When we got back home, my mates were unbearably attentive. Ravin immediately set to work in our new kitchen, boiling a rich broth from the crowhen he had hunted that morning; a bizarre creature of this world that looked like some mad god’s experiment, half bird and half chicken, its feathers an unnatural purple black that shimmered in the light, its eyes glowing red and malevolent. It was ugly, undoubtedly, but its meat tasted like the chicken I remembered from my old life, and I had nearly wept with nostalgia at the first bite.
I had shown them how to transform the simple boiled meat into something more nourishing; adding root vegetables and wild herbs, letting it simmer until the flavors melded into a hearty soup that would restore my strength. They were such eager students, my three beautiful mates, watching my hands with focused intensity, memorizing each step so they could care for me better.
After dinner, Leon worked the knots from my shoulders with his strong, calloused hands, kneading away the tension until I was limp and sighing with pleasure. Soryn, meanwhile, had taken my feet into his lap, his cool, smooth fingers finding pressure points I did not know existed, sending waves of relief up my exhausted legs.
It felt like paradise. It felt like love.
But tonight was Soryn’s night. And I was nervous.
It was my first time sleeping with Soryn alone since our bonding. We had shared a bed with the others, yes, but always with the buffer of Ravin or Leon nearby, their presence a familiar comfort. Tonight, it would be just us. Just the serpent and I. And I found myself uncertain, my stomach fluttering with anticipation and anxiety.
After bathing, I laid in his bed; the room he had claimed in our new home, sparse and neat, with a window overlooking the forest where he could watch the moon. He entered quietly, barefoot and bare-chested, and my mouth watered at the sight of him. Water still clung to his skin, tracing rivulets down the defined planes of his chest, over the ridges of his abdomen, and lower still to where the makeshift loin cloth hung precariously at his hips, doing little to conceal the strength of what lay beneath.
His shoulders gleamed in the moonlight, broad and powerful, while his dark green hair hung damp against his neck, framing eyes that held mine with predatory patience. The muscles of his thighs flexed with each step, lean and corded, evidence of the coiled power he usually kept sheathed beneath scales now fully hidden in this form. He climbed onto the bed beside me, the mattress dipping under his weight, and pulled the fur up to cover us both. He arranged himself carefully to avoid touching me too much; though I ached for exactly that; and laid there, staring at the ceiling, the tension in his jaw betraying the restraint it cost him to keep that careful distance.
I waited. One minute. Two.
Was that it? Was he not going to touch me? Was he not in the mood?
"Uhm... Soryn?" I asked into the dimly lit room. "Are we just going to sleep?"
He turned his head to look at me, his emerald eyes reflecting the moonlight, his expression genuinely confused. "You are exhausted," he said, as though this were the most obvious reasoning in the world. "Do you not want to sleep?"
"But..." I propped myself up on one elbow, frowning at him. "Tonight is our night together. Just us." I hesitated, then asked directly, "Do you not want to do anything?"
He averted his gaze immediately, his eyes darting left and right, his pale ears flushing red with embarrassment. "You have been through so much today," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "The birth, the blood, the exhaustion. I thought it would be selfish of me to... to ask for that. To need that." He swallowed hard, his throat working. "Plus, you have been active with the others the past two days. Another night might be too taxing on your body. On the cubs."
I stared at him, my heart aching with a sudden, fierce tenderness. He was stopping himself, denying his own needs, because he thought it was what was best for me. Because he did not want to be a burden, an obligation, another demand on my already depleted energy.
I was happy he wanted to let me rest. Truly, I was. But my body, my heart, my sense of fairness would not accept it.
I scrambled up, climbing over him, and settled myself on top of his hips, straddling him. His eyes went wide, his hands coming up automatically to steady my waist.
"I want you tonight, Soryn," I said firmly, looking down at him with all the desire I felt burning in my chest. "Will you deny me?"
He looked up at me, his expression torn between hope and hesitation. "Of course not," he breathed, his voice rough with emotion. "I want you, Krys. Just as much as the others. Maybe..." He paused, his honesty painful and beautiful. "Maybe even more. I have wanted you since the moment I pulled you from that water, wanted you even more after the first time we became truly mates. But are you sure? Truly sure?"
"Yes," I whispered, leaning down to press my forehead to his. "I want you, Soryn. Tomorrow I can rest. But tonight... tonight give me your love. It is your night. Do not deny yourself. Do not deny us."
I smiled then, a slow, seductive curve of my lips, and I began to grind against him, rolling my hips in a rhythm that made us both gasp.
He moaned, his head falling back against the pillows, his hands tightening on my waist. And beneath me, through the thin fabric of his wrap, I felt him stirring; both of them, thick and hard and ready, two cocks pulsing with arousal, pressing insistently against my core.
"By the Beast Gods, Krys," he groaned, his hips bucking up to meet mine. "You feel... you feel incredible."
I sat up then, pulling my nightgown over my head, baring myself to him completely. His gaze raked over me, hungry and reverent, devouring every curve, every swell, every inch of skin I offered.
"Touch me," I commanded.
He did not need to be told twice.
Soryn’s hands rose to cup my breasts, his cool fingers rolling my nipples until they were hard and aching, his touch gentler than my other mates, more precise, more deliberate. His tongue flickered out, tasting the air, tasting my arousal, and he made a sound low in his throat; possessive, desperate, needful.
"Please," he whispered, his control fraying. "Please, I need to be inside you. Both of me. I need to fill you."
I nodded, shifting my hips, reaching between us to free his cocks from his wrap. They sprang forth, twin pillars of flesh, thick and veined and weeping with arousal, positioned one above the other in that impossible, perfect arrangement that was uniquely his.
I positioned myself above him, guiding the first cock to my already wet entrance, and slowly, slowly, sank down onto him.
The stretch was intense, burning, and exquisite. I gasped, my hands flying to his chest for support, my nails digging into his cool skin. He filled me completely, hitting places deep inside that made my vision blur.
"Wait," I breathed, adjusting, my body trembling with the effort of taking him. "Give me... give me a moment."
"Of course," he whispered, his hands stroking my thighs, my hips, anywhere he could reach, soothing and arousing in equal measure. "Take your time. I am in no rush. I want you to feel good. I want you to want this."
When I had adjusted to the first, when the burn had faded to pleasurable fullness, I reached between us again, found the second cock, and positioned it at my entrance, already slick with my arousal and his first cock’s presence.
I pushed down.
The sensation was overwhelming. Two cocks, stretching me, filling me completely, rubbing against each other through the walls of my channel, creating a friction that was almost too much, almost painful, but somehow transcending into pure, blinding pleasure.
"Oh god," I moaned, my head falling back, my body trembling. "Soryn... oh god..."
"Are you alright?" he asked immediately, his hands gripping my hips, stilling my movements, concern warring with pleasure in his eyes. "Am I hurting you? Should I stop?"
"No," I gasped, finding his gaze, holding it. "Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. It feels... it feels incredible."
I began to move then, experimentally at first, finding a rhythm that worked, that allowed both cocks to slide in and out without pain, only pleasure. Soryn met me thrust for thrust, his hips rising to meet mine, his hands guiding my movements, showing me what felt best for him, learning what felt best for me.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his emerald eyes glowing in the moonlight. "So perfect. Taking both of me. Taking all of me. I have dreamed of this, Krys. Dreamed of being inside you again, of filling you completely, of making you exhausted from pleasure."
I leaned down to kiss him, our tongues tangling, the angle changing, making both cocks hit even deeper, and I cried out against his mouth, the pleasure building, coiling tight in my belly.
He moved faster, his control slipping, his need driving him. One hand slid between us, finding my clit, rubbing tight circles that sent sparks shooting through my nerves.
"Come for me," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please, Krys. I want to feel you come around me. I want to feel you squeeze me."
I did. With a scream that surely woke the entire household, I came, my body convulsing, my inner muscles clamping down on both of his cocks in rhythmic waves that seemed to go on forever.
The sensation triggered his own release. With a roar that was more animal than man, Soryn buried himself to the hilt one final time, both cocks pulsing, hot and thick, as he spilled inside me in endless, claiming jets, filling me completely, marking me as his.
We collapsed together, tangled and sweaty and panting, his arms wrapping around me, holding me close, his cheek pressed against my hair.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice ragged. "Thank you for wanting me. For choosing me. For giving me this beautiful memory."
I pressed a kiss to his chest, over his thundering heart, and smiled. "It was your night," I murmured. "And you made it perfect."
And as I drifted to sleep in his arms, sated and sore and utterly content, both of his cocks still nestled inside me, I knew that I had been right to insist. That denying him would have been a cruelty, not a kindness.
He was my mate too. And he deserved to be loved as thoroughly as I loved the others.
Tomorrow, I would rest.
But tonight... tonight had been worth every moment.
---
The morning sun filtered through the trees in golden shafts, casting shifting patterns across the forest floor as we made our way to the stream. Soryn had been a constant presence at my side since dawn, his hand resting possessively on the curve of my waist, his eyes tracking every movement I made with an intensity that suggested I might vanish if he blinked too long. He adjusted his pace to match my slower waddle, his shoulder brushing mine, his other hand hovering near my elbow as if ready to catch me should I so much as stumble on a root.
"You are suffocating her," Leon growled from behind us, his tail lashing with each step. "Give the woman space to breathe, serpent."
"I am merely attentive," Soryn replied smoothly, though his fingers tightened against my hip. "A concept you might understand if you stopped thinking with your claws."
"And you might understand boundaries if you stopped thinking with your..." Leon’s voice trailed into a muttered curse as he quickened his pace, his black hair gleaming in the morning light, the sheen of it doing nothing to soften the irritation carved into every line of his face.
They collided at the stream’s edge with a sound like two rams meeting in spring. Leon had bent to test the water’s temperature. Soryn had simultaneously reached to arrange a smooth stone for me to rest upon. Their foreheads connected with a hollow thunk that echoed off the surrounding trunks, sending both men staggering backward, clutching their skulls and swearing colorfully.
"Mother of...!"
"Watch your...!"
Ravin emerged from the tree line just as they found their footing, his massive lion form shifting to human with fluid grace. He took in the scene, Soryn’s bare chest heaving, Leon’s ears flattened, both sporting identical red welts between their brows, and his golden eyes crinkled with delight.
"Again?" Ravin rumbled, settling onto the broad flat stone beside me with the satisfaction of a cat who had found the sunniest windowsill. "You both need to start getting along."
"Stay out of this, brother," Leon said, rubbing his forehead.
"Agreed," Soryn said, adjusting his stance.
"Do not agree with me, you ugly snake," Leon interjected, lip curling.
"You unreasonable purr prince," Soryn returned, his smug smile sharp enough to cut stone.
Ravin’s mouth curved into a slow, satisfied grin. He stretched his legs out before him, letting his bare shoulder press against mine in a casual claim that neither of the other two could contest while they were busy trying to out stubborn each other. "Do not stop on my account," he said lazily, picking up my hand and threading our fingers together with theatrical leisure. "I have all morning."
The bickering continued as they entered the water, Leon splashing with deliberate aggression in Soryn’s direction, Soryn retaliating with a precise flick of his wrist that sent a sheet of water directly into Leon’s face. The stream became a battlefield of submerged elbows and hissed accusations.
"You kicked my shin!"
"You placed your shin in my vicinity!"
"You are both ridiculous," I called out, though I could not suppress my grin at the sight of two grown warriors, one a serpent prince and one a lion prince, engaged in what amounted to a glorified water fight.
Ravin chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Let them exhaust themselves," he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles on my palm. "It gives me time with you."
I leaned into his warmth, watching as Leon attempted to dunk Soryn’s head beneath the surface, only to find himself flipped onto his back with serpentine speed and deposited in the shallows with a mighty splash. They surfaced sputtering and cursing, and Ravin’s grin widened.
"So," I said, turning my attention to my first mate, "tell me how these marriage alliances truly work."
Ravin’s expression shifted to something more thoughtful, though his gaze kept darting to the stream where Soryn had just retaliated by dumping a handful of wet leaves down Leon’s back. "It varies," he explained, his deep voice carrying the authority of one who would one day rule. "If the alliance sends a female, she comes to choose a mate from our village through courtship and selection, the traditional way. But if they send a male..." He shrugged one massive shoulder. "If a female here takes interest, he may live among us. It is a gesture of good faith, binding the tribes through blood and choice rather than parchment and ink."
"Like a hostage with bedding privileges," I observed.
His laugh rumbled out, rich and genuine. "Something like that. Though the males who come are usually eager enough. Our females have earned a certain reputation."
"For patience?" I asked dryly.
"For strength," he corrected, his gaze softening as it traveled over my rounded belly. "For bearing warriors. For surviving what breaks lesser women."
Before I could respond, Leon’s voice cut through the morning air, dripping with forced casualness. "Speaking of alliances, Rina took another mate. From the hawk tribe, apparently. Showed up yesterday with feathers in her hair and that smug look she wears when she thinks she has won something."
The mention of Rina settled over our group like a poisoned fog. Leon’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, water dripping from his elbows forgotten. Soryn’s eyes went cold and flat, the serpent in him rising to the surface, while Ravin let out a low breath through his nose, his chest vibrating with a suppressed growl.
They knew. They all knew what she had done, what she had tried to do. But there was no proof, no witness left alive to confirm the treachery on that cliff. Without evidence, accusing her would only make us look like jealous fools attacking a widow who had already lost one mate to the invasion.
"Good for her," I said evenly, meeting Leon’s eyes with a steadiness that belied the memory of wind screaming past my ears, of desperate hands clutching crumbling stone.
Ravin’s thumb paused its movement, his sharp gaze catching something in my tone, some brittleness beneath the casual words. He knew. He knew exactly what kind of woman Rina was, selfish and hollow, the type who collected men like trophies and discarded them the moment they ceased to amuse her. I could see the pity flicker in his golden eyes, not for us, but for the hawk tribesman who would soon learn the depth of his mistake.
"The poor bastard," Ravin murmured, almost too soft to hear. "He has no idea what he has tethered himself to."
"She will bore of him within a season," Soryn said, his voice carrying that serpent’s certainty, cold and clinical. He had never laid eyes on Rina, had never spoken a word to her, but he had heard enough from Leon and Ravin to understand exactly what kind of creature she was. The knowledge of what she had tried to do to me, the murderous intent she had shown toward his pregnant mate, was enough to earn his undiluted hatred. "She’ll probably let him die like she did that wolf."
"Good," Leon muttered, though his eyes remained troubled. "Let him learn the hard way what kind of viper he has taken a liking to."
But he said nothing more, and neither did the others. We were bound by silence, by the knowledge that justice had been stolen from us by death and circumstance. Ravin only pulled me closer, his arm a heavy band of warmth and protection, as behind us Soryn and Leon began arguing about whose turn it was to wash my body, the bickering a thin veil over their shared helpless rage, and the morning continued its absurd, fragile dance forward.