Page 8 of Lera of Lunos
River’s other hand, so patiently waiting on my bottom, brushes between my cheeks. “Open.”
I shake my head.
Another circle around my opening, my wetness smeared along my bud until I writhe with need. Close. So, so close.
“Please,” I beg, my body convulsing against the restraints. Needing the release he teases. “It hurts. I can’t. I need—”
River taps my bottom, and this time, I’ve nothing left with which to resist. With firm insistence, he traces the entry, slicking it with my own desire. “One day it will be me in here,” he whispers, sliding his finger into me. In and out. In a bit further. Out. In further still. The stretch and burn of it merges with the pulsing in my sex until I can’t tell the difference between pain and pleasure.
River’s weight shifts as he frees himself, the hard tip of his shaft positioning itself at the edge of my sex. With a twirl of his finger that triggers every nerve inside me, he thrusts, sheathing himself to the hilt.
The double fullness magnifies each thrust of River’s cock, its wide head playing along my ridges.Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.The dresser creaks under his force, and I push back against him, making River growl and move faster. The male pulses inside me, my own swollen apex throbbing in rhythm. When his hand returns to caress my bud one more time, I no longer care who hears my scream as I tumble over the edge.
“Stars,” River grunts, timing his own release to follow mine. His warmth spills inside me, a harmony to the aftershocks still raking my flesh. A few heartbeats later, his strong arms gather me against him. Sitting on the bed, he pulls me onto his lap, stroking me gently. “You are beautiful when you climax,” he murmurs into my ear. “Just listening to you find your pleasure makes me find mine.”
I smile in sleepy contentment against his hard chest.
The chest moves.
Blinking, I realize River has laid me flat on the bed while he pulls off his shirt and wraps the material around the bedpost. “What are you doing?” I ask.
He grins. “Only getting started. Now, give me your wrists.”
* * *
The following morning,the glow from River’s intense attention yields to nauseating anxiety as the five of us fill the preparation room. The now familiar scents of leather and salve, sweat and sword polish, fill my nose. Outside the windowless space, I know hordes of Citadel warriors-in-training are climbing to the top of the bowl-shaped arena, readying to watch the morning spectacle.
In their defense, every one of our bloody trials has been a spectacle.
Even now, before the gong has sounded, we are already an exotic anomaly—a quint with runes from the second and third trials already wiped, preparing to repeat the first challenge they once forfeited.
My loose, wine-colored uniform hangs off my body, revealing my bound chest—the last time I’ll ever have to wear the oversized tunic, stars willing. Vaguely, I feel my males moving about me, tightening armor and choosing weapons and waiting around with that annoying nonchalance that I can’t seem to master.
A knock at the door jolts me from my thoughts, and my brow knits at the sight of Klarissa, her dark hair and champagne robes rippling in the low light.
“Please forgive the intrusion.” The female’s melodic voice brushes right past me to wrap like a silk scarf around River. When the male raises his gray eyes to her, Klarissa smiles, holding up a folded note that makes my stomach clench with dread. “After some deliberation, the Elders Council has decided to add a small condition to your trial. I’m certain you will see the wisdom of the council’s decision once you think on it.”
“Will I?” River’s voice is hard enough to crack stone.
“Of course.” Klarissa uses her long, painted fingernail to perfect the parchment’s folded crease and hands the message to the prince. “After all, at the end of the day, it is truly the weaver whose power must be demonstrated. If you yourself will not trust Leralynn in the safety of the arena, how can the Elders Council trust her in the wild? That is simply not a risk we’re willing to take.”
Klarissa is gone before River can shake open the letter, his jaw tightening once he does. “The Elders Council has instructed that our weaver is to take charge of the magical movements during the trial.” River folds the paper carefully, all his attention on the task for several heartbeats before finally sliding up to meet my gaze. “Furthermore, the council would like the weaver to be the one who retrieves the flag.”
“What?” Stopping in the middle of the preparation room, I stare at the commander. After the destruction I wreaked in Karnish, no sane person would let me anywhere near the males’ power. And for all her viciousness, Klarissa isn’t daft. “She can’t be serious.”
“She can, and she is.” River runs a hand through his hair, his back straight. “The rest of us may assist, but the primary magic is to come from you, Leralynn.”
Silence settles into the air, slowly seeping into my bones. Before I can find my tongue again, a large body comes up behind me, bringing the smell of wolf and rain. “You’ll be all right, cub,” Shade murmurs into my ear, his heavy arms resting on my shoulders. “I promise.”
“Me?” My hands ball into fists, my blood heating. I step away from Shade and turn on the male. On all of them. “It’s not me I’m worried about. Our surrenders are used up. If we fail to retrieve the flag this round, the wards will kill all of you. This isn’t the time for me to be playing with my new toys, and River needs to go to Klarissa and make that clear.”
“I don’t believe I can,” River says with a gentle apology.
“Good.” Coal’s voice snaps like a whip, cleaving the room’s nervous energy. Leaving off the sword buckle he’d been adjusting, Coal uncurls to his full height. Dressed in his usual black leather pants and vest—a silent defiance against the maroon uniform shirts and sashes that the rest of us wear—and low blond bun, the male’s hard face holds an edge of steel. “Because Klarissa is right.”
“What?” I twist fully toward him.
“The battle in Karnish shook you, mortal.” He crosses his arms. “Hiding from your power beneath a fuzzy blanket isn’t doing you—or anyone—any favors.”
