the facial piercings said. “Druas? How are you feeling?” The sound of Prince Salvatore’s voice plunged him deeper into Desmond’s will. Luckily, his mates were there to pull him out of the king’s mind and back into his own. They crowded behind him close enough to where he could feel their heat. It helped. “I…” He swallowed. “Don’t talk. Your voice. It makes me want to…hurt you.” A look of pain passed over the monarch’s face before it faded like it never had been. “Ah, I see. Step forward to the statue. Let’s see what Judgment can do for you.”

 

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He took one step and then another. Moving closer to Salvatore was probably not a good idea. He wanted to kill him and felt a huge satisfaction at the thought of twisting a knife into his pale chest. “Oh, sweet Ravyn, what has he done to you?” a sympathetic voice asked in his head. He hissed at the mental touch. What the fuck was that? “He has stolen you, Druas. He has raped you in the worst of ways.” “Can it be fixed?” Salvatore asked. The entire room seemed to hold their breath. The statue spoke. “I can alter the bond, but I cannot break it without killing Druas. Desmond has taken a chunk of his soul.” The breath left Dru in a hiss at the statement. So much for things being fixed. He couldn’t stay here if that was the case. He couldn’t be around these people. He’d take his mates and his sons and go somewhere. Maybe he’d go back to Earth. Michel and Cord could get some assistance from their clan, and they could build or buy something in pack territory. They could be away from the conflict, and he could find a little peace away from Desmond. After a pause, the statue spoke again. “I think I can bring back his memory and possibly dampen the sharpness of the connection by reforging a bond with you, Salvatore, but a part of him will always be connected to Desmond so long as the monarch lives.” “Anything would help.” Michel’s deep rumble behind him made Dru half turn. Why couldn’t they just let things be? The statue had said he couldn’t fix him. He just wanted to get the hell out of this room before he took a chunk out of Salvatore’s ass. “Druas, look at me,” the statue commanded. Dru did, the rubies of the statue’s eyes capturing him. His stomach rolled as he felt the invasion of another mind crash into his own. “Forgive me, Ravyn. This may hurt a little bit.” No shit! He muffled his scream by biting down hard on his lip until he tasted blood. Images, pictures, and memories flashed through his mind in rapid succession, including those of the Court magicians

 

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ripping the information they desired from his mind. Gods, he’d been so naïve. The Cranes had been right. He’d been fucked over in the worst of ways. The sickly green bond between Desmond and himself flared for an instant, but the thread seemed to be shredded layer by layer until the bond that remained was the barest of threads. Relief rushed through him in a calming wash. Oh thank Gods. It wasn’t until the mental touch became less forceful did he realize his eyes had squeezed shut during the process. His breath was coming out in pants, and the warm hands of his mates may have been the only thing that was keeping him standing. “Dru?” Salvatore asked. “I remember. I remember you. Fuck. That was awful.” Dru wished his head would stop spinning like this. “Salvatore. They know everything. They know everything that we were planning. They know troop numbers and about the faeries and vampires. Gods, I’m so sorry.” His sentence ended in a sob, and his mates suddenly surrounded him, enveloping him in their scent. “It’s not your fault, pretty,” Michel assured, rubbing his cheek against the side of his lover’s head. Cord pressed a kiss to his neck. “They’re right, Dru. That was not your fault,” Salvatore’s voice was warm with understanding. “So when did you get mated to two shifters?” “In Demontia. My prince, please forgive me,” Dru said, pushing past his mates and having to grab ahold of the desk to keep from toppling over. Salvatore stepped around the desk and took his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. “There is nothing to forgive. You didn’t willingly give him anything.” “I can still feel him. The bond is diminished, but it’s still there. I can tell you exactly where he is. He’s in his room with his concubines. I know what he feels.”

 

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“But you don’t have to act on his will. You’ll never be free of him until he is dead, but you no longer have to obey him. Your mates’ bond helped break most of it,” the statue interrupted. Salvatore hugged him tighter, and Dru clutched at his prince tightly. The bond between himself and his brothers flared to life, and tears of gratitude pricked his eyes. My brothers, my dearest friends. He felt dirty having a piece of Desmond inside him, but he knew that he would find a way to break it. He’d kill Desmond himself to accomplish the task. He could still feel Desmond’s will in distant rumblings inside him, but he felt no compulsion to obey. At least he wasn’t a willing traitor. The thought made his mind trip up as memory hit him. “Holy shit!” he shouted. Salvatore pulled back and gave him a curious look. “What is it?” “Theron. Where is he?” Salvatore frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but Tony spoke up instead. “He was in his room painting twenty minutes ago.” “You’ve got to stay away from him. He’s working for Desmond as a spy,” Dru said. He might as well have dropped a bomb in the room. Tony looked like he’d been slapped, and the sharp inhalation from Salvatore and Destin told him that no one had expected that. “You’re sure?” Salvatore asked in a tight voice. “Yes, I’m sure. The Doves were bragging about it. He’s been reporting to Desmond on us. I don’t know how, but he’s been in contact. Three of the Cranes are stuck in the dungeon.” His dizziness was thankfully starting to fade. As his mind cleared, it became easier for him to focus. Tony’s jaw ticked, signaling how pissed he really was. “I’ll go take him to the dungeons.” “Make sure he’s in one of the more comfortable cells. There may be an explanation,” Salvatore cautioned. He looked a little sick himself.

 

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“Yes, my prince,” Tony said. He looked stiff and vastly uncomfortable. Poor Tony. The super loyal Ravyn leader didn’t know how to deal with betrayal. He stepped around the desk, walked across the room, and disappeared out the door. Salvatore sighed as the door thunked shut behind him. “I’m glad you are back on our side, Dru. You did well in contacting Natiri for us and getting everything arranged over in Demontia. I’m sorry you weren’t fully healed by Judgment.” The small Faery King piped up suddenly. “We may be able to use your connection to Desmond, actually. You said you can sense where he is?” Dru nodded. “That will help us find him when the coward goes to ground as the war heats up. This may work for us. Good job, Druas.” Dru snorted. “Thanks, my Prince Destin. Anything for the crown.” The punk-rock fae grinned. “Smart-ass.” Salvatore massaged the bridge of his nose as he often did when he was stressed out. “Why don’t you take your mates back to the rooms we arranged for you? We’ll meet back up for supper tonight. I need to rest a bit and talk things over with Destin. I need to figure out what we’re going to do with all this new information.” The dismissal was clear. Dru gave a bow and straightened, reaching for his mates as he did so. He was so happy to remember them in all the wonderful detail of their mating. Why he had ever even contemplated the possibility of life without them was beyond him. They managed to get out into the hallway and follow yet another guide to their sets of rooms. The fae were nothing if not gracious hosts. He was barely holding onto his control. He felt like he’d been separated from his mates forever. Having their memories stolen from him was equivalent to having someone erasing their connection. He needed to reaffirm their bond like he needed air in his lungs. The door wasn’t even shut before he launched himself at Michel, nearly tackling him to the floor in an effort to strip him of his clothes.

 

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Judgment had not just healed his mind. His leg wasn’t throbbing anymore, either. He demanded Michel’s kiss, ravishing his mouth with deep plunges of his tongue. His larger mate groaned and wrapped his arms around the Ravyn. “My mates, mine,” Dru growled the last word, already panting and hard. “Christ, Dru. I missed you,” Michel managed to gasp out between kisses. He backed them up to the large bed and pushed Dru back onto the plush surface. Dru attacked his shirt and pants, chucking them off the bed and out of sight. It was the first time he’d be with his mates on an actual bed, and he couldn’t fucking wait. His mates mimicked his mad behavior, stripping with a speed that bespoke of their equally desirous need. “Please tell me there is lube in this place,” Dru begged, reaching down and stroking his already-dripping cock as he watched his two lovers slink across the floor toward him. Michel reached the bed first and slid onto the soft mattress. Cord paused by the side table and dug in the drawer for a small bottle of lube which he held up triumphantly. “Prince Salvatore really thinks of everything,” Cord mumbled, tossing the bottle to Michel, who had flipped Dru to his stomach with his firm, muscled ass in the air for his perusal. He watched as his mate caught the bottle and drizzled some of the contents down the crack of Dru’s already-needy ass. The cold lube made him shiver. A finger circled his entrance, dipped inside. His eyes rolled. He wanted to fuck, and he didn’t want all the prep that would come with Michel treating him like he was going to break. “Get over here, Cord. I’m going to fuck you through the goddamn mattress,” Dru commanded as Michel’s fingers sawed in and out of his already-clenching ass. “Can’t wait, baby,” Cord murmured breathlessly, jumping into the bed beside them. Dru wasted no time in grabbing him and pulling him beneath his trembling body. Michel tapped his shoulder with the bottle, passing it along now that he had coated Dru’s entrance

 

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generously. Dru took it graciously and uncapped the bottle and poured its contents onto his hand. He had to push himself up on his knees to be able to reach Cord even as spread and willing as he was. He pressed one finger into Cord’s fluttering hole and then another. Cord cried out, his head kicking back in pleasure as Dru fingered his star with careful plunges of his fingers. He knew he was probably rushing things, but he needed this in a way he couldn’t explain to anyone else. His mates understood, though. He felt it through the bond they shared. “I’m ready. Please, please, Druas. I don’t want to waste any more time. I’m ready. Please,” Cord babbled, his hips rocking back and forth in countermovement to Dru’s fingers. Dru was glad he was ready, because Michel’s fingers pushing in and out of his ass was driving him crazy. Those long, talented fingers kept hitting hidden pleasure spots inside him. Without warning, Michel’s thick dick speared his quickly prepared ass. Dru gasped in equal parts pain and pleasure. It was a toss-up what side of the fence he was going to fall on. Cord made a frustrated noise and wrapped his legs around Dru, pulling him forward off Michel’s prick. He took Dru’s cock in hand and forced the fat head against his clenching entrance. “Fuck me, love me, mate me. Please,” Cord all but sobbed at him. Dru could do nothing but obey the dictates of his smaller mate. He shoved forward, fucking himself into the tight body beneath him. The pleasure that played over Cord’s face made his heart clench. “I love you. Love you both so much,” Dru said before he could stop himself. Oh hell. He didn’t really want to stop himself. Michel chose that moment to thrust back into him, hitting his prostate with that desperate lunge. Michel groaned behind him. “I love you, Dru,” Cord promised, his eyes shining. “My mates,” Michel rumbled, “my beautiful mates.” Dru cried out at the dual sensations of taking and being taken. He would never get used to this wonderful three-hundred-sixty-degree

 

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sensation. They started a rhythm that was impossible to maintain. It would send them skyrocketing in a matter of minutes, and he knew it. He fucked himself into Cord’s tight depths, and his eyes rolled as Michel scored his pleasure spot with every hard lunge into his own body. Within minutes he was ready to explode. “Please, mark me,” he begged, needing to feel the teeth of his mates sink into his skin, reaffirming their bond and physically decorating his skin with proof of the shifters’ claim. They didn’t leave him waiting long. Michel kissed his neck where it met his shoulder, swirling his slightly rough tongue over the surface before Dru felt the telltale prick of his fangs as they slowly pierced the skin. Pleasure erupted through him, and he cried out as whatever chemical reaction the mating mark set off proceeded to detonate like a nuclear explosion. Cord’s mouth found the heavy muscle of his chest, and his teeth sank into the flesh he found there. Dru lost it. With a strangled shout, he came, his vision narrowing until he felt like he was seeing down a long corridor of black. Distantly, he was aware of his mates shuddering through their own orgasms, but he was so focused on how overwhelming his own sensations were that he could do nothing but gasp out his pleasure and sink into the abyss of desire. Michel’s body locked inside him like it had the night they’d mated for the first time, and Dru smiled in happiness. He collapsed against them. The energy needed to stand up or to even roll over was too much for him, and he sighed as he inhaled the scent of their lovemaking. If he could stay right here for the rest of his life, he would be happy. “I’m never leaving you guys again,” he promised them both when he’d regained the ability to speak. With a groan, Michel managed to pull out from behind him so that Dru could do the same. He was glad the bed was big enough to accommodate all of them comfortably, because Dru loved the way that they could all lie beside one another. If he had his way, it would be for the rest of his life.

 

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“We’re never letting you out of our sight again,” Cord said, turning on his side so he could cuddle to Dru’s chest. Michel did the same on the other side, and Dru smiled in contentment. “And if you ever tell us to wait for you, we’re going to stalk you,” Michel added, nipping at Dru’s chest. Dru chuckled at the both of them, his eyes beginning to droop as the toll from the past few days finally caught up with him. They stayed silent for a good five minutes as they basked in their afterglow. Dru yawned. “I’m all about finishing that nap now.” Cord’s light snore answered him, and Michel’s steady breathing told him that his mates were well ahead of him. The Ravyn smiled softly to himself, kissed both of their heads, and let good dreams carry him away.

 

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Epilogue Three weeks later It was decided that Germany and Allasandro would be the ones to go on the assassination mission to Pandemonium, the capital city of Demontia. Dru would be their guide to finding Desmond when the time came. His connection with the king was still too strong for him to go with them, but from the fae realm, using a communication device made from some kind of fae magick, he would tell them where to go. Dageus had already taken the vampire and fae troops over to Demontia to join Natiri’s men on the front, and the battles had savaged the southern half of Demontia from their reports. Tony was still acting as personal bodyguard to Prince Salvatore, despite the near-impenetrable security of the Faery King Destin’s home world. He’d seemed strained lately, as if a lot rested on his shoulders that was beyond the understanding of even his brothers-in-arms. Prince Theron had been imprisoned in the lower levels of Destin’s castle, and Dru wagered that had a lot to do with Tony’s bad mood. He was in charge of extracting whatever information could be gained from the traitorous prince. All the mates and Entertainer vampires had been moved over to the fae realm for the duration of the war. None of the vampires were happy to see their demon mates leave for more dangerous climes, but the preservation of their families and the children enabled them to accept the burden of being left behind. The vampire Damian and his brother, Alexander, in particular, were having a hard time of it.

 

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Santiago seemed to be hyperfocusing on Jeremy and the training of the members of La Petite Morte, their entertainment company, to keep from thinking about Germany’s prolonged absence. Despite the fact that the shows for the rest of the season had been cancelled, he wanted to keep everyone in tip-top shape. Dru was intensely grateful that his mates and he were chosen to stay in the fae realm and help keep everything running smoothly. They’d been largely left in charge of shuttling supplies from Earth to Underhill in order to protect the people from Earth who had come over independent of the energies of Underhill, which tended to tie anyone who partook of its bounty to the energy of its world. Today was the first day in quite some time where they’d been allowed a free day. Prince Salvatore and King Destin were at the fae Court, doing whatever it was they did there, Tony was down in the dungeons with Theron again, and the rest of the troupe seemed to be down in the left wing where Santiago had set up their practices. Since the additional food supplies had already arrived earlier in the morning, Dru and his mates had the rest of the afternoon to themselves. They’d decided to take the twins down to the third-floor garden and have a sort of picnic for them. It was still hard for Dru to wrap his mind around the fact that he had gained two mates and two children in the span of two months’ time. At first he’d been terrified, but now they’d developed an easy sort of rhythm. Despite his initial hesitation at having kids, he loved Iso and Hardwin so much he ached. He couldn’t even remember what life had been like without both mates and kids running around his rooms. “It’s good, isn’t it?” Michel asked, spreading the blanket out on the lawn under the branches of a full blooming fruit tree of some kind. “What’s good?” Dru asked, putting Hardwin down so that he could go chase after a pack of fae children as they played a game of tag around a grouping of rocks by the small creek that ran beside it. It

 

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really seemed that the faeries built their homes around nature instead of the other way around. Dru liked it. “Life,” Michel said, smiling. Cord brought up the rear, carting both Iso and the picnic basket with ease. He, too, had to let his squirming demon boy down so that he could join his brother in the game of tag. He rolled his eyes and put the basket down on the blanket’s edge. “Agreed,” Cord said, kissing both of his mates in turn. “Agreed,” Dru echoed, smiling. He stretched out on the blanket with his mates on either side of him. He looked forward to the future that lay ahead of him. “So did you want to go back to Demontia when everything is settled?” Cord asked as they watched the children play. They’d have to call them over for sandwiches soon, but until then, they let them frolic. Dru shrugged. “I used to think I wanted to settle in Demontia after the war, but now I’m not so sure. Earth is looking pretty fantastic.” He knew it wasn’t exactly fair judgment, but he’d nearly lost his mates in his homeland and was loathe to return to it. “Well, we can do that if you’d like. Michel and I had discussed it a bit a while back ago. It would be nice being close to the clan and the vampires. Allasandro, Dageus, and Germany will probably be staying there as well considering who they’re wed to.” Cord’s stomach rumbled, and he began digging out the plates they’d brought with them. “Well, then it’s settled. We’ll live on Earth. Besides, we’re Ravyns. There is nothing keeping us from visiting Demontia whenever the urge strikes us. I guarantee Salvatore will be oscillating between Underhill and Demontia anyway. We can make it work.” Dru was very satisfied with the plan. He felt like the kids would at least have a better education on Earth for the time being. Things would be rocky in Demontia first thing after the war, and it would probably take Salvatore a few centuries to fix it.

 

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“Iso, Hardwin, come get some food!” Michel yelled as the crowd of kids raced by. The twins hesitated for an instant before turning and jogging back to their fathers. They were right where they belonged. Cord started handing out sandwiches, and they started chattering about the new friends they’d made. Dru smiled as he took in the scene. Peace and family, the two things he wanted most, were within his reach. He rethought that sentence. He’d already found both in a way, and for that, he was forever grateful. The war would end, and life, the way it was meant to be lived, would be upon them before they knew it. Until then, he would cherish what he had and love them with every cell in his being. He glanced at his beautiful blond-haired lovers and knew that loving them wouldn’t be a hardship. Loving them was easy. They were his mates, after all.

THE END HTTP://JANADOWNS.BLOGSPOT.COM/

 

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Jana Downs lives in the beautiful mountains of Western North Carolina with three cats, one dog, several dozen fish, and a very understanding partner-in-crime who hates to read but makes exceptions for her stories. You can usually find her either watching bad reality TV, buying way too many books on Amazon, or dreaming up another man or two to occupy her time because life is good but several drop-dead gorgeous nonexistent men is just better.

Also by Jana Downs Siren Classic ManLove: Gladiator Games Siren Allure ManLove: Ravyn Warriors 1: Ravyn’s Blood Siren Allure ManLove: Ravyn Warriors 2: Ravyn’s Heart Siren Allure ManLove: Ravyn Warriors 3: Ravyn’s Destiny Siren Classic ManLove: Ravyn Warriors 4: Ravyn’s Dance Siren LoveXtreme Forever ManLove: His Guardian Angels 1: Angel Bound Siren LoveXtreme Forever ManLove: His Guardian Angels 2: Angelic Ties Siren LoveXtreme Forever ManLove: His Guardian Angels 3: Angel Kin

Available at BOOKSTRAND.COM

 

   

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