Page 7 of Brutally Mated
“Where we come from, those arts are viciously suppressed,” he says. “Witches are…”
“Burned?” I finish the sentence for him. “I’m not a witch. I’m a wolf.”
“Never seen one burned,” he says with a little smile. “Never seen one at all. You’re my first one.”
He’s sweet. It’s a pity he’s not going to survive much longer. Tomorrow the scavengers will be picking at his bones.
But I still need to worry about tonight.
They will all want to mate me. Every single one of them. All three will push themselves inside me and leave their seed behind when they are gone. I will return to my father’s den and give birth.
I read in one of my mother’s books that a female shifter’s ovulation can be triggered by mating. If we were like humans and had to wait for a few days every month, it would be almost impossible for us to reproduce. That means once these brutal warriors start taking me, my body will begin to release eggs for them to fertilize.
“Come and stand by the fire,” Krall says. “I want to look at you.”
It’s starting.
I go to where he wants me to be, and look at him with defiance.
“You’re old,” I say.
He looks at me with hard eyes, his scarred features made more stark in the firelight. I can see his kills in the depths of his pupils. Shadows of horrors dance inside him. He is harsh with me because he is harsh with everyone, because there can be little softness when a creature dedicates itself to death as thoroughly as he has.
“And you’re an impudent brat. Strip her, Skor.”
The tall, dark man with the burning eyes reaches for my dress. I draw back, crossing my arms over my chest to protect myself.
“If you rip this, I will kill you,” I say, meaning every word. “This was my mother’s.”
“Then take it off,” he says, stopping.
“I don’t want to.”
He smirks slightly.
I am starting to realize they all actually have slightly different features. At first they all seemed to look like one another, but I think that was because my frightened eyes made them seem to blend together. Krall has pronounced, craggy, rough features. Like he was carved out of a rock and then hit in the face several times with an axe. Skor has a longer, angular nose, thick but cruel lips, and a way about him that makes something inside me crackle with recognition. He has the gift inside him. Does he know that? I can’t be sure, but I know I can feel it. Thorn has softer, younger features, a more square jaw, and he has no facial hair. He is handsome in an obvious, vital way.
I can see a familial resemblance in them all, though. A sameness in the way they look at me, in their mannerisms, in the way they speak. Their voices are quite similar, even though different tonally.
Skor reaches for me. I pull back. Something sparks between us, two unseen forces dueling for control. I wonder if he feels it. Right now he has no magical intent whatsoever. He is trying to do as his older brother bids him because every man here wants to see me undressed. There is lust in their hearts and filth on their minds, and I am at their mercy.
Thorn moves forward into the firelight. “I can help you take it off,” he says. “If you’ll let me.” He speaks more softly, and he asks instead of ordering me. I feel my breath come a little slower when I focus on him.
Maybe I’ll save him when the other two are being eaten. I know it will only be a brief reprieve, the mountains take everyone sooner or later, but perhaps he will live to see one more sunrise.
I nod, allowing him to do what must be inevitable.
He crouches down to my feet and lifts the dress up from the hem, lifting it slowly up over my hips and then to my chest and then over my head. I am not wearing anything under it. It is not our custom to indulge in undergarments. You shift and rip through two or three pairs of panties that took weeks to reach the mountains through the valley passes and you stop bothering.
“Beautiful,” he breathes, folding my dress and putting it to the side.
There is silence as the three rough wolves take me in. Then I hear a clatter of steel as Krall and Skor shed their weapon belts. Each of my mates strips, as if they have all made a simultaneous decision. There’s something strangely focused about their bearing, as if they have to get themselves inside me in order to complete a mission.
It’s hardly romantic. But it is incredibly lustful.
“Hot little piece,” Skor mutters under his breath. “Look at that red…” He trails off, but his eyes drop down to the apex of my thighs, where curls of red hair attempt to hide my sex modestly.
I feel my heart skip a beat as I look back at him. He is large, and his cock is frankly monstrous. He has a thick pelt of hair acrosshis chest and down the middle of his belly and his erection rises from that dark forest like a monolith. Surely such a thing could not fit inside me.
