Page 26 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons
When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, I was breathless and dizzy, my heart racing for entirely different reasons than it had been moments before. His forehead rested against mine, and I could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, could see the wonder in his eyes as he looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
"About bloody time," Marcus said grinning, and I heard Jalend let out a quiet laugh.
I felt heat flood my cheeks as I looked up at Antonius, who was grinning with an expression I'd never seen before—shy and pleased and almost boyish despite his intimidating size.
"I..." I started, then realized I had no idea what to say. How did you explain that a moment of celebration had just shifted everything you thought you knew about your own heart?
"Good?" he asked quietly, and the uncertainty in his voice made my chest tight.
"Very good," I managed, which made his grin widen.
Marcus cleared his throat, and I turned to find him looking between the three men with obvious amusement. "So," he said casually, "are we going down to evenmeal, or would you all prefer to stay here and... sate your hunger another way?"
My mouth dropped open and I stared at him. My hand flew to my mouth, a useless gesture to hide the blush that was scorching my entire face. Marcus’s grin was positively wicked, his eyes dancing with a mirth that told me he was enjoying my discomfort far too much.
“Marcus!” I hissed, my face burning. I was still trying to catch my breath, my lips tingling from the force of Antonius’s kiss.
I looked from his laughing face to Jalend, expecting to see a flicker of jealousy, of the possessive anger I’d witnessed before.
Instead, he was watching us with a quiet, knowing smile, his head tilted in contemplation. His dark eyes met mine, and in their depths, I saw no anger, only a deep, abiding affection that seemed to encompass not just me, but the entire room. It was an acceptance so profound it stole the air from my lungs.
“I think,” Jalend said, his voice a low, smooth counterpoint to Marcus’s boisterous teasing, “that evenmeal can wait.” He pushed off from where he'd been leaning against the doorframe, his gaze never leaving mine. “We have much to celebrate. And,” he added, his smile turning wry, “much to discuss.”
He stopped beside Antonius, his hand coming to rest on my free arm, his touch a familiar, grounding warmth. The two men flanked me, a scholar and a gladiator, their combined presence an overwhelming force. Three men. My men. All here, all looking at me with a mixture of love and want and a startling lack of rivalry. The air crackled with it, a tangible thing that made the hairs on my arms stand up. Antonius’s thumb stroked my back, a slow, possessive circle, while Jalend’s fingers tightened gently on my arm. The world had shifted on its axis, and I was at the very centre of its new gravity.
Marcus let out a low whistle. “Well,” he said, his teasing tone softening into something more genuine. “This should be interesting.”
Antonius, who had been silent beside me, cleared his throat. He looked from Jalend to Marcus, then down at me, his hand still resting possessively on the small of my back. “I could eat,” he murmured, his thumb stroking my skin through the fabric of my dress. The simple touch was electric.
The double meaning in his words hung in the air, thick and heavy with want. A shiver traced its way down my spine, and I had to fight the urge to lean back into the solid warmth of him. His touch was a brand, claiming me in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
Jalend’s hand slid from my arm to the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair as he gently tilted my head back. “I believe,” he said, his voice a low purr that vibrated through me, “that Antonius is not the only one with an appetite.”
His eyes held mine, dark and intense. There was no jealousy there, only a shared, possessive hunger that mirrored the look in Antonius’s eyes. I was standing between them, a willing captive, my body thrumming with a desire so overwhelming it was dizzying.
My breath hitched, my mind reeling. The air was thick with a current of raw want, so potent I could taste it on my tongue. Marcus just grinned, a slow, predatory smile that suggested he knew exactly how this was going to end. He took a deliberate step back, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't mind me," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "Just enjoying the show. For now."
Jalend’s dark eyes flashed with amusement, but his focus remained on me. He tilted my head back again, his gaze dropping to my lips, still swollen from Antonius’s kiss. “Tell me what you want, Livia,” he commanded softly.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I looked from Jalend’s intense, intelligent face to Antonius’s rugged, loving one. Iwanted them. Both of them. The admission was a silent scream in my mind.
“I want…” My voice was a broken whisper. “Everything.”
That was all the encouragement Jalend needed. His mouth descended on mine, a stark contrast to Antonius’s kiss. Where Antonius had been a wave of desperate longing, Jalend was a slow, deliberate fire, a strategic conquest of my senses. He kissed me with a devastating skill that left me breathless, his tongue tangling with mine.
I felt Antonius’s body tense behind me, his arm tightening around my waist, but he didn’t pull me away. He held me in place for Jalend’s kiss, a silent, stunning act of consent.
When Jalend finally lifted his head, his dark eyes were blazing with a possessive fire. "You see?" he murmured, his thumb tracing my kiss-swollen lower lip. "We can share."
"Good," a low voice rumbled from behind me. Antonius spun me around in his arms, his mouth capturing mine before I could draw a breath. This time, there was no hesitation, only raw, claiming heat. He kissed me like a starving man, his big body caging mine against Jalend’s body as he devoured my mouth. I clung to him, my head spinning, overwhelmed by the sheer force of his need.
He pulled back, his chest heaving, and pressed his forehead to mine. "Mine," he growled, the word a low vibration against my lips.
"Ours," Marcus corrected, his voice a silken purr from across the room.
We both looked over. He had moved to the centre of the room, and was slowly unlacing the front of his tunic, his eyes raking over me with a look of hungry promise that made my stomach clench. "I do hope," he said, his grin widening, "you've saved some of that celebration for me."
My knees felt weak. Marcus’s gaze was a physical touch, pinning me in place as surely as Antonius’s arms. He moved with the fluid grace of a predator, his tunic hanging open, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the familiar scars that mapped his skin. He stopped in front of us, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body. His eyes, a warm, intelligent brown, held mine, and the teasing light in them was replaced by something hotter, more primal.
