Authors: Patricia A. Knight
Her heart plummeted at his words.
“Marriage was the only acceptable option. I am in love with you.”
She stood and looked at him, eyes blinking rapidly.
“
Happy now, Mother? We have reduced our Princess to dumbstruck silence.”
Ileana inclined her head regally and addressed Fleur. “Your Royal Highness. If you should ever need any assistance or counsel I can provide, please waste no time in asking for it. I would be greatly honored to be of use to you in whatever manner you need.” Ileana dipped into a graceful curtsey. Eyes brimming with sly humor
, she added, “Even if only to commiserate about my scapegrace of a son.”
Wiping the wet jewels rolling down
Fleur’s cheeks, he asked, “More happy tears?”
She could only nod.
* * * * *
Three days of intense work preceded Fleur’s coronation. The day finally arrived, dawning with an overcast, heavy atmosphere promising rain. As the brasses finished their triumphant fanfare, Ari watched his achingly beautiful young queen glide majestically down the broad isle, past the towering stone archways, toward the heavy double doors. The massive doors, clad in silver embossed with pictures from Verdantia’s history, opened onto a large, flowered courtyard crowded with Verdantian nobles and citizens.
As Fleur passed him, her eyes caught his for a moment before casting a sultry look toward Doral.
Ari smiled and mouthed, “My Queen.” The expression Doral wore promised exquisite delights of a decidedly earthy nature.
Ari
was glad to see Fleur brighten. The toll mental and physical exhaustion inflicted on his queen was visible before she cloaked her expression with her usual quiet dignity.
He
and Doral followed her, separated by the requisite three steps, onto the viewing platform outside the massive doors. Stepping forward, he stood to her right, Doral to her left. A roar of approval rose from the gathered mass. Shouts of “Long live the Queen! Long live the Primo! Long live the Segundo!” echoed off the stone walls of the buildings lining the courtyard.
With several sidelong glances,
Ari observed, bemused, as Doral alertly scanned the crowd for potential threat, then returned to dwell with hungry speculation on his new queen. The visconte met his eyes with a carnal need that flooded his lower regions in warmth.
Fleur pretended to ignore Doral, but
Ari knew she caught Doral’s keen looks as a lovely rose color flooded her cheeks while she acknowledged the assembly.
Doral had pulled his waist-length, blond hair back into a tight, complex braid. It hung down the back of his close-fitting navy
-blue coat, an inch shy of the heavy, black sword belt wrapping his trim waist. Ari could only imagine what that body looked like beneath his uniform. Doral was devastatingly attractive in the uniform of navy coat, white breeches and highly polished, black, thigh-high boots, though he would always prefer the visconte in his skin-tight, scruffy leathers.
Tonight, following the post-coronation dinner
, would be the real beginning of their
Tetriarch
.
C
hapter Seven
Fleur looked around the ritual chamber with Ari at her side. Doral stood behind her, his hand resting on her shoulder. “How very different this looks to me now, Ari.” She reached up and put her hand on Doral's. “Have you ever seen the inside of this room, Visconte?”
“
No,
Prima
. This is where you and Ari performed the
Great Rite
?”
“
Yes,
Segundo
. I was so frightened.” She looked toward Ari, her gaze softening. “Ari was a devil, a very skilled devil.” She cast a sweet smile back at Doral. “We are in very good hands.”
“
I have every confidence in him,
Prima
.” Doral held his gaze soberly, steadily.
Ari
had to look away. He would move the planet itself rather than betray the trust his queen and his second placed in him. Taking a deep breath, he caught their eyes. “We will begin. This was last attempted more than 456 years ago. Documentation about what we are going to experience is sparse. I do not need to remind either of you what is at stake here—nothing less than the survival of our planet.”
He
began to undo the closure on his ceremonial robes. “This evening is to be a trial run. We will explore the possibilities of our
Tetriarch
; we must become comfortable with each other, try to estimate the volume of power we generate—if any—and so on.”
Ari
motioned to the large, dull gray, block of
diaman
crystal occupying a central position in the chamber. “We will attempt to empower that block. Not as large as a conventional dais, but it was the best the High Enclave could manage on short notice.”
Fleur and Doral nodded in understanding.
Doral turned Fleur to face him. “May I?” His hands slipped the fastenings to her robe.
“
You do like to take my clothes off,” she whispered, her eyes alight with humor. Doral’s lips quirked and his eyes smiled into hers. They looked up in question.
“
Please, continue,” Ari breathed. “I like watching.”
He watched as
Fleur reached for the opening to Doral’s robes. They undressed each other with lingering touches, sensual caresses, each savoring the exploration of the other’s flesh.
As Doral slid Fleur's robe off her, he cupped her breasts, his eyes feasting on their lush fullness.
Doral observed her intently while he teased her nipples into hardness with soft glides of his thumbs. Her eyelids fluttered down and her breathing deepened. Ari saw the goose bumps rise on her skin, the flush of arousal start to creep up her neck.
Fleur
crept her hand down his visconte’s abdomen to his tight balls and lightly scratched them with her nails before running a slow finger up the length of his cock, rimming the head with the slickness escaping its slit, occasionally flicking the gold ball crowning its tip.
Doral
grunted and brought both hands forward, holding Fleur’s face fixed in place. His lips and tongue teased Fleur’s mouth until they were both breathless and taut with physical need, the insides of Fleur’s thighs glistening, Doral’s engorged cock flat to his stomach, fluid pearled on its tip. Finally they turned, side by side, to stand nude before Ari.
Ari stood
mesmerized, enthralled, transfixed by the power of their foreplay on his senses. He had felt every touch, every kiss, as if lavished on his own skin, his own mouth.
Ari
thought he had felt something last night and damnation, the man was well hung, accented by his piercings. But the sight of Doral’s magnificent body covered with slender, white scars, telltale signs of multiple cuts from a razor or a knife and thicker stripes from a whip used brutally, caught his attention.
Their number
infuriated him. Even heavier scars collared the man’s throat and cuffed his wrists. Doral had been methodically tortured. Allegra Contradina’s work. He would bet money on it. He shoved the thought to the background of his mind. He would deal with her later.
“
Look at the pair of you,” Ari marveled. “I cannot decide who I will have first—or where.” His eyes ranged along Fleur's flawless femininity adorned in nothing but her fine, white-blonde hair. He greedily savored Doral's potent virility and tightly muscled frame dressed in a waving mane of heavy gold-blond. “Two golden lovers and you are
mine
,” he growled in an exultant articulation of dominant possession. He exhaled and held out his arms. “Come to me.”
Fleur and Doral moved into his embrace.
He leaned down and thoroughly kissed Fleur, leaving her breathing more deeply before straightening and bringing Doral's head to meet his. “I, too, waited, Visconte,” and ravaged Doral's mouth.
Ari
felt Fleur pull back to watch as he and Doral exchanged a kiss as heated and fiery as the one he had exchanged with her had been sensual and caressing. She reached her hands around each of them. Her fingers stroked past a buttock cheek, stopping to caress the top of his cleft. He groaned in pleasure, never breaking the kiss.
Doral broke away and
Fleur nuzzled her face into Doral's chest, licking and tugging at his nipple ring. “Yes!” Doral hissed, before running his right hand into Ari’s nape and pressing him forward again, aggressively rejoining their lips.
Ari’s
hand crept around her back and joined Doral’s, pulling her into their joint embrace. His rigid cock pressed into her abdomen, leaving a slick circle on her soft skin.
A low, almost inaudible humming vibrated the air.
A soft glow suffused the chamber. He and Doral parted to stare at the light display captured in the interior of the crystal block. Ari’s voice broke their silence. “My
Prima
, my
Segundo
, move back, please. Don't touch anywhere.”
F
leur and Doral moved out of his arms to stand separated by a foot of space. The activity inside the crystal quieted. The glow faded. The humming ceased.
“
Interesting. Let's take this a little farther.” Walking across the chamber and climbing onto the center of the large bed, he patted the space on either side of him. “Here,” he commanded.
With wary gazes
at Ari, they joined him. He knelt, sitting back on his heels and facing them. “Fleur, you will ride one of us and take the other’s cock with your mouth.”
The
carnal hunger he felt as he gazed at Doral's substantial cock must have been obvious. His eyes wandered up Doral's body only to meet blue eyes half-lidded with a sensual need that echoed his own. “Doral, we are going to make her come—and only her. We will let our arousal build.”
Frowning, Doral shook his head slightly
. “No, Ari. It may not be possib –”
Cupping
Doral's chin in his hands, Ari caressed his thumb over Doral’s lips, silencing him. “Slow steps, my
Segundo
, slow steps,” he purred and broke off their heated exchange, returning his attention to Fleur.
“
You choose who, my love, is where. Neither of us are small men.”
Fleur eyed
their groins. “I know they fit and it is still a daunting sight.” Her wry comment had him chuckling. Doral merely smiled.
“
Doral, the position we started in last night would be good.”
Doral
nodded and moved to sit against the headboard.
“
Ari, I will use my mouth on you.” Fleur waggled her eyebrows and wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.
He stifled a laugh.
His cock pulsed in response to the visual of her wet mouth. A small bead of fluid escaped the slit in its head. She leaned over and caught it with a warm swirl of her tongue. She closed her eyes as if savoring his taste. “By the gods, Fleur!” Ari shivered with erotic anticipation. “I am having a moment of déjà vu. Seems you will get more practice torturing me with your mouth.” His lips quirked up in one corner.
“
I am glad I'm not you,
Segundo
,” Ari wickedly taunted. “It is not going to be easy to hold back.”
Doral‘s
voice emerged flatly. “You have no idea.”
Doral leaned forward and ran his fingers gently, slowly, between Fleur’s labia, gathering the wetness there and spreading it over her clit.
He circled his knuckle around her sweet spot until she moaned, writhing her hips.
“
Kitten, are you ready for me?”
“
Oh yes, please.”
Unable to prevent it,
Ari leaned over and took her lips in a scorching kiss. “Mount up, dear heart.”
Her
laugh was low and husky as she straddled Doral. With her back to his chest, she spread her legs outside of his thighs. His arms wrapped around her waist and up to her breasts, cupping them and gently strumming her nipples.
Intent on seeing every nuance
—he hadn’t lied, he really did like to watch—Ari’s eyes followed her small hands as they guided Doral's rigid length to her opening. With swirls of her hips, her glistening flesh worked to insert the thick head of the visconte's cock into her pussy. With a look of concentration, she managed a beginning. Whimpering softly, she sank down, circling her hips, engulfing more of him, slowly. The lower gold ball of his piercing disappeared. It took some time for her to work more than halfway down.
“
Fuck, that is arousing.” Ari broke off his intense observation of Fleur to cast a glance at Doral whose blue eyes were staring blindly at the ceiling. A bead of perspiration trickled down his temple. His face told of vicious restraint.
“
Visconte?”
Doral’s
response was an inarticulate epithet. Doral’s abdomen contracted sharply. Fleur gasped as she jolted up and down his cock. Doral struggled for breath and clamped her hips strongly in his hands, holding her immobile. The head of his cock rested just inside her. His breathing was a ragged gasp. “Don't move, kitten. Fleur, please, I beg you, don't move.”