Embrace the Wind (7 page)

son in nine months, won’t there?”

Argent shook her head. “No.”

He breathed a sigh of relief until she spoke again.

“There will be six.” At his look of absolute horror, she smiled. “Twins run in your

family, remember?”

Eanan Tohre could hear the merry laughter of the goddess rippling through his

brain. He could feel Her tripping lightly through his mind—tweaking his nose,

attacking his shoulder with a playful push, dancing gleefully around him, red hair

flying and green eyes flashing with glee.
“Gotcha!”
he heard Her coo.
“You’ll behave now,

My Reaper!”

“Six boys,” he said with a groan, flinging an arm over his eyes. He remembered

Owen’s warning, “
Whatever you do, don’t go to extremes with it.
”

“Six precious little Reapers,” Blondie declared.

“And more with each passing year,” Corallin agreed.

“Yep, Owen is going to kill me for sure!” he decided.

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He didn’t want to think about what Lord Kheelan would do to him.

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Chapter Four

“Sit your ass down and give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you

castrated, Tohre!” the High Lord roared.

Taking a seat in front of the desk of the most important man at the Citadel should

have put the fear of the goddess in the Reaper, but Eanan merely shrugged away the

threat.

“It would just grow back,” he replied calmly.

Lord Kheelan’s angry eyes narrowed even more. “Aye, but if I keep slicing it off

every time you go near my sister, then I rub salt into the wound, it would not be a

pleasant thing.” A muscle jumped in the Shadowlord’s cheek as he ground his teeth.

Eanan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I agree that would not be the highlight of

my day but I would imagine your sister and
her
sisters would take exception to you

doing that to me, Your Grace.”

The High Lord cursed a blue streak then slumped back in his chair. “My sister is

asking for J
oynal,
” he said with disgust. “Do you know how infuriated that makes me?”

Believing himself on sturdy, safe ground, Eanan smiled. “Your Grace, I have asked

them to be my wives and—as is traditional on your homeworld—I have pledged

Argent to be my
ben heshee kied
.”

“Primary wife,” Lord Kheelan said with a groan. “I had wanted my sister to be the

only light in a deserving man’s world and not one of three candles he lights when the

mood strikes him!”

“She chose me, Your Grace. They all did. I was minding my own business when

they…”

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Fury lanced through the High Lord’s eyes. “You
do
know you’ve impregnated all

three, don’t you? There is no doubt you will Join with them, Tohre. That is a given.

Their brothers and I are in agreement on that even though each of us would like very

much to stomp you into a puddle of shit!”

“Your Grace…”

“Get the fuck out of here before I have Desden bring up that ghoret we have in the

bio lab and I let the viper loose on you, Tohre!”

Eanan got to his feet, turned to go but stopped. He squared his shoulders, faced the

High Lord again and raised his chin. “Just so you and the other Shadowlords will

know. I promise to be a good husband to them all,” Eanan said, surprising himself at

the statement. “I will do everything in my power to make them happy.”

“Humping you seems to make them happy,” Lord Kheelan growled. His gaze

raked the Reaper. “Why, I’ll never know, but if you are what they want, you are what

they will get. Now get the hell out before I change my mind about castrating you!”

Eanan closed the High Lord’s office door very carefully behind his exit. He grinned

brutally, realizing he had the upper hand where the Shadowlords were concerned and

wondering how he could use that knowledge to his benefit.

“Was he a real bear about it?” Argent asked as she fell into step beside him.

So engrossed with thoughts of how drastically his life had changed, Eanan had not

heard her approach. He looked down at her as she slipped her hand into his.

“He is angry,” Eanan said. “Had you been a sister of mine, I would have acted the

same way. Most men would. I can’t fault him or the other Shadowlords for that.”

She laid her head on his shoulder. “You are the one the goddess chose for us,

Eanan. She knows and we know you are the right choice. You will grow to love my

sisters as you are beginning to love me,” she stated.

He smiled. “Aye, I believe I will. Each in your own way as befits our rather unusual

arrangement,” he agreed, squeezing her hand.

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“We each have our own apartment and drew straws to see who you would sleep

with this night. Corallin won. Tomorrow is Aureolin’s turn and the day after belongs to

me.” She sighed. “The day after that, you must return to the Oklaks Territory for there

is trouble brewing there.”

Eanan had mixed emotions about leaving the women. He doubted the Shadowlords

would allow him to before the Joining—the
Joynal
—was said over them. He asked her

when that was to be.

“Just before you leave for your assignment,” she replied. “Arrangements are being

made even as we speak. Everyone will be there.”

He swallowed hard. “Everyone?”

“It is a grand occasion and the wedding feast, the… What do you call it?”

“
Giense poosee
,” he supplied.

“The
Giense poosee
is a celebration and it will let everyone know you have chosen us

and we have chosen you. I suspect the goddess will be there too!”

“Whoopee,” Eanan mumbled.

As his lady went on and on, telling him about the planned festivities—the dishes,

the decorations, the gala after the feast—Eanan felt like a man trapped in a silken

cocoon, but it was one from which he found he wasn’t anxious to break free. That

surprised him almost as much as the strange, warm feeling that was growing whenever

he looked at the lady beside him.

But there was something that bothered him and he had to know.

“You will not mind sharing me?” he asked. “There won’t be any jealousy between

you?”

“We always knew we would share a man between us,” she said. “We were born to

be Three. What one of us knows, the others will know. What one of us feels, the others

will feel. What one of us experiences, the others must experience as well. We have

always shared everything in our lives. Sharing you is a natural extension of that.”

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Embrace the Wind

He stopped. “But will they understand that I can not love each of you in the same

way?” he asked, searching her pretty silver eyes. “I know I will have great affection for

them, Argent, but I suspect I will only know true love with you.”

She reached up to cup his cheek with her free hand. “Eanan, I know you love me.

You are worried you will hurt their feelings. You won’t. They are content to share you

and they know your regard for me is stronger. It is only fitting in their eyes that you

have more intense feelings for the eldest of us.”

“No, I don’t want to hurt them,” he said. “If they are happy with this situation, then

that is the way it will be.” He frowned. “Your brothers and my brother on the other

hand are a different matter.”

“You’ve no need to worry,” she said. “My sisters and I have it all under control.”

* * * * *

“You are fucked, Eanan,” Owen said, shaking his head. “You are
royally
fucked.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Eanan agreed.

The two men were sitting in the courtyard where just recently one of their fellow

Reapers had been severely punished for breaking the rules of their team. Though the

whipping post had been taken down, both were staring at the spot where it had stood.

“There is a reason Morrigunia made it a rule that we can only have one mate in our

lifetimes,” Owen stated. “Satisfying one woman all the time is difficult at best. I can’t

even imagine trying to satisfy three and I don’t buy that no-jealousy shit. There is

bound to be trouble, brother. Mark my words.”

Eanan shook his head. “I really don’t think there will be, Owen. They are

accustomed to sharing everything.”

“Aye, well, a man’s love is not the same as a pair of boots or a gown,
ommidan
.”

Eanan smiled at the old language word for jackass. It had been many, many years

since he’d heard the nickname Owen had given him when they were growing up

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

together. Back in the day, it had annoyed Eanan, but now it was a reminder of the

closeness they’d had once shared as boys.

“How did you know you were falling in love with Rachel?” he asked.

Owen’s face transformed from that of a brother to a man deeply in love. “I just

knew,” he said.

“I think I’m in love with Argent and I’ve only known her such a short time.” He

turned his face toward Owen. “Is there really such a thing as love at first hump?”

Owen rolled his eyes. “Leave it to you to put that kind of spin on the problem, but

to be honest, I suppose the answer is yes. I believe the term isn’t love though, so much

as bonding.” He gave Eanan a steady look. “I think you’ve bonded with the silverhaired beauty.”

“I think I have too,” Eanan agreed. “I’ve told her she will be my primary wife.”

Owen winced. “How romantic of you. You really know how to court a girl, don’t

you, brother?”

Eanan stood, brushed the seat of his black leather uniform pants and looked up at

the bright sky. For weeks it had rained cats and dogs but at last the sun was out and

shining once again. It boded well, he thought, for their future.

“Well,” he said, “I guess I might not get to see you until Saturday.”

“What are you going to be doing that you won’t be around until then?” Owen

inquired.

“They tell me I’m to spend the night with Corallin tonight and Aureolin the night

after. Friday, I’ll be with Argent and then Saturday I’ll be leaving for the Oklaks right

after the Joining feast. I’ve got to sleep and eat in between there sometime.” His lips

twitched. “It’s not easy being a prized stud, you know?”

“
Ommidan
,” Owen mumbled.

“Aye, but a prized
ommidan
,” Eanan reminded him.

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Embrace the Wind

* * * * *

Corallin grunted. She was covered with sweat and was panting hard to catch her

breath. Her stomach muscles were quivering as she stared sightlessly at the ceiling. Her

lover had pushed her—and pushed her hard—for over an hour, and when he’d finally

allowed her to come, she’d screamed loud and long, his cock rammed tightly within

her.

“Satisfied, Red?” Eanan asked as he propped himself up on an elbow and stared

down into her beautiful face. He traced a knot-work pattern over her left breast.

“For the moment, Reaper,” she answered.

Her wrists and ankles were tied to the bedposts with four of his leather ties she’d

told him she’d confiscated from his room and there were strawberry marks all over her

creamy skin from where Eanan had taken not-so-gentle nibbles. The flesh under the ties

was red but he made no move to untie them.

She turned her face toward him. “Would it be too strange for you if I asked you to

whip me next time? Not beat, you understand, but lightly whip?”

Slight discomfort flitted over Eanan’s face but he shrugged it away. “If that’s what

you want.”

Her green eyes sparkled. “It is! I even have a quirt for just such pleasure.”

Flogging someone was not Eanan’s idea of pleasure but he’d do whatever it took to

please the redhead. She was—after all—his responsibility now.

“I draw the line at scarring you, Red,” he stated. “No matter how much you ask,

how much you desire it, that I will not do.”

“And I’ve no yearning to be scarred, Reaper,” she told him. “Just dominated and

made to submit to your every wish.” She laughed at his expression. “Isn’t that every

man’s dream?”

He grinned. “Aye, I suppose it is.”

“A moderate amount of pain would be nice though.”

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“As much as it grieves me to do that…”

His thumb and middle finger closed around a ripe, rosy nipple and pinched just

hard enough for her plump little bottom to squirm on the bare mattress.

He had been surprised at her quarters when he’d entered. Expecting a frilly, silken

suite of rooms, instead he had found stark furnishings that reminded him vividly of

what a nun’s quarters must be like.

Bare walls devoid of everything save an emblem of the goddess done in copper

paint, bare floors, a full-sized iron bed with utilitarian footboard and headboard, a

single armoire done in rough, unstained pine, a bare-topped desk and a single straightback chair without a cushion that looked very uncomfortable made up the bulk of the

room’s fixtures. A small room off to one side contained a toilet, lavatory and a

galvanized tin tub.

There was no lace, no satin or velvet. The bed did not have covers or pillow and the

temperature of the room was on the chilly side without benefit of windows to allow in

light or air.

“This is not a bedchamber, Red,” he had commented. “This is a cell.”