Power
She was not going to cower behind a rock. Miranda laid her hand on top of Zayan’s, which was outstretched and clamped to the rough, hard boulder at the top of the circle, farthest from the direction of the wind and the fog. She stood at his side to face the red fog that was racing toward them through the trees.
Strangely, when she was facing death and should be petrified, numb with terror, or steeling herself for battle, Miranda remembered Althea’s words. I had dreams about Yannick and Bastien. Erotic dreams of loving and making love to two men.
They proved to be premonitions. Both Yannick and Bastien possess special powers. We were destined to be together, the three of us, because our combined love makes us stronger.
Both women had become vampires and had willingly done so—they had been made by the men they loved. Could she still tap into the magic of a shared love if she remained mortal? But then she wasn’t mortal. She didn’t know what she was . . .
Zayan threw a bolt of his blue magic at the red fog that was now advancing through the trees, rolling over upon itself like a crimson wave. His spell merely bounced off it, scattering throughthe trees. Branches exploded as the power hit them. Sparks flew and acrid smoke plumed up. But the fog kept moving.
Miranda. Come to me, Miranda, and I will not destroy the vampire you love.
The voice rang evocatively in her mind. It beckoned her, so rich and pure and sultry and powerful, it made her want to obey. She remembered how she had tried to fight against the rich, beautiful sound of Zayan’s and Lukos’s voices in her head, only days ago.
She hesitated. If Zayan could not defeat the red power, she would be dead anyway. She couldn’t let him die senselessly for her—
“Do not even think of it,” Zayan warned, revealing he was connected with her thoughts.
Behind them, leaves snapped in a sudden breeze and branches clattered. Miranda jumped around, still clasping Zayan’s hand.
Lukos stood there, naked, his hair flowing out behind him like a black cape.
“I saw into your thoughts, Miranda. I saw what you want. I did not come before because I did not think I could share you with . . . with the damned Roman general who gave my sister to Lucifer.”
“I didn’t,” Zayan snapped. An unearthly blue light swirled in his reflective eyes. Miranda had never seen that before. “I never served Lucifer, and you are a bloody hardheaded Saxon—”
“Stop!” Miranda cried. “But you came. Why?”
“Because I am willing to lay down my sword—in a sense— to protect you. If this is the only way we can stop this bloody fog, I’m willing to try.” One long stride brought him to her side, and he clasped her hand.
“Together,” he growled. “We will have to concentrate together. Remember, Miranda, as we did in the barn?”
“I will never forget what we did in the barn. Not one moment of it.” It was her way of telling Lukos what he meant to her, her way of doing it while still preserving decorum, which oddly, madly, she felt she should do. “I have realized,” she said as the fingers of fog slithered between the trees into their opening, “that I love you both.”
And she shut her eyes and thought of a quenching, powerful light—something that would burrow into the heart of the fog and blow it apart forever, so it could never wrap around a person or a village again. It could never take life or power or a soul or whatever it craved—
The force of the energy that seemed to explode out through her bare skin drove her back. Zayan and Lukos held her hands tight. She opened her eyes. There was nothing to see, but she felt it. Then she saw a ripple in the air. A ripple of movement that tumbled over on itself like a black ball rolling through the night sky.
Instead of exploding, the black ripples spread through the air; Miranda could see them where they blocked out the trees.
They looked like dark arms reaching out to embrace the fog. At once, the fog began to race back on itself. But the black tendrils reached it—touched it—
A unearthly shriek almost burst Miranda’s ears. The vampires at her sides flinched too. The fog raced back with such force, it brought trees falling. Tall trunks that fell like dominoes and slammed against each other. Some hit the ground, shaking it.
The fog was gone. For the first time since they had reached Blackthorne Castle, days before, the sky was clear. Black as jet, like velvet, and festooned with winking stars.
Miranda looked to Zayan. He was straining to listen.
“It’s not destroyed,” he said grimly. “It just retreated. I can still sense it. What went wrong?”
Lukos shook his head. Miranda found her gaze straying down his naked body—it was a beautiful, lithe, powerful form.
And now, spared from death, she felt giddy with relief, heady with the need to celebrate life. She wanted to kiss each man. She wanted—wanton woman that she was—to touch their bodies.
At the same time. One hand to caress and fondle Zayan, and one to do the same to Lukos.
Althea and Serena had done it. They did it every night, and had frankly admitted they enjoyed it. She’d pushed the thoughts aside when talking to the women, because they made her blush.
She’d had to admit she was curious . . . And now, standing in the quiet grove with Lukos and Zayan, she saw the allure of shared love. At once she was aroused—hot, wet, creamy, and completely ready. She wanted to savor the beauty of both men.
She wanted—
Oh heavens. Four hands on her. Four legs to stretch out along hers. And fingers—all those fingers to make magic on her skin. Two mouths to take her nipples, to kiss in her most private, most deliciously sensitive places. Two tight, beautiful masculine derrieres for her to touch, perhaps even to . . . to kiss.
And two long, hard, swordlike cocks—
Oh. She’d confronted an intense power with courage, but thinking of all the sexual games she could imagine, her strength was draining away, making her weak with need and desire, making her breasts ache and her cunny throb.
She wanted to recapture the pleasure she’d known with each man. They had not been able to destroy the red power. And she knew, before Althea and Serena had gone after their foes—she tried to forget that was Zayan and Lukos—they had shared their beds with two men.
“Perhaps we are supposed to . . .” Courage, courage, Miranda, she advised herself. “To go to bed all together first.”
“What normally happens,” Miranda whispered. “What should I do? Do I lie down? How do we begin?”
“Not so clinical, angel,” Lukos laughed. “We begin like this.”
He dropped to his knees, lifted her velvet cloak, and rained kisses over the curves of her rump. She giggled—a sound out of place in the now-hushed grove, beneath the dark sky, in the aftermath of a battle.
Zayan captured her lips. Having two men’s mouths on her was dizzying. Hot lips skated over her everywhere—Zayan’s along her throat to her collarbone, then to the tops of her breasts, lingering there and teasing until she grasped his shoulders to stay standing. Lukos kissed her bottom, licked her inner thighs and set her trembling. He teased her calves with her fingertips—she’d had no idea that would feel erotically pleasurable.
Lukos turned her abruptly, rotated her away from Zayan, and put his mouth to her nether curls. He drew patterns through with his tongue. It tickled. It was wet and compelling.
He was good at this, and he knew it; he smiled confidently as he slicked his tongue over her nether lips and made her quiver.
He gripped her thighs, holding her to his mouth, and she soon knew why. Gentle caresses turned to fierce, exquisite torment.
He flicked his tongue fast and hard on her clit. If he hadn’t kept her prisoner, she would have backed away. Zayan parted her cheeks, his hands cradling them, and he licked the puckered entrance of her rear.
Zayan’s tongue plunged, Lukos’s flicked. She clutched Lukos’s shoulder as sensation built. She rocked her hips—forward to Lukos, back to Zayan, sandwiched between their mouths. Their hands stroked, over hips, down her thighs, on the small of her back, the planes of her belly. She was engulfed in delight. Smells came to her—of the new leaves, the sweet night air, of her lovers—
Lukos sucked at her clit and she exploded. Before her climax ended, she was laid gently down on her outspread cloak. She couldn’t remember either of them removing it. Zayan laid on it, and lifted her, so she sprawled over him. His hard cock pressed to her sopping cunny.
She joined him in a heated kiss. They devoured each other’s mouths; he shifted his hips, and his cock filled her.
Lukos’s thumb pressed to her already pleasured anus. Yes.
Yes, she did want this. A caress of his finger, and she felt wet and slick back there. As he held his cock to her, he stroked and teased, until she was panting.
Pressure. A twinge of pain. The amazing sensation of opening for him. Pleasure claiming her from both front and back.
Then he was in her, in a few precious inches, and she was amazingly full.
Braced on his powerful arms, Lukos stayed in her, without moving. Zayan shifted his hips, pressing his cock deeper, so deep, and she gasped. She gripped his biceps. Lose your control, she begged. I am ready.
She had never expected to release such passion. Lukos drove deeply into her, too, drawing out to the sensitive rim of her anus, then filling her again. She rocked between them both—
Oh!
The climax took her quickly. And the men kept thrusting, taking her to another. And another.
“God, my angel, you are precious.” Lukos managed to rasp those words aloud; then he bucked into her, filling her snug rear passage with his hot come.
“Beyond precious,” Zayan shouted, and he surrendered to his climax too. He reached down between their bodies, tweaked her clit, and made her explode once again.
Oh, she cried. I adore you both.
They collapsed together on the velvet cloak. She should be chilled, to be covered in perspiration in the cool night air, but the men cuddled close to her.
We adore you, Lukos said, gruffly.
“But you seem to hate each other.”
“If you want me to forgive Zayan for what he did to Ara. If you expect me to kiss and make up, I will not do it.”
“It’s not the truth, damn it, Lukos. And the price for your blasted stubborn stupidity could be Miranda’s life.”
Miranda levered on her arm and faced Lukos. The truth had to be gotten at. “Why do you think Zayan did it? How do you know?”
“Lucifer revealed it to me. Why would he incriminate Zayan if the blackguard was innocent?”
Zayan leapt to his feet. “Because of this. Lucifer has demons with the power of prognostication. He could have looked into the future and seen that we would join together with a woman of incredible power.”
A woman of incredible power. Miranda sat up, and Lukos draped his conjured cloak around her shoulders. She twisted to face him. “It does make sense.”
Lukos frowned. “There was already a prophesy written about me. It claimed my mate was Serena Lark, a half-vampire woman.”
Miranda stilled. “Lucifer might have seen something different.”
“The truth is I never served Satan,” Zayan said. “I was the red power’s slave. I was never an apprentice to the devil, as you were. And your sister was imprisoned only because you went willingly to the Underworld to gain the devil’s magic—”
“I damn well did it to save my people.”
Zayan bowed his head. “Your sister was hurt to punish and torment you. I understand how that feels—”
“He does,” Miranda cried. “Don’t you both see that you should sympathize with each other? You could help each other with the pain and the grief of your pasts. If only you would stop believing lies and would put your pride behind you.”
The men stood, silhouetted by fingers of moonlight against the night sky. “She is right,” Zayan groaned.
Lukos simply growled. Rising onto her knees, she knew she had to try to break through to him . . .
She realized she was between them, her mouth at the level of their crotches. She could smell the blend of her aromas and theirs.
Sensual desire heated in her again. Althea and Serena had told her that passion could break through reluctance, that pleasure could allow the men to push aside anger and mistrust.
She had to try.
Miranda grasped both shafts and drew her men to her mouth.
Zayan looked up to Lukos. “A truce to pleasure her?”
“All right.” They both waved their hands and created two long, slim wands of green light—the wands were about the size of the men’s cocks. She trembled with nerves and anticipation.
But she was so wet from so many climaxes, the lights easily went inside her. The columns of magic thrust slowly in and out of her quim and derriere, as the men’s erections had done. Both magical cocks surged in at once, and the sensation was so intense, she found herself squeezing the two cocks hard. Too hard. The heads both turned a dark purple.
“Heavens, I’m sorry.” She relaxed her grip, slid her hands up and down.