Silence descended when Malin landed in the center of Geza’s tower suite. His brother had the dome back tonight, one of the rare nights there was no rain, and the serum Surah had injected made Malin feel strong. Almost normal.

He turned his head slowly, meeting the eyes of several warriors in the room. They stared at him, unmoving, except for deliberately casual motions.

“Brother,” Geza called out. “You never join us for our evening entertainment.”

Warriors parted as Geza rose from his couch on the far side of the room and approached. Malin met his eyes. “I have something to say.”

Geza’s eyes narrowed fractionally, but he smiled and swept an arm with all the drama of a male who was slightly drunk…or pretending to be. “Then speak. The former Prince is always welcome here.”

“Lady Surah, the Princess Ioveanu, is mine. She wears my jewelry and will bear my garlings.”

Geza’s fake smile disappeared. “Is she pregnant?”

“No. Any male who touches her will die by my sword—and then I will go after his line.”

“And what would Surah say about that?”

Malin smiled, cold. Deathly cold. “She won’t know. But all of you will. No more attempts on her life, no more attempts to court her. Stay away from my betrothed.”

Geza didn’t move. “Keep her, if you are strong enough.”

“She makes me strong enough.”

* * *

“I need a favor.”

Surah stared at her brother’s face in the wide screen of her laptop, unsure she’d heard correctly. That particular string of words had never left Geza’s mouth that Surah could recall. She ran her tongue around her teeth, considering all the variables. Hearing from Geza at all was surprising. The last several weeks had been…difficult. With Surah's now open mating to Malin, the relationship between the three was tense, to say the least.

And there was the whole issue of Malin being approached to overthrow Geza and seize back the throne. Navigating their tangled relationships as sorta step-siblings was difficult enough on normal days. Especially on days when Surah had to endure looks of horror because people seemed to forget she wasn’t related to Malin.

“Okay. What is it?”

Geza’s dark brow lifted imperiously. “You don’t want to negotiate first?”

“Negotiate with my Prince?”

Geza snorted, the display shaking for a moment as he threw himself onto his bed, midnight-ombre wings draping over the sides onto the floor. Which said something about his wingspan, since Surah knew the bed was the size of two California Kings.

“Like the fact that I’m your supreme Sovereign to whom you owe breath and allegiance ever mattered to you.”

“What’s the damn favor, Geza?”

“I need you to convince Malin to marry my fiancée.”

Surah poked a finger in her ear, simultaneously checking the volume on her cell. “I’m sorry; I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

Geza stared off into the distance, already bored. “You heard me, Surah. Just a political marriage. It shouldn’t interfere with your betrothal nonsense–I don’t care if you are his first wife.”

A brief note of distaste slid through Geza's tone before it disappeared. Surah stiffened. Geza had made his opinion of the union quite clear. It didn’t matter to him that Malin and Surah were both half-siblings to Geza. It mattered that they now paid more attention to each other than him. That their union meant she now had significant influence, a half-human, over two Ioveanu Princes.

And, yes, that did piss a lot of people off.

“Are you in denial, Geza, about Malin and I?”

He ignored her question. “You owe me for not coming down on Malin for that little threat he made to his ruling Prince in public the other week.”

She grimaced. She’d heard about that because no one, especially warriors, could keep their mouths shut, and she’d been sick of the sidelong glances after a few days and grabbed Niko to ask him what the hell was going on. Malin had been unrepentant. “Can you tell me why I would want to convince Malin to accept a political marriage–which will be expected to produce heirs?”

“I already said. As a favor to your Prince. You aren’t the first Princess who had to accept a sister wife.”

“Come on, Geza, can’t you be serious for once?”

He sat up with a scowl. “I shouldn’t even be asking, you know. I could just make it a command. I didn’t give permission for your mating–and certainly not for a marriage.”

“And you won’t give that command,” Surah said, “because that just might be the command which tips Malin right into the hands of the rebellion.”

Because it was now very open that a faction of nobles and their warriors wanted Geza off the throne, replaced by his elder brother, Malin, the original Prince, before his condition forced him to abdicate. The condition Surah was on the verge of curing…

…if people would just stop calling her during working hours. This was why she’d started working at night, but now that she lived with Malin, she didn’t want to keep missing evenings with her lover–they had so much lost time to make up for.

“If he marries the woman I’m supposed to marry, doesn’t that make his claim to the throne more legitimate?” Geza asked cannily.

Surah stared at him. “What in the hell are you up to?”

The Prince snarled, narrow dark eyes glinting with temper. “Goddamnit! I can’t stand that female. She’s so…quiet. Boring.”

“Please don’t tell me you said that to her face, in front of her father and the Council.” The silence was all the reply Surah needed. “Geza, you can’t do things like that. It’s why people are trying to kick you off the throne. They think you’re too immature, unstable. This marriage is the thing you need to prove that you have some potential to behave like an adult.”

“I’ll marry,” he replied, jerking a shoulder in a half shrug. “Just not someone they choose for me. I'll choose my own bride.”

“Let me know how that worked out for you once Malin is on the throne.”

“Are you supporting him against me?”

“I’m not involved in this at all. It's between the two of you. I’ve said that before, and I’ll keep saying it. Work it out.”

“He won’t talk to me.” Geza’s mouth turned down. It was little disconcerting that a powerful, handsome warrior could still pout like a little boy. She bet his ladies adored it. At least for a while.

“Maybe because the last time you spoke you threatened to pin his wings to the wall of the throne hall.”

“He threatened to cut off my fingers if a Mogren went after you again! And that was after he stole you from your rightful betrothed. Do you have any idea the concessions I’m being hammered with because of the insult?”

Surah snorted. “Geza–grow up. I’m not asking Malin to marry another female.” She disconnected the call before her brother could say anything else, carefully pushed the cell out of the way, and proceeded to bang her head against the desk.

It felt good.

* * *

“Surah?”

She lifted her head from the desk, grimacing as she discreetly swiped moisture from the side of her mouth. She met Malin’s knowing dark eyes. He stood in the threshold of her office in human form. Surah's heart skipped one painful beat, then resumed. Despite the male's exotic beauty, olive-gold skin satiny over sculpted muscles, slashing facial bones contrasting with a sensual mouth and nearly shoulder length dark hair, Surah hated that it was displayed only in human form.

It was night. He should have stood before Surah in the pearlescent-gray skin, gleaming fangs and magnificent wings of his species. But until she and Cole perfected the serum he would be confined to land forever to avoid enduring excruciating pain.

Pain that was Surah's fault.

Oh, intellectually, Surah knew she hadn’t caused it–but her continual failures in the lab haunted her. She ignored the fact that research of this kind generally took years, decades. She wasn’t a genius with an unlimited budget of nothing.

“It's late,” Malin said softly, deep voice a smooth rumble filling the room. He took a step in and the office shrank, eclipsed by the sheer presence of the Prince.

“I work better at night,” Surah replied.

“Of course. You’re half-gargoyle. But you still seem tired, Surah.”

She rose, moving her shoulders and flexing her fingers. Several hours at her laptop every day–she credited her gargoyle genes with the fact she didn’t have carpal tunnel yet.

“I didn’t sleep last night,” she said, giving her mate a long, half-leering look.

Malin smiled. “Then you shall sleep tonight.”

“What? That wasn’t what I meant.”

He laughed, a rich sound of amusement wrapping around Surah and moving under her skin, both comfort and desire. Her body clenched, as usual, just the sound of his laughter enough to perk it up.

“No?” Malin stepped closer, coming around the desk to brush up against Surah, who turned to meet him. They stood, chest to chest, Malin's strong fingers rising to cup Surah's cheek, caressing a cheekbone with his thumb.

“No,” Surah replied firmly. “I can sleep after.”

Malin lowered his head, apple-scented breath caressing Surah's lips. His fingers slid around to the back of her neck, grip tightening, angling her head, just slightly, so her lips were just so when he kissed her. 

A deep, dragging kiss, unhurried with a confidence born of knowledge. Malin knew every inch of Surah's body, had spent nights analyzing her weaknesses, her responses. Slowly breaking down every drop of resistance. He enveloped her, and she struggled to remember she was a person separate from him. Struggled to care.

“Are you done for the evening?” Malin murmured against her mouth.

Surah opened beneath him in response, her tongue sliding into Malin's mouth, exploring and suckling. Her hands slid around his back, enjoying the feel of hard muscle flexing under her fingers. Her touch slid lower until she cupped his firm ass, squeezing flesh and pulling the male even closer.

Malin took control of the kiss, shifting from languorous to demanding lover between one breath and the next. Fiercely dominant, bred to rule, it was a constant struggle for Surah to hold her own against the force of Malin's personality. But at least she'd had years of planting her feet and dealing with Malin as an older brother figure. The practice stood her in good stead now.

Her clit throbbed, body awake and demanding satisfaction. Malin's free hand plucked at the hem of her knit blouse, delving underneath to cup her lace covered breast. Surah shuddered; she would never be used to the feel of Malin's hands on her. Never. 

Malin plucked her nipple, tugging the small bud so Surah gasped, inhaling sharply. Damn it. “We can't do this here,” Surah said, frustrated.

“No?” Malin purred. “Why not?”

“There could still be grad students wandering around.”

“I ordered everyone out.”

She paused, eyes narrowing. She wasn’t entirely sure she liked that. Malin, though a Prince, was not the boss around here. Surah was. No one bossed her grads but her.

Evidently, they'd have to have a little talk about that.

But there were other things on her mind right now. Surah felt behind her, having the presence of mind to grasp the edge of her laptop, and place it into the desk drawer. Malin was known to just clear a table in one swoop when in the mood–Surah really didn’t feel like losing the data on her personal machine right now; she hadn’t had time to run her nightly backup.

“Lana,” she said in a strangled voice. “Are all persons besides Malin and Surah exited from the building?”

The disembodied voice popped into the air. “All personnel has vacate the premises. Would you like to commence nightly lock down?”

“No, wait for my command. We’ll be here for a few more minutes.”

Heat flared in Malin's eyes; an amused smile. She braced herself for the rest of the items–reports, pencils and such–to go crashing to the floor, and her mate didn’t disappoint.

“I think you just like to make a mess,” Surah said.

Malin grinned, showing white teeth gone sharp. A sign his gargoyle nature was rising in response to passion. He wouldn’t shift without conscious effort–but small things like teeth and the way his skin darkened slightly, shoulders broadening, cock thickening past the norm for a merely human male, made Malin's heritage known to anyone who recognized the signs.

He lifted her onto the desk, Surah catching her fall on her elbows, already kicking off her flats because she knew what was coming next.

He peeled her clothing from her body, leaving Surah exposed, her nether lips plump and pink. “We haven’t fucked in your office yet,” Malin murmured, slipping fingers inside her.

Surah's head fell back; she hissed through her teeth. The pressure, the heat of the Prince’s fingers inside, stroking in and out with a deliberate intent to torment, incite–her breasts tightened, throat drying. Malin lowered to his knees, face burying between her thighs so he could lick and taste her bud.

His tongue lapped Surah's clit, flicking her flesh with fast, practiced motions. She felt nearly ready to burst, hovering at a precipice just waiting to be pushed over. When Malin slid a third finger inside her pussy, stretching her, finding the spot just under her pelvic bone, Surah cried out, struggling to keep her moans low and controlled rather than high and wild. She wasn’t entirely successful from the cat like grin on Malin's face.

“That’s right, baby, scream for me.” His hands slid up her thighs, fastened around her waist. “Let the court spies hear how well I please you.”

Surah climaxed, wetness coating Malin’s lips as his long, dark hair brushed against Surah's bare thigh. It rippled through her, pleasure and wonder that they were here, together, doing this. Making love. Finally free to love each other as they'd both wished for so long.

Malin straightened slowly, eyes trained on Surah, wiping a hand across his mouth. “What next?” she asked.

She struggled to breathe, her lover’s eyes piercing her with their intensity. She secretly felt as if she were getting the best of both worlds. Malin unsnapped his pants and withdrew his cock, a lovely steel monstrosity she knew from experience could bring both pain and pleasure. The mushroom tip nudged her pussy. Surah drew her legs up to her chest, opening wide. Malin shifted slightly, spreading her labia, then bent down once again, running his tongue along her pussy. 

“Fuck me, Malin,” Surah said, voice husky. “Enough with the preliminaries.”

Malin's long eyes glinted. “I enjoy the preliminaries, Princess.”

“Fun’s fun, Mal. Get a move on.”

Malin’s cock nudged Surah's entrance as their eyes caught, held. The soft, spongy tip slowly pressed into her pussy, slick skin and hard cock forcing Surah wide, an inch at a time. She stifled a gasp, craving the full feeling of Malin inside her.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Malin asked.

“No–just. No. God.”

He surged inside her, abandoning all pretense at gentleness. Surah cried out, head falling back, senses hyper aware and zeroing in on the feel of her body adjusting to Malin, welcoming him inside until the gargoyle’s balls were pressed against her ass. She breathed, arms trembling as they always did. She was half gargoyle, but only half. How did the human girlfriends manage to accept males this big without tearing? Every time he entered her, it was like the first time.

Malin drew out. “Look at me, Surah.”

Lifting her head, she met Malin's eyes again. It was a peculiarity of Malin's, always wanting to watch the thoughts, the expressions in her eyes as they made love. She secretly thought it was a sign of insecurity, but time would take care of that. And she didn’t really want Malin to take her for granted, anyway.

“How does it feel?” the Prince asked, sliding back in. With each smooth thrust, Surah's body adjusted just a bit more until she was fully open, accepting her lover’s increasingly hard thrusts.

Surah couldn't quite frame a sentence, lost in the feel of heated steel rhythmically pressing against her spot. She licked dry lips, and still couldn’t speak. Malin smiled, slow and dark, an expression of utter male satisfaction. The dominance thrilled Surah, increasing the eroticism of being trapped beneath a male with Malin's virility, beauty, power.

Malin's hips ground inside Surah. Her fingers found her clit, stroking herself as he fucked her. It built slowly this time. Sometimes she peaked quickly, an explosion that wrenched the breath from her throat and left her boneless. Other times, like this, her body taunted her, prolonging the pleasure agony before giving release.

“Malin, harder,” Surah said, tone turning savage. She nearly writhed underneath the gargoyle, wanting more–needing more.

Malin fucked her with renewed intensity, shedding a bit more control, forgoing a bit more worry that he might hurt the half-human. Surah craved the day her lover would take her with all the strength of a Prince—and hoped she wouldn’t be torn and bleeding at the end of it.

The orgasm rippled through her as Malin cried out, hot cum filling Surah's pussy. Looking into Malin’s dark eyes, for a brief, startling moment she hoped the seed caught, that she would give him a garling. Malin braced a hand on the desk, breath harsh. Surah allowed her legs to relax as the Prince pulled out of her, Malin dragging Surah to her feet and kissing her.

“Let's shower, and then go home,” the gargoyle said. “I’m starving.”