Jory Strong: Inked Destiny

She woke gasping, trembling, her heart rabbiting in her chest and her skin coated with sweat.

“Fuck, Etaín, fuck!” Cathal said, sitting up, arms like bands of steel as he pulled her onto his lap. “What the hell was that?”

“You saw?” Shock added to the frantic, trapped wildness in her chest.

“Hell yeah, I saw.”

Against her back his heart pounded as furiously as hers.

“Jesus. Stolen memories? Something you got from someone your father or brother asked you to touch?”

“No. Just a bad dream.” But uncertainty shivered through her because her gift was changing, turning into something that felt alien. “Where did the dream start for you?”

“Outside of a club.” She felt the skittering of his heartbeat when he added, “I guess this is a side effect of the…magic, the connection that let me find you.”

“Yes.” What other explanation was there? But his physical reaction to it had her turning in his lap to—

“Don’t go there,” he said, covering her lips with his, silencing her concerns with the thrust of his tongue against hers.

Eamon felt the early dissolution of the sleep spell like a boomerang crashing into his personal shield. He quickened his steps, entering the room where his second and third in command played backgammon.

Rhys glanced up from his study of the board. The red sun dangling from his ear caught in room light. Its brilliance was no less than the rounded, polished rubies he’d chosen as game pawns.

Across from him Liam had chosen onyx pawns, their color as black as an assassin’s heart was said to be. But where Rhys couched his greeting and question in silence and the lift of eyebrows, Eamon’s third did him no such favor. A wicked smile slashed across dark features. The braided mane of Liam’s hair left the impression of a lion in a night lit by only the barest of moons.

“Tired already of sharing your intended?” Liam asked, laughter in his voice. “Had you but asked, I would have tendered my services.” His deadly, very fatal services . “You know I live to make your life easier.”

Eamon refrained from challenging the statement, directing his comment to Rhys. “Call Myk and Heath home, then take what humans you deem necessary and go to Etaín’s apartment. Settle her lease and move her things here.”

The red sun of Rhys’s earring shimmered in a hint of movement, suppressed amusement or unspoken objection, it could have been either, though neither was present in his voice when he said, “You do live dangerously, Lord.”

“An understatement,” Liam said. “Lucky for us, we’ve got front rows seats to this grand courtship. I can hardly wait to witness the next act given how interesting the first one was.”

Liam’s comment coaxed a laugh from Rhys. He stood, the backgammon game abandoned for the moment. “I’ll see to my task and hope you’re not banished by the time I return.”

“Hardly a likelihood considering the humans our Lord must now be concerned about thanks to his intended’s choices.”

“True. You might yet get to kill someone who offers a bit of a challenge.”

Liam snorted. “Among humans? You come very close to insulting me.” But all lightheartedness fell away when their attention landed on Eamon’s ears, and the additional protections he now wore above the sigil-inscribed studs that served as focal points and magical draws.

“She grows stronger,” Rhys said.

“Her gift changes.” In the garden, in the sacred circle where he’d worked Etaín’s hair into a charm and activated the earrings he typically didn’t wear unless summoned to the queen’s court or traveling into another’s territory, he had come to view the grab and pull of magic through him as a positive sign that her magic now tasted his more deeply in preparation for a bond between them, though he would not leave himself unprotected again.

Eamon placed the thin twine of honey-gold hair on the table next to Liam. “I won’t require this of you.”

But his third was already lifting the charm and touching it to his wrist, the contact all that was necessary for the ends to seek and find each other, to lock tight, creating a magical leash between his intended and his assassin, in case she should manage to escape the estate.

A nod of thanks and Eamon returned to the bedroom, cock filling and rising again despite what had happened with the last hot rush of semen when he was buried in her depths. He hardened further at entering the room to see Etaín on Cathal’s lap, at feeling her magic slide against his flesh as if freed by lovemaking, coiling around him as if checking his defenses and finding them solid. This time, the element of danger only filled his testicles and shaft with the scorching heat of desire.

He joined them on the bed, leaning in to kiss her shoulder, expecting welcome but stilling when Etaín’s lips left Cathal’s and her head turned to send a glare in his direction. “Don’t ever do that to Cathal or me again, Eamon.”

“It was necessary.”

Her confusion made it plain that she had not felt the grab and pull of magic, yet given the crash of a broken spell against his shield and her greeting, she must have been aware that he’d put her, them, to sleep.

“What’s going on here, Etaín?” There was an edge to Cathal’s voice, hostility, and Eamon read in her expression the desire to avoid conflict though she couldn’t take back what had already been said.

“Etaín’s gift is changing,” Eamon answered, hoping to ease the tension. “You are safe from it, but I have been careless.”

Fear tightened her features. “I nearly stripped your mind.” Said on a whisper and he wondered if she would attempt to distance herself from him. “That’s why you did the sleep spell.”

“I’m not sure what might have happened. I reacted defensively and Cathal fell to my spell as well.”

“Don’t do it again.” Cathal’s words were a low growl, his anger embodying the natural fear at losing control, and a human’s reaction to the use of magic.

Eamon tilted his head, acknowledging Cathal’s edict without agreeing to it. He could not offer Cathal the reassurance he sought, not when he wore Etaín’s ink and now was bound by magic to her.

Etaín flinched away when Eamon reached out, fear pulsing through her. “Maybe it would be better if Cathal and I left. Safer for you.”

“I believe I am safe now. The time you slept was put to good use.”

He traced the rim of her ear, halting at the tip, his delicate circling strokes sending shivers of erotic pleasure through her. He followed it with the brush of his mouth against hers, the slide of his tongue between parted lips in a shallow foray hinting at a much deeper, much fuller penetration.

“There is no way to test it, not without this,” he murmured, and her body clenched in anticipation then in protest with a knock on the bedroom door.

From the other side of the door, Liam said, “There is a matter requiring your attention, Lord.”

Eamon’s groan held the same frustration she felt. “I’ll return as quickly as I can.”

He left, the door closing behind him before Cathal broke his silence again. “Lord of what? Assholes?”

The truth of his emotions pierced her skin and poured into her bloodstream. Anger resurfacing, at having to share her. But that anger was trumped by fear, by the sense of a life spinning out of control.

She attempted to slide off his lap, to break the physical contact and gain some breathing room. His arms tightened, preventing it, allowing only enough movement for her to change position on his lap.

She straddled him so she could see his expression and he could see hers. “Sorry now?” she asked, encompassing all of it—magic, Eamon, their relationship, though Cathal had sought her out, and by his actions, brought her to Eamon’s attention in the first place.