Page 76 of Awakened Destiny
I swallow hard as Callen unfastens the first button, then the second. I'm wearing a simple white blouse and a long white skirt—nothing special—but the way they all watch makes me feel like I'm draped in royal finery.
"Is this okay?" Rory asks gently, always the one most concerned with making sure I'm comfortable.
I nod, unable to find my voice as Marius steps behind me, his fingers finding the zipper at the back of my skirt.
"We can stop anytime," Lochan assures me, but I shake my head.
"No," I manage to say. "I want this. I want all of you."
The blouse slips from my shoulders under Callen's skilled fingers, and my skirt pools at my feet with a gentle push from Marius. I stand before them in just my bra and underwear, trembling not from the cold but from the heat of their gazes.
I close my eyes, feeling the last scraps of fabric slipping away. The forest air kisses my bare skin, cool but not cold, as if the sacred grove itself is protecting me. I stand naked now, exposed but not vulnerable—there's a difference I never understood until this moment. I don’t fold my arms over my soft belly. I don’t try to hide. Not from them.
"Just like the murals," Tiernan whispers.
I open my eyes to find them forming a circle around me, five pairs of eyes reflecting desire, devotion, and something deeper I'm afraid to name. They're fully clothed still, a stark contrast to my nakedness that sends a shiver of anticipation through me.
"The Queen stands bare before her consorts," Callen says, his voice dropping to a lower register that vibrates through my core. "Now we must match her vulnerability with our own."
Lochan is the first to move, pulling his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. His chest is a map of scars and muscle that I want to trace with my fingertips.
"I stand before you as I am," he says simply.
One by one, they disrobe. Tiernan with careful precision. Rory, with a playful wink that makes me laugh despite the heaviness of the moment. Callen with practiced grace, like he's performed this ritual a hundred times. Marius last, his movements deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine as the faded markings covering his body are revealed inch by inch.
"Do you remember what happens in those murals?" Callen asks, stepping closer. "After the chosen one stands surrounded by her consorts?"
My mouth goes dry. "Show me."
They move as one, closing the circle until I'm wrapped in a cocoon of warm skin and gentle hands. Someone's lips press against my shoulder—Rory, I think, by the softness of the touch. Another pair finds my neck—Tiernan, his breath stirring my hair.
"We worship," Marius whispers, his hand sliding down my back, tracing my spine.
I gasp as Lochan's rough palm cups my breast, his thumb circling my nipple until it hardens.
"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice gruff with restraint.
"Yes," I breathe. "Yes."
Callen's hands find my hips, steadying me as my knees threaten to buckle. "Remember to breathe, my queen."
I try to follow his advice, but it's nearly impossible when Tiernan's fingers trail up my inner thigh, making me tremble.
"The murals showed our future," Tiernan says softly. "They showed us this moment."
"They showed us how to please our queen," Marius adds, dropping to his knees before me.
I watch through half-lidded eyes as Marius settles between my legs, his broad shoulders nudging them apart. The sight of him there, looking up at me with those intense eyes, sends a pulse of heat through my core.
"Open for me," he commands softly.
Lochan's fingers slide into my mouth as Marius spreads my legs wider. I suck instinctively, as Marius leans forward and presses his mouth against my center.
"Fuck," I gasp around Lochan's fingers.
The sensation is overwhelming—Lochan's fingers in my mouth, Marius's tongue against my cunt, Callen and Rory each claiming a breast, Tiernan's hands roaming everywhere else. I'm touched everywhere at once, my body no longer my own but belonging to all of them, to this moment, to this ritual that feels as old as time.
My hands find purchase wherever they can, Callen's shoulder, Rory's hair, as a surge of pure ecstasy ripples through me. I want to speak, to tell them how good it feels, but Lochan's fingers prevent anything more than muffled moans.
