Harper
Soot-servant
Five horses and a cart finally weave their way into view on the long dirt road. Not an impressive noble's carriage, just a cart. Open with a flat bed that's covered in crates.
We don't get many visitors, and the way Lord Martin has been carrying on, I was expecting the King himself.
I wasn't interested in the arrival of the King, but the arrival of five unassuming riders that have the power to turn Lord Martin inside out with panic, that's interesting.
The riders are all wearing hooded cloaks, the kind that button from chest to waist and flare out over their saddles, with hoods deep enough that their faces are lost in the darkness. So all I know is that their body language is decidedly masculine and they're adults – or, less likely, very big and well defined children?
No, not possible, they have to be adults.
The procession moves straight to the front gate, then splits up. The biggest guy dismounts first and heads for the front door, through the recently decorated rose garden. And I'm talking big, this guy was either born of the freaking huge trees in that forest or one of the beasts I've seen come out of it. He flicks his hood back, revealing rough hair grown too long to be called short but too short to be tied up and out of his face. It's pitch freaking black, matching the shadows over his face. Not to mention he moves like pure muscle.
Lord Martin rushes to greet him, stumbles back a step, then moves aside and simply lets the guy breeze on past.
A second guy dismounts and approaches the sweating Lord, but the other three have kept moving. One heading off toward the barn and two dismounting outside the high kitchen garden wall.
For a second, the two that have come closer to me on my torture post look like they might be going to unload the cart, but they swagger into the garden without much care for the crates. The both of them pull back their hoods to take in their surroundings.
"Mortals," the first guy almost spits. He saunters between the rows of vegetables and herbs growing neatly in raised timber beds, occasionally leaning down to run his fingers through the mint or lavender then breathe in the scent.
I lose sight of the second guy, the one with soft brown hair and a gentle face, all of my attention on the man moving closer to me. On his broad shoulders, chiseled jawline, intense eyes – damn my list just keeps going. He moves with power and confidence, running his inked fingers through his hair. He's wearing a tailored blue cotton shirt, the type with leather lacing at the neck that he's left open, and stretching out from underneath, over his chest, up his neck, and over half his face are more inked lines.
Tattoos.
I've only ever heard stories.
Before I can stop myself, I swing down off my pole and land with a sudden bounce right next to the guy.
He jumps and exclaims like I both scared and disgusted him, but doesn't back away. With his arms slightly raised and crossed between us as a kind of barrier, he regards me. I'm not much to look at. I'm small, 'delicate' Cook calls it, my brown hair's long and on the wild side, and right now I must be grinning like a crazy person.
"Puss, what is it?" he asks, looking at me but throwing the question at his companion.
It? I guess, as far as name calling goes, I've been called worse, but not normally by strangers.
Hot strangers. Very very hot and sexy strangers.
I work hard to unpurse my lips and assess the third it in the garden.
Puss, the shorter, quiet guy leaning back against the garden wall with one boot crossed over the other and a look of curiosity, almost humor, on his placid face. His is not a name I've heard before, and I add it to my 'weird shit' list.
"A mortal, Tas," he says.
Tas – another weird-as-hell name. I mean, if that's where they keep the sexy people, in the land of weird names, then sign me up. I could be Harp, or Per, don't care – both are better than it.
"Does it bite?" Tas asks.
I ignore the implied insult, grabbing his arm and pulling it closer to inspect the ink. I should be scared. The shiver over my skin tells me that he is something, and I am not. Cook would call it being a dumb-ass. Jake says its endearing, but the reality is I'm probably about to get my ass kicked. In which case I might as well earn it.
I lift his hand to my mouth, and he doesn't resist. "Is it trying to eat me?"
The ink is really in there, like it's part of who he is. I run my tongue over his finger – but it doesn't wash away.
"I wouldn't recommend it. Those fingers were in my ass last night," Puss says, finally moving away from the garden wall.
I stop mid-lick, my tongue still out and his hand hovering near my face, then pull my tongue into my mouth. Leather polish, that's all he tastes of. Leather polish and sweat. It's an interesting guy flavor – far better than ass.
Tas chuckles, tugging his hand out of my grip and calling over his shoulder to Puss, "I was enjoying that."
"Could have been worse, I could have licked your face," I say, pointing up at the way the design covers half his face with a chink from the chain at my wrist.
All I manage to do is draw his attention to the shackle. I ignore the changed direction of his gaze and the way Puss finally begins to advance, asking, "How did you get that?"
Tas snorts. "She's a feisty mortal."
"Explains a lot," Puss says, staring at the chain with his brow drawn down in concern.
He seems... gentle. Not that his features aren't defined and hot-as-boiling-potatoes, but the shift in his calm rings so much louder than from anyone I've ever met.
"Tas," Puss says, the one word is like a command, or a plea, and all he needs before suddenly, tattoo-face-Tas has stepped in close, pushing me back, pinning me to the wall with the chain in his grip and his muscles flexed like he might be about to break the thing. My heart kicks up a notch, that's to be expected, but my palms getting sweaty and mouth going dry – that's very unexpected.
I drag my attention up from my crotch – and his, which is a little too firm for someone looking at me. He must be thinking about his pretty wife. I'm neither pretty nor wife material. And he completely lacks the vibe of someone like Lord Martin, so it can't be that.
I suck in a breath to get my shit under control, pulling my wrist back and the chain free from his grip.
"Don't mess with shit you don't understand," I growl.
But it's hard to stay angry at a guy who looks good enough to be a god, has the power to make me wet, and smells like rain. I love the smell of rain.
"Do it," Puss says, rather tentatively.
And that's it. All over. The guy grabs the chain and squeezes it – crushing the metal. My wrist is suddenly heavy with the unsupported weight, and instantly, I'm freaking out.
"What the fuck, how am I going to explain this?" I demand, trying to shove the guy back.
He doesn't budge.
"I can't snap it any closer to her wrist, or I'll break more than the chain," he says.
Leaning down, he plants both hands on my hips, then slings me up and over his shoulder like I weigh nothing.
I squeak, desperately looking around for a rescue – or for Lord Martin because he's going to kill me for this.
Forget wanting me in bed, I'll be in a grave!
"There'll be tools in the barn," Tas says, turning and marching from the kitchen garden with me.
With me.
"Put me down, I don't want it off. I don't want to be rescued! Are you insane?" I demand, struggling to get down. Actually, struggling is an understatement since the guy has a broad shoulder and arm muscles like a giant vise.
Both guys pause a few steps into the rose garden.
"Mortals have weird gardens," Tas mutters, completely ignoring me.
Groaning, I stop fighting and just slump. He's not putting me down. Upside – I'm pretty sure we're heading to the barn and not to his horse...
The notion fills me with a rush. If he were to put me on his horse, what would I do? I mean, would I leave this place? Could I?
Fuck yeah, I could.
Two options cross my mind, steal his horse... but then go where? A girl has to eat.
So, option number two wins before the idea has even fully formed in my mind – get them to take me with them.
Easy? Right?
Puss overtakes us, running a hand through his soft hair. No one around here has hair like that, a light brown that looks more fur than human anyway.
"Can I run my hand through his hair?" I mutter, knowing the man is now too far away to hear me.
Tas chuckles – because, of course, Tas can hear me.
"What?" Puss calls back, but he's ahead of Tas, so I can't see him or his reaction.
"She smells like sex, and she's talking about fucking you."
"No, I'm not!" I shout, the words echoing off the stark manor wall and making my chest tense.
"Can I watch her fuck you?" Tas calls, not caring who hears or about my permission in all of this.
"Shhh," I hiss, twisting to try and cover the guy's mouth. "You're going to get me killed!"
"No, I'm going to get you fucked," he chuckles.
"Who says I want to be fucked!" I demand.
The guy adjusts his grip, letting me slide onto his chest a bit so he can meet my gaze.
"You don't deal with many shifters, do you?" he asks.
"Shifters?" I roll the word around my mouth.
"I'll take that as a no. Heightened senses. I can smell you."
"No, you can't, I showered this morning." Add to that the fact that all I've been doing is cleaning stones, hardly the kind of work that makes a girl sweat. If I'd been shoveling the pig shit, then he'd have grounds to tell me I stink.
He shifts again, putting his lips next to my ear as we step through the barn door from the bright sun into the cool shadows.
"You're wet, I can smell it, and I like it. I've never fucked a mortal before," he says, then ever so softly sucks my earlobe between his teeth and bites.
Sending a shot of fuck-knows-what down my spine.
I mean, I have fun with Jake, but that bolt – that feeling – and the rush of excitement still running through me, is like sex on fire, and we aren't even having sex!
Tools clink behind me, and suddenly, Tas releases me to stand on my own two feet.
"Stop playing with the mortal. We aren't taking her clothes off," Puss says, holding up a hammer and a hoof nail puller. Farrier tools, and not what I would have considered appropriate for the job, but I don't see why not. "We get that off and let her go."
I cross my arms over my chest and take three big steps away from them both.
"You can't – where am I going to go? In case you haven't noticed, the manor is in the middle of nowhere, and mortals need some basics, food, water, somewhere to sleep. That kind of thing. Why do you keep calling me a mortal anyway?"
"Mortal," Tas says, a patronizing smile on his face. Then he leans back to rest his weight on the stall railing. "Shifter."
His face morphs before I can demand more information, fur and sharp pointy teeth appearing then gone in a blink. On the inside I want to stumble back in shock, but my body holds still. I've seen scarier shit – Martin's limp dick is high on that list.
And once I have that thought in order, leveling out all other possible reactions, I find myself smiling back at the man. "I'll make you a wager."
"What?" Tas asks.
But at the same time Puss says, "No."
"I want to hear her out," Tas argues, taking the tools and wriggling his fingers impatiently.
I cross my arms over my chest, which is a bit awkward with the cuff but still adds to my don't-fuck-with-me body language.
"You let me blow your freaking mind, and if I do, you take me with you."
"And if you don't?" Puss asks, mirroring my arms folded over chest stance.
I shrug, my shoulders sagging. "Well, I guess you'll just gift me your horse and every coin you have on you and be on your way then."
Tas snorts, and damn the guy can move. Suddenly, he's grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward, making me stagger and stumble to keep up.
"Why would we do that?" he asks, but doesn't stop moving. Before I can argue we're in the store room, a table between us, horse tack and various other livestock related items around us, the smell of leather and straw filling my nose, and my arm being stretched flat over the bench.
"Because you fucked my life up when you broke that chain. I don't know how long your friends are going to keep Lord Martin busy, but it's not long enough. It's never going to be long enough. The minute he sees I'm not where I'm supposed to be, and not suffering my punishment, he's going to fuck me up."
Tas still has my wrist in his grip, holding it flat to the surface of the worn timber table, but his gaze is on me. And judging by the sparkle in his eyes and the creases around them, he's amused.
"The wager is simple; you take me with you, or you give me your horse and your coin."
"Shut her up, will you," Tas says, rolling his eyes toward Puss in the doorway.
"I'm not touching her with that thing on," Puss announces.
I lean back, testing my weight against his grip and calculating my chances of escaping. The man's shoulder muscles barely even flex, so unless I can grease myself up a bit, I'm not pulling free.
"Fine, you take care of this, and I'll deal with the mortal and her wager," Tas says. He snags a leather scrap from the edge of the table where there's a collection of them hanging.
This table is often used by the field hands mending things... not sure what they're mending I don't spend a lot of time in here – mostly just in the loft. Which is possibly why it takes me by surprise that I have such a long strap suddenly wrapping around my wrist, or that within three moves it's pulled tight, then clipped over another hook, and I'm fucking stuck.
"Hey!" I exclaim. This wasn't part of the plan. They were taking the shackle off, not tying me to a table.
And the thing doesn't budge either, not with pulling, or twisting, or pushing at it with my other hand, and before I can consider climbing over the damn table Tas is behind me.
He grips the bicep on my free arm and stills my struggles.
"We're not going to hurt you," he says, his tone low and smooth as silk. Goosebumps rush over my skin and heat unfurls from low in my core.
Fucking low.
Like fuck-me-now kind of low.
He runs his hand down my arm, settling almost at my wrist. Not holding or gripping, just resting with enough weight to keep me still. Not that I'm even struggling anymore, everything from my common sense to my pussy wants to know what he's going to say next.
And do.
"So, you have two very clear options here. Relinquish your wager, then hold still and let us free your wrist. That'll help Puss sleep at night. We can provide you safe passage out of here, but it won't be back to where we're from."
"Or?" I ask, please let there be an or. My gaze shifts to Puss for a second, watching him approach.
"Or I work on this shackle because it is coming off, while Tas fucks you, and then you can leave. You will be leaving, but like Tas said, it won't be into Silva with us."
I'm about to press on the Silva issue, because where in the world is Silva? But there's something more broken about everything they just said, and I'd rather address that.
"Fuck no! Deal is I do you, you take me with you. Easy. Simple. Done."
"Problem," Puss says, picking up one of the tools and angling it toward the mechanism in the iron. "He doesn't want you to fuck him."
My jaw almost drops. Almost, but not quite because I have just a tiny bit more self-respect than that. I hadn't factored rejection into this bargain. Sure, I'm not the prettiest princess on the planet, but they're all up in my space and talking like sex gods, so I can't have confused the signals that badly – can I?
Tas chuckles, starting to draw my arm back.
"No, wait. This has to come off first," Puss says.
Which stops the big guy, and before I can argue Puss grabs the second tool, gives the first a solid thump, and pops the shackle free.
"Right, now that you're a free woman, I need an honest answer," Tas says, drawing my arm back to my side. Not the arm that had the shackle on it because that is still strapped down to the top of the damn table, and Puss doesn't look like he plans to untie it anytime soon.
"My wager still stands, but you take me with you. That's the rule."
"She drives a hard bargain," Puss says.
"But she doesn't understand there's five of us, and once Flynn catches her scent she's stuck with us," a new voice says.
I turn to try and see the newcomer, but Tas and the straps on my wrist hold me in place.
There's a pause, the other two guys looking at guy number three as soft footsteps get closer.
"Oh, you two haven't worked it out yet?" the new guy says, finally stepping into view.
He's got blue hair, which is about as crazy as the world can get. Blue hair, blue eyes, a strong jaw, and damn, he's gorgeous.
"Worked what out, Lochy?" Puss asks.
Lochy, name number three on my weird-shit list.
The guy walks up to me and literally smells my hair. I can't move, not with Tas holding me in place, but thankfully the moment is soon over.
"Owl shifter," he announces.
"What?" Tas chokes, suddenly running his tongue up the side of my face.
I squeal but still can't fucking move. I've been in vulnerable positions before, but this is about the most intense. Not only am I pressed with my hips against the side of a narrow table, but one wrist is strapped down, pulling my arm out straight, and my other is in the grip of the biggest guy I've ever met.
Not to mention his hips are against my ass and the length of his erection's pressing into me like a constant reminder that I want him to fuck me. Am I insane?
"She still needs to agree," Puss declares.
"What do you think the chances are that we've been searching for years to find an unmated and uninfected shifter worth claiming, and there's been one hiding on the mortal side?"
"What the fuck are you talking about? And I swear if one of you licks me again, I'm calling this whole thing off."
"I'm guessing she has no idea?" Lochy asks, walking a slow lap around the room. He picks up and puts down lengths of leather strapping. The kind used to control the plough horses or tie down goods in a wagon.
"But she does want to come with us," Puss says. "She needs to agree first."
"Agree to what?!" I demand.
All three of them look at me like they'd forgotten I was in the room.
"To fucking us," they say.
Puss adds a tiny bit more detail with, "For life."
"So," I begin, drawing out the 'o' while I try to work out if I'm the crazy one here or them. "When I suggested I could blow your mind and you'd take me you were against the idea, but now, for some reason, you want to fuck me and take me without argument?"
Puss leans over the table a bit, meeting my gaze squarely, given I'm partly bent over it.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-five."
"Ever woken up with feathers in your bed?" he asks.
"Found raw meat tasty?" Tas adds.
"Dreamed about flying?" Lochy adds.
I open my mouth to speak, but the more questions they ask the more I begin to feel pieces falling into place – especially hunting mice.
"We can explain everything to you," Puss says. "Whether you choose to come with us or not. We can explain your powers, we can make sure you're well away from this place, but we can't keep you with us unless you choose to fuck us all."
"Um..." Yep, clearly I don't have the required braincells for this conversation because I'm pretty sure I was up for fucking whoever I needed to to get on Sexy-one or Sexy-two's horses. Since there are five of them and five horses, I seriously don't care whose horse I end up on.
And to be honest I have a problem right now that I've never had before – I'm pretty sure I'm too aroused to walk straight.
"Yes or no, Flynn's been searching the Manor, and my guess is he can sense her too."
"Why can't I sense her?" Tas asks, smelling my hair.
"Stick your dick in her, pretty sure she'll feel like a shifter," Lochy says, adjusting his pants.
Oh, fuck, yes.
Lochy continues his lap around the room, a collection of leather straps slung over one arm.
Puss rests both his elbows on the table, his gaze serious.
"Permission."
"Yes?" I ask, my tone a little tentative because I'm really not sure what I'm granting permission for. I mean, Jake and I just fuck. We don't have a conversation about it first.
"Is that a yes, we can fuck her?" Lochy asks, walking behind Tas and completely out of my field of view, although I can feel movement between them and the exchange of, most likely, leather.
Why are we moving leather around the room?
"You can't hurt me – no pain – I don't agree to any pain," I begin to blurt, cut short by Tas' chuckle.
"We won't hurt you, but if you don't give Puss permission to fuck you, I'm going to begin without him."
Puss is still leaning on the table, watching me with his brown eyes. He had trouble with the shackle, he was the one upset that I was chained up, and he's determined to get permission. I can see dark shadows in his thoughts, and it shows in my lowered tone and soft voice. "I give you permission."
Then fuck, do they move fast.
My tunic is up and being passed to Puss, who tugs it sharply to expose every-fucking-thing from my ass down.
I'm about to exclaim about that when my damn tights start to tear – they're ripping my clothes right off me!
"Fuck –" I begin, but Puss leans forward and presses his lips to mine before the rest of my sentence can escape. His kiss is soft and hot at the same time, capturing my ability to speak as behind me leather is tied to my free arm.
Meaning it's no longer my free arm. It's now my strapped-behind-my-back arm. Air brushes over my bare ass, cool over the parts of me that are really rather wet – possibly even wetter with the sudden frenzy.
"If all three of us can fuck her before Flynn gets here, he'll have no choice," Lochy is saying, followed by his pants falling to the ground with a heavy thump.
Puss draws back from our kiss, a little smile on his lips.
"You don't want to get to know her more?" he asks, but he's clearly teasing.
"We have eternity to create boundaries; right now, we need to form this bond. Get the bond, get the power up, and get our asses out of the infestation of magic in Silva. That's why we came hunting for a damn mystical statue in the first place. Priority number one, Puss, secure our ticket out of here. Besides, she's cute," Tas says.
His pants fall to the floor, and I know it's his because instantly his dick is firm against my ass. Everything in me clenches tight, a mix between excitement and nervousness at the sheer size of the man. I'm no virgin, but this... this is going to be new.
Movement again behind me, then Lochy is pulling on one of my legs and Tas on the other.
"Wait, what?" I demand, turning enough to see their heads as they crouch beside a table leg each.
"Relax," Puss says. "Remember, we won't hurt you."
Which only partly settles my racing heart, but mostly acts as a distraction – before I can argue further, my legs are bound, one to each of the table legs. Wide, with my ass splayed, and no way I can clench up now.
I whimper, parts of me quivering from the unknown and other parts from a build up of frustration that just demands more.
I've looked at this table a million times in the past and never considered it for any of these purposes.
Puss smiles at me, then lowers himself down and underneath the table, his tongue tracing a line over my clit without any warning. I would jump, except I'm bound, and I would squeak, except at that moment Tas' hand snakes over my mouth.
He presses his weight down on me, making me bow onto the table, with his other hand drawn back to his dick.
"Fuck, this is more fun than I thought it would be," he moans, moving his dick around. Teasing the tip of my pussy, then gentle pressure against my ass, then back to my pussy, like he can't decide.
I can decide – I could tell him right now if he wasn't covering my mouth and using my head as leverage for the small teases of thrusts, a little more pressure each time. Ass – pussy – ass – pussy.
Please in my pussy. Please in my pussy.
Jake and I are hard and fast kind of people. Helped by the fact that I come pretty quickly and don't mess around when it comes to satisfying him. So, nope, no one has ever been in my ass before – and certainly no one as big as Tas has ever been near me at all.
Ass – pussy – ass – pussy.
He presses against my ass again, wet with my own moisture and the smooth slide of Puss' tongue working over everything. There's a pinch of pain, then he pulls back and slides his tip to my pussy again. Pressing in by no more than a finger tip, then fucking pulling out again.
I moan into his hand and feel the puffs of air as Puss laughs at me.
Then Tas is back at my ass, pressing, making a sting of pain clench everything tighter.
"I really want to fuck her ass first," he says as he slides back and teases to my pussy again.
"Do it," Lochy encourages, moving to the front of the table. His dick is in his hand with long, slow strokes that steal all of my attention.
"Nod if you like it hard?" Lochy suggests, but before I can nod – or shake my head – he looks up at Tas. "She's a shifter, so she'll heal."
Heal? Can't everyone heal?
A thumb presses up into my pussy – Puss'. Fuck, he has the perfect name now. Then his fingers stretch toward my ass. Working their way in to the first knuckle as Tas presses beside him.
"Just relax, sweetheart," Tas coos. Why does he have the perfect voice for this? Like sex itself is a lullaby. I obey as best I can. "Good girl," he says, his other hand getting a solid grip on my bound arm.
With a sudden thrust he's all the way in – all-the-fucking-way-in. I gasp against his hand, my back arching, and a sting telling me that maybe I wasn't relaxed enough. But the feelings catching alight inside me are a different kind of intense. Pleasure and desire.
He slides slowly back, then thrusts hard again, making the table legs scrape on the stone floor. Lochy lets go of his dick and grabs the table, pushing it back. What? Do these guys think they're actually going to push the table across the room?
Tas slams into me again, pushing the table despite Lochy being there. The blue haired guy smiles at me. "Hold on for your life there, princess."
And I fucking would – if I could. But I'm tied down, with Puss between my legs adjusting so his thumb is on my clit and his fingers inside me. My knees quiver, sharp zaps of pleasure making it impossible not to.
"That's it, sweetheart, come for me. You have to come first," Tas is saying, letting go of my mouth and leaning forward to grip the other side of the table. Even pulling the table back toward his thrusts we still need Lochy to hold it still.
This might be the perfect time to tell him my ass wasn't on offer – but words are impossible. Just thrusts, the rub of Puss' fingers, and the hot rush of my orgasm. The sudden explosion has me crying out for barely a second before Tas covers my mouth to muffle the sound.