Jana Downs Ravyn Warriors 5 Ravyn's Mates

Ravyn Warriors 5

Ravyn’s Mates

After years of waiting, Michel and Cord have finally found their
third mate in the Ravyn warrior Druas. When a demon Prince

sends them on a mission that will allow them to grow closer to the
object of their mutual affection, both men jump at the offer. The
demon’s easy acceptance of their unconventional relationship

wasn’t something they were prepared for, but neither is willing to
question it.

Druas never dreamed his next mission would result in finding he
had not one but two shape-shifting mates. After the initial

discomfort and aggression caused by Michel and Cord’s mating
pheromones, Druas is happier than he ever thought possible.

But one fateful battle changes everything when Druas is
kidnapped and his memories are erased. Can Michel and Cord
open their mate’s eyes to the truth, or will the Ravyn be forced to

face the loss of more than just his recollections?

Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Fantasy, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 60,757 words

RAVYN’S MATES

Ravyn Warriors 5

Jana Downs

MENAGE AMOUR

MANLOVE

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour ManLove

RAVYN’S MATES
Copyright © 2012 by Jana Downs
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-817-3

First E-book Publication: July 2012

Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be
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All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance
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PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers

Dear Readers,

If you have purchased this copy of Ravyn’s Mates by Jana Downs
from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also,
thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy

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The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying
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Amanda Hilton, Publisher

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DEDICATION

To everyone who loves the Ravyns as much as I do and who has been

here since the beginning. Thank you, guys.

RAVYN’S MATES

Ravyn Warriors 5

JANA DOWNS

Chapter One

Druas inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent of desert and air

unpolluted by factories, cars, or anything else he had come to
associate with Earth. His beloved Demontian desert embraced his
sleepy body in the warm but not uncomfortable open air of the
southernmost region of Prince Salvatore’s kingdom. He was as close
to asleep as he could be without actually passing out. It had been a
long day of walking, tracking one of the nomadic tribes that dotted
this region. They were some of the last remnants of lingering support
for Salvatore in all of Demontia. Druas and the two shifters his prince
had sent with him, Michel and Cord, would catch up with the largest
tribe tomorrow. The demon’s mind drifted in his half-awake state, a
dream already tickling the edges of his consciousness. Then the rain
began to fall.

He cursed and sat up in his pallet as the first thick drop hit his

cheek. It was nearly freezing, but that was normal in Demontia. The
weather, like its people, was as vast and as variant as the terrain.

“Michel, Cord, put your crap under the tarp,” he barked at the

snoozing shifters on their shared pallet on the other side of the fire.
They stirred and began to do as he bid. He looked away as they rolled
to their feet, both of them as naked as the day they were born. He

Ravyn’s Mates

wished they wouldn’t sleep nude. It was distracting. A familiar
resentment filled him as he watched them gather up the comfortable
bedding and place it under the tarp they’d erected to house their
things. He didn’t know why he didn’t like the two new Ravyns, but he
just didn’t. At first they’d just made him uncomfortable. Ever since
he’d had to deal with them every day in such close quarters, he’d
found his reaction to them less and less tolerable. He was edgy and
unable to relax. He was beginning to hate them.

“All done, Dru,” Michel murmured in a sleep-rough voice as the

raindrops began to fall in earnest. The other male was Druas’s height,
which was no easy feat considering he was well over six feet. His tan
skin practically glowed as rain gave it a sheen in the hissing light of
their dying fire. The shifter tilted his head back and let the water fall
into his perfect face. Druas found himself admiring the long curve of
the shifter’s throat. He shook his head to clear it of the thought. No
point in even going there. One, Dru didn’t even like the guy, and two,
the shifter was mated to the other half of the shifter duo that Salvatore
had saddled him with.

“Rain should be over fairly quickly,” Cord, the other sandy-haired

shifter said. He took his place by Druas and felt the skin of the
Ravyn’s rain-slicked cheek. “You should get under the tarp as well,
Druas. This rain is going to chill you.” Shifters ran even hotter than
demons, and they wouldn’t suffer even in a chilly downpour. Dru
deliberately took a step back out of Cord’s reach. He felt strange
when they touched him, achy, pliant, weak. He hated it.

“I’m fine, thanks. Besides, there isn’t enough room.” The bite in

his voice made the other man take a hasty step back. Pain flashed over
the shifter’s pretty features before his face blanked completely. The
bond between the Ravyns flared, and Dru resisted the urge to rub the
spot on his chest where he felt the new Ravyn’s pain echo along their
connection.

They all sat around their dying fire and waited for the rain to stop.

Druas was wet, miserable, and more than a little grouchy by the time

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the rain slowed before stopping. As Cord had predicted, it only lasted
long enough to thoroughly soak them and drop Dru’s core
temperature a few degrees. The demon gritted his teeth and attempted
to stop their chattering. His muscles danced beneath his flesh as his
body tried to warm him with internal vibrations. Man, this sucked.
What he wouldn’t give to be back in his nice warm room back in
Haven, surrounded by his brothers, right about then. Granted, he
preferred Demontia hands down on most days, but at times like this…

“You need to bring up your temperature. You’re going to catch a

cold,” Cord said sagely. Michel stood and crossed over to the tarp and
took out their bedrolls. He tossed one at Druas, making the other man
nearly drop his into the mud puddle that had formed at his feet. He
offered a glare in thanks.

His leathers were soaked and beginning to chafe his skin. He

wished he had more clothes, but he didn’t want to risk soaking two
pairs in case it rained again. Mentally, he shrugged. There was no
reason he should be embarrassed about getting naked in front of the
two of them. They were shifters and didn’t sexualize nudity.

He pulled off his boots and socks before unbuttoning the top

button of his pants and shimmying out of them. He wore nothing
underneath, because the traditional hide pants didn’t allow much
room for undergarments. He glanced up and saw Michel and Cord
placing their pallet in a dryer place and bedding down together.
Michel wrapped his big arms around Cord and spooned up behind
him. A spike of jealousy speared Dru, and he forced himself to look
away from the scene. Gods, how he hated the two of them. He’d
never felt such strange urges until he’d met them. It didn’t help that
when they thought he was asleep they fucked and sucked one another
like there was no tomorrow. It was fucking frustrating.

He stomped over to a dry-ish place on the ground and rolled out

his bedroll. The thin blanket that was on top did not look appealing.
He grumbled as he lay down and pulled it up to his neck. When he
did, his feet hung out from the bottom. Dammit. Sometimes it sucked

Ravyn’s Mates

being so damn tall. He closed his eyes and tried to drift back to that
happy place he’d been in before the rain had started. He shivered
harder. He was so fucking cold. The blanket wasn’t worth a damn. He
cursed. The damp was soaking into his bones. His teeth were
chattering harder.

He sat up. There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight. He

eyed the two shifters as they slept. What the hell. He was too damn
tired to keep his distance. He knew they were warm, and he was sick
of being so cold.

He crawled in between them and was surprised when Michel slid

back to accommodate him. Dru was instantly encompassed in a warm
embrace. Sweet relief poured through his muscles. It wasn’t long
before he fell right to sleep, inhaling the scent of Cord’s golden-blond
hair in front and feeling the warmth of Michel’s breath on his neck.

* * * *

Warm fingers wrapped around his dick as warmer lips caressed

the nape of his neck from behind. Dru groaned and pumped his hips
forward and ground back against the hard length that pressed
insistently on his backside. The fact that it was another man’s cock
didn’t even register in his sleep-laden mind. He was warm, and he
was feeling good, and the combination just made him want to relax
into the unfamiliar embrace.

The warm body at his front stirred, and then there were a pair of

lips on his. His lips parted on their own accord, and their tongues met
in a languid, savoring kiss. Hot hands caressed the planes of his chest
and tweaked his already-hard nipples. He gave a little moan of
appreciation, and the person at his back gave a little growl in answer.
He felt the impression of teeth as the kiss at his throat changed to a
pinch of pleasure/pain as it turned into a bite. For some reason that
just made him harder and want to come more.

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The person at his front was fondling his balls gently now, rolling

them in their hands like the delicate sacs they were. “Yes,” Dru
murmured between kisses. He was lost in this dream world of three
hundred sixty degrees of pleasure. He wanted to orgasm so badly…

“Harder,” he mumbled. The hand on his cock obliged him, and the

hard press at his back became even more insistent. Yes. That was
exactly what he wanted. The one desire he never shared with anyone
was the desire to be wanted and to be shown that want. Like this, it
was impossible to even begin to hide it.

The hand that had been fondling his balls came up and intertwined

with the other hand on his cock and created a delicious equal pressure
on both sides of his hard length. Dru was panting in earnest now,
rocking against the two stimuli as tongues, mouths, and teeth danced
along his back and chest. Had anything ever felt so good?

Warmth splashed against his lower back. Cum? He didn’t know.

Didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was close, so very close to
release. Little whimpers of need were exiting his throat in regular
intervals, adding to the night in a way that made the soft whisper of
wind against the landscape pale in comparison.

“That’s it, Dru. Come for us,” a familiar voice growled in his ear.

“Be with us, sweet demon. At last.” Harder touches now. Dru was
past the point of talking, thinking, dreaming even. The figure at his
front suckled his nipple. The sensitive appendage brought him
dancing to the edge of satiation. More warmth splashed against his
crotch, the sticky substance lubricating his weeping erection as the
hands moved faster, jerking him with a surety that surpassed even
Druas’s own masturbation techniques.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful.” Another familiar voice, this time in

front of him. More kisses, licks, nips. Dru felt the pressure building in
his spine as his sac tightened, signaling his impending orgasm.

He cried out into the mouth pressed against his, his whole body

jerking as if he’d stuck his hand in a light socket. He might as well
have for all the currents of electrical pleasure that were passing

Ravyn’s Mates

through him. His powers crackled down the lines of the Ravyns’ bond
and reverberated through him. He writhed against the sensations as
the hands milked him of seed until he was twitching in
overstimulation.

Finally, he sagged into the combined embrace, panting. The sleep

cleared from him as he came down from the high of release. His eyes
popped open, and he flinched.

“What the hell is wrong with you guys? Get the fuck off me!” he

screeched as the two shifters stared at him in bewilderment. Well, he
couldn’t exactly see Michel’s expression from behind him, but he
imagined it was the same one that Cord was wearing in the near-
complete darkness. The liquid warmth he’d felt splash against him
begin to cool and slide down his body. Oh my gods. His cheeks heated
in embarrassment. They just came on me. The thought should not have
given him a little thrill, but it did. Gods dammit! They were mated.
Why the fuck would they want to include him in their sex? He didn’t
want to be just a third wheel of a fuck fest.

“Calm down, Dru. We thought you were ready,” Michel snapped,

wrapping his arm around Dru’s waist and squeezing until it was
uncomfortable. “Get that fucking snarly look off of your face. You’re
hurting Cord’s feelings.”

“Oh, my bad! Hate to hurt your mate’s feelings and all. I mean

come on, really? You two just fucking molested me! And what the
hell was the whole ‘we thought you were ready’ bullshit?” Druas
demanded, struggling against the hold Michel had on him. Cord’s
hands went to his chest, and he felt the instant warmth of his powers
through their bond. Cord was a healer, and he had the unique ability
to calm any of the Ravyns down almost instantly with a simple touch.
It just served to piss Dru off at the moment. “Fuck you! Don’t pull
that Jedi-mind shit on me, Cord. I mean it!”

“You climbed between us,” Cord said, deliberately ignoring

Druas’s command and forcing his heart into a steadier, more relaxed
rhythm. “We thought that meant you wanted us.”

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“I was cold,” Dru murmured. “I was cold, and you were warm.” It

made sense in his head. Why didn’t they understand? Was it a brain-
dead shifter thing?

Cord sighed heavily. “Then we were mistaken. Forgive us. We

thought you wanted our attention.” The arm around Dru’s waist
tightened.

“What bullshit! You did want us. You don’t come apart in

someone’s hands like that without wanting it.” Michel gave an animal
noise of frustration and set his teeth on the point where Dru’s neck
met his shoulder. The Ravyn had to resist the urge to moan as his
teeth scraped over the imprint of a bite obviously given in the heat of
the moment.

“S–Stop it,” Dru managed through clenched teeth. Even he wasn’t

convinced at the sincerity in his tone.

“No one who moans like a five-dollar whore when I touch them

can deny wanting it. Give me a damn break, Druas,” Michel rumbled.

“Don’t push him, Michel,” Cord cautioned, his hazel-and-gold

eyes filled with a pain that was obvious even in the low light. “He’s
not ready.”

Dru growled. “I was half asleep! Ready for what? What the hell?

We’re on a mission, guys! What’s with the fucking hanky-panky?
We’re brothers now. There can’t be any…” But there wasn’t really a
rule against it, was there? He’d never viewed any of his other brothers
sexually. Maybe it was because they were new Ravyns. He had
certainly discovered the fact that the two of them were definitely
male, and he’d obviously enjoyed the discovery if his sticky cock was
any indication. Dammit.

“Druas, we need to tell you something,” Cord murmured. Oh shit.

Really? He didn’t want to know.

“We’re kinda balls-deep in a mission, Cord. Can it wait?” Can

everything wait? I can’t handle anything else tonight, and if I make
any more discoveries, I’m going to blow my fucking head off.

Ravyn’s Mates

Cord shook his head, and Druas’s heart sank down into his

churning stomach. “I think it’s time we told you. It’ll explain a lot.”
He sighed softly as if he were gathering his courage. “You’re our
mate.”

Jana Downs

Chapter Two

“What the hell? You two are mated to each other!” Druas’s protest

was definitely higher pitched than normal, the panic in his voice quite
evident. Cord’s hand came up to rest against his chest again, calming
him. Even Michel’s big paw of a hand was stroking his side as he held
him.

“Shifters mate in threes, Druas. Always have. Some psychologist

somewhere said that’s for the survival of the species or whatever.
Born shifters are much stronger than our turned cousins, so it’s better
to make more shifters the good old-fashioned way. Since the mate
bond only happens once, with two mates there is a less likely chance
of a breeding-able mate to be left infertile if one of the mates dies.”
Cord said it all in a bland voice that would’ve been awesome to listen
to if he was watching fucking Discovery Channel.

“We’ve been looking for you for years, pretty.” Michel nuzzled

his neck, and Druas winced at the contact.

“Stop it,” he snapped. He turned his attention back to his

argument. “In case you all missed it, we’re all dudes. We can’t
exactly ‘breed,’ can we?” Please say no, because that will freak me
out even more than I already am.

“Unfortunately, no. But we can adopt kits if you want to. There

are plenty out there who need homes,” Cord said warmly. He
evidently wanted kids, er, kits. Whatever.

Druas slowly counted backward from ten, trying not to either lose

his temper or vomit in shocked nervousness. “We do not have time
for this. We’re on a mission for Prince Salvatore. This, this, whatever
this is, is going to have to wait until we get back to Earth.” And then

Ravyn’s Mates

I’m going to run like hell, because I don’t know if I can handle the
two of you. Two mates? And guys at that? Jesus Christ! This was
what he got for being lonely Earth side. He’d put the idea out into the
universe, and the universe was now laughing its ass off at him.

“We were going to use this trip so you could get to know us,”

Michel murmured from behind him. Gods, why wouldn’t he let Dru
have some space? It was weird being spooned like this and knowing
that the spooner’s spunk decorated his ass and lower back. “Your
body recognizes us, Druas. It has from the beginning. You liked us
then, right?” Dru thought back. Yeah. He supposed he did. He’d
actually really gotten along with them when they’d been assigned to
guard duty with the Ravyns. He wasn’t sure when that had changed,
only that it had indeed changed at some point. He nodded. Michel
continued. “You got edgier the longer you were around us. More, I
don’t know, tense. Like you were waiting for something, and the
other shoe never dropped.”

“How did you know?” Dru asked in surprise. He hadn’t thought

he was so obvious about it.

“It’s natural,” Cord said. “When mates meet, it sets off a chemical

reaction. Our pheromones stimulated you, readying you to be our
mate. It’s pretty standard for shifters to claim their mates
immediately, but we didn’t want to risk being removed from guard
duty. We like being around to protect you.” Protect him? Seriously?
He was the biggest Ravyn out of the bunch! “We thought we’d wait
until we were a little bit more established in the Ravyns to start
courting you.”

“But then all that mess with Salvatore happened, and we had to

delay again. You were so emotionally on edge anyway that we knew
if we pushed, we might push you too far,” Michel finished for Cord,
pressing a kiss to that damn bite mark again. Dru couldn’t suppress
the shiver that time. Damn. It felt good to be touched like that… “But
now it’s getting too hard to deny our own instincts. I can’t tell you
how many times I’ve imagined bending you over and fucking you

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since we started this trip.” Dru’s cheeks heated. They’d been here
almost two weeks. Michel had been thinking about fucking him for
two weeks? Gods! “Plus our pheromones were about to drive you up
a wall. You’re not slick enough to pull off being strung so tight
without it being noticeable.”

He conceded to that. He was not known for being Mr. Mysterious.

He was a very straightforward kind of guy. “I don’t know if I’m up to
this,” he admitted. “I feel…” He trailed off. Well, right now he felt
relaxed. Insanely relaxed and not just from Cord, either. The itching,
twitchy tension that he’d been experiencing had ebbed to a more
reasonable level.

“Your orgasm with us helped calm your body’s urges down, but

it’ll be back soon if we don’t consummate our relationship,” Michel
said, reading his mind. It was the R word that had Dru struggling
again.

“Yesterday I didn’t know that you guys had bonded to me, and

today we’re in a ‘relationship’? What. The. Hell.” He pinched the skin
on Michel’s forearm, but that only served to make the shifter tighten
his grip. Cord’s hands cupping his face stilled him.

“Demons are, by your own admission, base, instinctual creatures.

How long do you usually wait in your culture to claim your beloved?”
Cord’s carefully framed question gave Dru pause. It was almost
immediate. When demons got the urge, they usually took what they
wanted. They may not mate for life, but they loved fast and hard and
often. He tilted his head to the side, nuzzling Cord’s palm before he
thought better of it. The shifter gave him a smile that melted Dru just
a bit.

“We’ve got to stay focused on the mission.” His last protest. The

one he was holding onto because he had nothing else to cling to.

“We will,” the two said in unison. Druas’s resistance was fading,

and he was hardening again. His body was screaming at him to take
them up on it. He felt like he’d been waiting forever to have sex even
though he’d just come.

Ravyn’s Mates

“I don’t bottom,” Dru found himself saying. He realized he was

scared of that. He didn’t want to be hurt. Even the few tangles he’d
had in the past with men had never had him giving up that sort of
control.

“You will, and I promise you’ll enjoy it.” Michel growled,

pressing his own half-hard length against Dru’s ass.

“O–Only if I get to do you, too.” Gods, had he really just said

that? His cheeks heated again. He was losing his ever-loving mind.

Michel gave a low, slow chuckle. “You think I’m too much of a

man to enjoy it? Fuck, pretty. I let Cord do me regularly even though
he enjoys bottoming much more than I do. We’re mates. Everything
feels good between us.” The mental picture of Michel and Cord
fucking nearly had him unhinged. Damn. That was hot. Michel openly
laughed. “Like that image, pretty?”

“Pretty?” Dru asked, trying to ignore the combined heat of his

mates. Mates. Christ.

“First thing I ever said about you,” Michel said.
Cord nodded. “It’s true. The first thing he ever said was, ‘my

gods, look at that pretty thing, Cord.’ I got pissed at first, but then I
smelled you…” Dru was surprised when Cord pressed his lips to him.
He probably shouldn’t have been, but he was. Mmm, he tasted good.

“My head’s spinning,” he murmured against Cord’s lips. He

inhaled the scent of his two fellow Ravyns. Gods, they smelled like
the perfect combination of fall and earth.

“It’s the pheromones, pretty.” Whatever. He didn’t even care. He

was freaking buzzed.

“Want to fuck now,” Dru murmured. Whoa. Where had that come

from? His thoughts were getting hazier by the second.

“Cord?”
“Hmmmm, don’t take him yet. He’s still overwhelmed,” Cord

answered. His hand snaked between them to cup Dru’s erection.
Damn, that felt fantastic. “Use his mouth.” Mouth? Druas had never
given a blow job either, that he could recall.

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“Want him inside you?” Michel asked.
“Mmhmm. Go grab the lube from my pack, please.” Cord kissed

him hard, and Dru found his mouth opening to accept his tongue.

The next thing Dru knew, he was leaning over Cord, kneeling

between the shifter’s spread thighs. A warm, lubricated hand was
coating him, and he was panting for breath, trying not to come too
soon. He speared Cord’s tight body with a vicious thrust forward.
Cord’s head tilted back, exposing his throat. A hissed “Yes!” escaped
the shifter as Dru’s hips began to work inside the clenching confines
of his mate’s ass. He was tight as a fist, and his whole body vibrated
with passion as he whimpered and cried out for Dru to give it to him
harder. Still, something was missing.

Michel straddled Cord’s head so that his hard cock jutted over the

space between them. Dru leaned forward and sucked the pre-cum-
decorated tip into the hot cavern of his mouth. He moaned as the
bitter taste slid over his tongue. Gods, yes. This was exactly where he
belonged. He told them so with the inarticulate cries of happiness and
want that came out of him. This was like coming home. At last.

“Gods, pretty. You look good with your lips around my dick,”

Michel complimented in a rough tone. “Especially when you’re
fucking Cord’s ass. He’s tight, isn’t he?” Dru’s eyes rolled. He’d
always been one for dirty talk, and now was no exception. “Cord,
how’s he feel, baby?”

“He fucks so good,” Cord managed to grunt out as Dru slammed

into his body over and over with increasing urgency. “Gonna come
soon.” He gasped. Dru understood the feeling. He was pretty close
himself. The sensation of Cord’s tight buttocks wrapped snugly
around his cock was making his balls draw up tight to his body in
impending orgasm.

“Go ahead, baby. Show him how much you like what he’s doing

to you,” Michel said. That encouragement had Dru’s body rushing
toward release, racing to completion with Cord. A second later, Cord
cried out, and Dru felt the satisfaction of warm, sticky liquid smearing

Ravyn’s Mates

their merged torsos. Michel’s fists came up to grip Dru’s hair as he
fucked his mouth, panting more heavily. “So beautiful,” he
murmured. “So fucking beautiful. My mates.” Dru whimpered around
his cock. He had to give the shifter credit. Despite the sexual
desperation of the moment, Michel was acutely aware of how hard
and how deep he could fuck Dru’s previously unused mouth. It just
made him want to make the shifter come all the more. He suckled
harder, his mind spinning with the scent, sound, and feel of his mates.

“Come for me, pretty,” Michel begged. Dru obeyed the command

with an enthusiasm that staggered him. His hips pounded forward a
few more lunges before every muscle in his body clenched as he
came. In his delirium, the idea of his seed smearing Cord’s insides,
marking him, gave him a feral, uncompromising satisfaction. Then
the first salty expression of want from Michel’s thick cock hit his
tongue. Dru sucked and laved the jetting member, milking it of seed
until his mouth overflowed and Michel’s release ran down his chin
and cheeks. He drew off Michel with a suctioned pop.

Then they were kissing him again, and bonelessly, he let them.

Someone produced a wet cloth from somewhere and wiped off the
evidence of their play from his skin. But the scent lingered. It would
take more than a wet cloth to wipe away their sex. Dru smiled and
settled back down between them. That was all right with him.

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Chapter Three

Michel woke first as he usually did. The sun was just peaking on

the horizon, and the heat was already starting to rise with the rays. It
wouldn’t be long before it would be unbearable. He stayed right
where he was for longer than usual, inhaling the scent of shifter and
demon and sex that still clung to their collective skins. A sense of
peace filled him for the first time in his memory. His mates. His
lovers. Together at last.

He pressed a kiss to Cord’s cheek and another to Druas’s forehead

before rolling over so that he was off their makeshift pallet. The red
earth dug into his knees, but it didn’t really bother him. His skin was
growing accustomed to the harsh southern clime. He should’ve
shifted and went to hunt something for breakfast, but something
stilled him. Maybe it was something in the air that gave him pause.
He sniffed. Nothing unusual, sand, sun, no wind. Hmmm…

“Fuck!” The barked sound had Michel’s head whipping around.

Druas struggled against Cord as the shifter murmured to him,
obviously trying to calm him down. The demon looked furious.

“What the hell is going on?” Michel roared, quickening to their

sides.

“Stop touching me!” Druas snapped, shoving Cord away from

him. “Just stop it! I can’t think when you do that!”

Michel didn’t understand why the guy was panicking. What was it

with demons fighting their mates? Seriously. Had any of them ever
just fallen into bed with someone and been okay with it? He was
beginning to wish that he and Cord had just found a mate within their
own tribe. Gods! The hurt that played over Cord’s face made him so

Ravyn’s Mates

damn pissed off. He growled a warning to Druas, who continued to
flop around like a damn fish, backpedaling physically and mentally
from the place he’d been last night.

“Sometimes the morning after just fucking blows, doesn’t it?”

Michel asked, stalking up to Dru and picking the other man up by the
arm. They were almost eye to eye, and the fear was evident in Dru’s
gaze. “What is your problem?” He didn’t even understand why the
hell he’d asked. He already knew what his problem was. He was
scared of this relationship, scared of them, pissed over his newfound
sexuality…

“I had a nightmare.” The words were completely unexpected.
“Huh?” Michel asked.
“A nightmare. I had one.” Druas shuddered and gravitated closer

to Michel’s body. Michel dropped his arm so that he could wrap the
other man up in his arms. He was completely dumbfounded. “I
dreamed Desmond took it all away from me. He took you and Cord
and my prince. Hell, he even took my soul. It was fucked up.” Cord
was standing by then and boxed him in between them.

“No worries, darling. It was just a dream. No big deal,” Cord

soothed, petting the Ravyn’s back. He was grinning over Druas’s
shoulder and mouthed “I told you it would be okay” to Michel.

“You’re not mad that you slept with us?” Michel asked, still not

believing that the same guy who had snarled at them for the past few
weeks was actually completely okay with what they’d done the night
before.

Druas lifted his head and gave him a look that asked if Michel was

out of his mind. “Um, no. Why would I be mad? It was the
pheromones that were keeping me pissy, right?” Michel nodded.
“Well, then why would I be mad? If anything, I should be mad that
you didn’t tell me earlier. That was some bullshit.” Michel just knew
his mouth was hanging open. “What’s with the look?” Dru asked.

“I thought you said you were straight,” Michel heard himself say.

Jana Downs

“Well, I guess I’m bisexual now. I mean, I don’t hate women or

anything, so I guess that’s the label. Besides, my brothers and my
prince are into dudes now, so why not?” That was the most flawed,
simplistic, and backward-ass logic Michel had ever heard.

“You’re strange, demon,” Michel muttered, looking down at his

mate.

“I’m strange? I didn’t start having a nightmare until you crawled

your big ass out of bed, jackass. What gives with you leaving the
cuddle fest?” Dru wondered. His golden eyes sparkled with
amusement, and his other mate was already laughing at him.

Michel opened his mouth to deliver an appropriate sarcastic reply,

only to slam his mouth shut as the wind changed. Every muscle in his
body tensed, and fangs exploded in his mouth, top and bottom. Cord
had already turned toward the scent, his own fangs dropped and ready
to tear into someone in a partial shift. His eyes already belonged to his
inner cat. Druas didn’t hesitate, either. He ducked in between them
and beelined to the tent and his weaponry. The instinctive urge to
follow after him and make sure he was safe was tempered, barely, by
the knowledge that Druas was a warrior in his own right.

“Fuck!” Druas barked as the ground started to shake. “Link up

with me.” Michel reached for the newly formed bond that the demon
prince had created to bind them to the other Ravyns. It was an internal
cord in his mind that blazed bright white with his mental touch. He
was instantly swamped by the combined minds of Cord and Druas.

“Pull back,” Dru commanded through the link. “You’re not

merging with us. Pull it back just a little.” Michel did and found the
odd perception of more than one set of senses dulled. Thank gods.
Though, the empowerment still remained. It was like being shot full
of adrenaline. His heart hammered, his mind was incredibly attuned to
his environment, and power poured into him through the cord. The
ground bucked, nearly sending them sprawling. “Shift forms. You’ll
be a hell of a lot stronger now. I need you battle ready. They’re

Ravyn’s Mates

close.” At least a dozen demons, if Michel’s nose was correct. He
reached for the animal while holding onto the Ravyns’ bond.

His beast rushed at him quickly, swamping him with the

wondrous sensation of what he could only describe as magick
considering he didn’t know the humans’ technical term for it. Fur
flowed over his skin. His bones popped, structure shifting, body
rearranging into the familiar shape of his cat. Their souls merged
easily, as they always did when he was shifting forms. He felt the
spirit of his other self rub along his human self in greeting. His vision
shifted to that of his cat. He didn’t see detail and color as well in the
full daylight, but his other senses were so well attuned that it made up
for the deficiency. He let loose a snarl designed to be a warning to the
approaching demons. His mates were here. If they dared to come too
close, they were going to get torn apart.

A voice sounded out after his warning, the words in a guttural and

unfamiliar tongue that he’d often heard Druas curse in. He tilted his
head to the side, listening closer. By all rights, he should know what it
meant, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Cord screamed in cat
form, readying himself to pounce.

* * * *

“I have arrows tipped with Nawshan pointed at you all. I suggest

you drop your weapons.” Druas heard the heavily accented High
Demonish a second before they came into view. Nawshan poison was
derived from desert toads whose insides were literally a paralyzing
agent. Much like Earth’s cobra bites, Nawshan would slowly kill the
victim by paralyzing first the outer extremities, then the lungs. It was
not a pleasant way to die, and there was no cure.

There were a dozen or more warriors surrounding them, all with

weapons drawn. Others had their arrows pointed toward them, the
quivers a bright red against the tanned skin of the desert tribe. He
bypassed all of them, looking for the leader. Like shifters, demons

Jana Downs

tended to look toward one person to lead them against all enemies. He
wouldn’t waste his time talking to just any of them.

“Who threatens us?” he called back in the desert dialect

Demonese. The fact that the demon leader had recognized him as
aristocracy didn’t bode well. Most tribes were no longer fans of
Desmond or his lackeys.

“General Natiri Kaden, leader of the desert tribes of southern

Demontia.” It was then the massive demon came into view. How the
hell Dru missed him to begin with was anyone’s guess. He topped
Dru’s respectable six-four frame by over half a foot. He wasn’t just
tall, either. His shoulders were easily as wide as Dru and Michel
standing side by side, but it was all muscle and firm skin. On top of
being massive, he was gorgeous, with sandy-colored hair, blue-and-
gold eyes, and tan skin. This was the legendary general of Salvatore’s
father’s army.

Michel gave a feline snarl of dislike almost instantly as the tribe

leader approached, and Dru tossed his weapon in the dirt to grab hold
of the scruff of his pretty furred neck. The last thing he needed was
Michel to attack the guy. His shifter mate was all instinct in his feral
form, and he was having to provide a constant balm of calm to his
lover’s mind just to keep him from losing it.

“Cord.” He spoke the word, and the smaller of the two shifters

was immediately pressed against his leg. He wasn’t happy though,
and the nervous energy was making him twitchy enough that he kept
knocking into him, nearly toppling Dru over.

Natiri’s gold-and-blue eyes took in the movement. “Slaves of

yours?” he asked. He was only about six feet away now.

“No. They’re my mates.” Despite the situation, voicing their

mating aloud for the first time gave Druas an absurd sense of
satisfaction.

“Ah, so you’re not completely without honor.” Well, at least he

got some points in his favor. Michel’s and Cord’s lips peeled back in
unison as Natiri took another step closer. The shifters revealed black

Ravyn’s Mates

gums and very dangerous-looking teeth as they called out in warning.
“They protect you,” he stated.

Dru nodded. “They are my lovers and my brothers-in-arms.

Salvatore sends his greetings.” It was forbidden to invoke the rightful
prince’s name without Desmond’s express permission. If Natiri had
changed sides at any point, they were dead men.

“You lie!” Natiri thundered. The force of his shout literally caused

the ground to jump. He had to have been a monster force of nature to
make that happen. Dru twisted Michel’s and Cord’s ears as they
started forward. The reminder had them pressing back against him.

“Good kitties,” he thought at them with a smile. They turned and

hissed at him in unison.

“I do not,” Druas said aloud in a calm voice. “Prince Salvatore

Demante of the Dragon Throne, true heir to Demontia’s kingdom,
calls you to his assistance.” The formal words were meant to be
spoken in high court Demonish, but he spoke in the language of the
tribe’s people. He saw the men shooting each other anxious looks,
wondering if he was telling the truth.

“You’ve proof?” Natiri demanded, playing with the edge of a

dagger that was massive enough to be considered a short sword by
anyone else’s estimations. This was the part he’d been dreading.

“His father gave you three words of power when he sent you into

the desert to await Salvatore’s maturity. They would kill anyone but
Salvatore’s Ravyns.”

Both Michel and Cord shot him a look. Their thoughts were

harder to understand when they were in animal form, but the implied
“What the fuck?” was there all the same. They were larger than life. A
normal jaguar would come up to midthigh. With the addition of their
Ravyns’ power, they gained several inches and a lot more muscle.
When Michel raised his head, he bumped the underside of Dru’s
ribcage. They were also beautiful, and he sent him the thought along
with his calm.

“You are prepared to take the test?” Natiri asked.

Jana Downs

Dru nodded. “I am.” He glanced down. “Michel, Cord, move out

the way. I’m not sure you could withstand this. You’re not original
Ravyns, and I’m not sure if the spell works properly on you.”

Michel glared. “No.” It figured that the one word that he could

manage was no. Cord bumped him and bit at his shoulder. Michel
looked at Cord. “No,” he repeated more forcefully.

“Your cats do not seem to be as cooperative as you would like,”

Natiri noted.

Dru nodded. “They are protective.”
“As they should be with their mate.”
Druas sidestepped around the two of them as Cord tried to muscle

the much-bigger Michel away from the line of fire. Joint growls filled
the air, and then the feel of warm fur was once again pressed against
him. Natiri chuckled as Dru made a noise of frustration. They
wouldn’t leave him the heck alone so that he could do his job. Then
Natiri opened his mouth and began to speak in their ancient tongue,
three short bursts of words and phrases. Dru braced himself for the
impact of the spell.

It was gentler than he’d imagined, almost a caress of magick

rather than a painful thrust of violent energies. It swirled around him
in a violet-colored display before settling against his skin. Michel and
Cord hissed in unison, their large feline eyes watching the energy as it
settled. Dru felt it as it seeped into him and hit the chord of his Ravyn
bond. It tested the strength of it twice before dispelling all together.

“Welcome, Ravyn,” Natiri said, bowing low. The rest of his tribe

did the same, mimicking the respect that Natiri was giving him. He
felt rather than saw Cord shift back to his human form behind him.

“What now?” the jaguar asked. The other demons turned and

began to make their way out of camp. Dru snatched up his discarded
pants and shook the red dust from them.

“Now we grab whatever we can and follow them.”

Ravyn’s Mates

Chapter Four

Cord threw all he could into his knapsack as Michel did the same

beside him. Their mate was off somewhere, keeping track of the
tribesmen as they went along so that they could catch up. He’d sent
mental instructions to them to track him down as soon as they
finished packing up camp.

“Is that bag too heavy?” Michel asked in his normal gruff voice.

Druas may not have realized how scared the previous encounter had
made Michel, but Cord certainly did. The larger shifter’s greatest fear
had always been the idea of being alone. He’d been on edge for days,
because the Doves, the Ravyn’s enemies, had been a day behind
them, but only just. Hopefully, now that they’d found Salvatore’s
general things would start looking up.

“Don’t worry, big guy. I’m a warrior, same as you. I can manage,”

Cord assured, swinging it onto his back. Michel would already be
carrying enough since he was getting Druas’s stuff as well. The guy
could carry as much as a pack mule. He’d always been excessively
strong and a good bit bigger than majority of their clan.

They’d been mates since they were kits. They’d met at the school

the Entertainer Line had set up for the jaguar shifters under their
protection and had immediately bonded. They’d been lovers and
friends ever since. A big chunk of their childhood had been spent
training with one another to become bodyguards for the Entertainer
house. It was all either one of them had wanted to do. Their shared
passion for the job was one of the things that enabled them to be such
good partners.

Jana Downs

They’d been open to a third for years, knowing that it would be

another guy. However, it had seemed such a long stretch to find
another person to fit so intimately with them. So they’d contented
themselves with the idea that they might only have one another for the
rest of their considerably long lives and put the thought of desiring
one more in their bed behind them. When the Ravyns had arrived and
joined Master Alexander’s household, all that changed.

Now that they finally had Druas with them, Cord wasn’t exactly

sure how they’d ever survived without. He’d tried to be patient and
wait for Druas to come around, but the pheromones had just made
him more and more irritable the longer he was around them without
being claimed. Cord had managed to calm him with his scent and
touch, but he knew it was only a matter of time before Dru and
Michel came to an all-out war over their mutual frustrated attraction.
He was very happy Dru had climbed in between them last night. He
was even happier at his reaction this morning. His easy acceptance of
them was a load off Cord’s mind. Most demons didn’t mate in threes
from what he understood of demon society.

“Are you happy that he’s with us?” Michel asked as he slung his

own packs onto his shoulder. The only evidence left that they’d been
there at all were the remnants of their campfire.

“Happier than I’ve been in a long time,” Cord answered honestly.

“How could I not be? He accepted us. We anticipated a fight, and he
really didn’t give us much of one.” He followed after Michel as he set
a brisk pace in the direction the group of men had gone. He bypassed
the shuffling footsteps of the other warriors until he got to the tracks
that smelled like their mate.

“He’s following on the high ground. Smart mate. He’s making

sure that they’re not setting a trap.” Michel noted as he studied the
tracks as they took off up the hill. The scent was easy enough to
follow. Cord could’ve done so blind if necessary.

“He’s an ancient warrior. Of course he’s smart,” Cord bragged a

little, following Michel up the hill. Michel laughed at him.

Ravyn’s Mates

“You’re smitten,” he accused with a smile in his voice. Cord

couldn’t resist the temptation to reach out and pinch the firm buttock
walking ahead of him. Michel jumped and threw a glare over his
shoulder. “Not funny, Cordy.”

“It’s hilarious,” Cord said, sticking his tongue out at his mate.

“Besides. He is an excellent lay, and I’m still experiencing afterglow.
Sue me.”

Michel snorted. “He must be great if you can completely ignore

the danger we were just in and mentally skip right back to the sex. We
could still be in trouble.”

“You worry too much.” Cord sighed. “Let me enjoy our new

completeness, Michel. Please. If we aren’t able to explore the
intricacies of our relationship until we return to Earth, at least let me
savor our one moment of joy with him. He’s back to business now.”
Their mate was deadly serious when it came to his duties and to his
prince. Well, Salvatore was their prince as well now, but they didn’t
have the same intimate bond with him that the rest of the Ravyns did.
No doubt that they would be loyal, but they weren’t close friends with
the monarch, unlike Druas. Druas’s focus was something that Cord
admired deeply about his mate, but it didn’t mean that his absolute
devotion to the protection of his prince didn’t act as interference in his
social life. A relationship with a warrior was hard to maintain, thus
why Cord was so grateful that Michel and he were warriors. They
understood one another.

* * * *

Dru hoped that Natiri was as loyal as he thought he was. If he

wasn’t, then the Ravyns were royally screwed. He’d been out of
Demontian society long enough that he’d completely forgotten the
custom of “invitation.” As an acting dignitary sent from Prince
Salvatore, Dru was obligated and honor bound to stay with General
Natiri in his home in his tribe lands until their business was complete.

Jana Downs

It made Dru uneasy, but he had little choice. To refuse would be an
insult to Natiri’s honor.

He knew that the other tribesmen realized he was up here. Every

once in a while one of them would lift his head and scent the air as if
making sure they knew exactly where he was at. That was fine so
long as none of them tried to attack him. He was following their lead
but only because it would take him back to their camp. Southern
demons were nomadic for the most part. These men were no different
except that they kept their families and mates with them as they
traveled and were loyal to the true monarch.

He kept his eyes on the back of Natiri at the front of the pack of

warriors. He wasn’t sure what struck him as odd, but there was
something shimmering on the back of the other male’s neck. The
wind, his power, swirled around his hands. Something was definitely
odd about the male. And it wasn’t just his larger-than-life size. If this
guy was his former king’s prime general, he was an ancient warrior in
his own right. Yet, he didn’t look any older than Druas. He should be
showing some kind of age at least.

Demons had longevity, but they did age. The legends he’d heard

about Natiri dated him older than Salvatore’s father had been, and the
former king had been over ten thousand years old. When he’d died,
he’d looked to be around sixty by human standards. Demons aged
pretty regularly until about thirty. After that, their aging slowed down
to a crawl that was almost nonexistent. It was highly unusual that
demons died before their allotted time. The fact that the danger of
Demontia had been so great as to necessitate multiple incarnations of
the Ravyns spoke of the seriousness that Desmond posed to the
natural order of things.

A warm male hand slid over his naked lower back. He’d left the

shirt off. The now-familiar touch of his mate didn’t even cause him a
ripple of concern despite the fact that the two shifters had snuck up on
him.

Ravyn’s Mates

“You’re going to burn if you don’t put on something,” Michel

chided, giving the skin a brief caress.

“Likewise, kitty cat,” Druas shot back. Michel’s hand slid to his

hip and gave it a squeeze.

“Careful, Dru,” Cord said. “Michel likes being teased, but he isn’t

good at keeping his hands to himself. He’s especially weak when it
comes to nicknames, so unless you want to get naked, leave those for
the bedroom.”

Dru felt a grin stretch his lips. His mates were definitely strange.

“I’m happy you two told me,” he admitted. He wasn’t talking about
Michel’s love for pet names, either. Their mating seemed so obvious
now, but the confusion he’d felt over his unexplainable reaction to his
lovers before had worn him out. He was glad to have a reason for all
of it. He reached out and linked hands with Cord. His pretty mate
blushed, which was a pleasure to see considering all three of them had
gotten very deeply tanned over the past few weeks in the Demontian
sun. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to lose sight of his goal. The
sooner he accomplished Salvatore’s mission, the sooner he could get
back to starting something serious with his mates. He still couldn’t
believe he had two of them.

“I smell women ahead,” Michel said, drawing his attention back

to the objective at hand. Dru was grateful for his attention to detail.
Not for the first time, Dru realized that the two of them made
excellent Ravyns.

“Their camp must be getting close.” Dru let his power disperse

back into the universe. If they were this close to their families, the
other demons would take any drawn weapon as a sign of hostility.
“My swords?” he asked.

“In the bag I’m carrying,” Michel said, petting his head. “No

worries, pretty. We got this.”

* * * *

Jana Downs

“You can come down from your perch now, Ravyns. As you can

see, you’re quite safe,” Natiri called up to them as they watched the
warriors from the tribe disperse throughout the campsite. The general
was the only one who stood at the foot of their small hill, looking up
at them with his massive hands on his hips and his feet splayed. The
three of them exchanged a look and hesitated. Dru finally nodded to
his head. They needed to get this done, and the only way to find out if
this was legitimate was to go ahead and go down there.

They walked down together, Dru in the middle, Michel at his

right, Cord at his left. It seemed that Natiri got taller the closer they
got to the man. He really was a giant. It called into question whether
or not he was full demon at all. Was he part giant or something?

“Dragon,” Natiri answered Dru’s unspoken question. “Well, half

dragon anyway. I understand your caution, Ravyn. But rest assured, if
I didn’t trust you, you would be dead by now.”

“What’d he say?” Michel asked, a frown on his face. Dru had

completely forgotten that they didn’t speak any of the demon tongues.

“He said that he trusts us,” Dru supplied. He made a mental note

to start teaching them at least the basics of his native tongue as soon
as he could. It was going to get really annoying translating everything
for them all the time.

“Your mates don’t know the Tongue?” Natiri asked, smiling. He

switched to English effortlessly. “That is fine. I will speak in this one.
Being half dragon enables me to be quite gifted in languages. I can
speak any that I have heard spoken.” He nodded to the pair of shifters.
“It is good to see a Ravyn who is also a family man. It put the men at
ease to see that you brought your loved ones with you.”

“It’s a recent mating.” Dru felt the need to give the disclaimer.

“None of us are very used to the idea.” He was actually surprised that
the demon so readily accepted the three-way relationship. While it
wasn’t looked down upon, per se, it still was an oddity considering
how territorial most demon males were with their lovers.

Ravyn’s Mates

“Have you wed yet?” Natiri asked. Dru shook his head. “Then

perhaps you’d honor us with a ceremony? Our people love
celebrations, and to be wed amongst us would show great good will.”
Dru paled at the thought, and Natiri chuckled at him. “Or perhaps you
will wait on that. You just seemed supremely comfortable with one
another, thus why I ask. Will you do me the honor of sleeping in my
tent tonight?”

Dru bowed his head. “Of course, General Natiri. It’s customary.”

He waved a hand to his mates. “They will stay with me, of course.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of separating mates. Shifters are

curious creatures. They wane when they are kept from their objects of
affection.” Natiri turned his head slightly and looked down on Cord.
The glittering Druas had seen had been scales. They were blue and
gold, the same as Natiri’s eyes, and disappeared underneath his shirt
collar. His dragon heritage explained that, though Dru had been under
the impression that only those of the royal line had claim to that title.

“Are you related to Prince Salvatore?” Dru asked before he could

edit himself. Natiri turned and walked the path that ran down the
center of the middlemost rows of tents. Dru walked beside him and
felt the eyes of his lovers on his back.

The demon general glanced over at him. “No. I was actually born

in Draak, the dragon realm. My mother was a demon from this plane.
I acted as a dignitary for Salvatore’s father before I made Demontia
my home. We became friends, and I stayed here to act as a sort of
permanent advisor for the family through the ages. Since the Demante
line was blessed with dragon power, I was kept on to instruct them in
dragonii magicks when each male heir came of age.”

Ah, well that would explain why Salvatore had such a difficult

time finding his own powers. Dru wondered what other family secrets
the Demante line had lost or forgotten due to Desmond’s treachery.

They stopped suddenly as they came to a massive tent that was

bigger than the next two tents over combined. These tribes often
stayed in place for only a few weeks, so taking the time to erect such

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a monstrosity would’ve taken a lot of effort from a lot of different
people. “Please, let us take our repast inside my quarters. I have some
fruit and bread along with some Glamora honey if you’d enjoy it,”
Natiri offered graciously. Dru’s mouth watered at the mere mention of
Glamora honey. It was a sweet treat that he hadn’t had in years. He
motioned for his mates and followed the general inside.

Ravyn’s Mates

Chapter Five

“Fuck me. That’s good.” Michel groaned as Dru fed him the

honey-soaked piece of bread that Natiri had laid out for them while
he’d ducked into the back flap of the tent to retrieve something from
his quarters. Dru smiled as he licked the rest of the honey off of the
demon’s fingers like the cat he was. The shifter noted the stirring of
an erection behind the confines of the warrior’s suede pants. He
returned the smile Dru was sporting. This felt so right. Cord leaned
into his side and opened his mouth like a little baby bird asking for
treats.

“You, too? I thought you didn’t like sweets?” Dru asked, laughing

now.

“If Michel makes that noise while eating it, I’m down for just

about anything,” Cord said saucily. Michel reached over and gave a
quick grope to the other man’s backside. He was stuffed full of good
feelings when it came to these two. It was a real effort to keep himself
in check. All he wanted to do was go to the floor and make love to
both of his mates in every conceivable position possible.

Dru swallowed hard. “Not yet.” The words were a warning, and

Michel nodded to acknowledge the wisdom of them. The Ravyn was
right. It wasn’t near time for them to go to sleep yet, and they had
business to attend to. Hopefully, between the three of them, one of
them could keep them all on task.

“Gods, you both smell like sex,” Cord whispered in his husky

bedroom voice. Gods, he was right. If they didn’t calm down the
tension in the room, they were going to end up naked before their host
came back.

Jana Downs

“Do you think his intentions are on the level?” Dru asked. He

didn’t sound like he really wanted to know, but if talking business
helped him out, Michel was willing to do so.

“He seems legitimate. I can’t smell any sort of deceit on him, but

that doesn’t mean much. Some demons are very good at lying.
However, we would do well to trust what allies we have in the
coming conflict. He seems to have remained loyal, so it’s best to think
of him as such until he proves otherwise.” Michel discreetly moved
Cord’s hand as it found its way into his lap. He reached out and took a
bit of bread and dipped it in the honey before shoving it into Cord’s
mouth. “Chew on that and get your brain out of the gutter.” How Cord
managed to pout while he chewed on the gods’ gift to all kind was
beyond him, but he managed it.

Thankfully, Natiri arrived then to distract them all from their

shared arousal. “Sorry I took so long, gentlemen,” he apologized
smoothly. With surprising grace, the giant sat down across from the
trio, folding his legs neatly under him so that he was sitting in a lotus
position. He had a rolled-up piece of cloth in his hand which was red
and gold in coloration with two carved wooden cylinders on either
end decorated with golden tassels. It looked like something Cord
would’ve picked up at a Chinese district back home. He loved all
sorts of Asian art and trinkets.

Michel watched as Dru’s eyes zeroed in on the cloth. “Is that his

legacy?” he asked in a hushed voice. Whatever the miniblanket was
obviously got him excited.

“Yes. A last gift from his father.” Natiri’s face held a world of

sorrow as he spoke. The demon general unrolled it. The cloth was
surprisingly long for being so narrow. “His entire history, every
member of the family down through the generations, is listed here.
Salvatore is the last on the main line, and Theron is the last on the
secondary line.” He fingered the soft, silk-like material. “I have been
waiting ages to be able to give this to him.” He rolled it back up

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carefully and handed it across the table. “Please, give this to him for
me with my regards.”

Dru nodded solemnly. “I will.”
“Why is that important?” Michel asked, watching the exchange in

curiosity.

Natiri answered him. “It proves his bloodline and his right to rule.

The cloth can’t be altered by any sort of physical or metaphysical
means. What is written therein is absolute and irrefutable truth.” It
seemed like a load of bull to him, but then, the demons were a
superstitious lot. Even the Ravyns, who were far more adaptive to
Earth than most, had rituals and customs which they followed strictly.
“Now, what sort of fighting force has Salvatore gathered?” Talks of
war had begun.

* * * *

The night fell faster than Dru expected it to. Talks of war,

strategy, and troops dominated the conversations from daybreak until
almost sunset. They’d only taken brief respites to take care of their
physical needs like food and bathroom visits. For the most part, it had
been a breakdown of what had occurred since Salvatore left the palace
to present, as well as what their future plans were for taking back over
the kingdom. Working everything out was pretty exhausting, but
Druas was happy with their progress. He’d even momentarily
forgotten about his distracting desire for his new mates.

“The fires are burning,” Natiri noted as the world began to take on

the characteristics of night. “You’ll join us for our evening meal? It
would do my people good to see the Ravyns amongst them again.”
His eyes flicked to the shifters, who had been actually quite helpful
during their conversations. “Seeing new Ravyns will give them even
more hope. It’s good to see Salvatore extending his reach even in
small degrees.”

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“We’d be honored to eat the evening meal with the rest of the

tribe,” Dru said. Cord had long since given up the fight of trying to
retain good posture and leaned heavily against his side. His little mate
was so damn cute. Cord might be a warrior, but the difference in their
size made Dru feel all kinds of protective instincts when it came to his
well-being. He’d forever think of the other man as cute.

Natiri left to go get them a small bowl of water so they could

wash themselves before the meal, leaving the three of them alone
once more. Michel wasted no time nuzzling Dru’s neck. Maybe it was
a shifter thing, but both of them were extremely touchy. It wasn’t that
they even touched inappropriately, but they were constantly giving
him little caresses as if to reassure him that they were there and to
take comfort from his presence. Demons were demonstrative when it
came to affection, but shifters were even more so.

“What do you think you’re doing, Michel?” Dru asked with a

smile. He was really enjoying the touching, but he had to protest just a
little bit. He didn’t want his mates to think he was too overeager.

“Taking a much-needed break from thinking of troop formations

and weapons,” Michel murmured against his skin. A tongue caressed
his pulse point. Dru shuddered, and his body immediately started
priming for something more than a brief caress. Being mated to two
shifters certainly put his libido in overdrive.

“We don’t have time for this. Natiri will be back any second

now.” Dru sighed. He really couldn’t wait to get back home. The
thought of being able to have some downtime with them was
incentive enough for him to get this mission done with as early as
possible. With the negotiations and planning with Natiri going so
well, it should only take a few more days before they were ready to
return Earth side to the rest of the Ravyns.

Cord’s hand had found its way into his lap and was caressing the

hardening bulge he found there. “How long is a demon second?” he
asked, grinning like the evil kitty he was. Druas didn’t even bother to

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suppress the groan that worked its way out of his throat at the
deliberate caress.

“You two are going to be the death of me,” he complained. He

removed the gripping hand and put it back on his knee. “Stop. Both of
you.”

“Ah, young love. You are newlyweds if you can’t keep your

hands to yourselves for the whole five minutes I was gone.” Natiri’s
voice made Dru blush. Shit. How long has he been standing there?
The demon general put a wooden bowl of water and three cloths on
the center of the table that they’d cleared only the moment before of
battle plans. He gave them a wink and turned back toward the door.
“In five minutes’ time, can you all be presentable and join me by the
fire?” He sounded way too amused. Gods. Dru was so embarrassed.

“We’ll join you then,” Michel spoke for him. He sounded mildly

annoyed. Dru poked him in the ribs. It wasn’t like Natiri had
interrupted them on purpose. There shouldn’t have been anything for
him to interrupt.

When he was gone, Cord started laughing. “Not. Funny,” Dru said

miserably. Then Michel started snickering. “Seriously, you guys, can
we please maintain some level of respectability with the general of
my prince’s army? Gods.” They just laughed at him harder. He sighed
but couldn’t help but smile. He grabbed up one of the washcloths and
dunked it in the bowl of water, soaking up some of the life-giving
liquid in the rough material. He wrung it out and twisted the towel,
eyeing Cord’s bare chest with evil intent. He let it fly, cracking it
against the shifter’s exposed skin.

“Ouch! Motherfucker!” Cord yelped, covering the little red mark

Dru had made. Michel turned his attention to Dru as the Ravyn wound
up the cloth and let it fly once more, nailing Michel in the stomach.

“Ow!” Michel growled, snatching up his own cloth and tossing it

in the bowl before twisting it in similar fashion to how Druas had
done. “I’m going to teach you a lesson about smacking us with
towels, pretty.”

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“Ha, bring it!” Druas laughed, scrambling up as the big shifter

slapped the cloth at him. Cord quickly followed suit, and soon they
were chasing one another around the tent, trying to smack one another
with the towels.

“I don’t think this is what he meant about presentable,” Cord said,

collapsing on a pillow in the corner. He was grinning from ear to ear
and just looked too fucking perfect to resist. Dru went to his knees
beside him before leaning over until they were chest to chest. Cord
looked up at him and tilted his head up. Dru took the invitation and
kissed him. Kissing a guy was infinitely different than kissing a girl.
It was somehow more intense to Dru. Maybe it was because these
men were his mates. It didn’t matter. All he knew was that when they
touched him, it was perfection. Utter and absolute perfection.

“They’re waiting for us, lovers,” Michel reminded. His voice had

deepened in what Dru was beginning to recognize was arousal. Their
lips parted, and Cord gave him a wink.

“Soon.” It was a promise. Yeah, lights-out couldn’t come fast

enough. He just hoped that they would be in an isolated enough area
to be able to make good on that promise.

Ravyn’s Mates

Chapter Six

“Nice of you to join us,” Natiri greeted as they made their way

outside to the massive circle of people who were situated around the
fire. Dru noted that most of them were men, a few women, and
children, but for the most part they were all fighting men. Natiri had
said that the tribesmen had been tracking them across the desert since
they’d arrived in tribe territory. The warriors and their families were
only a small fraction of a much-larger group of warriors that were
divided into four subgroups and scattered throughout the southern
region. According to him, there were well over ten thousand able-
bodied warriors that were just waiting for a call to arms.

Druas sat down, Cord and Michel framing him as they faced the

massive bonfire that the tribe had erected. Young men in various
forms of dress danced around the wall of heat to the sounds of flutes
and drums that the tribe had brought out while they feasted on their
evening meals. It wasn’t much, just dried fruit, bread, and more
honey, but to people used to living on very little, it was a lot.

“Is it safe to have a fire that large out here? It’ll be visible for

some distance.” Dru was still worried about the Doves that had been
tracking them. He would hate to be the cause of Desmond’s cronies
wreaking havoc in the main camp. It was one thing to have a potential
attack against other warriors, quite another to involve families of
those warriors.

“The Doves that were tracking you have already been dealt with.

Nawshan delivered via arrow right before we came into your camp
this morning. Be of ease, Ravyn. It is safe here,” Natiri reassured as
one of his warriors took a position in front of the fire ahead of them

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and began a sexy dance in a pair of low-slung leather pants. His hips
swayed back and forth with the drumbeats, and he tossed a saucy grin
over his shoulder. The general rumbled low in his throat in
appreciation.

“Looks like someone likes you, Natiri,” Cord teased, picking up

the wine cup someone had thoughtfully put in front of them. Dru
hoped he didn’t drink that too fast. Demon wine went down very
easily, but it was very potent. He’d be stumbling drunk on two glasses
if he wasn’t careful.

Natiri chuckled. “Trying to get me to wander into someone else’s

tent for the evening?” Dru watched the exchange with growing
interest. It seemed his mate was quite at ease with the big general, an
aspect of the dynamic he’d failed to realize while they were working
on war plans.

Cord nodded. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.” Dru nearly

swallowed his tongue. Had his mate really just asked Natiri to occupy
elsewhere so that they could have alone time?

“It’ll be no hardship,” Natiri said with a wink. He beckoned the

young warrior closer, and the younger man slid into the giant’s lap
with ease. “Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Laden. He’s one of my
archers.”

The other man spoke in a soft, lyrical voice in the demon tongue.

“Nice to meet you, Ravyns.”

“Nice to meet you as well,” Dru answered back for them all. It

was then he remembered his earlier thought of teaching Michel and
Cord a couple of demon dialects. “Do you have a Neuro-Net Impulser
here?” he asked Natiri. The technology would be very helpful in the
teaching process. It would take a matter of hours to master the
language as opposed to days.

Natiri shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. The only one near is in

the city of Ashewrath.” That wouldn’t do. Ashewrath was still under
Desmond’s control.

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“That’s all right. I just wanted to start Michel and Cord on lessons

in both High Demonish and Demonese. I think it would be useful to
them, but it’ll just have to wait until we go back home.”

It struck him that he’d called Earth home. He hadn’t thought of it

like that before. He glanced at his mates. It was because of them, had
to be. There was no other reason for Earth to be home other than that
was where his mates were and that was where he could be with them
freely. In Demontia, he’d always have responsibilities and obligations
to take him away from them. Realization dawned. After the war was
over, he didn’t want to settle back in his home realm. He wanted to
stay with them Earth side.

“Everything okay, pretty? You’re frowning,” Michel said, concern

in his voice.

Dru shook his head to clear it. “I’m fine. Just thinking about the

end of the war.”

“End of the war? We haven’t even started it yet,” Natiri boomed,

tightening his arm around Laden’s waist and nuzzling the warrior’s
neck.

“I know. But, I just realized that I had no idea what I was going to

do when everything was finally finished.” His heart constricted as he
spoke the last word. He’d not known peace for a thousand years and
had never really known contentment. He met Michel’s lovely, light-
colored eyes and felt his chest expand. He saw the potential for true
happiness with them, and the idea both elated and scared the shit out
of him.

“Don’t let your heart get ahead of your mind, Ravyn,” Natiri

warned. The general lit a twisted wooden pipe that he pulled from his
pocket and sucked on the end. A sweet-smelling smoke emerged. If
Dru wasn’t mistaken, it was Habisi, an herb smoked for taste and for
relaxation. It was sacred to some southerners and often smelled like
candy while it burned. It was another Demontian tradition he’d all but
forgotten about. The general extended the pipe. “Would you care to
have some, Ravyn?”

Jana Downs

Dru considered it for a moment then shrugged internally. Why

not? “Sure.” He took the pipe and inhaled the burning herbs therein.
Almost instantly, calm washed over him, and a tingle of pleasure
curled along the nerves in his cheeks and spine. A grin stretched his
lips, and he handed the pipe back to Natiri as he exhaled slowly.
Wow. It had certainly been a while. He leaned back into Michel as his
limbs became boneless.

“What was that?” Michel asked with a frown. He didn’t direct the

question at Dru but to Natiri. So Dru stared into the fire and watched
as tribesmen danced, sang, and ate around it. Demons were truly
beautiful beings. They were incredibly full of life, and this was the
sort of life they should be living. Desmond’s cold world was not
meant for them.

Natiri laughed. “It’s just an herb, Ravyn. Relax. He’ll be more at

ease and sleep better tonight than the entire time you’ve been here. I
imagine he needs the tension drained from him. Why don’t you all go
back to the tent shortly and get some rest? We’ll finish up
negotiations tomorrow after we’ve all had a good night’s sleep.” He
gave Laden a squeeze. “I will find a bed for myself elsewhere.”

“I wanna dance,” Dru said suddenly, sitting up and stumbling to

his feet. He beckoned to his lovers, grinning from ear to ear. Michel
and Cord glanced at one another before nodding and letting Dru pull
them to their feet.

* * * *

Druas had a wild look in his golden eyes that Michel had never

seen before. The Ravyn wasn’t nearly as uptight as his brother, Tony,
but he had always maintained an air of seriousness when it came to
his mission and his prince. To see him so carefree was a treat.

“You think he’s okay?” Cord asked. Their smaller mate grabbed

one of his arms as Dru swayed dangerously close to the flame and
Cord pulled him back toward them. Michel shrugged. Natiri said he

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would be fine. He sniffed and immediately got a contact buzz off the
scent alone. His body processed it like any other relaxant.

“He’s fine. It’s like he took an anxiety reliever. Smell,” Michel

commanded. His smaller mate did so and nodded a second later.

“Dance with me,” Dru complained as he swayed his hips to the

drumbeat. Their participation seemed to incite the musicians to an
even more enthusiastic rhythm and the other dancers to more fervent
dance moves. Michel growled at the sight of his lover grinding in time
with the music. Dru had learned how to dance like the humans since
being Earth side. Some of the other demons mimicked his motions,
beginning their own seductive rhythms that were probably better
suited for the strip pole than a village gathering.

“Let’s show them how it’s done,” Cord said over the beat of the

drums. He had amusement in his eyes, and Michel nodded his assent.
They would show these demons what dancing was.

* * * *

Dru’s head fell back against Michel’s shoulder as the larger male

came in behind him and took his hips in his hands to bring their
bodies flush together. Dru wasn’t intoxicated, but he was certainly
relaxed after his smoke. Even now the feeling was fading though,
replaced by something headier, something that was sharper and more
potent. Cord stepped into his front, using his body to bracket in Dru’s
own. The three hundred sixty degrees of sensation had Dru biting
back a groan. It felt extremely good to be in between his mates and it
was more than a little arousing. Then they started to move.

It was slow at first, trying to establish a routine of touch that

would enable them all to sway appropriately. Dru wasn’t blitzed
enough not to realize that the dancing had gotten purely sexual in the
past thirty seconds. Michel’s hard cock dug into the upper part of his
ass with every deep grind. Cord was practically riding the ridge of
Dru’s cock as he straddled his legs and twisted his hips up against

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Dru’s tightening package. Somewhere, the deep baritone of a warrior
rang out in song. It was tribal and beautiful and so right. He belonged
with Michel and Cord, just like this.

Their movements quickened as the song neared a crescendo.

Michel’s teeth grazed the part of his neck where it met shoulder, and
Cord nipped at the hard muscle of his pectorals through his loose
shirt. Had touching ever seemed so intense before? Had desire ever
seemed so sharp?

“We need to take this elsewhere,” Cord whispered, his voice

barely audible above the music.

“Agreed,” Michel said back. He gave the skin of Dru’s neck one

final lick. “How you feelin’, pretty?”

“I’m really chill right now,” Dru said, turning in Michel’s arms so

that they were practically chest to chest. He raised his lips for a kiss,
and Michel didn’t disappoint. Their lips met, tangled, caressed. Dru
groaned into the wet cavern of Michel’s mouth as Cord stepped in
behind him and ground his hard cock against Dru’s buttocks. The
Ravyn wanted his two shifter mates so much. He’d never considered
the possibility of bottoming, but he would for these two. He knew he
would. Without a single doubt, he knew he’d give them everything.

“Mating is forever, Druas,” Cord murmured against the shell of

his ear. “Let us love you right.”

Dru found himself breaking the kiss to nod. “Love me, then.”

* * * *

Even though the Ravyn didn’t have much on, they took their time

stripping him down to nothing. There was something to be said about
moving through lovemaking slowly. Natiri had given them a grin and
told Cord where to find his oils back in the tent and sent them on their
way with a wave, the young warrior still perched on his lap like the
prize he undoubtedly was. Cord shuddered and squirmed in desire.

Ravyn’s Mates

His beast, his jaguar kin that was a deep part of him, raised its

voice for the first time. Ours, it said. The echoed thought shook him
like nothing else. Druas was theirs, in every conceivable fashion. This
was going to be the first time that there could be no excuses between
them. It wasn’t the irritation of pheromones that was getting Dru to
come to them. It was pure unadulterated desire.

“You know you’re beautiful, right?” Michel asked as he slowly

pulled the leathers down Dru’s hips, baring his already-straining
arousal to the warm night air. Cord shivered at the tone of his lover’s
voice. He loved when Michel’s tone took on that sexy, husky timbre.
He usually used it only when he was going to fuck Cord stupid, so he
knew that Dru was about to get the same treatment. Cord couldn’t
wait.

They’d lit a few candles, casting the dark world into shades of

gold. The atmosphere was ripe for a passionate encounter. Michel
instructed Dru in a soft voice to lie down on the padded area that
acted as their bed. With a few well-placed pillows under his hips, Dru
was ready to be thoroughly debauched.

Cord’s passage clenched. He knew exactly what Michel had in

mind for playtime, and he couldn’t wait. He popped the button on his
leathers and let them slither down his hips to the floor and watched
Michel do the same. The whole time, Dru watched them with heavy,
hooded eyes that bespoke of his desire and stroked his straining length
languidly. The sight was mouthwatering.

“Love you, Cord.” Michel’s gruff voice caused him to turn his

attention from his prone mate to the one standing beside him with a
small bottle of oil.

“Je t’aime, Michel,” Cord answered him, smiling. Dru sighed in

appreciation from his place on the pallet. Michel popped the cork
from the bottle and immediately the tent was filled with the scent of
rowan and jasmine. It was an unexpected and welcome scent after all
the foreign ones of this land. Cord had been surprised at how many

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plants crossed the dimensions. Those two were apparently some more
of them.

“I’m going to get you ready for his cock so that you’re stretched

when the time comes,” Michel said as Cord shot him a questioning
look. His big mate tapped him on the shoulder, signaling that he
should get on the floor. Ah. That was a position Cord was very
familiar with.

He went to his knees first and then to his elbows, ass up in the air

to await Michel’s attentions. His eyes were glued to Druas’s face as
the male jerked his cock to the sight of them together. A warm,
lubricated finger circled his tight entrance before dipping inside,
loosening his entrance with sure pushes. Cord couldn’t help the moan
that issued from his mouth as another of Michel’s thick digits joined
the first.

“Fuck that’s good,” Michel said from over Cord’s shoulder. His

shifter mate loved to watch Cord be stretched. Michel found the sight
of fingers plying Cord’s hole to be erotic as hell. Cord smiled at the
thought. Michel was going to lose it the first time Dru did it to Cord.

For endless minutes, Cord was stretched and lubed while he

squirmed against the welcome pressure of Michel’s hands. The whole
time, Dru watched with hooded eyes and a slight smile on his lips. His
golden eyes and blond hair were a striking combination. Their mate
really was a beautiful being. The gods had truly blessed them in their
choice for a third member of their family. Beyond the gorgeous looks
was a loyal heart and an easygoing spirit. He was perfect for them.

Dru interrupted Cord’s slow eye fuck. “Stop lollygagging, Michel.

You’ve stretched him enough. Let me have him.” Cord felt his
stomach knot in anticipation.

“Let you have him so that I can have you?” Michel asked with a

smile that was all hunger and no humor.

Dru swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in sudden

nervousness. “Yes.” He whispered the word. Cord thought his
nervousness was endearing. They would take such good care of him

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that the claiming Michel was going to give him would not be too
unsettling to the Ravyn. With every encounter, they would inevitably
get closer to one another. Cord couldn’t wait to feel Druas as deeply
in his soul as he had Michel.

The Ravyn stopped stroking his cock and rolled so that he was

kneeling behind Cord’s prone body. The sound of lips meeting had
Cord turning his head to look over his shoulder. The sight that greeted
him had his own dick leaking a steady stream of pre-cum on the
ground beneath him. Michel and Druas kissed like they were fighting.
Their tongues tangled, meshed, their lips pressed hard against one
another demanding a harsh touch in return. They were both fairly
dominant men, so Cord supposed that made sense they would kiss for
dominance as well as pleasure. Cord just found the sight incredibly
hot. He could care less about whatever other instinctive reasons they
needed to have to touch like that.

Dru broke the kiss with a whimpered noise of desire. “Enough,

Michel.” Cord watched as his big mate groped the Ravyn’s buttock.
He could tell by the look in his gaze that Druas was nearing the edge
of desperation. Their mate was impatient for them.

“Fuck him,” Michel demanded, turning Dru so that he had a

lovely view of Cord stretched out for their pleasure. Cord arched his
back like the cat he was and enjoyed how his lover’s eyes darkened at
the sight.

Dru wasted no time coming between his lover’s thighs and

spreading the twin globes of his ass. Cord bit his lips to keep from
groaning at the sensation. Yes, mate. Take me. His thoughts held the
delirious quality of true pleasure. Then the press came. The
realization that Dru was forging his way inside him made Cord
tremble with lust.

The thick head of the demon pressed inside of his body. The

muscled entrance flexed around the hard cock before giving way to
stronger desires. Dru pressed steadily forward until he was seated
fully inside the tight confines of Cord’s ass. Cord resisted the urge to

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rock back into his lover, demanding he be fucked with all the
enthusiasm the demon could muster. Michel needed to have his fill of
their demon lover as well. All three of them joined together would be
a bliss without equal.

Druas panted loudly behind him as Cord stared at the rich silks of

the tent ahead of him to watch the shadows of his two lovers mingle
on the makeshift walls. This was going to be something extraordinary.
Cord spread his legs wider to allow Dru total access. He was so
impatient for Dru to get on with it, yet he couldn’t help but
acknowledge the importance of this moment. This wasn’t just sex. It
wasn’t just release. It was a claiming. They were claiming Dru.

* * * *

Dru’s whole body felt like it was vibrating as the muscled ass

before him tightened rhythmically around his cock. That alone would
probably have him shooting in no time, but he forced himself to stay
still. Firm male hands cupped his ass, massaging to loosen the
clenched flesh that was there. Dru swallowed. He was more nervous
than he had been in his entire life.

“Don’t worry, pretty. I’ll take care of you.” Michel’s words

soothed him. He was usually the one who made Dru the most
uncomfortable but now…Now, all Dru wanted to do was lean back
into the other male’s embrace and find the pleasure that both of his
mates had promised he could have.

Warm oil dribbled down the crease of his ass, running down the

valley and making Dru shudder as it slid over his virgin hole. In all of
his lifetimes, he’d never allowed anyone to take him. He jumped as
his cheeks were spread, and Cord moaned as the motion sent his cock
jerking forward in Cord’s body. The urge to fuck his smaller mate as
he clenched his passage had Dru instinctually pushing and
withdrawing his hips in small degrees.

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One of Michel’s hands came down on his unguarded backside.

“We’re doing this together, pretty. Be patient.” Easy for him to say.
He wasn’t being driven insane by being at the center of attention of
two gorgeous shifters who were hell-bent on making him come.

A finger circled the fluttering entrance, seeking to loosen the tight

flesh. It felt strange. He’d never had anyone touch him in such a
manner, and Dru found himself blushing because of it. The urge to
tighten up and deny Michel the ability to touch him there at all was
strong, but Druas resisted. He wanted to please Michel, needed to,
really. Something inside him would accept nothing less.

“Spread just a little wider, pretty,” Michel encouraged. Dru did,

whimpering as the finger that had been teasing him began to push
inside, just past the tight ring of muscle that guarded his entrance.
Fuck! That felt fantastic. It didn’t even hurt. It was just a strange
stretching sensation that made nerve endings, which up until now Dru
didn’t even know existed, come to wonderful life. “Push out when I
press in.” Michel fucked his thick digit in and out of Dru’s body to the
first knuckle.

“Is he as tight as I think he is?” Cord asked, gasping as Dru began

to change his rhythm to match that of Michel behind him.

“Tighter.”
Dru groaned. “Stop talking like that. I can’t concentrate.” A fine

sheen of sweat soaked his skin, and his muscles were already
trembling as sensation after sensation swept through him.

“That’s okay, pretty. Just want you to feel right now. Feel me

inside that tight ass of yours.” The guttural quality of his lover’s voice
made Dru want to please him, take him deeper. For the first time, real
desire to have Michel’s thick cock inside him had him trying to force
his body to loosen.

It took longer than he’d expected to get his body ready. Michel’s

patience as balanced by Cord’s desire had Dru snapping his hips
forward before driving them backward on Michel’s fingers. Finally,

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two fingers stretched his passage, and the sensation of being filled
was one Dru knew he wouldn’t forget in a thousand years.

“Almost there, pretty.” Michel’s voice was so deep now that it

sounded barely human. He imagined that it would be even more
animalistic when they got to the actual fucking. He couldn’t wait.

“Please!” Dru heard himself beg as another finger joined the two

already inside. He felt stuffed and knew that it would only be greater
as they drew closer to the actual act. “I need you inside me.” It was
true. It wasn’t a want. It was truly a need, the need to come together
with his mates.

“Sweet demon,” Cord murmured, drawing his attention back to

his lust-filled face. “You feel so good inside me.” He didn’t know
how Cord managed to string such a coherent sentence together. Dru
honestly didn’t know if he could manage more than what he’d just
said. It had taken a few minutes of gasping before he’d even managed
that. He looked down into Cord’s eyes and saw something
shimmering in their depths that he had not expected. The shifter really
cared about him. It was apparent for anyone with eyes.

“Beautiful kitty cat,” Dru teased, his hips moving a little faster so

that Cord was shaken by the thrusts Dru was giving him. As he scored
the other male’s pleasure spot, Cord began babbling and groaning
with every subsequent lunge.

“You’re ready,” Michel announced from behind him, drawing his

attention away from the twisting pleasure on Cord’s face. “Hold still,
just a second.”

Dru managed to do so, but it wasn’t easy. His instincts were

demanding he fuck Cord and fuck Cord hard. But just as demanding
was the instinct to submit, to allow Michel entrance into the part of
his body that no male had ever been granted permission to enter.

He winced as the head of Michel’s cock pressed through the

ringed entrance to his body. His ass throbbed as he pressed forward
steadily until he was buried deep inside him. The feeling of finally
having both of his mates with him was almost overwhelming. A sense

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of rightness so complete that Dru had to blink tears from his eyes to
keep from crying at the beauty of it made the moment that much
sweeter to him. He’d fucked. He may have even loved before. But not
like this. Never like this.

Michel began moving, slowly at first. His thick member pulling

and plunging in a rhythm that was as old as time itself had Dru
shuddering.

“Fuck, that’s good!” he cried out as Michel’s dick finally scored

his prostate as he changed angles. He felt fucking fantastic, pinned by
pleasure in both directions. Cord’s body was rhythmically squeezing
around Dru’s cock, tighter than anything he could ever remember
having before. Behind him, his stronger mate fucked him with
abandon, drawing pleasure from a place that he hadn’t even known he
wanted before.

“Michel, Cord, gods!” The words that spilled from his mouth, the

praises, were nonsensical even to him. His eyes were sightless as they
squeezed shut in an effort to deny the swirling sensation that was
winding through his body and attempt to slow down the orgasm that
was threatening to send him into the next life early.

“It’s okay, pretty.” Michel grunted in his ear, fucking him harder

now than ever before. The sound of slapping flesh filled the air. “You
come for me, for us. Use Cord’s tight body and fill him up with your
seed while I do the same to you. You’re ours now, Druas. Say it.”

Dru whimpered at the command. Normally, he’d try to knock the

guy out for trying to make him say anything. But in his current state,
all he could do was whimper, whine, and beg for more.

“Yours. All yours. Cord. Michel. My mates. Mine.” That was the

most articulate thing he could manage. Michel pressed a kiss to his
taut shoulder as his hips worked harder against his lower half. Dru
cried out, knowing what was next. The vampires lived with a bunch
of shifters, and they always talked shit about how animal their
matings were.

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Teeth pierced his skin where his neck met his shoulder. His body

flushed hot and then cold in quick succession. Every nerve ending in
his body fired at once, and he heard himself shout out something in
the demon tongue as he spewed the proof of his pleasure deep in
Cord’s milking depths. He hung, suspended between them. Cord
screamed, the animal sound feline and satisfied. Michel did the same,
growling around the skin that was still pierced with his teeth.

Cord wasted no time in pulling off of Dru’s cock and flipping

around so that he was face-to-face with Dru. His fangs were also
brushing his bottom lip. Druas shuddered, his cock still half stiff and
dripping as Michel continued to pound his ass.

“Love you, sweet Ravyn.” Cord murmured, putting his mouth on

the other side of Dru’s neck and licking the sweaty skin. His teeth
pinched the skin the same way Michel’s had, and Dru screamed as
pleasure tore through him once more, tightening his body and causing
him to come yet again. Warmth splashed his insides and the dick
inside him jumped as it continued to fuck him hard. Something hard
fused his and Michel’s bodies together from the inside. Whatever it
was drew out Dru’s pleasure as he came helplessly in a continuous
fashion until the two shifter’s fangs finally lifted from his skin.

He was breathing like he’d run a marathon. His head spun, and

words that were half formed came out slurred. Pleasure the likes of
which he’d never experienced had just occurred, and he felt like he
should say something. He just couldn’t get it out.

Michel kissed his neck and slowly laid them down among the

pillows, still inside him. “Shh, easy, pretty. No need to do anything
elaborate. Hush now. Just enjoy it.”

Cord came down as well, pressed snuggly to his front. “We’ll take

care of you always, Druas. I promise.”

Promises like those meant something. Dru had been taking care of

people for so long, he didn’t know if he knew how to be taken care of.
The murmuring in his ear continued as Michel told him how much he
meant to them and how they would build a home together when the

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war was over. How they were never going to be apart again. It made
Dru’s heart swell impossibly. This was where he belonged, with his
mates, between them. Always.

* * * *

Michel watched his demon mate fall asleep cushioned between

Cord and himself with a smile on his face. He’d accepted them fully,
and already he felt the weaving of their souls as the mating bond tied
them together with a permanence that couldn’t be broken by anything
but death.

“He’s so perfect,” Cord whispered, stroking the blond hair back

from Dru’s sleeping face. A soft snore answered his proclamation,
which made them both chuckle.

“He is,” Michel agreed, tightening his grip around Druas’s waist.

The barb in his cock was retracting by slow degrees, but it would still
be another minute before he was able to pull out of Dru’s backside.
He hoped he hadn’t been too rough with him.

“I can see every expression on that face of yours. You did well.”

Cord reached over their slumbering lover and petted Michel’s side.
“He didn’t even feel any pain.”

The sentence had sharp relief filling him. The last thing he ever

wanted was to harm his lovers in any way. Cord was right on that. He
was a big softy when it came to his mates. “He took the bond very
well.”

“He’s probably used to it with the Ravyns. The magick isn’t

unfamiliar to him.” Cord managed to get a blanket with his toes and
pull it up high enough so that he could grab it to pull it over the three
of them. Michel snorted.

“You should’ve been a monkey.”
“You’re just jealous because I have all the skills.” Cord seemed

happier than he had in weeks. The thing that his smaller mate craved

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most of all was unity, and now that they had their third, they would
have that.

A new anxiousness filled him. Michel wanted to get his mates out

of this dangerous area and back home where they could be safe. There
was no way that he’d let Druas put himself in anymore danger. He
was a warrior, but he was also mortal. That combination didn’t make
him feel any better about this situation. From what he’d gathered,
King Desmond had a vastly superior fighting force. Even with the
men that Salvatore had gathered, Druas would be in great danger just
participating in the war.

“You shouldn’t worry so much. You can’t cage him, love.” Cord’s

voice broke him out of his cyclical imaginings of war and death and
fear. “He’s fighting for what he believes in. You have to support him
on that.”

Michel sighed and kissed Dru’s neck. “It doesn’t mean I’m happy

about it,” he grumped. “In fact, I would prefer if I hid the two of you
in a cave somewhere far away from the conflict.”

“He’d never accept a cage any more than you would, Michel.”

Cord stroked his side again. “Sleep now, love. When we wake, we’ll
have this mission to finish. Let’s enjoy this peace for the time being,
yes?”

Michel nodded and closed his eyes, content to dream with his two

lovers by his side.

Ravyn’s Mates

Chapter Seven

Dru woke stiff and aching. It wasn’t an unpleasant ache by any

means. He felt utterly and thoroughly debauched. He stretched his
hands above his head, trying to loosen up the muscles that were sore
from use. He felt so damn good. The scent of his lovers clung to his
skin, and he wanted to wallow in the smell.

The heat of the southern sun was already beginning to warm the

world around them and the inside of the tent, while not sweltering yet,
was beginning to make the thin blanket that was pulled over the three
of them a little uncomfortable. Dru pushed it down so that it hung low
on his hips. He looked left and right, grinning like a fool. His two
lovers were curled on their sides, both facing him in sleep. It was a
hell of a sight. The Ravyns were never going to believe this.

Thinking about his brothers shot a familiar twinge of longing back

through his chest. He missed them. They had been the steadiest thing
in his life for so long that it was hard to imagine even a few months
separate from them. He hoped Germany had fared well with the
vampires.

Communicating across planes was never an easy task, and they

really hadn’t had time to do so even if they wanted to expend the
energy. It made him sad. He wished he had a mirror of Abyssal with
him. Those things were near indestructible and allowed for
communication on any plane anywhere. Whoever he wanted to
communicate with just had to have a matching mirror. Unfortunately,
his prince had lost all of theirs somewhere along the way.

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“Hmm, morning,” Cord greeted, drawing Dru’s attention away

from his brothers. His gorgeous hazel eyes popped open, and a sleepy
smile stole over his face.

“Morning,” Dru returned. He just knew he sounded as love

besotted as he felt. He could hear the gooey note in his voice, but he
was helpless to stop it. His face was going to be sore if the grin on it
stayed in place for any length of time.

A firm hand pinched his ass. “No good morning for me? Both of

my mates are cruel.” Dru turned raised his eyes to see his larger
mate’s sleepy countenance.

“Us? Cruel?” he asked. Cord gave him a wink and then jumped

over Dru to land on his other mate. Dru laughed and did the same so
that Michel had his hands full of two enthusiastic mates who pressed
kisses along his jawline and nipped at his skin in protest to his words.
Michel started cracking up, and soon the three of them were laughing
like a pack of hyenas. It was the first time Dru could remember
hearing Michel laugh, and the deep note of amusement was probably
the sexiest thing he had ever heard aside from Cord’s cries of
completion from the night before.

How did I get so lucky? He’d spent a large chunk of his existence

alone. The fact that the gods had blessed him with not just one mate
but two filled him with a deep sense of pleasure. Dru’s lips met with
Michel’s, and they shared a deep kiss before he turned his head and
did the same to Cord. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t wait to
have his own life separate from his brothers. He reached into his body
to feel of the bond that was between the three of them. It flared a
scalding white-blue color as he touched it. His eyes widened, and he
pulled back from it with a gasp.

“What is that?” The Ravyns’ bond was gold. Always had been,

and always would be. It was like something had added energy to the
connecting cords.

Ravyn’s Mates

Cord grinned. “It’s our Mate Bond. It’s a lot like a vampire’s

Bride Bond. It enables us to stay connected over long distances and
binds us together for the rest of our lives and beyond.”

“The bites did that?” Dru asked.
“Yeah.” Cord paused. “You mad?”
Dru shook his head. “Of course not. I just thought it was more

complicated than that. I mean, even Bride Bonds take two weeks to
really solidify.”

“We’re animals, pretty. We don’t require elaborate rituals. We’re

of the earth. It’s as natural to us as the rising sun.” Michel nuzzled
him, and Dru tilted his head to the side to let him do more.

“That was incredibly poetic of you,” Cord teased, tickling his side.

Dru was surprised when the big shifter squirmed and had to bite back
laughter.

“Stop it, brat!” Michel snapped in mock anger. Dru grinned at the

both of them. He really was a lucky man.

Of course, that led to another wrestling match of sorts that made

them even later getting up than they already were. Someone had
thoughtfully left them a basin of water, oils, and a small metal tool
designed to scrape off the oils that they put on their skin on the high
table beside Natiri’s papers.

Dru took his time washing both of his mates. It wasn’t the

elaborate shower that he wanted to give them, but it was enough that
he felt close to them in some small way. He washed Cord first and
then Michel. They wanted to wash him as well, but he waved them
off.

“I wanted to give that to you, mates. Let me give it to you freely.”

They seemed touched by the idea and so allowed him to do as he
wished. His mates were definitely more receptive to his sweet-talking
than to his orders. He grinned.

“One day you two will have to let me brush those pretty kitty

coats of yours. You’re gorgeous in your shifted forms,” he

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complimented as he finished brushing Michel’s hair. Cord blushed,
and even Michel looked pleased at his words.

“It’s a very intimate act to allow someone in their human form to

touch you in our culture,” Cord explained. “Usually, only mates do
that.”

Dru winked at his smaller mate. “Well, then I qualify.”

* * * *

“Welcome to the land of the living, Ravyns. You were sleeping

like the dead.” Natiri’s booming voice caused him to jump as they
came out of the tent some twenty minutes later. “We almost packed
you up along with my tent. Everything else is ready to go.”

“Forgive us, General. We took our time getting ready this

morning,” Dru explained. A round fruit was tossed at his head, and
Michel grabbed it from the air and growled in Natiri’s direction.

Natiri grinned unapologetically. “Fruit will have to suffice for

breakfast, Ravyns. You missed the larger breakfast this morning. I’m
surprised the bustle of the camp didn’t wake you. We just received
word from our sentries that Desmond’s Doves are on the move. There
are six of them, and I don’t want to risk them catching us unawares.
So we’re moving camp deeper into the desert, near an oasis that will
act as good protection at our backs. We’ll see them coming if they
come after us.”

“Why don’t we just go after them?” Cord asked, crossing his arms

over his chest. “I mean, wouldn’t it be better to take them out before
they found us?”

“Desmond employs a lot of specialized demons, babe. It wouldn’t

make sense for us to attack them without knowing their powers. He
probably didn’t send a bunch of water elementals out into southern
Demontia. They’re probably very prepared to deal with this
environment and are ready to do battle with the people from here,”

Ravyn’s Mates

Dru explained. His attention turned to Natiri. “Do you want us to go
out with a hunting party?”

“Not necessary. Your main priority is to get your mission

complete and to go back to your prince. I don’t think it’s necessary to
have you and your mates put in unnecessary danger,” Natiri said. He
motioned for one of his men to come forward, and he passed him a
rolled-up scroll, no doubt containing orders for the men who weren’t
in the immediate camp. The demon took off like a shot. Huh. He
hadn’t seen an air demon in a while. They usually lived more toward
the eastern part of Demontia, nearer the capital.

“All kinds are called to serve the true heir to Demontia,” Natiri

said sagely. “Walk with me, Ravyns. I want to show you the rest of
camp before sending you off. There are a few men I want you to
meet.”

* * * *

The men in question ended up being more of Salvatore’s potential

generals, ones who had earned their names in battle and who had a
deep, unending grudge against the current monarch. They all smelled
like loyal men, so Michel thought that their addition to their forces
was a good decision. He’d tell Salvatore so when he got back.

He’d also be announcing their mating if Druas wished to do so.

He understood if Dru wanted discretion, though. His brothers had
been through a lot emotionally over the last few months. He couldn’t
be sure that the other Ravyns would be encouraging of a three-way
relationship, and the last thing he wanted was for the other Ravyns to
upset Dru. He might end up busting one of them in the mouth.

“So, were you planning on learning Demonish while you were

here?” Natiri asked, drawing Michel out of his contemplation of
returning home. They were walking along the outside edge of the
campsite now, surrounded on all sides by red, rocky desert. “While

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we don’t have Neuro-Net impulses, we have a very good tutor who is
in charge of teaching the younger members of our camp.”

“I’m not very good with languages,” Michel hedged. He didn’t

want to be put in with the cubs.

“It would be worth your time to do it, Michel.” His demon mate’s

voice made him pause.

“Why?” he asked, pinning his lover with a look that conveyed his

displeasure. He didn’t fancy being made to study like a cub. His
school days were well past him.

“Because, it might prove useful in the future,” Druas lectured,

bumping their shoulders together. Michel looked over at his lover.

“For the war?”
Druas shook his head. “No. For when the war is over. I’d like a

home in Demontia.”

Michel’s face broke out into a grin. “You wish us to travel with

you, then?”

“Of course.” Dru’s golden eyes lit on him. “But, I would prefer

that you learn the language so I don’t have to babysit you.”

Michel sputtered, and Cord started laughing.
“You should see the look on your face, big guy,” Cord teased. He

gave Dru a wink. “We’ll take lessons.”

It seemed his smaller mates were going to be ganging up on him

quite often if the conversation was any indication. Michel smiled and
laced hands with his mates. That was okay with him. He’d get them
back later.

“Of course, I can always give you private lessons in the evening

afterward.” Dru squeezed his hand as he spoke. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy
learning it better that way.”

“Mmm, a tutor who teaches us naughty phrases. I’m liking this

idea,” Cord added. Michel’s body was instantly primed for the idea.
He looked at the two men on either side of him and saw they wore
mirrored grins. Oh, they are mischief incarnate.

Ravyn’s Mates

Natiri started laughing. “Exactly so, Ravyns. The best part about

learning your lover’s native tongue is to understand their bedroom
language.” More seriously, he added, “And it will greatly help you
when I leave in three days’ time.”

They all stopped walking at the unexpected statement. Dru

dropped his hand and turned to face Natiri full on.

“Where are you going?” the demon demanded. Michel really

didn’t like this. It seemed sudden and unexpected, two things that no
one wanted when dealing in war.

Natiri’s unusual eyes looked hard and contained no small amount

of unease as he spoke. “Salvatore’s father set up another set of allies
that I will be going to collect from a higher realm. They are…” He
seemed to search for a word. “Unusual. No one but me is entitled to
go into their world, and I have to leave someone in charge while I am
away.” He put a huge hand on Dru’s shoulder. “I hope that you will
be the one to take on the task. You are Ravyn warriors. The people
respect you. I would not ask this if I had any other choice. But, time
grows short. If we are going to be ready for war, it must be done.”

“But I don’t know these people!” Dru protested. He looked like

Michel felt, ready to vomit.

“They are your prince’s people. They will follow you. My

warriors will be at your disposal. More and more will be arriving as
the days wear on. Messengers have already been sent out to the other
tribes, calling them home. I will be gone for two weeks. No more. No
less. If I’m gone for longer than that, I am dead.” Natiri took out a
dagger from his side pouch and handed it hilt first to Druas. “I am
giving the power of my people over to you until I return. If you need
to report back to your prince, leave one of your men here to act in
your stead.” His eyes rose to pin Michel with a steady look. “Learn
our language so that you can be the best leader for your mate and your
prince.”

Michel nodded. “It will be done.” He took his duty more seriously

than almost anything else in his life. If he looked at learning

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Demonish in that fashion, then it would be accomplished in no time
flat.

Cord squeezed his hand, conveying his nervousness with the

simplest of touches. Michel returned the gesture.

“No worries, lover mine. We will not disappoint our mate. I’ll

learn it.” Michel tried to reassure him through their mate bond, which
was connected with their Ravyns’ bond as well. It was an odd tangle
in his mind.

“It is not us that I am worried about. Our mate has a terribly

weighty responsibility to begin with. This added stress isn’t good for
him.”

Leave it up to Cord to be so worried about their warrior mate’s

mental health. At any other time, Michel would have smiled and
shook his head over it.

“Our mate was born for this, Cord. It is his decision and his

destiny to take this on. Besides, we will be here to support him the
entire way.”

Dru sighed. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in charge of

soldiers. Tony would be better suited for this.”

“I’ve seen you interact with the men, Druas. You will do just

fine,” Natiri said. “I would not go if it were not necessary.”

Michel reached out and linked Dru’s mind up with theirs. “You

can do it, Druas. Truly. You are a Ravyn warrior.”

“We’ll be here the entire time. No worries, my love,” Cord

seconded.

Druas’s lips twitched. “Thank you for the pep talk, boys. I think

I’ll be all right.” His eyes went to them as Michel took a step forward
and draped his arm around his shoulders. Along the cords of their
bond, the feeling of contentment radiated off of the demon warrior. It
made Michel happy to feel him there.

“I’m honored you’re leaving the camp in my care, Natiri.” There

was a renewed strength in his voice. Michel felt himself swell with
pride. His warrior was a man of worth.

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Natiri’s eyes lit with mirth. “I’m honored you and your mates

accepted the position so readily. It’ll do everyone good to see the
monarch, even by extension, moving among the people.”

It struck Michel then that this war was no longer a distant

possibility. It was going to occur and soon. Cord bracketed Dru on the
other side, meeting Michel’s gaze as he had the same realization.
They would protect their warrior mate from the things that were to
come, fight by his side until their last breath. Dru must’ve sensed their
thoughts because he leaned up and pressed a kiss first to Michel’s
throat and then leaned down to kiss Cord’s lips. It was a gesture of
thanks that went beyond words.

“Come, Ravyns. We’ve got the rest of the camp to see and lunch

to get to. Worry about war when war arrives.” With that, they
continued to follow him through camp. A feeling of purpose infused
their steps, and it fairly radiated off Druas as they passed tents and
were shouted greetings by various warriors. But Michel couldn’t help
the niggling sensation of dread that followed him as they walked. He
tried to shake it, but the feeling of impending doom shadowed his
every footstep.

Jana Downs

Chapter Eight

Druas was in great spirits the morning that Natiri was scheduled to

leave. The three days spent in preparation of the camp being turned
over to him and his lovers was over, and he felt fairly confident that
he could run it with a modicum of efficiency in the general’s absence.
On top of that, Michel and Cord had picked up a lot of the language
already. Both of them were incredibly bright, and he was so proud of
them for their efforts. Three days was far from enough time to master
the language, but he was fairly certain that they knew enough to take
on a simple conversation.

“Do you have any idea how incredibly hot is it to see you in that

outfit?” Cord’s amused voice broke through his contemplation of his
duties over the next few weeks. Dru glanced down at the outfit he had
on. He’d picked up some clothing from some of the other warriors in
the camp recently. A simple pair of brown animal-hide leggings and
supple boots were the only things he was wearing other than the
ornamental general’s cord, which was a collection of gems arranged
in a specific pattern that indicated his elevated status and bisected his
chest like a sash.

“Yeah, Conan the Barbarian is a good look for you,” Michel

echoed from his place on the mats they shared as a bed.

Dru smiled. “Glad you approve. I figured I better look the part of

demon general if I am going to be acting as one. The warriors meeting
this morning went well, and Natiri seemed to be in good spirits when
he left.”

“I wonder where he went. I mean, how many of the other realms

could’ve remained allies for over a thousand years?” Cord asked.

Ravyn’s Mates

The Ravyn often wondered that himself. While it made sense to

him that some demons still had ties to the royal line, why would other
species have the same ties? He shrugged. “No idea. But I’m glad
we’re having some additional assistance. I hope that Ger is successful
with the vampires, but I’m not counting on it.”

Cord walked up to Dru, and the warrior felt his heart do a

somersault in his chest. Gods, he was so very blessed. A hand reached
out and teased his nipple on the right side before trailing lovingly
down his stomach to toy with the hem of his pants. “I find that outfit
incredibly sexy.” Damn if Dru’s body didn’t start hardening in
response. His smaller mate was trouble with a capital T.

He reached down and grabbed the wrist that was sliding even

lower down his body. “I don’t have time for distractions, love. I’ve
got to go to the center of the camp and meet people.”

And man, did he regret it. He wanted nothing more than to take

Cord up on the offer that was shining in his eyes. Without
encouragement, his mind was already drifting back to the previous
night when he was sandwiched in between his two lovers, giving and
taking pleasure from each of them in turn. As usual, it had been
explosive and oh, so wonderful. But duty came first, always.

Cord pouted his lips. “No time, even for a quickie?”
Dru chuckled and traced his lover’s cheek with his fingertips.

“Not even time for a quickie. I’d like the two of you to open up a gate
and message my brothers on the Earth realm and see what’s shaking
there. Let them know what we’re dealing with on this side. Ask them
to forward all that to Salvatore.”

Michel rolled to his feet and walked over to the two of them. “I’d

feel much more comfortable if you took one of us with you.” Dru
inhaled the scent of his lovers. It was a heady fragrance. Having them
this close to him wasn’t good for keeping his priorities straight.

“It’ll take your combined energy to open the gate and keep it open

for the amount of time you’ll need.”

“You don’t need two Ravyns to accomplish it,” Michel protested.

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“No, I don’t. I’ve been using demon magicks for a long time. You

two aren’t demon, so therefore it’s harder to control with you. Please,
don’t argue with me. After you’re done, you’re welcome to join me.”
Dru tried to explain the best he could without seeming offensive. To
be honest, they probably could open them on their own considering
that they were so intimately tied to Dru, but he didn’t want them to
tire themselves out. Besides, it’d be a huge distraction to have them
both at his elbows while he tried to deal with the minor problems that
accompanied running the camp. “You two need to drop by the
teacher’s tent and do your lessons of the day before you come to me
anyway.”

Michel growled. The sexy sound skittering across Dru’s skin left

goose bumps despite the heat of the air. “I think he’s trying to get rid
of us, Cord.”

“Hmmm,” his smaller mate teased. “I think you may be correct.”
“Guys, don’t—”
His words were cut off as Cord tugged his neck downward so that

he could lay a kiss on his lips. It was a kiss that quite boldly stated
that Dru was irrevocably his and Dru just better get used to the idea.
The possessiveness made Druas’s body throb in want. He was panting
by the time their tongues stopped dancing and Cord pulled back.

Of course he had no room to breathe afterward either, because

then Michel guided his head up to kiss him as well. His larger mate
kneaded the globes of his ass as the kiss continued onward for an
indeterminable stretch of time. Another set of lips kissed his neck,
nipping the place that his shoulder met his neck. He wanted Cord to
bite him there. He groaned into the recesses of Michel’s mouth as
Cord ground against his ass and, subsequently, Michel’s hands as
well.

Finally, Michel pulled back from the kiss, grinning as he did so.

“Still want to get rid of us?” he asked, panting slightly.

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Dru let out a moan of frustration and reached down to adjust his

erection within the confines of his leathers. “You’re both so dead
meat when I get back tonight. That was so vastly unfair.”

Cord gave his body one last grind against Dru’s ass before pulling

back as well. “So is walking around looking like that and expecting
me to behave.” He had a smile in his voice as he said it.

“Brats,” Dru declared. “The both of you.”
Michel shrugged. “If it’ll make you hurry back to us, then yes.

We’ll be brats to you.”

Dru sighed dramatically but couldn’t really summon the energy to

be annoyed. He’d have to work on getting rid of his hard-on on the
way to his meeting. His damn mates were just too freaking tempting.
He could have them for an eternity and never get bored with them.

He kissed them both chastely before turning toward the entrance

to Natiri’s tent. “I’ll see you both a little later. Try and behave.” His
mates’ laughter echoed in his ears as he left.

* * * *

Cord had just finished copying the last bit of the demon alphabet

into his book when the feeling of absolute agony struck his chest. He
gasped, momentarily incapacitated by the sheer weight of the pain as
it pressed against his soul. Distantly, he was aware of Michel letting
out a strangled noise that indicated that he was feeling whatever this
was as well.

At that same moment, a chorus of alarms and shouts rang out over

the camp, signaling trouble. Cord held the place over his heart as he
tried to work past the pain. The Ravyns’ bond tore, the metaphysical
cord unraveling inside him as Cord felt the event unfold. He screamed
as feelings of absolute loneliness and cold penetrated places inside
him he’d never even known existed. Finally, after endless grueling
minutes of it, only a thread of the original bond remained. It flickered,
and the blue light of its energy dimmed to almost black.

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Panic followed on the heels of pain. Cord immediately reached for

his mate bond and sighed in relief as it flared to wonderful golden
life. Oddly, the energy caused the Ravyns’ bond to pulse a little
brighter as well.

“Something is wrong,” Michel managed to say, his voice choked.
“Druas…Something is wrong with Druas.”

* * * *

Cord’s heart was pounding as they raced through camp in the

direction of the big bonfire that lay in the center. Around them, other
members of the camp were arming themselves, running around in
panicked circles. Other warriors were trying to organize their
confused comrades by shouting orders at them in the demon tongue.

Michel’s longer legs sprinted ahead of him as Cord kept pace a

few feet behind. The same tormented thoughts percolated through
both of their minds.

“He’s all right. He has to be all right,” Michel repeated as they

ran. Adrenaline raced through Cord’s blood in time with the frantic
beat of his heart.

“Hold it together, baby. We’re coming!” He hoped that Dru could

hear his mind shout.

“Never should have let him go by himself. Never should have let

him out of my sight.” Michel was about to have a panic attack. Cord
could feel the hysteria building steadily inside his mate’s mind.

“Panicking won’t help, Michel. He’s strong, baby. He’ll be okay.”

He didn’t know if he believed the words, but Michel needed to hear
them. He knew that it was Michel’s worse nightmare.

“We just found him. I can’t lose him!” Michel screamed in his

mind in a strangled voice. If they went into a battle situation right
now, Michel would go down like a ton of bricks. He wasn’t thinking
straight.

Ravyn’s Mates

Cord grabbed his mate’s arm and jerked him backward, causing

him to stumble. Michel snarled in his direction, his eyes already
shifted into his feral form and his fangs elongated top and bottom. He
tried to pull out of Cord’s grip, but the smaller mate dug his nails into
Michel’s forearm to stop him.

“Shift,” Cord commanded, tightening his grip. Michel hissed.
“We don’t have time for this!” he shouted in Cord’s face, trying to

intimidate him with his larger bulk. Cord didn’t flinch away. He’d
known Michel too long to be bowled over by his intimidation tactics.

“You’ll do Dru absolutely no good if you go charging in like that.

You’re not thinking, and if you don’t think, you’ll end up dead. Are
you going to leave us alone by doing something stupid like getting
yourself killed?” Cord knew that the only way to get through to his
mate was to invoke his sense of duty to his mates. Michel loved them
both too much sometimes.

Finally, Michel nodded and shucked his clothes in a few

economical moves. Cord felt the burst of energy a second before the
flash of light that signaled a change blinded him. When it cleared,
Michel’s massive feline form stood there, glaring daggers at Cord.

“Let’s go, lover,” Cord said, running a hand down Michel’s flank

before taking off in a sprint toward the center of camp. Michel loped
beside him, his movements infinitely more graceful in his feral form.
Cord glanced at the unfamiliar sky of a foreign world and prayed to
whatever gods listened on this plane of existence that they were not
too late.

They tore around the corner that put them in direct line with the

bonfire. It seemed they had found the battlefield. Bodies littered the
ground, some of them warriors from the camp, others garbed in
uniforms that Cord didn’t recognize. They didn’t appear to have any
wounds on them, yet they lay stiff, unnaturally still and frozen in
twisted positions. It was right out of a bad horror movie back home.

On the outskirts of the area, nearest the tents, small skirmishes

were ensuing between various types of demons. But Cord’s eyes

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swept over them, not really seeing them. Michel was already sniffing
the air, scenting their mate through the plethora of sweat and sand and
men that permeated the area.

“Any scent?” Cord shouted over the clash of steel and the war

cries of demons. He sidestepped as a pair of them nearly bowled him
over as they grappled with one another. Michel swatted at them with
one massive paw just as an arrow flew through the air and stuck in the
uniformed chest of one of the demons.

“Michel, focus! Where is our lover?” Cord repeated, unsheathing

the demonic dagger that Salvatore had given him on the day they
became Ravyns. It was made of the same alloy that the Ravyns’
swords were made of. Michel gave a shake of his golden head,
huffing as he did so.

A sudden howling filled the area, and the wind picked up to an

almost impossibly high level. The dirt and dust kicked up into the air.
The demons stumbled back away from the area closest to the bonfire
pit, and finally, Cord got an uninterrupted view of the space.

His heart stopped. Dru was struggling between two massive

demons with wicked, curved-looking weapons. Both seemed to be
living shadows despite the full sun and moved with an almost-liquid
grace. Dru’s blood streamed down in bright red rivers down his chest
and abdomen in a long line to his hipbone.

He swung at the demon nearest him and nearly fell over. As the

shadow demon lunged, the wind kicked up again in a burst and
knocked him backward. Dru visibly panted and stumbled again,
throwing his hands up in a protective fashion as the second demon
dug the curved weapon into Dru’s side and twisted. Michel didn’t
even wait for Cord. He just leapt toward Druas as he fell.

Cord watched as the scene unfolded in slow motion. It seemed

utterly unreal as the bond between them once again wavered and
flickered as Druas’s soul seemed to pull away from theirs. He
might’ve screamed, but he wasn’t sure, wasn’t sure of anything really
other than the fact that his mate was hurt and that in the span of an

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hour, his path to happily ever after was quickly disappearing.
Distantly, he realized he was moving forward, barreling over anyone
who made the mistake of getting in his way.

One of the big demons turned from Dru, dismissing him as a

threat by presenting his back. Cord lost it then, lunging at the demon
in a partial shift. His claws buried themselves into his enemy’s chest,
tearing through muscles and bones like it meant nothing. Far away, he
heard Michel’s roar of triumph as he took out the other one. He
couldn’t feel the satisfaction that Michel did over the kill, not when
Druas was lying there so very, very still.

“Dru!” He shouted the word, needing some response from his

fallen mate. He got none. He dropped to his knees beside his mates
and sank into blood. A scream rent itself from his throat as the smell
assaulted his nostrils. Not like this. It can’t end like this. We just found
him. Please. Please.

Whatever they’d hit him with was still lodged inside him. Cord

touched it tentatively with his fingertips, wondering if he should pull
it out.

“Don’t. He’ll bleed out if you do.” Michel must’ve shifted back

because there he was, over his shoulder, a comforting presence at his
back.

“He’s dying.” Cord choked on the words, but his animal instincts

didn’t lie. He could already smell death clinging to his mate’s skin.

Michel growled, the low, feral sound one of agony. “No. We

won’t let him.”

Cord really didn’t see how they would get a choice in the matter.

They couldn’t open the gates between worlds by themselves, and the
only chance seemed to be back on Earth. He thought about going back
to just him and Michel, and the thought killed him. He belonged with
both of them. Mating meant forever. Mating meant that they would
never have to be alone. He sobbed, uncaring if another enemy came
upon him. His soul felt like it was being ripped to shreds.

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“Cord!” Michel shouted, pulling his arm to the side as the

shadows they’d just dispatched sprang back to form, shaking off death
from themselves like it was nothing. What. The. Hell. He half shifted,
his vision going feline as he eyed the demons coming at them. He
would find a way to make them dead for what they’d done to Druas.
For every second they wasted with them was one last second they
could spend with Dru, and that was utterly and absolutely
unacceptable.

Instead of attacking them like Cord assumed, they turned to Druas

and snatched up his body like it was weightless.

“No!” Cord shouted, lunging at them as they held Dru between

them. They seemed to go through his damn fingertips, a hell of a lot
less solid than he’d originally assumed. Michel snarled and lunged at
the shadow as well, only to fall through. The shadows thickened
exponentially, completely obscuring Dru from their eyes. Cord
whimpered and stretched his hand toward his lover. They couldn’t
lose him like this. Please, gods, not like this.

The black smoke cleared as Michel charged it head-on. But

neither the shadow demons nor their mate were there. Michel turned
back toward Cord, his eyes filled with unshed tears. Cord fell to his
knees, his heart fracturing and the jagged pieces piercing his chest in
painful shards. Michel’s strong arms circled around him, and two
feline voices rose in screams as the battle raged around them.

* * * *

Freezing water sluiced down Dru’s chest, bringing him to

screaming wakefulness. His eyes dragged open to see ugly gray floor
that was made of broken stone. The light was dim at best. The yellow
glow swung, illuminating the stained stone on stone walls and floors.
He appeared to be alone, but he couldn’t be sure. His ears were still
ringing and his heartbeat was so loud in his ears that it was impossible

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to hear himself think. Parts of him were burning with cuts and
whatever was in the water was not helping.

“Good. He’ll live. So will you.” The low, gravelly voice sounded

to his right. Dru lifted his head, and the world spun. His neck
wouldn’t support the weight, so it lolled back down to rest on his
chest. Distantly, he realized the additional aches in his shoulders were
from the fact that his arms were twisted by chains above his head at
an odd angle. His muddled mind took a minute to realize what exactly
had transpired.

“It hasn’t taken effect quite yet. The blade we pierced him with

contained the king’s essence. It shouldn’t be much longer now.” A
wispy voice that sounded like something out of his nightmares rasped
from his left, just outside the swinging lamplight. Dru shivered and
screwed his eyes shut. Gods, no. He’d been captured by the enemy.
He took a deep breath and gasped at the effort. It hurt to breathe too
deeply. After a few minutes of controlled breathing, he made a pledge
to himself. I will remain strong. He anticipated torture followed by a
painful death. It made his heart ache to think that he’d never see his
two mates again.

“I’ll make my way back to you,” he promised to the empty mate

bond as his eyes started to tear. “If it takes a thousand lifetimes, I’ll
come back to you.”

“Shall we interrogate him?” the voice to his right asked.
The voice to his left sounded. “No need. He’ll tell us everything

he knows just as soon as the blade starts working.”

“If he would’ve died, the king would’ve had your head.”
“I’ll never tell you anything!” Dru snapped. He didn’t sound as

forceful as he wanted to, but he couldn’t help it.

The two men in the room just laughed.

Jana Downs

Chapter Nine

Michel rocked Cord back and forth in the tent that they shared,

inhaling the scent of Druas that was already fading from the area as
the desert wind carried it away. The battle had ended with victory on
the behalf of the nomads. The warriors had either killed or driven
Desmond’s forces out of the area. But the victory was bittersweet.
While it increased the morale of the troops they’d come to Demontia
to protect, the losses had been painful.

Druas’s loss was going to haunt them forever. Michel knew in his

heart that his other mate was dead, and he couldn’t help but think that
if he had insisted on going with him that morning that Michel
could’ve protected Dru from the demons’ attack.

“Maybe he’s alive.” Cord sobbed into his chest, clutching at his

waist as Michel continued to rock him back and forth in an effort to
calm his hysterical mate. As bad as it sounded, Michel used his
smaller mate as a focus to keep himself from descending into the feral
mourning he wanted to engage in. As long as he had Cord to take care
of, he could hold it together.

Michel sighed and squeezed his lover tighter. “I’m sorry, baby.

The bond doesn’t lie. Our Druas is gone.” He choked up at the last
part, his throat closing around the words as if to strangle it out of him.
The tears that slid down his cheeks couldn’t be helped.

“Don’t say it. Please, just don’t say it.” Cord dissolved into sobs

once again. Michel felt so fucking helpless. “We just found him,
Michel. How could the fates do this? How could they give him to us
just to take him away?”

“I don’t know, baby,” Michel whispered. “I just don’t know.”

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The flap to the tent was pulled back and one of the tribe’s warriors

stepped into their space before kneeling before them on the carpet.

“Forgive me,” he said, lowering his eyes respectfully. “I know

that you need time to mourn your mate, but the warriors are growing
restless. They wish to move deeper into the desert, away from this
site. Would you be amenable to the discussion?”

Michel swallowed. He’d forgotten that they would be in charge if

Dru was out of commission. “Is that what you guys usually do in this
sort of situation?”

“Yes,” the warrior said.
“Then do it. We need to get somewhere safe and regroup.” Michel

heard himself say the words, but it was just an automatic response.
When it came right down to it, he’d never been in charge of anything
but patrol groups before. He wasn’t an alpha or a pride leader.

The warrior stood and gave another low bow. “Very well. I will

tell the warriors’ council of your decision and send a few men along
to take down the tent and pack General Natiri’s things.” He paused as
he turned on his heels. “A word of advice?”

“Speak,” Michel said.
“I would advise that you travel with both a translator and an elder

warrior of council to advise you…since your mate is no longer able to
provide you with those services.”

Michel nodded and then realized the warrior couldn’t see him.

“Yes,” he answered. “I will take your advice.”

“I hope you and your mate find peace,” the warrior said as way of

good-bye. He left without another backward glance.

* * * *

Cord wept until great hiccups replaced his sobs and his eyes ached

from crying so hard. He wanted nothing more than to curl onto the
mat that they’d slept in the night before and sleep until he found
Druas in the ether. But he couldn’t. They had to move, and Michel

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forced him to move along with them. A half dozen people showed up
and began packing all of Natiri’s things. Cord snarled as they came
near Druas’s things. He wanted to pack those personally, and so he
did with the utmost care. He cut a strip of cloth from one of Dru’s
shirts and tucked it in his pocket. As silly as it was, he felt closer to
Dru having a piece of him near him.

“The rest of the camp will be ready within the hour,” the translator

they sent, a young boy of no more than nineteen, spoke as they
finished clearing out the last rug and putting it on a huge cart pulled
by beasts similar to Earth’s horses. Their colors were not similar,
though. They were dull green, orange, and deep purple.

“Odd beasts to have in a desert,” Michel said, voicing Cord’s

thoughts before Cord could form the words.

“They are better desert travelers than most others. They come

from a world with no water. They don’t depend upon it. The desert
people breed them for that reason. Also, they have fine temperaments,
gentlest beasts you’ll ever encounter. They call them the healers of
the sands. Supposedly, if someone makes friends with them, they
allow for you to visit others in your dreams.” The idea had Cord’s
heart flip-flopping.

Michel let out a low rumble and grabbed the boy by the arm, hard.

“Be quiet, you little idiot. Our mate died today. Cord is fragile enough
without you spouting that nonsense.”

“F−Forgive me, Michel! I meant nothing by it!” the boy babbled

in a strangled voice.

“Leave him, Michel,” Cord demanded, reaching into his pocket to

touch the piece of Dru’s shirt. It calmed him somewhat. “There has
been enough violence today. We need to get out of here.”

“Do you feel like running shifted?” Michel asked, his voice much

kinder as he spoke to Cord. He was treating him like he’d fracture
apart at any moment. Of course, he was probably right. He was about
to break into a million pieces. Hope was the only thing keeping him
on his feet. Surely, Desmond’s cronies would’ve wanted to keep

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Druas alive for some purpose. Cord was going to get him back.
Somehow. Even if it was only to bury Dru, he would bring him home.

Cord sighed. His lover had given him a mission. He would carry it

out no matter what. “No. But I have no choice. No beast will carry a
jaguar shifter. The predator frightens burden beasts.”

“The Adamar will carry you. I told you, they’re frightfully

intelligent,” the boy piped up. “Ride them up front with the other
warrior council.”

Hot relief poured through him. His beast was going to be even

worse in mourning than he was. The cat within him didn’t understand
why they were doing anything but going after their mate. A step away
from the spot where his cat had last seen Dru was a step away from
the path they should be taking.

“You’ll ride on the back of the Adamar then, Cord.” Michel

demanded, drawing Cord out of the place he’d slipped into in his
mind. “Or better yet, the cart.”

“I’m not an invalid,” Cord protested. “I won’t ride in the back and

make others carry equipment. I’ll ride an animal like the rest of the
men.”

“But Cord—”
“Please,” Cord interrupted. “Please, don’t fight with me. Just…let

me be.” He looked up at Michel and begged for his understanding. He
was holding onto his control by the most fragile of threads, and he
couldn’t stomach any conflict with Michel right now.

Michel nodded. “Very well, my love.”
Cord hefted the pack on his shoulder and walked toward the

outside of the collection of animals and carts. He just needed to
breathe and couldn’t do that in the middle of everyone. At least they
were dealing with a rocky desert as opposed to a sandy one. Cord
hated sand. A giant purple beast with a lavender-colored mane
shuffled closer to Cord. Sky-blue eyes regarded him. Cord reached
out his hand and touched the neck of the creature.

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“Pikachu, I choose you,” he murmured, petting gently. He smelled

the boy as he walked up behind him.

“He likes you,” the boy murmured. “This is Star. He’s usually shy

with strangers. He probably senses your sadness. Yes, he’ll do nicely.
I’ll saddle him and bridle for you.”

“Why isn’t he already?” Cord asked, half turning to the boy. He

didn’t want to admit that he had never actually rode a horse of any
kind, never mind one from another plane of existence.

“We were going to hitch him to the cart, because he gets shy with

unfamiliar riders but…I think you and he will get along nicely. One
minute and it’ll be done, Cord.” The brown-haired boy smiled,
revealing white teeth. “Just relax. Star will take care of you.”

The tribesmen must’ve been used to moving at lightning speeds,

because it was literally two minutes tops before the boy had the horse
saddled and ready to go. Cord eyed the stirrup as the boy handed over
the reins.

“My name is Bekil, by the way,” the boy said, petting the

Adamar’s neck as Cord put his foot in the stirrup. Bekil frowned.
“Are you planning on riding backward?”

“Of course not,” Cord snapped. His nerves were frayed as it was.

One more “helpful” suggestion by the boy was liable to send him into
fits.

Bekil looked nervous as he motioned to Cord’s foot. “Um, then

you might want to use the other foot to get up in the saddle. Just, um,
a suggestion.”

Cord looked down at his foot and instantly realized his mistake.

“Christ. I’m helpless today. Sorry, Bekil. Thanks.” He corrected his
footing and swung his other leg over so that he could straddle the
animal. It took a little fumbling to get situated, but once he did it felt
almost natural to be sitting on the back of the huge animal. These
Adamar seemed to be a bit bigger than Earth’s horses as well. The
average-sized ones seemed to be about the size of a Clydesdale.

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“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Bekil asked, looking up

at Cord as he wrestled with the reins.

Cord let out a long string of French curses. “No!” he said in

English. “I have no fucking idea, but I’m going to deal with it
anyway. So can you kindly let me fumble on my own?” His sentence
ended in a shout, something he rarely did but seemed unable to help.

Michel came hurrying toward him, looking concerned. Cord

sighed. He needed to hold it together better. He needed to act a little
more like his mate. Michel was being so strong…

“Hey, are you all right?” Michel asked, coming to stand beside the

horse Cord was on. He reached out and touched Cord’s thigh,
conveying with his touch the comfort that he was so good at giving.

Cord shook his head, his heart clenching again. “Not really. No. I

don’t know. Everything hurts, and I just want to be left alone.”

“When we get to the next campsite, you and I can talk about what

to do next,” Michel said.

“I want to go after Dru.” Cord tried to keep his voice even, but it

cracked toward the end of the sentence.

Michel sighed. “We need to contact Salvatore.”
“How can you say that?” Cord asked, lashing out with his words.

“Our mate could be somewhere dying, and you are just calmly going
about the mission like nothing happened!”

“That’s not it, and you fucking know it, Cord. I’m hurting just as

much as you are. I just don’t have the luxury of falling apart right
now. These people are still relying on us.”

“Fuck them! Our mate—”
“Our mate would want us to take care of them!” Michel

interrupted. “Gods, Cord, get a grip for two seconds and think past
your pain. Baby, I love you. If Dru is alive, and that’s a big if, we will
get him back.”

Cord made himself take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just…I can’t

think.”

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“It’s okay, baby. I know. I know.” Michel reached out and took

one of Cord’s hands and pressed a kiss to the knuckle. “Ride safe and
just try and not think about it for a while.” It was a lot to ask, but he
would try.

* * * *

They rode until sunset. The more permanent encampment was a

few more hours from here, according to the translator. The warrior
accompaniment that was supposed to keep them company was more
or less dealing directly with Michel and leaving Cord the hell alone,
which suited him just fine. The large jugs of water that the tribesmen
had pulled off the carts were distributed and Bekil handed out some
food for the Adamar with a pouch for feeding. It took Cord a minute
to figure out how to hook it around Star’s head, but he managed.

The bedroll he’d had in his pack was unrolled just outside one of

the fires that they’d started for cooking, and he staked out a place to
keep Star near him. The metal rod didn’t provide a ton of resistance
for the animal, but it let him know his boundaries. Cord lay down on
the mat, stretching out and listening to the sound of Star munching his
food, which resembled the healthy fiber cereal that Michel made him
choke down back home for health reasons.

“My world fell apart today,” he said to the Adamar as he munched

his food and flicked his tail. Cord knew most would say it was silly to
talk to animals, especially ones that weren’t sentient beings, but he
found comfort in the nonjudgmental way that they listened. “I miss
him so much already…” Tears sprang to his eyes again, and he tried
to get past the lump in his throat by taking a swig out of his waterskin.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to clamp down on his growing
misery. He wasn’t entitled to fall apart just yet.

A soft velvet head knocked against his jaw, making a spark of

pain. “Ow!” he rumbled, opening his eyes. He looked up into sky-
blue eyes of the Adamar. He reached up and rubbed his jaw, brushing

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his other hand against the animal’s neck. “You’re not supposed to
knock me around, you know? That doesn’t make people feel better.”
The Adamar just huffed. “I know, I should be proactive not reactive. I
got it.” He reached up and unconnected the feeding sack attached to
the animal’s head.

“I bet you’re a real brat, Star.” He paused. “But you’re cute

enough that I guess that’s okay.”

“Baby?” Michel’s voice asked, drawing his attention away from

the animal.

He sat up, pushing Star’s head away. “Hi,” he said. He hadn’t

really talked to anyone today, Michel included. His big mate had been
engaged in discussions with warriors for most of the day. Cord had
stayed toward the back with the carts.

Michel lifted his hand, showing off a steaming bowl in his hand.

“I brought soup for you.”

Cord lifted his head and sniffed. Wild onions, some kind of

potato, and meat. He shrugged. It was edible, but he wasn’t hungry.

“You’re eating, Cord,” Michel commanded, taking a seat beside

him on the ground.

Cord took the bowl. There was no point in arguing with Michel

when he got that stubborn look on his face. He took the wooden
spoon and put it in his mouth. Immediately, the heat assaulted him,
scalding his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He made a noise of
pain and clamped a hand over his lips. Shit. Shit. Shit. Ow!

“Damn. Sorry, baby! It’s hot,” Michel said, petting him on the

back in soothing circles. Cord swallowed.

“Thanks,” he said sarcastically. He opened his mouth for another

scathing retort only to get a good look at Michel’s face. He looked
pinched, about to break. Cord instantly softened. He put his bowl on
the hard ground beside him, and he opened his arms. Michel came
willingly into them. His huge mate curled into him, silent sobs
wracking his huge frame. Cord held onto him, comforting him as best

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he could. When at last the sobs died away, Cord kissed his lover’s
temple.

“You okay?” he whispered. He knew better than to ask that

question. Neither one of them was really okay. They were either
coping or ignoring the problem. It felt like they’d never be “okay”
again.

Michel wiped his eyes with the back of one sweaty, dusty arm. “I

don’t know.” At least he was honest. Cord knew how he felt. Deep
down, his cat cried out, eager to throw off human confines and mourn
properly.

“We’re resting here for the night?” Cord asked, changing the topic

so both of them could breathe again. Acknowledging Dru’s loss was
almost as bad as continually reliving it in every painful detail.

“Yes,” Michel said.
“Do you feel like resting?”
“Not especially, but the other tribesmen do.”
“Will you run with me?” Cord asked. The tiredness from before

disappeared as the possibility of letting his cat run became a desire
that thrummed through him in time to his heartbeat. Pain became
energy that needed to be worked off with a long and thorough
exhaustion of the body.

Michel nodded. “Yes.”
They stripped in silence, their clothing falling away without

hesitation. Shifters were pretty blasé about nudity in general, and the
thought of some of the demons seeing them take off their clothing
was of minimal concern. Naked, Cord looked up to the unfamiliar sky
and saw deep purple clouds rolling across a glittering star field. It was
as good a night as any to run across the red plains that made up
Demontia’s southlands, the lands that Druas loved.

Without ceremony, he called the animal from the depths of his

soul. It flowed over his body like water over a creek stone, natural and
smooth. His body shimmered and seamlessly stretched into his feline
shape. It didn’t hurt like the movies said it did. Shifting was like

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putting on a very familiar coat. He moved his shoulders, and it settled
onto his skin. His back twisted, forcing him to his knees. Within
twenty seconds he shook himself and stretched his clawed paws into
the red earth. The signature jaguar spots looked even darker black by
starlight, though even the blond of his unspotted hair was growing
gray as the clouds moved over their heads.

Michel’s massive body rubbed along his in a caress. He was

roughly twice Cord’s size in shifted form, even bigger than most
males of their kind. It was one of the many reasons that Michel was
often chosen to be an enforcer for their colony.

Cord descended into his cat, who gave a cry of pain as the full

impact of losing his mate hit him like a freight train. The sound was a
feline cry of sheer agony. The tents that had been erected closer to the
fire stirred with internal movement.

His mate gave a warning growl and rubbed along his flanks again.

This was no place for those kinds of noises. It would only stir their
companions and freak them out.

Michel shouldered him once more, pushing him away from the

tents and into the open desert. Dusk and dawn were their favorite
times to run, and Cord felt the unique rush of it now. The area was
cooling, but the lingering heat felt good against the pads of his paws.
He let his cat take over and lived only in the moment. He knew only
the feel of wind as it flowed through his fur, the slightly rough ground
beneath his feet, and the thrill of movement as his muscles moved in
perfect unison over the ground.

Ahead of them was a collection of piled boulders conveniently

placed in their path. He gave a little huff of desire and increased his
speed. He wanted to climb. It was natural for his kind, and he wanted
to be somewhere off the ground for a little bit. Michel hissed at him
and tried to push him off his path.

Cord was having none of it. He wanted those boulders and that

height. He wanted to go there and mourn. A small animal about the
size of a rabbit was stirred by his passing and darted along his path.

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Michel pounced on it before he could turn direction, shaking his head
and snapping the animal’s neck without even ten seconds’ pause.

Michel trotted behind him at a slower pace, letting him have his

way for once. That was good. He was so deeply merged with his cat
that he wouldn’t have been able to logic through Michel’s forceful
caring.

He leapt the first six feet up onto the rock and scrambled for

purchase on the surprisingly smooth sides. His claws scraped like
nails on a chalkboard, but he managed to pull himself up. The next
two leaps were easy, and then he was at the summit, lifting his face to
the now-darkened sky. He let out his cry of mourning then, screaming
his agony to the heavens. Another voice joined his from below, a
deeper scream that joined his in harmony.

His voice gave out before the pain did. It was only when his vocal

cords would produce no more sound that he shifted back to his human
form. His naked body lay panting on the rough stone perch, and tears
fell in dizzying regularity down his cheeks. A warm furred body
rubbed against his. He raised his eyes to the very feline face of his
mate. It was as familiar as his own. He reached out and traced
Michel’s black lips, lifting the edges and tracing the long canines that
were used to pierce prey.

“Did you eat the rabbit?” Cord asked, his voice hoarse. Michel

began purring. “Glad it was good.” He turned his head toward the
horizon. It would be daylight soon. He could already feel the stirrings
of creatures around them. The minute ones, the insects, were ready to
greet the hot day with enthusiasm.

“We should get back,” he told his mate, forcing himself to sit up.

He was surprisingly sore. The muscles in his backside and thighs
were throbbing. Apparently, they hadn’t been kidding when they
called it being saddle sore. Who could’ve guessed that riding a horse
was a physical exercise? It was surprising that it had taken this long to
notice it, though.

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Michel shifted and sat beside Cord. “We should. Do you want to

walk back in our human bodies? Give our cats a rest?”

“I want to go after him,” Cord said. He couldn’t think of anything

else.

“And where would you go, baby?” Michel asked softly. “Where

would you start to look for Druas in this vast world?”

Cord rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s just walk back, baby. Maybe we can find a way to the other

Ravyns and they can help us find Dru. We have nothing to go on.”

Cord knew Michel was right, but he didn’t like to admit it. The

hollowness in his chest just wouldn’t give him any relief. He ached,
and there was nothing he could do to ease it.

“Okay,” he said after a minute of silence. “We can walk back.”

Inside, his cat cried for his lost mate.

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Chapter Ten

Michel walked down a rusty dirt road that ran through a sunflower

field under a purple sky. The yellow of the flower petals was
particularly vibrant as the sky rolled with thick purple rain clouds. He
had to get somewhere. He was late. Though he couldn’t remember
what he was late to.

He began to walk a little faster as a boom of distant thunder sent

off the internal alarms that said rain was coming. He didn’t want to be
caught out in it if he could help it. But he was still so far away…

A figure stumbled out of the sunflower fields on his right up

ahead. Those fields were so vast that whoever had found the road was
lucky. Someone could be lost forever if they didn’t know the way.
The person looked around, bewildered and looking haggard. His
clothes were torn, and it was a him. Michel could see that clearly
now.

“Hello!” he called out in greeting, quickening his pace before the

stranger disappeared into the sunflowers again. The journey had been
long and lonely to get here. Michel really wanted some company.

The figure looked up, and his golden eyes looked lost, an odd

confusion playing in the depths of his irises. Michel nearly stumbled
as he recognized who it was. “Dru?”

“Is that my name?” Druas asked, pushing the hood of the torn

cloak he’d worn off his head. His bright ice-blond hair was sticking
up in all directions like it hadn’t seen a hairbrush in days.

He looked so lost, Michel’s heart constricted. “Yes, pretty. That’s

your name. What are you doing here?” This was a long way from
Cord and home.

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Druas shrugged. “I don’t know. I was walking to get away from

someplace.” He chewed on his bottom lip. “I was getting away from
the bad place.” He looked forlorn for a second. “They’ll find me.
They always do. I’ve run away twice.”

“Who? Who finds you, pretty?” Michel reached out and took Dru

into his arms, holding him tightly to his chest. He’d missed the Ravyn
so much.

Druas sighed. “The monsters.” He sounded so lost and alone that

it reminded Michel of a child complaining about the boogeyman. A
lone howl sounded from somewhere beyond the horizon. “I hate the
monsters. They took the important things from me.”

“Like your name, Dru?” Michel asked, stroking his lover’s back

in slow circles.

“Everything. I’ve forgotten everything.” The sentence ended in a

sob. Michel had never heard Druas sound anything less than strong
and capable. He just seemed lost now. “Do I love you?”

The question cut into Michel much deeper than it should have. It

felt like someone was strangling him, and his throat was so tight that
he wasn’t sure for a minute that he could get air into his lungs. “I
hope so.”

“Okay,” Dru said, laying his head on Michel’s shoulder. “Keep

the monsters away for me?”

“Yeah, pretty. I’ll keep you safe.”

* * * *

“Michel, wake up.” Cord shook Michel’s shoulder as he made a

little noise of distress in his sleep. They’d arrived back in camp
sometime right before sunup and had been snoozing on their mats
while Star munched on the food that had been left out for him. Cord
had hoped that what the demons said was true and he would dream of
Dru, but his sleep had been empty of any visions.

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Michel’s eyes opened slowly, the bright blue irises dilated from

sleep. “Um, hi,” he said, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “I
had the weirdest dream. Sunflowers, purple skies, and Druas.”

“You dreamed about Dru?” Cord asked, his heart aching. That just

wasn’t fair. He wanted to be the one gallivanting through the dream
world with their dead mate. A scream stuck in his throat at the idea.
He wasn’t dead. How could Cord even think that? He wasn’t dead!

Michel frowned and sat up, grabbing the back of Cord’s neck and

pressing their foreheads together. “Breathe, Cord. Breathe.”

Cord sucked in a breath. “Please, God, please don’t let him be

dead.” The tears flooded his eyes and cascaded down his cheeks in a
sudden burst of emotion that left him shaking.

“Easy, baby. I’ve got you. Dru will be fine. We’ll bring him back.

I promise. I promise you.” Michel said the comforting words in the
same tone one might use to calm an irrational child who was scared of
the dark. Cord held onto that confidence and took deep breaths until
he got control of his lungs and his mind was no longer spinning with
erratic “what-ifs.”

“Better?” Michel asked as Cord evened out.
Cord nodded. “I think so.”
“When Natiri comes back, we can call the Ravyns on Earth. I’m

sure he’ll have a way to either get us there or communicate with the
other side.”

As much as Cord didn’t want to leave Demontia without Druas,

he knew that it would be next to impossible to navigate the world
without some help from the Ravyns. Two shifters would stick out like
a sore thumb in the cities, and that was most likely where they’d taken
Dru. He hated it, but Michel was right. He needed to show a little
patience. Unfortunately, patience wasn’t his strong point by any
stretch of the imagination.

“Okay.” There wasn’t really anything left to say. Agreement was

probably wasn’t what Michel was expecting without a fight, but Cord

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was very, very tired, and he felt so brittle that arguing would’ve made
him shatter.

Michel sat up, the last sleepy look on his face fading as his take-

charge expression took its place. “I’ve got to get the men organized.
We’ll be arriving at the main base camp tonight. The scouts have been
sent on ahead, and if they come back and have good news, we’ll move
forward in a bit. Why don’t you resaddle your horse thing while we
wait?”

“His name is Star,” Cord corrected as the big animal perked up at

being mentioned. He was beginning to get attached to the pretty
purple beast that was his ride. “He’s supposed to grant dreams of lost
loved ones. Guess he gave the dreams to you last night.”

Michel gave him a strange look before leaning forward and giving

Cord the briefest of kisses. “Dru isn’t lost, Cord. He’s only lost when
there is no hope left. There is definite hope here.”

Cord didn’t agree with him, but what choice did he have? Hope

was all that there was left to have in this place. It was odd, but he
really wished they’d never come to Demontia. Michel had had the
right idea. They should’ve taken Druas and bought a place on Earth
away from the conflict and coming war. He looked at the warriors
who were getting ready to leave a few feet away. He reached for his
pants with his left hand and tugged them onto his legs. Well, he
supposed the war was already here. “Coming” would mean that it
hadn’t started yet. The first causalities had fallen yesterday.
Salvatore’s war for Demontia had already begun.

* * * *

Druas woke in the dungeon. That wasn’t unusual. It was the place

he’d woken up in the last several times he’d managed to claw his way
to consciousness. The screaming pain that caused him to black out off
and on for however much time had passed was gone at least. His first
two tormentors had long since thrown him into a dingy cell on the

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other side of the vast darkness and had left him to his own devices.
Oddly enough, he was sure that he had known who they were to him
before the pain had begun. Now, he wasn’t even sure who he himself
was.

“Are you going to live?” a gruff voice asked from the inky

blackness at his right.

Dru turned his head in the direction of the sound. “I think so.”
“What have you done to anger the Doves, friend?”
Druas didn’t understand the question. Doves were servants of

King Desmond, the ruler of Demontia. What did they have to do with
him? “I don’t know,” he answered.

The voice paused. “I heard them call you Raven. Is that your

name or your occupation?”

Dru frowned. “What’s with the twenty questions? My name is

Druas. Raven is neither my name, nor my occupation.” Unless the
voice was referring to the legendary Ravyn warriors, Dru didn’t see
how being a raven was an occupation.

“My brothers and I are Cranes. That’s why I ask. If you were a

Ravyn warrior, you might have brought news of my Lord Theron.”
The voice paused. “Any news?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Druas said. His whole

body was hurting, and now someone, who was obviously in the same
fucked-up position as he was, was interrogating him about birds,
warriors, and lords. He didn’t understand any of it.

“I’m Kith,” the voice said. “My brothers and I have been here for

almost a year now.”

Dru strained his eyes in the pitch and saw nothing. “I only hear

one of you.”

“We’re here, forgetful Ravyn. We’re just not as chatty as our dear

brother.” Sarcasm laced the new voice. “Kith, leave the Ravyn alone.
He obviously has been tampered with by Desmond’s men. There is no
telling what he is going to do.”

“But, Kit, maybe he could help!” Kith protested.

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“And maybe he’ll tell Desmond whatever we say so that the king

can use it as leverage. Use your fucking brain, Kith, and shut the fuck
up.”

Anger fired in Druas’s chest. Who the hell did this guy think he

was? “I’m not a Ravyn, but I’m not a big mouth, either, asshole. I’m
just—”

“Confused?” Kit asked, amusement lacing the word.
“Fuck you,” Dru snarled. Silence fell between them. It was just as

well. Dru didn’t need their voices in his ears anyway with a headache
coming on. He felt like he’d forgotten something important, well,
several somethings that were important. He remembered his name. He
remembered that he previously worked in eastern Demontia in herbs,
and he remembered that he’d been traveling to the south for some
reason. Then, nothing. Something must’ve happened on the way to
the southlands, but what?

The creek of a door opening from somewhere in the depths made

Dru’s thoughts pause. Maybe the Doves would assist him. Though
he’d never had personal interactions with them and had never really
agreed with Desmond’s policies, they were the law.

“Excuse me,” he called into the darkness. “I would like to speak

with someone about this situation. I think there has been a mistake.
Can I speak with someone?”

“Wasting your time, Ravyn.” A third voice added commentary.
Dru ignored it. “Seriously, I need to speak with someone!”
A sudden light burst into being, illuminating the area in front of

the cell and blinding Druas for a minute as pain lacerated his eyeballs.
Jeez. How many more things were going to hurt him today? When he
was able to open his eyes without his head throbbing, he saw two
huge guys, both in identical gray-and-gold uniforms, standing outside
his cell. Dru blinked and took in their regal and absolutely formal
appearance. The one on the right was the taller out of the two and was
holding his glowing hand up to illuminate the space.

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“Oh, thank the gods you’re awake, Druas. We’d feared that you

wouldn’t be able to take the high level of magick that we needed to
perform on you to rid you of the evil cast on you,” the human torch
said.

Dru blinked. “Evil? What in the name of the underworld are you

talking about?”

The other man’s eyes widened for a second before he sighed

loudly. “I was afraid you might have some memory loss on account of
your ordeal. Do you remember the exiled Prince Salvatore cursing
you?”

Dru shook his head. He didn’t remember anything like that. He’d

heard that the exiled prince was somewhere in Demontia, but he
hadn’t personally seen the guy ever. Desmond had even ordered the
destruction of every picture of the prince when he was declared a
traitor. It didn’t make any sense. “Why would the demon prince attack
me?” he asked.

The two Doves looked at one another. Torch boy spoke. “Druas,

you’re one of us. A Dove. You were trying to apprehend the prince
when it happened.”

“Crock of shit!” Kit, or was it Kith? One of his cell mates called

out, “That boy is a Ravyn.”

“Quiet, traitors,” the second Dove that Dru hadn’t heard speak

before said.

“So if he was such a pal of yours, why’d you stick him in the

dungeon with the rest of the ‘traitors’?” the Crane snarled.

“He was crazed. He thought he was a Ravyn and was attacking all

of the guards. Dru, you even joined up with a few of the southern
tribes before we finally caught up with you.” Torch boy looked really
serious. Acting like that was hard to do.

“I don’t remember anything,” Dru said, rubbing his suddenly

screaming temples. “So we’re friends?”

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“We fight in the same unit as you. This charming guy with me is

named Rican, and I’m Crave.” Torch boy gave Dru a smile that
looked both weary and friendly at the same time. Weird.

“He’s a fucking liar, Druas. You were a Ravyn, and they did

something to you. It’s another of Desmond’s tricks. He’s a fucking
monster.”

Dru turned his head toward the right and saw three almost-

identical men who were clearly warriors leaning against the dull steel
bars. They were all dark haired and dark eyed with pale, creamy skin
that looked soft to touch, but there wasn’t a doubt in Dru’s mind that
they could hold their own. They were shirtless, and every rippling
muscle was on display, along with matching tattoos on the space
above their hearts that looked almost like a cattle brand in black ink.
The words were visible even in the moving light of Crave’s torch
hand. Out of darkness, light. House of the Dragon. At the center of
the emblem was an outline of a crane. It was no doubt a sign of
devotion and loyalty. Dru felt a glimmer of respect surface in his
chest and couldn’t quite figure out why.

“He is your king! And as such will be respected!” Crave shouted,

the light he was emitting glowing brighter with his anger. It reminded
Dru of someone, but he couldn’t remember who. Maybe it was Crave.
Germany. No. That wasn’t right. He didn’t know anyone named
Germany.

“Can you get me out of the cage?” Dru asked as a wave of

dizziness hit him. Maybe once he got out of the dungeon he could
think a little more clearly.

The Dove turned his attention back to Dru. “Yes, of course. That’s

why we came to get you. We had to make sure that you were you first,
but we’d planned on bringing you above. King Desmond wants to see
you personally and congratulate you on your loyal service.” Dru
couldn’t help but feel flattered at that. He’d never met royalty before.

“Don’t trust it, Druas,” one of the Cranes warned.

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“Give it a rest, Kit. He’s already bought the fucking shit they’re

shoveling at him. He’s lost,” another of them said.

The third Crane sighed. “So much for him telling us if Theron is

all right.”

Dru’s head throbbed harder at the mention of Theron. Who the

hell was Theron? And why did the name ring a bell?

“Prince Theron has agreed to become a spy for His Majesty,

traitors. He no longer believes that opposing King Desmond is an
accurate course. When he returns from his mission for Desmond, you
all will be released into his care.” Torch boy sniffed. “If, and I do
mean if, you can prove that you’re not betrayers.”

“Fuck you, you son of a pig. Theron would only do that if he was

made to, and I know we’ll never leave this cell,” one of the Cranes
said darkly. “However, if we ever do, I plan to take each and every
one of you fuckers out when we go.”

“Can I leave now?” Dru asked, wanting out of this conversation.

The tension was thick in the air, as if a fight was about to erupt.

The quieter Dove, Rican, stepped forward with a boatload of keys

and inserted one into the lock. Dru took a step back and waited until
the door swung open to the fullest before stepping out into the
yawning emptiness of the dungeon. It really was empty except for the
three other men in the adjoining cage. Desmond must not have too
many political enemies if his prison was so empty.

“Come on, friend. We’ve got your room all ready and some fresh

clothes upstairs. You’ll be dining with His Majesty tonight, so you’ll
have time to relax a bit and get your bearings.” Crave slapped him on
the back in a friendly gesture that was reminiscent of a touch Dru
must’ve had before.

“I’m really tired,” he admitted as the Doves framed either side of

him. “Do you think my memories will come back soon?”

“We hope so,” Rican said. “All we have is hope, though. The

physicians weren’t sure it was reversible.”

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“But don’t worry. You’ll have the support of your unit and the rest

of the Doves to get you through it,” Crave added. He seemed like a
really happy guy. Dru began to relax by slow degrees as they climbed
the never-ending stairs that led to the main part of the palace. His
stomach rumbled loudly.

Crave chuckled. “We’ll have a snack sent up to your room as well

as a bath. How does that sound?”

“Sounds fantastic,” Dru replied, his mind already keen on the idea

of hot water and good food. This felt a little strange still, but he could
get used to it. If it was just some spell that someone had cursed him
with, it was only a matter of time before Dru remembered who he
really was. He’d try not to think too hard about it in the meantime.
After all, the Doves seemed familiar somehow, more familiar than
anything else he’d encountered since waking up. He thought about
what the Cranes had said in the dungeon.

“They are usurpers who believe in the old government too much.

Theron will change their minds when he returns,” Crave said. The guy
must’ve read his mind because Dru was sure he hadn’t spoken aloud.

“Who is Theron?” Dru asked, instead of drilling Crave on how he

knew what he was thinking. There were too many unknowns and
factors and stuff that was so beyond Dru’s realm of thought that it
would be next to impossible to think about it without a massive
headache ensuing. He needed some quiet time and a bath for sure.

Crave answered Dru’s question in the same amiable fashion he

seemed to use with anything Dru asked about. “Theron is King
Desmond’s younger half sibling. There was a rumor that Desmond
was trying to kill him, completely false, of course, so his younger
brother joined up with the rebels. It was a big royal scandal. Anyway,
Theron has since come back into the fold and is now acting as a spy
for His Majesty. It’s quite daring. Like a detective novel or
something.”

Sounds risky to me. Sounds really damn stupid, too. Why was

there anger roiling in his gut at the idea of Theron acting as a spy?

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What was the source of it? He banished the emotion as well as the
inquiry. He was finally safe and with people who would give him
answers to his questions. There was no reason to give himself a
migraine trying to tackle it himself. Besides, Crave seemed to be a
pretty honest guy. He just needed to relax. The headache behind his
eyes pounded on.

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101

Chapter Eleven

The camp life wasn’t as bad as Michel had thought it would be.

Despite the fact that there weren’t as many amenities, Michel and
Cord had been relatively comfortable. They focused solely on putting
one foot in front of the other and getting things arranged for Natiri’s
return as well as keeping the camp running smoothly. It had been
Druas’s request, and Michel took the duty left to him by his mate
seriously.

“I need you to go to the far side of the camp and retrieve the

correspondences from Ura and Meta,” Michel instructed as he
finished signing the last proposal for an additional barrel of water to
be sent over to the growing region of the camp where they were
putting the new warriors who arrived daily. Natiri was supposed to be
arriving back from the dragon realm within the next few days. Michel
had lost track of exactly when Natiri was supposed to be coming back
into town, but he was ready when he did. Slowly but surely, he’d
picked up the demon tongue in both dialects and now could stumble
on with only the limited aid from the translator.

Bekil nodded and bowed before hurrying out of Natiri’s huge tent.

Alone for the first time in days, Michel took a deep breath and let his
spine relax and his body bend forward toward the low-sitting table.
Cord spent his days between the stables, where the demons kept the
Adamar, and the tent of children, orphans of fallen families that the
desert people looked after when their parents were killed in raids or
battles with Desmond’s forces. They seemed to love Cord’s cat, and it
gave his smaller mate a level of comfort to be among them.

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Michel knew in his heart now that Druas was dead, and he thought

that Cord was slowly beginning to accept the truth of the reality of the
situation as well. The bond between them had been empty for too
long. If Dru had been unconscious or somehow incapacitated, it might
have made the bond waver, but it was completely silent all the time.
The truth was that Dru was never coming back, and that was hard as
hell to take. Healing from this would be no easy feat for either of
them. Michel thought those who said that it was better to have love
and lost than never to have loved at all should try it sometime and see
what the fuck they felt like afterward.

“Hey, Michel,” Cord greeted, ducking through the heavy cloth

door. His eyes traveled over the table where Michel had spread out to
work. “Getting things done?”

“Yeah, I am,” Michel said, pushing away from the table so he

could roll to his feet. He was never going to get used to sitting on
cushions on the floor all the time. He was American. He liked chairs.

“I came to see if you wanted to lunch together.” Cord lost a good

ten pounds over the last week and a half. Between the heat of the
desert and his adamant refusal that he “wasn’t hungry,” the man had
dropped weight like crazy. It was the first time he’d shown an interest
in food, and that made Michel excessively happy.

He smiled. “Absolutely. I’ve got some snack-type stuff here, and I

can go get some meat if you like.” The idea of being able to get his
mate to eat made a sense of urgency wash through him. He needed to
hurry and get some food before Cord changed his mind and decided
eating was bad form when mourning or something.

“Whatever you want to do,” Cord said, shifting from foot to foot.

He looked nervous. Michel’s eyes narrowed. Usually, that meant his
mate was up to something, but with everything that had been going
on, Michel couldn’t imagine what. “Michel?”

“What is it, love?”
“Would you be mad at me if I asked you something?”

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103

Michel gave him his best warm smile. “Of course not, baby.

Whatever you want to ask me, ask.”

Cord graced him with a smile that reached his eyes, and Michel’s

heart tripped over itself. They had been together forever, and Cord’s
smiles could still make him into a big marshmallow. “I want to invite
two people to lunch with us.”

Michel frowned. “Who?” It was unusual for Cord to want to share

their time with anyone else. The idea of Cord already finding
someone to fill Dru’s spot was ridiculous. First, because Druas was
their mate and second, because Cord was far from fickle.

“They’re twins, Iso and Hardwin.”
“From the orphanage?” Michel asked in confusion.
Cord nodded. “Yes. They’re identical and so boisterous.” He grew

animated as he talked about the children, his eyes glowing with the
same light that it did when he was amped up about something.

“They’re not kittens you go to adopt at the shelter, Cord.” Michel

hated to have to burst Cord’s bubble, but someone had to. Children
were not replacements for the hole in Cord’s heart.

Cord’s expression darkened. “No, they’re not. But they need

someone to take care of them, and they’ve attached themselves to me.
I want you to meet them.”

“We’re not bringing home two children with a war coming on,

Cord.”

“Why the fuck not?” Cord snapped, his hands balling up into fists.

“They need me, and I need them. I want something that reminds me
of Dru.”

Michel sighed, knowing the fight was going to get ugly. “Cord,

baby, listen to me. You do not get children to give you comfort.”

“I want to take care of them.” Cord’s eyes were tearing, and

Michel’s chest tightened at the sight. “They’re beautiful, and they
look just like him. They don’t have anyone, Michel. I can’t just let
them go. They don’t even remember their parents.”

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“I don’t know if you’re doing this for the right reasons, baby. We

lost Dru a week and a half ago. You can’t expect these children to fill
the space he left behind. It’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to
yourself. You wouldn’t want to do that, would you?” Michel knew the
second Cord broke. Through their mate bond a screaming pain echoed
through the line.

“When I’m with them, I feel like everything will be okay,” Cord

said, dropping to his knees. “I feel like I can push through this and be
okay if I can just make the world right for them. Please, just meet
them, Michel. Please.” He looked up, and his hazel eyes glittered with
unshed tears. “Please, Michel.”

Michel went to his knees beside his mate and wrapped his arms

around him. “All right, baby. All right. I’ll meet them. Promise me
that you’ll really think about this before you decide for sure that
they’re coming home with us.”

“I promise, Michel. I promise.” They held onto one another, and

Cord cried for a few minutes before he seemed to collect himself and
pulled out of Michel’s arms. “Okay, so I’ll go get them and you go
get something to eat for the four of us?”

Michel nodded. Yeah, he was a sucker for his mates. He thought

about what Druas would say about the situation, only to realize that
they’d never really talked about how he felt about kids so soon. He’d
said he wanted to settle eventually but hadn’t mentioned wanting kids
so quickly. Michel swallowed. It didn’t matter now. Maybe Cord was
right. Maybe this was what it would take to fill a little of the space
that their mate had left behind. He still fully intended on going to the
Ravyns and asking for their help, but the hope that he would still find
their mate at the end of the day was slim to none.

* * * *

It had taken Iso five minutes of sitting around the table with Cord

and Michel before he’d decided to climb into Michel’s lap and suck

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on his thumb in the cutest fashion Michel had ever seen. The twins
were four years old and looked just like Dru, sandy blond hair, golden
eyes, and all. Iso was the shyer out of the two and seemed to need the
security of the bigger men much more than Hardwin, who was a
chatterbox that talked a mile a minute in a garbled mix of English and
Demonish. He was almost impossible to understand, but Michel could
already see Hardwin sizing him up as he chattered on. They were
impossible to resist, and Michel could definitely see how Cord had
fallen in love so quickly. They were adorable.

The food Michel had managed to rustle up was simple, some kind

of beef and broth, equivalent to the beef stew that Michel and Cord
had at home, with bread, and some fruit for dessert. But everyone
seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the meal, so Michel took it as a
win.

“Mi-mi?” Iso asked around the thumb still in his mouth. Why he’d

shortened Michel’s name to Mi-mi was anyone’s guess. “You like
us?” The question held such a vulnerability to it that Michel’s heart
expanded. Yeah, he could definitely see why Cord had fallen hard for
these two.

“I like you very, very much, Iso,” Michel said with a warm smile.

The little boy beamed up at him, his small mouth stretching so that
the smile seemed to take up his entire face.

“Cordie say you like us,” Hardwin said, drawing Michel’s

attention to the other little rascal that was shoveling food into his
mouth at a speed that was frightening. He was going to choke if he
kept it up. “I not believe it till I seed it. I seed it now.” His broken
English made Michel smile. Cord knew him so well.

“All right, lambs. I’ve got to get you two back to the tents and let

Michel get some work done.” Cord’s statement was immediately
greeted with a chorus of “Awwww” from the two blond-haired imps
sitting with them.

“Can I stay wiff you, Mi-mi?” Iso asked with big, golden, puppy-

dog eyes.

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“You heard, Cord. We’ll come get you for last meal and the

fireside dances, how about that?” Michel asked sternly. He didn’t
want to appear to be a pushover with the two rascals.

Iso nodded with a sigh of a boy used to getting his way and

climbed off his lap. “Okay.” He went over to his brother and took his
hand and pulled the other boy up.

Hardwin waved with his free hand. “Bye, Mi-mi.”
“See you later, little ones.”
Cord stood as well, gathering the two smaller children to him

before walking toward the front entrance. He turned and looked over
his shoulder. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Michel inclined his head and began clearing off the table and the

mess they’d made.

* * * *

Dru adjusted the lapels of his uniform and tried to reconcile the

image in the mirror with what he knew of himself. He certainly
looked every bit the warrior they told him he was. Something in him
rebelled about the dove-gray uniform with its gold accents, but he
couldn’t think of a single reason that he really had to resent it.
Besides, he did look fantastic in it.

“You’ve got to meet the king, stupid. It’s necessary,” he told his

reflection, fiddling with cufflinks for perhaps the millionth time. He
felt like a snake who’d outgrown his skin. He met his blue eyes in the
mirror. They were rimmed in gold, a leftover from the spell that had
been cast on him, or so he’d been told.

He turned his head and saw the hickey on his neck that he’d found

when he’d stripped out of the dirty rags he’d had on before his
shower. He hoped the king wouldn’t be offended. Dru had no idea
how it had gotten there. A sudden image left him gasping.

He was pinned between two other men, one was buried deep in his

well-stretched ass, and the other rode his dick with the skill of any

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courtesan Dru had ever had the pleasure of having. They bit him on
either side of his neck, making him splinter apart and climax so hard
he was sure he’d found nirvana.

“Shh, easy, pretty. No need to do anything elaborate. Hush now.

Just enjoy it.”

The smaller man came down as well, pressed snuggly to his front.

“We’ll take care of you always, Druas. I promise.”

Promises like those meant something. Dru had been taking care of

people so long, he didn’t know if he knew how to be taken care of. The
murmuring in his ear continued as Michel told him how much he
meant to them and how they would build a home together when the
war was over. How they were never going to be apart again. It made
Dru’s heart swell impossibly. This was where he belonged, with his
mates, between them. Always.

Dru gripped his suddenly swollen cock through the material of his

trousers. Fuck. What the hell was that? He felt like he was about to
come. Something white hot and powerful shot through his mind,
flickering for a full minute before going out again. Loneliness speared
his chest, and a sob escaped his mouth before he could hold it back.
He gripped his temples tight as he searched for the reason behind his
distress. Nothing came to him. No memory. Nothing. Yet the tears
kept falling and his chest kept aching as the white-blue energy cord
flickered on and off as he struggled to remember.

“Druas? Are you all right?” Crave’s voice made him jump as he

raised his eyes and met Crave’s in the mirror. The Dove’s eyes were
narrowed in suspicion.

“I don’t know.” He took a deep breath. “I think it’s just residual

stuff from the spell. I don’t know what else to call it.”

Crave nodded slowly. “After your reinitiation, that should fade.

It’ll be a few weeks before we can do it.” He seemed apologetic as he
spoke.

Druas gave him a shaky smile. “Can’t wait. This feeling

is…unnerving.”

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“No doubt, brother,” Crave said, clapping him on the back.

“Come on. Our king is eager to see you and pick your brain. His
magicians have already gotten so much from your memories of the
time you spent with the enemy, so you’re being heralded a hero.”

Dru was very uncomfortable at the thought. “That’s why I can’t

remember the past few weeks?”

“You can’t remember any of the time you were with the enemy.

The Court’s magick users have sifted through them to find useful
information. No worries. It was painless,” Crave said, his voice laced
with overconfidence in abundance. Dru didn’t believe him.

* * * *

Cord shuddered as a flicker of awareness nearly brought him to

his knees. For an instant, Druas’s mind connected to their mate bond,
flicking off and on in rapid succession.

“Cordie?” Hardwin asked, reaching up and tugging on Cord’s

hand. “Okay?”

Iso grabbed his other hand as Cord gasped for breath. What came

through the mate bond was a confusing mass of puzzles,
bewilderment, confusion, relief, yet an intense discomfort. He tried to
call out to Dru through the bond, but it was so shaky that he couldn’t
manage to force it to go through.

“Cordie?” Iso whimpered, tears pouring down his cheeks at

whatever expression he saw on Cord’s face. Cord tried desperately to
hold onto the mate bond as it flickered again.

“Please, Dru, baby, please,” he begged aloud as the words he was

screaming in his mind wouldn’t press across the narrow opening and
connect with Druas.

Hardwin started crying as well. “Cordie!”
The connection went out.
“Fuck,” he cursed, tears flooding his eyes. He looked down at the

two children he was holding and closed his eyes. They were in the

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middle of the rows of tents. They were still about a hundred yards
from the children’s tents.

“Cordie?” Iso’s bottom lip was trembling now, stark terror in his

eyes.

“It’s okay, baby. I just got a little dizzy is all. No worries.” He

went to his knees on the rocky ground, tugging them both into his
chest in one swift motion. They instantly wrapped their short arms
around his neck. He gave them both kisses on the cheek and a brief
hug before standing.

“Come dance wiff us?” Hardwin asked. They were really afraid of

rejection for some reason, needing constant reassurance. It reminded
Cord a lot of some of the orphaned pack kids back home. He
volunteered with them twice a week when he and Michel had off time
from working for the vampires.

“We promised, didn’t we?” He smiled at them and winked. They

grinned at him with identical smiles of mischief.

“Yesh,” they said in unison. Cord and Michel were really going to

have to work on their English when they got back to Earth. As
adorable as the heavily accented words were, they were difficult to
understand at the best of times.

The high-pitched yowl of a cat drew their attention back the way

they’d come. Michel’s massive cat form loped down the road, his
musculature grace giving the motion an almost-ethereal quality. Iso
and Hardwin squealed, pulling out of Cord’s arms and running full
out at the giant spotted cat that was coming toward them. Cord stayed
where he was and watched the interaction with mixed feelings.

The playful way they collided and tussled in the street made Cord

smile with appreciation, but on the other hand, he knew why Michel
had come tearing out of Natiri’s tent to come find him. He’d felt Dru
as well.

The boys climbed on Dru’s back like he was an Adamar, and

Michel padded toward Cord with careful steps designed not to jostle
the young ones off his back. Cord reached out his hand, and Michel

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lapped the back of it like a giant house cat. His tongue was like
sandpaper though, not very pleasant to get a bath from.

“I see you decided to walk us the rest of the way?” Cord asked,

knowing the answer already by the nod of the other jaguar’s head.
Michel turned his gaze toward the street once again and walked in the
direction of the children’s tents. Cord pushed himself to his feet and
walked beside them. They would talk after.

Hope sang in his veins like the headiest of wines. Dru was alive,

and they were going to find him. The gods had truly had mercy on
him. He needed his two mates. Someone must’ve known that, because
they’d given him back to him.

* * * *

Michel licked both the kids good-bye before shouldering Cord

toward the exit. As usual, his mate was reluctant to leave the little
ones. He’d always been that way with children. They walked at a
pretty brisk pace back toward the tent they shared. At least when he
was shifted Michel didn’t have to worry about messengers or people
stopping him with correspondences from all over the camp. They’d
grown to over four thousand people in the days since arriving here.

“I felt him, Michel. I felt him through the bond,” Cord said, the

excitement stark on his face along with so much joy that Michel knew
that he was already planning a happy reunion. He rubbed against his
lover’s legs.

“Don’t be overeager, baby,” he managed to say via their mate

bond. It was much harder to form sentences in animal form. He gave
up on anything more complicated than that. Instead, he just let himself
enjoy the simple pleasure of knowing that his other mate was out
there somewhere.

He dashed in through the opening to Natiri’s tent and flopped onto

the plethora of pillows where they slept. He shifted forms, his muscles
stretching and then reshaping into his human body.

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111

“If nothing else, it is cooler without fur,” he said, putting his

hands behind his head.

“He’s alive. Can you believe it?” Cord chattered excitedly. “He’s

alive, Michel!”

Michel couldn’t help the grin that broke over his face then. “He is

indeed, my love. Our pretty is out there.” A steely determination filled
him. “And we will find him.”

“Of course we will,” Cord said. The smile vanished off his face.

“Do you think he’ll be all right with Iso and Hardwin?”

Michel nodded. “I don’t see why not. He may be uneasy at first,

but Druas has a heart large enough for all of us. I’m sure of it.”

“Desmond has him, doesn’t he?”
Michel didn’t know if he liked the anger behind that question.

When people were that angry, they did stupid things. “Most likely.
Doesn’t matter, though. We’ll get him back.” His mates were the
most important things in his life, and now the hope of reunion allowed
for no other option.

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Chapter Twelve

Royal parties were not his thing. Scratch that, royal anything was

not his thing. It was worse than that. He hated royal things.

“Absolutely ridiculous,” he muttered, sipping out of his

ridiculously thin-stemmed wine glass. There were diamonds
encrusted in the rim of the glass and on its base. He almost hoped that
the damn nobility choked on them.

“You should enjoy your party, Druas,” Rican said, sidling up to

him and picking an invisible piece of lint off of his collar. All of the
dozen Doves were in uniform, and all the other men and women of
court were dressed in their most-expensive outfits. Everyone seemed
to glitter.

My party? For real? Seems like a great excuse to throw one hell

of an expensive shindig. The very idea that this kind of party could be
for him was ludicrous. His idea of a good time was a half pint and a
dance floor with his…His thoughts scattered. With his what? Where
had that thought been going?

“I feel like I’m trying to fit a round peg into a square key hole

right now,” Dru said, trying to chase the thoughts down in his head
without being rude.

Rican nodded. “Well, that’s understandable. You’ve been through

a pretty traumatic event.”

Druas grunted in way that could’ve been agreement or dismissal

and hoped that the other man would take the hint and fuck off. He
didn’t.

“You should spend more time with the men. It would give you

comfort,” Rican continued, raising his own ridiculous glass to the

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113

salutation of some passing Doves. “Our numbers aren’t so vast just
yet to make us strangers to one another.”

A sudden idea struck him. “How do you maintain a mental bond

between a dozen people? It’s hard enough in smaller numbers.” He
didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. For some reason, he was
quite sure that the idea of maintaining that sort of partnership and
retaining power was next to impossible.

“You’re a clever one. We give a part of ourselves to King

Desmond at the Ascension. Our souls are cleaved in two. His Majesty
consumes half of it. He is the link that binds us together. He ensures
we are all of one mind.”

A quiet horror filled Dru. That was wrong on so many levels. It

was fucking monstrous. No man should hold so much sway over one
man’s destiny. He turned from Rican and walked toward the exit. This
place wigged him out, and he was done with creepy rituals, Doves,
and stupid parties. He just wanted to go back to his room and sleep. A
hand clasped his shoulder, and he turned with an openmouthed growl
in the offender’s direction. Then he realized who he’d just snarled at.
Desmond. Fuck.

“Easy, Druas. I thought I saw you making a run for it and thought

to address you before you left,” the king said, a smile of amusement
on his face. He was dripping in things that sparkled. His crown,
necklace, and rings alone could probably feed Dru’s whole village for
a month. A resentment started to rise up, but then he got to the man’s
face.

He looked familiar somehow. His rusty-red hair and smooth

complexion was something right out of the memories that kept trying
to bubble to the surface. Had he loved this man? He felt like he had.
But not like a lover. No, he’d loved him like a friend, a brother, a
confidant. He bowed without thinking, his hand over his heart.

“My lord,” he said, “forgive my hurry. I just feel a little

overwhelmed.”

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Brown eyes regarded him. The color made him a little uneasy, but

he brushed it aside. Something in this place felt familiar, and he was
clinging to the feeling. “These things are quite stuffy, aren’t they? I
much prefer something simpler, but the nobility are fickle creatures
who are prone to excess.”

“I can see that,” Dru murmured. Was it appropriate to talk like

that with a king? Did he give a shit? Nope. I don’t give a shit. The
thought made a ghost of a smile coast across his lips.

The king reached out and took his hand. “Why don’t you and I go

on to my special party in the back? This is too much posturing even
for me to take.”

Dru hesitated for a moment. He couldn’t really say “no,” could

he? “Sure. That sounds good.” Maybe they’d have something a little
heartier to drink. Dru had the feeling that he was going to need it.

* * * *

Michel and Cord watched openmouthed as they came into camp.

Natiri had not returned in the fashion he’d left, that was for sure.

“Those are fucking dragons, Cord,” Michel said, his eyes wide.

“Real dragons.”

Cord stared just as intently as he did. “Yeah. They are. Um, close

your mouth, Michel. You’re gawking.”

All around them, the demons were obviously as spooked by the

appearance of several larger-than-life reptiles outside their
encampment. There wasn’t sign of Natiri yet, but the appearance of
the dragons had to mean he’d come back. At least that was what Cord
hoped.

“They pretty,” Hardwin said, clinging tightly to Michel’s pants

leg. Iso was likewise hanging onto Michel’s shirt as the other shifter
held him in his arms. Hardwin was right about them being pretty.
Iridescent scales of blue, green, black, red, and gold glittered in
Demontia’s morning sunlight. The wings of the creatures seemed to

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115

have the pearl quality of an opal, the color changing with every
movement in the light. If it weren’t for the wicked-looking teeth and
lack of emotion on their scaled faces, they’d be downright enchanting.
As it was, no one was chancing going near them and possibly
becoming lunch.

They were still a good fifty yards out of camp, but they were so

massive, the distance seemed insignificant. If they wanted to harm the
encampment, the demons had no chance in hades of being able to
defend themselves.

From the center circle of dragons, men emerged and began

making their way toward the camp.

Michel turned to the children. “Iso, Hardwin, you two get inside

the tent and wait for us there. There are a few games to play on the
table as well as things to write with.”

“But! Mi-mi!” Hardwin protested, obviously not wanting to miss

out in the excitement.

“No buts. You heard me. Either I can trust you to be a good boy

and stay in the tent like you’re told, or I can drop you back off at the
children’s tents and you can wait for us to finish speaking to the
dragons with no possibility of seeing them up close.” It was strange
that Cord found Michel’s “daddy” tone to be an absolute turn-on, but
he did. The fierce protectiveness in his voice sent off all kinds of
happy vibrations through his body.

“We stay. Be good,” Iso promised for the both of them, pressing a

kiss to Michel’s cheek that was designed to wrap Michel around his
little finger. It worked every time.

Cord watched Michel melt. “All right. Be good boys, and we’ll be

back soon. You can have some bread and cheese if you get hungry.”
He set the little ones down and shooed them into the tent. He looked
at Cord. “You think they’ll be all right?”

Cord nodded. “They’ll be fine. They’re good boys. Let’s go find

Natiri so we can get in touch with the other Ravyns.” He was eager to
get the twins somewhere safe and get on the path to Druas.

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Michel reached for his hand and Cord laced their fingers. Michel

smiled. “Love you, baby.”

“Love you, too, Michel.”

* * * *

Michel frowned. “What the hell do you mean that Natiri isn’t

coming back yet?” he demanded of the massive, nine-foot giant that
had climbed off the back of one of the blue dragons that had appeared
in the desert near the demon encampment. The dragons were even
bigger up close than they had been from afar. The smallest of them
was the size of a whale shark back home. Cord was staring at them
like he was scared they were going to eat him. Michel would’ve
understood the sentiment had he not been annoyed.

“He has been detained in the capital by one of our princes of the

Crimson kingdom,” the dark-haired, red-eyed emissary said, crossing
his massive, muscled arms over his wide chest.

“Why has he been detained? Did something go wrong with the

negotiations for troops? When is he coming back?” Michel asked. He
would not be intimidated by anyone, not even the dragon shifter.

The dragon nodded and had a smirk on his face that said he

appreciated Michel a bit for speaking his mind. “He hasn’t been
detained. He’s getting married to fulfill the agreement that was
arranged by your former king and the king of the Crimson kingdom.
Natiri is to marry the eldest of King Matra’s seven sons. He’ll be back
after the honeymoon. King Matra sent us on as a good-faith reward.
There are seven of us, and the rest of the army will be here within the
week.”

“So he’ll be here within a week?” Michel tried not to show the

annoyance over having to wait yet another week to go after Dru. They
didn’t know if there was a time constraint, but the sense of urgency
was definitely there.

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117

“Time passes differently between planes, but the portal they are to

pass through will definitely will open within a week.” The dragon
paused. “Were you waiting on something other than Natiri’s return?”

Cord spoke before Michel could. “Our mate was taken by Doves

two weeks ago. We felt him recently and have been eager to get in
touch with the other Ravyns so we can go after him.”

The dragon seemed surprised. “Your mate? You must be

dedicated to the cause to hold off on seeking him out. Dragons are
fiercely protective of their mates. It is good to see that the demons are
as dedicated to this as we dragons will be. Our king was right about
your kind, and I’m glad about it.” He stretched out his hand, and
Michel shook it. “If you need to contact the Ravyns, myself or my
brother, Lager, can help you out.”

Relief flooded Michel. “We would appreciate it a lot. I’m sorry.

What was your name again?”

“I am Rasta. My dwelling will be the red-and-gold one when it is

erected. Come back tonight after the meals, and we will speak further.
I need to help my men get everything erected.”

That was a dismissal if Michel had ever heard one, so he dragged

a protesting Cord away from the dragon, who had immediately started
shouting at dragons in a guttural language that sounded more like
animal snarls than any language either man had ever heard.

“I wish he would’ve gone ahead and let us contact the Ravyns,”

Cord griped as they trudged back across the separating expanse of
desert and back into the demon camp.

“Hey, at least we get to contact them tonight. He could’ve made

us wait until Natiri returned. Druas will only have to wait a bit longer
on us,” Michel reminded. It was unusual for him to be the level-
headed one. He’d finally found the one thing that Cord was
unreasonable about, his mates. Michel had to admit that it was a good
thing to be unreasonable about.

* * * *

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Night couldn’t fall fast enough. Cord was almost squirming in

impatience by the time the meals were served, the children were in
bed back at the tent, and Michel had agreed that it was appropriate
that they make their way back to Rasta and the dragons’ camp. It had
to be obvious to the local authorities that the desert people were
building an army by now, but if so, they either weren’t taking it
seriously or were ignoring it. Both possibilities made Cord a little
nervous. He took a deep breath. One problem at a time, Cord.

His eyes widened as they approached the vastly illuminated camp.

What had taken the demons all day to put up, the dragons had
managed to do in a matter of hours. Every tent was the size of
Natiri’s, and everyone seemed to represent the allegiance of whatever
dragon had taken up residence in it. They were a kaleidoscope of
green, blue, red, gold, and a dark chocolate accented in gold topped
with crests and flags. Torches were placed at every ten feet in such
regularity that Cord was sure that it was measured somehow.

“Rasta wasn’t kidding when he said his tent would be impossible

to miss,” Michel murmured, looking ahead of them on the lighted
path. Cord followed his gaze and saw exactly what his mate meant.
His mouth hung open at the sheer massiveness of the tent at the center
of the camp. It would definitely fit a dragon in it and was bright red
with gold-and-black metallic trim with a massive red-and-gold dragon
painted on the side of the red material. Torches lined the entire tent,
illuminating every stylized nuance of the cloth.

“Where did they stash the fabric for all this crap?” Cord

wondered, looking around. It would take a boatload of transportation
vehicles to be able to move all this stuff.

Michel shrugged. “Gods only know. I mean, they’re the oldest

species in the universe and magick as hell. Who knows? Maybe they
have a big magick bag or something.”

“Or something,” Rasta said, stepping out of the front of the tent, if

the sheer size of it even qualified it as one, and came toward them.

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119

“I’m glad you’ve returned, friends. Let us get you the means to find
your mate. Shall we?” It was the best suggestion Cord had heard all
night.

They followed him through the open tent flap and onto a plush

red-and-gold carpet. Cord was immediately struck by the sheer
opulence of the room. It even had a hanging light from the center
beam of the ceiling. There were no tables inside. Instead, there were a
few lap desks and literally hundreds of pillows in various sizes and
colors scattered on the posh carpeting. Dragons apparently loved to be
comfortable. To one side of the tent were four huge chests of gods
knew what, and near them, five other men played some kind of dice
game on a hard wooden mat.

“My mates,” Rasta said by way of introduction.
Michel’s mouth went slack. “All of them?”
Rasta nodded. “They are my Clutch, my warriors, and my lovers.

Most dragon warriors have one if they are noble enough. The
exception is our princes. It is believed that the princes are better
leaders when they only have one or, at most, two mates to look after.
Most nobility do not have the responsibilities of royalty.”

“So you’re a noble?” Michel asked. Rasta nodded again. “That’s

unusual. In our world, the nobles sit back and watch the commoners
fight their wars.”

Rasta snorted. “A noble who doesn’t either mate a warrior or

become one himself is banished from our ranks. Dragons have no
tolerance for such cowardice.” He raised his head and nodded to the
biggest male in the group, who gave him a little wave in return.

“And I thought our matings were complicated,” Cord murmured.

He couldn’t imagine keeping up with five other mates. That was just
insane.

There was a black circle of pillows on the white carpet to the

right, and it was there that Rasta led them. At the center of the circle
was a softly glowing orb held up on a wooden pedestal.

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“Dragons have mastered interplanar communication. I’m happy to

help you contact your fellow warriors. Sit down on the pillows and
I’ll set up the link. You’re contacting Earth?”

Cord nodded. “Yes.”
“Great. Give me two minutes.”
His impatience grew with each passing second. Cord tried to

distract himself, but he tapped on his thigh, drumming out a beat in an
effort to keep him mind from wandering into “what-if” territory.

“Okay. I’m connected. You need to think of your Ravyns so I can

hone in on them. Earth is a big plane,” Rasta said.

The glow from the orb increased, becoming a yellow wall that

almost completely obscured Rasta, who sat across from them. It
pulsed white, then soft blue. Like the static of a television, it fuzzed
for a second and then, as if it tuned into the correct channel, it cleared,
and Cord found himself staring at Allasandro as he came out of the
studio where he and Damian often worked on their singing. They
were at the theater.

“Uh, hi,” Allasandro said, staring at them curiously. “Michel?

Cord? What are you doing in the hallway?”

“We’re communicating through this dragon ball thing,” Michel

said articulately. Cord rolled his eyes. He should’ve at least given its
proper name…not that they knew it.

Allasandro’s eyes widened almost comically. “You’re using an

Orb of Dragos? Fucking awesome! That’s hella cool!” He frowned
suddenly. “Wait a second, where’s Druas?”

“He’s been taken by the Doves,” Cord said softly.
Ally immediately let out a string of curses that were so violent

that Cord winced at their expression. “Motherfucker! Is he—” He
swallowed. “Is he alive?”

Michel nodded. “We know he’s alive. We suspect that Desmond

is keeping him prisoner and trying to get information out of him or
something.”

“Hold on. I have to get the others,” Ally said.

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Cord felt him reaching along the bond toward the other members

of the Ravyns. The connection actually gave him a measure of
comfort. It was the first time Cord realized the strain of being
separated from the rest of the Ravyns. They hadn’t been kidding when
they said the connection was deep. When Druas had come to them
and asked if they wanted to join the Ravyns on a permanent basis,
Cord and Michel had said yes automatically. They got along with the
other warriors, and they knew that, being members of the
brotherhood, they would be in constant and close contact with their
mate. It had been a no-brainer. The true depths of the connection
hadn’t been obvious until now.

Within a second, Germany appeared beside Allasandro, and Alex

flashed in a second later with Dageus. Cord frowned. How the hell
had Germany done that?

“Oh, by the way, Germany is kind of a vampire now. Just thought

you should know,” Ally explained, reading Cord’s mind.

“Um, okay. Congratulations, Ger,” Cord said, looking at the

quietest Ravyn strangely. He wondered who he’d mated to get turned.

“Dru hasn’t been in contact. We’ve only felt flickers of him from

time to time, which means he’s either incapacitated in a way that
keeps him from calling out to us or unconscious a good amount of the
time,” Michel said, turning their attention back to the problem at
hand.

“Okay. We need to move fast because I’m afraid Desmond won’t

keep him too much longer,” Dageus said. “I’ll go to Tony in the faery
world and get his opinion on how to proceed. Ally, you need to stay
here and hold down the fort in case we need some correspondences
between the worlds. Ger, I need you to go on to Demontia and help
Michel and Cord out.”

Ger nodded. “That’s fine. I need to go there anyway. I promised

the vampire Helios that I would take him to the demon realm as part
of the bargain with the Council, so that’ll work out nicely. I’ll drop
him off in the city and go over to Michel and Cord.”

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“Do you really think you should waste time taking some vampire

into Demontia while Druas is probably being tortured somewhere?”
Michel snapped. Cord looked at him in surprise. His mate had been so
level headed in this entire situation that Cord hadn’t realized that he
was that close to losing his temper.

Dageus frowned. “Dru knew the risks of being a Ravyn. He knew

the risks going into Demontia. He is a Ravyn. He’ll hold onto life as
long as he is able. It’s his duty.”

“If it were Master Alex in danger, would you be so nonchalant?”

Michel asked.

Dageus’s frown deepened. “Of course not, but Alex is my lover,

not another Ravyn warrior.”

“Then you should understand our position. Dru is our mate and a

Ravyn. Every second you waste getting here is another second that
our lover is in immediate danger,” Michel said, glaring at the other
Ravyns. A flicker of shock went across each of their faces in turn
before resolve took its place.

“I’ll get there as soon as I’m able, Michel,” Germany reassured. “I

will be there tomorrow. Be ready to leave when I arrive.”

Cord nearly sagged in relief. They were going to fetch their lover.

It was going to be okay. An idea occurred to him. “Wait, we need to
get the children to Earth.” Everyone on the other side of the
connection froze.

“Children?” Allasandro asked.
“Yes. We sort of…adopted two,” Cord said, blushing lightly. He

didn’t know what he had to be embarrassed about, but he was. “Could
you watch them while we get Dru? Iso and Hardwin are really sweet
boys.”

Allasandro grinned. “Seems to me that all the Ravyns are

warming up to the idea of family. Yeah, I’ll come get them now
before everyone leaves. I’ve already got babysitting duty for Jeremy
while Ger’s gone, so it won’t be an issue to have a couple more.

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123

Santiago would watch him full time, but it’s hard for him to maintain
his insane training schedule with Jeremy underfoot.”

“Jeremy?” Cord asked.
“Yep, little smart-ass that belongs to Santiago and Ger. He’s a

cute kid. He’ll love having someone else around. How old are they?”
Allasandro asked.

“Four. They’re twins.”
Allasandro nodded. “Yeah, Damian is going to love me for this.

He has been chomping at the bit to have some little ones underfoot.
Okay, give me a second, I have to work up the spell.” He disappeared
from view after that.

Cord looked at Michel. “Should I go get the twins?”
“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll talk strategy with Ger while you’re gone and

fill you in when you get back,” Michel said. He leaned forward and
pressed a kiss to Cord’s cheek. Cord looked toward the Ravyns again
who were watching their interaction with curiosity.

“You both are his mates?” Ger asked. Cord nodded. He was proud

of the fact.

Dageus smiled. “It makes sense. Dru always was more primal

than the rest of us, and shifters always mate in threes. I’m glad it was
you two.”

“Thanks, brother,” Cord murmured. “You guys rock.” He pushed

himself to his feet, nodded to Rasta on the other side of the orb, and
took off at a jog toward the exit and the demon encampment.

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Chapter Thirteen

Druas woke and still felt drunk. The more-potent alcohol of the

private party Desmond threw in the back chambers had gone to his
head faster than anything Dru could ever remember drinking. They’d
smoked too much, drank too much, and gambled far too much as the
night had worn on. He did feel a little closer to the men who were
supposedly his brothers-in-arms, but something just felt like it was
missing.

He opened his eyes in his still-darkened bedroom and let the

world spin. He felt empty, so very empty. He rubbed the place on his
chest above his heart and wondered if it was possible to miss
something that he couldn’t remember. The dream he’d had the other
night replayed in his mind. The gorgeous, blond-haired giant had held
him so nicely. Maybe the dream man was an old lover or something.
It had felt right to be held by him. The worry had melted away. His
eyes slid shut once again.

Unbidden, an entirely new image ghosted up into his mind.

Whether it was fantasy or memory, he wasn’t sure, but it made his
arousal go from zero to a hundred in five seconds flat.

Dru worked his hips forward, shoving his hard cock deep into the

willing channel of his smaller lover’s tight ass. A carefully positioned
mirror let him have a full view of the blond-haired giant from his
dream’s tight buttock and thighs as he bent forward and sucked the
smaller man Dru was buried inside.

“Fuck yeah,” Dru murmured aloud, his hand finding his dick

beneath the heavy coverlet.

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125

“Dru,” the smaller man gasped, throwing his head back so that it

rested against Druas’s shoulder. He squeezed his ass rhythmically
around Dru’s plunging length, and Dru couldn’t help but moan at the
sensation. He watched as his lover’s hands wound in the big blond’s
hair and fucked himself between the lush lips wrapped around him.

“Mine,” Dru growled aloud as he tightened his grip on his

dripping arousal. With the other hand, he reached down and fondled
his already-tight balls. “Both mine.” He shuddered. The words felt
right. The fantasy shifted.

The blond giant was behind him, fucking his ass hard as the

smaller lover fucked his mouth. Dru felt like a receptacle of pleasure.
He felt out of control, and to be able to let go and let himself just take
the pleasure given to him by his lovers was a hot experience. He
grunted as the man behind him scored his prostate with every forward
lunge.

He begged with his body for them to come. To fill him up. He

wanted to taste his smaller lover on his tongue while his other one
filled up his clenching ass. So much pleasure. I don’t want it to ever
end. He was delirious with the need to come. The salty taste of his
lover’s pleasure splashed against his lapping tongue, and his eyes
rolled into his head. The telltale jet of fluid into his needy hole set him
on fire.

Dru shouted, coming apart at the seams and jetting into the tight

circle of his fists as he jerked himself hard at the mental images
flickering in rapid succession through his mind. He panted hard as he
tried to regain his mind and his breath.

Afterward, he lay there, just letting the relaxation of the

endorphins content him for a moment. At least he knew for sure one
thing about himself. He liked boys. A lot. He chuckled at the thought.
Well, he liked two boys in particular. He wondered if they’d show up
at some point once he wasn’t under “supervision” by King Desmond
and the other Doves. He hoped so.

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* * * *

Someone had replaced his uniform from the night before with

some “casual” court clothes which were still of better quality than
anything he remembered owning before. He fingered the gray-and-
black outfit. It was soft, flexible, too. The material was definitely
fighting friendly. Beside the outfit was a one-handed axe made of
demon alloy. Dru picked it up and swung it experimentally. It felt
awkward in his hand, as if his body didn’t remember the weapon at
all. He frowned. They would know that he wasn’t used to using it,
wouldn’t they? If they worked together so closely, they would give
him his favored weapon. He swung the axe again and nearly hit his
leg. No. The muscles of his body didn’t remember this weapon at all.
It was puzzling.

With a mental shrug, he dropped the sheet he’d wrapped around

his waist and shimmied into the shirt and pants, taking time to lace up
the new boots they’d left for him as well that came up to his knees.
He frowned. Had they had nothing of his to give him? The boots were
clearly new, not used to his feet. Everything about this felt new.

A sharp knock to the door had him looking up an instant before

Crave stuck his head in and gave him a once-over. “Looking good,
Druas,” he said. “His Majesty wants you to keep him company at
Court today. He’s supposed to hand out assignments after he hears the
nobles.”

“Okay. One of the servants will show me to the throne room?”

Dru asked.

“Yep. Just ring them on the side bell when you’re ready.” Crave

waved his hand and then closed the door behind him once again. Dru
let out a breath that he didn’t know that he was holding. He seemed to
tense up whenever the Doves were around for some odd reason. He
shook his head to get rid of the sensation. He needed to relax.

The thought that he’d soon be bound to Desmond like the other

Doves shouldn’t fill him with such ill ease. He’d done it before, even

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127

if he couldn’t remember it. Maybe he’d feel differently after the
ceremony. They’d all talked excitedly about it last night. Two more
days of confusion and then he would be a part of them once more.

He felt weary at the prospect, though. So long as Prince Salvatore

was still alive, which the magicians had learned from his memories
was still the case, there would never be true peace in Demontia. This
tension and threat of war between the two monarchs was making the
entire country tense, and it had been in even the scope of Druas’s
memory.

“Once Salvatore is dead, we can all take a break from the life of

an on-call warrior, my friend,” Crave had said. “Help us do that and
we can all settle down and only be called in times of necessity. Maybe
we could even find families of our own, eh?”

The idea sounded great to Dru. Peace was the desire of any

warrior with a lick of sense. War was a tool, a necessary evil. Peace
was the goal of any conflict. He belted his trousers and put the axe
and dagger on his right and left side. A quick glance in the mirror was
a disorienting experience. He raked a hand through his sleep-
roughened hair and tugged on the outfit that was decorated in the
colors of the king. Somehow he would push aside his discomfort and
make that dream a reality. The rebels wouldn’t know what hit them.

* * * *

“You behave for Uncle Ally-cat, okay?” Michel asked, kissing Iso

and Hardwin each in turn before handing them over to Allasandro,
who stood before the opened bolt hole that led back to Earth. The
villagers in charge of the orphaned children had been informed of
their decision to move Iso and Hardwin to Earth since the conflict was
heating up, and they had agreed.

“Hurry it up, you two. I gotta get back and holding this gate open

is a bitch, er, a pain,” Ally said as Cord once again stepped forward to
kiss the little ones. Michel knew it was silly, but he was already

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intensely attached to the twins. He hoped Dru would be as happy
about them as he was. At least they’d have the journey back to get
him used to the idea before springing it on him.

“Thanks again for doing this, Allasandro,” Cord said as Iso started

to silently cry.

Ally hefted Hardwin higher up on his hip and gave him a squeeze.

“No problem. We’re Ravyns. We always stick together. Whatever
you guys need, I’ll do.” He grinned. “Besides, I don’t mind playing
babysitter. It gives me good practice.” He turned his attention to the
twins. “Don’t worry, you guys. We’ll have a blast at the theater.” He
looked back to Cord and Michel. “Bring back Dru, guys.”

“We will,” Michel reassured. The portal widened and engulfed the

Ravyn and the twins, and in another blink they were gone.

“I can’t maintain the communication much longer, Ravyns. I’m

getting tired,” Rasta said from the other side of the orb. He sounded a
little strained.

“We’ll talk to you guys later,” Michel said, addressing the two

other Ravyns. “And we’ll see you tomorrow, Germany.”

Germany nodded. “Yes. I’ll be there around noon. Be ready to

leave. Have a couple of Adamar ready to go when I arrive.”

“Will do,” Cord said.
They waved at one another, and the connection blinked out. The

Ravyns’ bond shuddered and then once again went silent. Shit. That
was a weird sensation.

Michel looked over at Rasta who was sagging on the pillows

across from them. “You okay?”

The dragon nodded. “Yes. I think so. Very tiring to keep the

portals open. But that’s all right.”

“Our clutch mate is a believer in the sanctity of the bond.

Romantic to the core,” the biggest male out of Rasta’s clutch said,
coming up behind Rasta’s exhausted body and scooping him up like
he weighed next to nothing. “Go, Ravyns. We need to tend our mate.”

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129

Michel understood the need to take care of one’s mate better than

anyone. He nodded and took Cord’s hand. Tomorrow couldn’t come
soon enough.

* * * *

Once the nobles had filed out of the throne room and the dozen or

so Doves were left kneeling on the runner on the floor in front of the
throne, Desmond turned his attention to them. Dru was secretly
seething.

The king had been a real asshole all through Court. The nobles

who held his favor won every dispute, regardless of the fairness of the
proceedings. The people who had legitimate complaint were not
allowed a voice at all. Instead, the common man had to file some kind
of report which His Majesty would review at his convenience, aka
never. Everyone seemed to be viewing the interaction as par for the
course, but Dru was sick of it. The division between the king and
everyone else was obvious, and the king apparently followed no one’s
laws, not even his own.

The Doves he hadn’t met last night were in attendance of Court

today. Some of them practically reeked of bad energy, going so far as
to brag about the evils they’d inflicted on others to the delight of the
listening nobility. It was disgusting.

The king began his address. “All right, gentlemen, your

assignments are as follows. Ced’s unit is going to one of the Northern
provincial regions and taking care of an uprising there. Apparently,
there is a bread riot or something. Anyway, it’s causing noise. Take
care of it.”

A group of Doves stood, and a short fellow who had to be Ced

spoke. “Yes, my lord. Right away.” They marched out of the throne
room quickly.

“Next, it has been brought to my attention that there is an army

gathering in the southlands. The rebels are finally making their move.

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I hadn’t anticipated quite the showing. Crave, you and your men go
into the camp discreetly. Kill the leaders. That should break their
backs. They apparently learned little since the last time you went into
their camps.” Desmond grinned, and the expression was far from
pleasant. “Take Druas with you. Show them that their work has been
undone.” He paused. “That is, if you’re up to the task, Druas?”

Dru considered it. The thought of staying here and having to deal

with more obnoxious parties, spoiled nobility, or Desmond’s
corruption didn’t appeal. “I’ll go,” he said. Rican elbowed him. “Er,
my lord.”

“Excellent! Then we’ll do the binding now instead of in a few

days.” Desmond pushed himself from his throne and pulled out a
bejeweled dagger.

Crave’s eyes widened. “But, Your Majesty, the magicians said

that he wouldn’t be ready, that he’d still be vulnerable.”

Desmond waved a hand in dismissal. “Old men know little of the

binding arts. Druas, give me your hand.”

Dru hesitated a second before presenting it to the approaching

king. Crave cursed softly before grabbing Dru’s hand and entwining
their fingers. Dru shot him a What-the-fuck-are-you-doing look but
didn’t say anything. Desmond pulled a necklace from beneath his
robes that glowed a red-hot light.

“What the hell is that?” Druas asked, his insides screaming that he

should get the fuck away from whatever that light was now.

“This is a necklace known as the Amani-Ra, the stone of souls.

My soul rests inside,” Desmond explained, a weird grin still plastered
on his face.

“As well as pieces of ours,” Crave murmured, his eyes glued to

the floor and not the king.

“It is why they are all of the same mind, Druas. Because their

minds are mine. Right and wrong do not matter. Only my will has
sway over their actions.” King Desmond motioned him to lift his hand

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131

higher. Druas started to sweat. Fuck. He didn’t want him to touch him
with that. “Don’t worry. This doesn’t hurt.”

Dru so didn’t believe him. Crave squeezed his hand hard, and

their eyes met for a brief second. Pity swam in the depths of the
Dove’s eyes. Yeah, this wasn’t fucking happening. He shoved away
from the king, backpedaling away from him and the maniacal look in
his eyes. Other hands grabbed him, forcing him back into position.

“I like my soul where the fuck it’s at, thanks!” Dru snapped,

struggling against the dozens of arms that held him in place.

“Don’t worry, Druas,” Crave murmured, still holding onto Dru’s

hand. “You won’t mind afterward.”

“I mind now, fucktard! Get the hell off me!” Dru shouted, fear

swamping him. This felt wrong so very, very wrong. The glow of the
necklace grew brighter, nearly blinding in its intensity now. This can’t
happen. I’ve got to get back to them. Get back to my mates. He wasn’t
even sure what that meant, but he knew that whoever he spoke of was
the most important thing in his life. An image of the blond men he’d
been with in his fantasies came into his mind the same instant that the
king’s blade pierced through his hand and Crave’s in one downward
motion.

Druas screamed as the light from the necklace seemed to engulf

the entire room. A strange tearing noise filled his ears, and the
pounding of his heart was so brutal he was sure he was going to go
into cardiac arrest. He felt like he was spiraling downward, falling
forever. His voice echoed down the chasm that threatened to engulf
him. Yet, something tethered him in place despite the downward rush.

He felt the cord inside him, focused on it, the blue-white light of it

keeping in place as pieces of him were sucked into the vortex of the
king’s making. He would never touch this part, it was a part that
didn’t even belong to him anymore. It belonged to the two men in his
dreams. The men he…loved?

A scream was wrenched from him as Crave’s blood mingled with

his own. It felt like acid burning his skin. The sensation traveled up

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his arm and into his chest. Still, he held onto the blue rope inside him.
He felt so small now, so insignificant. He wrapped himself up in the
comfort of the blue-white light and whimpered, praying for relief.

From the shadows of his mind, where all the stuff that had made

him who he was once stood, came a man who looked frighteningly
like him. Except an aura of pure darkness clung to him like a second
skin. He smiled at Dru, the only part of Dru that had been left in the
king’s wake.

“Who are you?” Druas asked the creature in his mind.
“I’m Druas,” the being replied, grinning. Dru shuddered. This is

so fucked. “Sleep now, boy. Sleep and let me do the will of the Lord.”
Dru was so tired, the suggestion actually made sense. He didn’t want
to see the monster that wore his face anymore anyway. He shut his
eyes. Please, he thought. Michel, Cord, forgive me.

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Chapter Fourteen

The Adamar were saddled and ready to go when Germany came

into camp the next day. The warriors had been told that Natiri would
be returning soon and they were to carry on as usual until either the
Ravyns or Natiri returned. Hunting parties had been brought in to
gather supplies in the mountains for the camp, but for the most part,
their supplies were fine. Cord was relieved that everything seemed to
be in place, and Michel seemed to be perfectly happy to turn it over to
the demon warriors for a few days. Even the dragons seemed content
to let them go on ahead since everything was right on schedule and in
place.

Ger swung himself onto the back of the dark green Adamar with

the grace of someone who had done it more times than Cord could
count. “While I was in the western province of Verna, I heard that
they took the prisoners to the capital. It’s going to be hell to find him
in the city, but I think with my connections I can find a way in. It’ll
actually help that you two are shifters. That’ll at least get us in the
city. You two can pose as my slaves,” Ger said, adjusting the side
saddles so that they were more evenly weighted on both sides.
“Shifters are the favored slaves of the Demontian nobles currently.
They think of them as exotic pets.” He shot a look at them sideways.
“Sorry about that, guys.”

Cord shrugged. “Whatever we have to do to get Dru back, we’ll

do. I don’t give a crap if I have to pose as a tranny, I’m game.”

“Agreed,” Michel seconded. He mounted his own Adamar and

frowned. “Though to be honest, I make one hell of an ugly woman.
Just so we know.”

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Ger sniggered a little bit. “Yeah, no doubt.” Cord climbed onto

Star’s back and petted the Adamar’s neck as he did so. He had
dreamed of Dru all night last night and was giving all the credit to
Star, despite the silliness of the superstition.

“Ready to go?” Michel asked.
“Yep,” Cord answered automatically, eagerly, too, if truth be told.
Ger smiled. “Absolutely. Follow me?”
Michel squeezed his thighs together and clicked to the Adamar in

a fashion that perfectly imitated the sounds the desert people made to
urge the beasts on. “Sure thing, Ger. Lead on.”

Cord patted Star’s rump. “All righty, Star, let’s get moving.”
“You’re too gentle with that horse, Cord,” Michel called back,

laughing.

“Bite me, mate. Bite me real hard.” The words were offset by the

playful tone he used. Ger laughed at both of them and smacked his
Adamar’s flank. It bolted, thundering down the path that led out of the
encampment. Cord watched him in admiration as Ger maneuvered the
horse expertly.

“Show off!” Michel called after Germany. He sat back in the

saddle and gave a sigh. “I’m not breaking my neck to keep up with
him.”

Cord laughed at how jealous Michel looked. “Yeah, well, he’ll

slow down outside camp if he wants us to come with.”

“You know, I always wanted to learn to ride as a kid,” Michel

admitted as they plodded out of camp.

Cord turned to him in surprise. “You never told me that.” They’d

practically grown up together. He’d thought he’d known everything
about his mate.

Michel shrugged. “There was no reason to say anything. Horses

back home are terrified of our kind.”

“We should take a couple Adamar with us when we get a place on

Earth,” Cord said. If it made his mates happy, they could have a

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whole stable. Plus, the Adamar were a part of Iso and Hardwin’s
heritage, and Cord wanted to preserve that.

Michel shot him a look. “Well, I’d agree, but Druas wants to live

in Demontia.”

“Oh, yeah, I’d forgotten he’d said that.” Cord thought about living

here, and the thought didn’t thrill him. He loved the people and loved
that they’d come together here in Druas’s native land. But if they
stayed here permanently, he’d miss the clan and the vampires, the
Earth and all of its conveniences.

“Maybe we can get two different residences. Like one of them can

be a vacation house or something,” Michel suggested, obviously
noting Cord’s expression.

“How are we going to afford that, Michel? We’re essentially

bodyguards. Our salaries could barely afford a place near Haven.
How would we scrape enough together to be able to purchase two
houses?” Cord asked. They were legitimate questions. He’d had
enough stresses on this trip without worrying about what they’d do
when they got home. When they’d first come together, everything had
seemed rosy, but what if they got Druas back only to have him leave
them over something silly like where they were going to live…

“Cord, we will confront the problem when it gets here. You are

borrowing trouble. Nothing matters but being together. We will tackle
these issues together as a family.” Michel’s voice was beyond
reproach. He was deathly serious, and Cord knew that tone well. It
was the Cord-you’re-being-a-worrywart-stop-it voice. Cord
sometimes let himself get wound up over things in the future. Michel
was right. He needed to calm down. Dru was going to be excited to
see them. There was no way he’d be anything less.

* * * *

“Give me a demon sword,” Dru commanded, taking off the axe

and tossing it to the side in the armory.

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Crave gave him an odd look. “No one uses demon swords.

They’re the weapons of the Ravyns, our enemies. We use axes or
scimitars.”

Dru shrugged. “I don’t give a shit. I want a demon sword. I can

use it.”

“You really were a Ravyn, weren’t you?” Crave asked, looking

out at him behind lowered lashes.

Dru shut his own eyes, and something in his chest gave a painful

spasm. Immediately, he felt Desmond inside his mind smoothing
things down. “I don’t know. Doesn’t matter now, though.” The only
thing that mattered was serving Desmond and killing anyone who
opposed him. “Whatever I was, whoever I was, is dead. Now give me
the damn sword.”

Crave nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Dru listened to him bang around in one of the many alcoves the

armory and tapped his foot in impatience. They needed to get moving.
Everything was in place for the spell that would take them within a
few miles of the enemy’s camp. The rest of the strike team was
waiting for them.

“Hurry up, Crave,” Dru demanded. He could feel Desmond’s

desire to kill those who stood against him. The urge, the want,
pounded through his veins like the thickest of liquids. It clogged up
his mind until he could think of nothing else.

“The urges get easier to handle. It’s overwhelming at first.

Especially when he wants to fuck or fight. But it does get easier,”
Crave said, coming out of one of the smaller rooms with a sword
resting casually on his shoulder. “How’s this look to fight with, big
boy?”

Druas grinned. “Looks fucking fantastic.” The sludge in his veins

sang.

* * * *

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137

He wrapped the cloth around his face and tried to remind himself

that the cloaks that Crave handed out were supposed to obscure their
power signatures as they approached the massive camp. It was
infinitely larger than it had been purported to be. Even from this
distance, it was obviously several thousand people. Getting into the
center and taking out the leaders was going to be harder than they’d
originally planned.

“Hold!” Crave’s sharp bark drew his attention toward the front of

the procession and halted his forward progress.

“We’ve got three riders heading out of the enemy camp.” The

hissing voice of the shadow who traveled with him made Dru’s teeth
on edge. He’d taken an instant dislike to him and his fighting partner,
Trat. But they were his brothers, so he might as well get used to them.

“Leave them. Who cares about three strays?” one of the Doves

rumbled from behind him.

“They could be messengers. It might be wise of us to take any

dispatches from them,” Dru said, fingering the hilt of his demon
sword. The scythe-like implement on his back would get good use
today. He was almost giddy in anticipation. Desmond’s bloodlust was
thick.

“What the hell would the newling know?” The Dove who’d said

to leave the three riders sneered.

Dru turned and let the maniacal grin stretch his lips so that his

expression was almost feral. “Enough to realize that letting our
enemies receive messages from their base is stupid. Communication
is the key to winning battles. But please, keep up the protests. They’ll
have cavalry here before we take the first rebel down, and my sword
will have more lives to take.”

“Druas is right, Hex. We take them out now,” Crave agreed, his

voice full of authority. “If His Majesty knows we didn’t kill anyone
who could be important, he’ll be unhappy.” The idea of Desmond’s
unhappiness made them shudder in unison. When Desmond wasn’t
happy, no one was fucking happy.

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Dru drew his weapon. “Plan?”
“Three of us will strike from the front, and the rest will hang back

in case we need assistance. Those of you who aren’t doing the frontal
assault will circle behind and keep them from retreating.” Crave
slapped Dru on the back. “Since the young blood is eager for battle,
he will accompany myself and Gorgeous.”

Gorgeous turned out to be the hulking man who took up the rear

of their group. He wasn’t as tall as Dru, but he was almost twice as
thick through the shoulders, which was saying something, because
Dru was far from a tiny guy. His nickname was obvious. While he
had the body of a warrior, he had the countenance of a courtesan. It
almost hurt to look at him he was so good looking. Apple-green eyes,
dark hair, and a deep tan complexion made Gorgeous something out
of any red-blooded male’s wet dream.

“He gets embarrassed if you stare at him,” Crave said, walking

beside Dru as they came at the riders at an angle so it wasn’t obvious
if they happened to see past the thick magick disguises. “Our
Gorgeous has a bit of an ugly-duckling syndrome. He wasn’t always
so pretty.”

“He was an ugly duckling?” Dru asked in disbelief. There was no

way. No one that good looking was ever anything less than beautiful.

Crave nodded. “Apparently. He was cursed with that face of his.

Some kind of faery thing who Gorgeous’s father screwed over cursed
his first-born child. He was given infinite, unending beauty, but it
came with a price. No one can look at Gorgeous without wanting to
yield to him, but Gorgeous desires only to yield to another who is
stronger than him. That man was given his size and strength but no
desire to use it. So he never finds satisfaction. King Desmond drafted
him into the Doves years ago.”

“Seems like an interesting problem to have.” Dru recalled his own

dreams of “yielding” and shuddered at the memory. Yielding was fun
but so was taking. Dru needed both to be at peace.

Crave shrugged. “Some would say it is. I feel bad for him.”

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“Why did you join the Doves?” Dru wondered. Crave wasn’t a

bad guy. He didn’t seem to be particularly malevolent or anything.

“I wanted to bring glory to my family name. I’m a commoner by

birth and knew of no other way to gain nobility. I joined the Doves
when I turned eighteen.” Crave said it in the nonchalant way of a man
unattached to the event. There was no pride in his voice, only fact.
The lack of emotion, more than anything, made Dru wonder what
Crave had done to cause him to regret his joining.

“Get ready,” Gorgeous said. His voice was beautiful, deep, like

velvet-lined fur or something. Dru looked at him. Damn. That man
has a beautiful voice. Apple eyes turned to him. “Look on, newling.
The riders approach.”

Dru turned his attention back to their objectives and tensed,

readying to strike.

* * * *

Michel sniffed the air, and a low growl worked itself out of his

throat to play on the dry desert air.

“Hold on, Ger. Someone is up ahead waiting on us.” Michel spoke

the words and scanned the horizon, slowing his Adamar with a pull of
the reins.

“I don’t sense anyone,” Ger admitted, his eyes scanning the area

as well. He sniffed. “I smell something faintly, but my nose is
nowhere near as good as Dageus’s. Can you tell where?”

“Up ahead on the right. They smell like anger and bloodlust. They

mean to overtake us.” Michel was sure of it.

“Hmmm, I hope they like sun bathing, because my power is going

to give them a tan. Might spook the Adamar, though. Should we hop
off and leave them here for the charge?” Ger asked.

“It seems reasonable. They’ll be easy to round up if we do it like

that. Besides, they might get hurt if we stay on their backs when they
attack us,” Cord piped up. Leave it up to Cord to be worried about the

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damn horses. Michel couldn’t help but smile at that. Cord may be a
warrior, but he was the most tenderhearted warrior he’d ever met.

“Agreed. You two shift, and I’ll cover you with my power,” Ger

instructed, sliding off his Adamar to the ground. “They’ll probably
see us coming.”

“Let them see and let them be afraid,” Michel rumbled, leaping

off his Adamar and kicking off his clothing. In seconds, he was naked
and shifting. Cord followed his lead and did the same. Ger looked
ahead and took out his demon sword, swirling it in a graceful arc.

“Here they come,” the quietest Ravyn said.
Michel was not in the mood to deal with stupidity today. Every

delay was another second they weren’t in pursuit of Druas. He gave a
jaguar battle cry and rushed at the three figures who appeared in his
line of sight. They were dead men walking. They just didn’t know it
yet.

* * * *

Dru saw the massive gold-and-spotted jaguar collide with

Gorgeous and sink its massive claws into his arms. The dripping
fangs snapped at Gorgeous’s face, and the impact forced Gorgeous to
the ground where they proceeded to struggle.

“Shifters!” Crave shouted, swinging his axe at the cat on

Gorgeous’s back.

No shit! Dru thought as another shifter barreled toward him. He

managed to deflect it with his sword, an arc of blood following the
action. He’d nicked it. A thrill shot through him, and Desmond’s
desire to end the lives of his enemies pulsed through his being. The
cat landed on its feet but was limping now. Dru circled it, growling as
he did so. The damn cloaks they were wearing made movement more
difficult, but he couldn’t exactly call a time-out so that he could throw
it off.

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A glimmer of movement in his peripheral vision had him dodging

to the left as another demon sword made a dangerous arc toward him.
He felt the breeze off the weapon as it moved past him. He snarled
and made a hard swing. It was another demon. As their blades crashed
together, a flicker of uncertainty filled Dru. This felt really damn
familiar. He looked at the face of his enemy.

“Ravyn.” He said the word, knowing in the depths of his soul that

was who he faced. These were Salvatore’s legendary warriors. He’d
felt their blades come together before. He was sure of it. They’d
fought.

Gorgeous screamed as the thing pinning him to the ground

clamped its jaws down on his shoulder. Dru’s concentration wavered,
an urgency of a different type filling him. If that man was his brother,
he needed to help him. The feeling conflicted so greatly with what he
knew of Desmond and his wishes that he couldn’t move for a second.

The Ravyn used the opening to thrust the weapon in his hand into

Dru’s side, reopening the stitched wound that was still in the process
of healing. The tangy smell of blood filled the air.

“Motherfucker!” Dru shouted, pressing a hand to the wound. It

wasn’t too deep, but it had reopened and was seeping blood through
the cloak. He had to ditch it.

War cries from the rest of the Doves signaled their cavalry. Relief

filled him. The Ravyns were dead and good riddance to them. There
was no way they were getting out of this. Dru smirked and shoved the
Ravyn hard with the hilt of his weapon. The dark-haired Ravyn
stumbled.

For a split second, Dru forgot about the cat he’d injured and he

paid the price for it. Searing pain licked up his leg as the smaller
jaguar sank its teeth and claws into his thigh. He fell backward onto
his ass and clawed at the eyes of the creature. It was a weak attempt at
best.

He flushed hot and cold in rapid succession as the pain pulsed on

and on. However, pain wasn’t the only thing that pulsed through him.

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Desire, white and hot, rode hard on the heels of pain. He moaned. A
memory teased on the edge of his consciousness, a fantasy of teeth
and cock and men. I’m going to come. He was seconds from it. His
dick was so hard it was already dripping. He shuddered as the claws
were withdrawn and the blue eyes of the animal looked up at him,
surprise evident behind those too-intelligent eyes. Dru raised his hand
and pulled the cloak off his face at the same time the cat removed his
teeth from his thigh.

Blood immediately gushed from the wound, and Dru’s head spun.

He was going to bleed out if he didn’t stop the fluids from leaving his
body. He struggled to clamp his hand on the geyser, but he found
touching the wound just sent a fission of pleasure through his body.
Dru tore his eyes away from the shifter and looked up as the sky was
obscured for a moment as a large shadow passed overhead.

Holy fuck. Those are dragons. His eyes took in the awesome sight

as three massive dragons descended, and the Doves who had joined
the fight ran for their lives if they could. He hoped they managed it,
because he wasn’t looking forward to being eaten. His eyes returned
to the shifter whose shape shimmered for a moment before a naked
man stood in its place. His head spun as he met the eyes of his
fantasy.

“Dru,” the man sobbed, pushing Dru’s hand away from the wound

and replacing it with his own. “Druas, oh gods, I’m sorry.” The
strangest urge to comfort the man shook him. Dru struggled to sit up.
“No, baby. You just lie still. I’ll fix you.”

The fighting around them had stopped. Dru tilted his head and

looked around. Gorgeous was still breathing, but he was pinned
beneath one massive clawed foot of a dragon. Funny, he looked tiny
in comparison. Crave was also in the clutches of a dragon and was
shouting obscenities at the top of his lungs. Rican was dead, and
another Dove who Dru didn’t recognize lay beside him, unmoving.
Desmond was going to be so utterly disappointed.

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143

The sound of rending fabric brought him back into the moment,

and he saw the smaller man ripping the cloak he’d worn and wrapping
the strips tightly around his leg. Dru reached for the anger and
resentment he’d felt toward the other Ravyn in order to apply it to the
one tending him, but he just couldn’t manage it. He looked at the little
blond and felt nothing but acute relief and something extremely close
to adoration. It was fucking odd considering the man might’ve killed
him.

“Good gods, Druas.” Another voice drew his attention to the left

and hatred surged. The golden-eyed Ravyn he’d fought stood over
him. He snarled. He wanted a weapon. He wanted to kill. He wanted
to—

A huge blond-haired guy threw himself at Dru and wrapped his

arms around Dru’s prone body. “Pretty!” Tears fell onto Dru’s face as
the stranger pressed kisses to his cheeks and lips. “Gods, I thought I
lost you. I thought I lost you forever. I’m never going to let anything
happen to you ever again, pretty. I promise.”

Dru’s head spun. What madness was this? Tears cascaded down

his cheeks, but Dru couldn’t find the reason behind the unbending
emotion. Desmond’s will was still there, but when the two shifters
touched him, he felt more like himself and less like the puppet of
someone else. The smaller shifter rested his head against Dru’s
stomach, and the feeling of completion made the muscles that had
been tense instantly relax. He didn’t understand what was happening.

“Round up the Adamar. I don’t think they’ve gone far.” The

Ravyn was instructing one of the dragons who had come to their aid
during the battle. “We need to get Druas back to camp and get those
wounds looked at.”

“I’ll carry him,” the bigger of the two shifters said. He leaned

down and kissed Dru’s lips. Druas couldn’t resist deepening the kiss
slightly before the shifter pulled away. What spell had they cast on
him? What weird shifter magick had been implemented to make him
so vulnerable to them? His sword was still within reach, but his hands

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refused to obey the dictates of his mind. In fact, there was no way he
was going to hurt the two shifters. Ever. Now that he’d touched them,
he couldn’t contemplate even wanting to harm them in any way.

Frantically, he searched for an internal solution. Some of the other

Doves had slaves. They would be his. It didn’t matter that they
apparently had rebel ties or that they were traveling with a Ravyn.
They would belong to him, and Dru would teach them to obey the
laws of their king as well as Dru’s will. Not that it was much. His will
was merely an extension of Desmond’s. The thought made him
frown. These men were his. He wouldn’t share them, not even with
his king.

“You can’t carry him, Michel. It’ll take too long. Ride with him

on the Adamar,” the Ravyn instructed. The dragon which he’d
addressed the moment before came back with a few Adamars in hand.

“They didn’t wander far. These are loyal creatures. You’re lucky,

Ravyn,” he said, handing over the reins to the Ravyns. Dru resisted
the urge to sneer. The Ravyn was a coward and a traitor. He deserved
the foulest death imaginable. It was then he realized they hadn’t taken
his dagger off his hip.

Golden eyes turned to look at him as the two shifters pulled him

up to his unsteady feet. He couldn’t put weight on the leg the shifter
had bitten into, but the wound itself tingled pleasurably.

“At least his mate bit into him. That would be painful otherwise,”

the dragon said, smirking a bit as Dru accidently touched the wound
and moaned as pleasure wrapped around his dick.

“I’m so, so sorry, Dru,” the smaller shifter apologized, his dirty

cheeks tearstained. Even then he was beautiful.

“It’s okay,” Dru murmured, not sure why he gave the reassurance

but desiring to do so anyway.

The Ravyn stepped toward him, and Desmond’s anger exploded

inside Dru. The others must’ve gotten back to the palace. Without
thinking, he grabbed the dagger at his hip and lunged at the Ravyn. A
look of shock passed over the dark-haired Ravyn’s face an instant

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145

before Dru’s blade buried itself into his chest. He was almost
immediately jerked backward as the rest of the party exploded into
action.

“What have you done?” the bigger shifter shouted, yanking him

off his feet and back onto the hard ground. Dru winced but didn’t cry
out as his side collided with a rock.

“S’okay. He missed the vital bits,” the Ravyn wheezed, clutching

his chest. Dru started struggling. No. He had to kill him. Had to kill
him. Had to kill him. He lunged up only to be slammed back down by
the shifter. The two of them lay on top of him, the smaller shifter
wresting the knife from his grip.

The Ravyn swayed a bit on his feet. “Be careful, guys.”
“I’ll carry you back to camp,” the dragon who’d been assisting

them offered. He picked up the Ravyn in his arms and walked over to
one of the massive lizards off to the side. “We’ll ride in style.”

“Dru, what’s wrong with you?” the smaller shifter asked as Dru

struggled against them. He needed to get back to Desmond. Desmond
wanted him back, and he wanted him back now.

“Get off me!” Dru shouted, throwing a clumsy punch at him. The

bigger shifter growled and caught the punch before pounding that
hand back to the ground. Dru’s energy waned, the injuries obviously
more serious than his energetic display exposed.

“Lover, please…” The smaller shifter was crying again. The

sound twisted Dru’s heart into a knot, and it just pissed him off more.
He lifted his head and opened his mouth to give a scathing remark,
but the bigger shifter’s teeth closed over the place where his neck met
his shoulder and bit down with just a hint of fang.

Dru went rigid, and his eyes crossed as stars danced through his

vision. He came hard, his hips arching despite the pain in his body.
The big shifter’s hands found him through his uniform and guided
him through the orgasm as his neurons fired.

The shifter lifted his head as the smaller shifter crawled to his

opposite side and bit into the other side of his neck. Dru brought his

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hand up and caressed the back of the smaller shifter’s head as his
teeth bit into the muscle, spirals of pleasure shooting through him at
the touch.

“Settle,” the big shifter commanded. “Settle, Dru.”
Dru felt himself falling into that voice. Desmond’s will faded into

the background and a white-blue cord inside his mind blazed to life,
drawing Dru to the shifters in an irrevocable fashion that he didn’t
want to escape.

The smaller shifter pressed a kiss to the bite he’d made. “We need

to get you some medical care, Dru. Okay?”

Dru sighed. “Okay,” he agreed. He didn’t want to fight them. He

would fight the world and fight for Desmond, but he wouldn’t fight
them.

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147

Chapter Fifteen

“He’s wearing the uniform of the Doves and attacked us with

them. To say something is strange is a vast and absolutely ridiculous
understatement,” Ger said after Michel and Cord had settled Druas
into Natiri’s tent. They’d had to restrain him as a precautionary
measure. Ger’s chest was bare except for the wrap around his chest,
which had an angry red stain where the dagger had pierced him.

“He didn’t even seem to recognize us,” Cord whispered, his

bottom lip trembling. His heart was sick at the thought. “The Doves
had to have done something to him.”

“The Ravyns’ bond was obliterated. He doesn’t even feel like

Druas to me. However, the mate bond you guys have seems to still be
in place. It may save him yet,” Ger said softly, his fingers flipping
through his little black notebook. “We need to get him to Salvatore
and Judgment.”

“I agree, but we have to wait till Natiri returns and Dru is well

enough to travel,” Michel said, nodding his head in agreement. “We
need to spend as much time together as possible.”

Ger frowned. “Why?”
“To strengthen the bond,” Cord answered for Michel, reading the

other male’s mind. “Dru is in there, but we have to keep him with us
mentally. Enhancing our connection will help with that.”

The other Ravyn nodded. “I get it. The longer you guys are

together, the stronger it gets.”

“Exactly,” Michel said. “Will you hold down the fort while we

stay with Dru? Natiri is supposed to arrive soon, but I just want
someone available in case.”

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“I can take over for the time being. As a Ravyn, it’s always been

my destiny to lead other demons in the pursuit of the reinstating of my
prince. This is a duty I am familiar with.” Ger paused. “Good luck
with Druas.”

“Thanks,” Cord said. He looked back toward the tent’s entrance.

“The medical person packed his wounds, right?”

“Yep and stitched him up. He’s doped up right now for the pain

but keep a close eye on him,” Ger said. He reached up and rubbed the
bandage where his stab wound was. “Speaking of which, I need to see
him for some extra bandages. Damn thing keeps bleeding.”

Michel draped his arm around Cord’s shoulders. “What about the

other Doves? I think it’s best if they’re kept separate from Dru right
now.”

“The dragons are handling them. I have no idea. The big blue one

is keeping one, and Rasta said he’d take care of the other,” Ger said.
“I’ll go check on them after supper tonight.” He shooed them toward
the door. “You two are stalling. Go on. Dru needs you more in there
than I need you out here.”

“The warriors are going to be upset if they know it’s Dru,” Michel

said. Cord didn’t understand what his mate was asking.

“I’m not going to say anything. As far as I’m concerned, Druas is

injured and incapable of making any sort of decision. Salvatore and
Judgment will take care of that issue when we return. Until then, no
one is going to be allowed to go into Natiri’s tent. Okay?” Ger asked,
rubbing his chest a little harder. Cord thought it was a gesture of
nervousness as much as it was an expression of pain.

“All right,” Cord said before Michel could ask any more

questions. He looked up at his mate. “Dru needs us.” And he did.
Whether he knew it or not.

* * * *

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Michel was afraid in a way he hadn’t been before. He’d been so

sure that once they got Druas back things would fall easily into place
and they would start their happily ever after. It had seemed so simple.
Michel knew for a fact that the Druas inside the tent wasn’t the same
man who’d been taken from them. He was different in a way that
scared the hell out of Michel. There were equal parts madness and
confusion in those golden depths that he loved so much. The idea
startled him. Holy shit. I love him. He’d never loved anyone but Cord
before.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Michel murmured, beginning to

shake. He didn’t want to see disgust or resentment in Druas’s eyes.
The memories of his surrender were too perfect, too new, for that type
of rejection.

Cord squeezed his hand. “He’s in there, Michel. We just have to

find him.”

Michel tried to take comfort from that. Dru hadn’t been himself,

and no matter what this new Dru said, their Dru was in there
somewhere.

They came to the place where they’d left Dru lightly snoozing.

The mountain of pillows on the mats they’d been sleeping on was as
comfortable as they could make it, and even the binding on his wrist,
which was bound to a large pole that held up the massive tent’s
supports, was long enough so that he could move relatively easily.

Cord immediately settled in beside Dru, dropping to his knees

before snuggling up to Dru’s side. The Ravyn opened his eyes for a
brief second before inhaling Cord’s scent and settling back into his
snooze. Dru seemed to take a lot of comfort from Cord. But then, that
was the way it always had been for them. Cord was the nurturer.
Michel was the one Dru fought with. It was that simple. Dru’s eyes
opened once again and rose until they clashed with his. There was a
question there, but Michel wasn’t sure what he asked. Dru scooted
closer to Cord and wrapped an arm around the smaller man’s waist,

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leaving enough room for Michel to scoot in behind. Relief filled him.
This wasn’t going to be as difficult as he thought.

He dropped to his knees and crawled in behind Dru, curling up to

him so that Dru’s body was pressed against his from head to toe. The
cat inside him purred in contentment. The simple enjoyment he
gained from lying there with his mates couldn’t be expressed
adequately no matter what he said or thought. It was the measure of
true peace. He let the thought carry him off to sleep.

* * * *

Dru woke up disoriented and sore. The first wasn’t unusual, he’d

been nothing but confused since waking up in Desmond’s palace, but
the second wasn’t necessarily standard. He ached in places that he
hadn’t before. His hand flexed, the tear in the flesh a throbbing
reminder of the bond between Desmond and himself. However, the
throbbing in his thigh was another sensation of pain altogether.

He reached down and rubbed the offending wound and was

surprised when a shiver of desire went through him at the action.
What the—Memory hit him like a freight train. The Ravyns, the
battle, the dragons, the shifters. Oh shit. He’d been captured by the
enemy. His eyes popped open, and he was immediately aware he
wasn’t alone. There were two veritable heaters on either side of him,
bracketing him in in the most delicious fashion imaginable. His cock
instantly started to harden. It was then that he realized he was buck
naked.

“How are you feeling, Dru?” the little shifter asked, turning so

that his ass was no longer nestled against Dru’s crotch. He was either
oblivious or playing coy.

“Who are you?” Dru demanded, ignoring the desire and the

question. He needed to get back to Desmond and had to figure out
who he had to kill to get there. His king wanted him back. The weight

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of Desmond’s will against his mind was unpleasant. The sooner he
got back to Desmond, the better.

“Dru, be nice.” The voice of the other shifter rumbled in his ear

from behind, the breath skittering across his skin and leaving goose
bumps in its wake. He resisted the urge to grind his buttocks back
against the cock that was cradled in the crack of his ass. Instead, he
leaned forward, away from the dick and the man attached to it. Of
course, then he had the opposite problem. He was almost on top of the
smaller shifter.

“Who the fuck are you people?” Dru snapped.
The smaller shifter gave a shaky smile and pressed a kiss to his

cheek. “I’m Cord. We’ve met before.” Dru winced and moved away,
downward this time so that he could escape them both.

“I know. I’ve dreamed of you two. Did you put a spell on me or

something?” Dru’s thigh throbbed as he moved into a crouch. He
stumbled forward, and the big shifter caught him. Dru tried to push
away, but the shifter wouldn’t let him.

The shifter gripped him tighter. “You’re going to hurt yourself.

Stop being stubborn.”

“Michel, please, don’t be too hard on him. He’s confused,” Cord

said, kneeling before the two of them. “Please, watch your temper.”

“Michel, is it?” Dru sneered. “What kind of girlie-ass name is

that?”

“Shut up,” Michel said, nuzzling his neck. “I can’t handle your

mouth right now.”

Dru sputtered. Who the hell did he think he was ordering him

around like that? Cord reached up and put his hands on Dru’s hips.
“Druas, please don’t be a jerk. I understand that you’re frustrated and
think you should hate us, but we love you.” Dru opened his mouth to
deliver a scathing comment, only to feel that connection to them
flame to life once again. Pure, unbending affection came streaking
down its shiny surface and into his body. It warmed him in a way that

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he hadn’t been since waking up in Desmond’s dungeon. He felt both
of them inside him, deeper than even Desmond went.

“I—” He struggled for the words he wanted to say. “I feel you.

Inside. We were lovers?”

“Mates,” Michel corrected gently, giving him a squeeze. “Newly

mated but mates nonetheless.”

“You work for the Ravyns.” It wasn’t a question.
“No.” Cord shook his head. “We are Ravyns. And so are you. A

couple weeks ago the camp was attacked by Doves, and they took you
with them.” The fact that they were Ravyns should’ve sent him into a
rage, but there was nothing but a sick sense of rightness and a dread.
Dru felt the truth in Cord’s words through their bond. He really
believed it. Either someone had lied to the shifter, or he really had
been…He swallowed. Well, fuck all.

He sighed. “It doesn’t matter.” The words needed to be said, even

if they tasted like ash in his mouth.

Cord frowned. “Why doesn’t it matter?”
“It’s too late. I belong to the king now.” That wasn’t something he

had an option about. The ritual had sealed his fate. “He bound me to
him as one of his Doves.” Michel cursed, and Cord’s frown deepened.
“He owns me.”

“No,” Michel said firmly. “We’ll figure out a way to undo this.”
Dru laughed bitterly. “The only way my service ends is by my

death or his. There is no undo button for this. I will fight to the death
for him. Kill whatever enemies are his. Whatever he wills of me, I
will accomplish or die trying.”

“Why? Druas, why can’t you just stop? You know I’m telling the

truth,” Cord pleaded, the grip on Dru’s hips tightening with his words.

“He doesn’t want to. He has to,” Michel said. Dru looked up and

saw that Michel understood. He could practically see the gears
grinding. “This binding, what did he do?”

“King Desmond has a necklace where he keeps the wills of the

Doves. He replaces that will with his own. We are puppets to him.”

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He shouldn’t tell the enemy his king’s secrets, but it just came out of
him. They wouldn’t betray him. They were his. His…mates? Yeah.
That was the word that they’d used.

“We’ll find a way to help you find peace,” Michel promised. “Do

you trust us?”

Dru searched for an answer to that loaded question. He did. They

were the only things he trusted. As much as he wanted to lash out at
them, he wanted to run to them more. “Yes.” The word was soft and
reverent, almost a pledge. “I can’t guarantee I won’t fight you, but I
want to be with you. It doesn’t make sense, but you two are the only
things that seem to anchor me. I feel… disjointed. Like there are two
parts of me that don’t fit together.”

He didn’t care about his fellow Doves, not really. He didn’t care

about anything of that place but Desmond. His disgust for the nobility
and Court didn’t stop, but he felt Desmond’s amusement and his
pleasure in it, so in turn he reveled in it as well. It was a confusing
division within himself that Crave had promised would fade over
time. The problem was, he knew that when it did, all he would care
about was what Desmond wanted and he’d no longer care about
himself or his own wishes. He’d truly be a puppet then. This choice
was unexpected. He wanted this choice.

“Are all the other Doves like this?” Cord asked, resting his head

against Dru’s chest.

Dru shrugged. “I don’t know. I suspect that it’s that way for some

of the others.”

“You’re all prisoners of a type. God damn, Desmond is a dick,”

Michel rumbled. The sound sent shivers down Dru’s spine. He tried to
ignore the part of him that demanded he take up for his king. He felt
like he hadn’t been touched in forever. His earlier arousal was starting
to stir again.

“I smell your hunger, mate. Can we sate it for you?” Cord pressed

a kiss to Dru’s naked pectoral muscle, flicking his tongue out to catch
the flat disc of his nipple.

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“Gods, yes.” These men were his. They’d always been his. It

didn’t matter if they were Ravyns or enemies or anything else. His
connection to them was greater than the one he had to his king, and
that was all that mattered.

He felt Michel’s hesitation before he spoke. “Druas, you don’t

remember us.”

“I don’t give a fuck. I feel you inside me.” He turned his head and

met the sparkling blue eyes of his soon-to-be lover. “I want to feel
you inside me in more ways than one.” It excited him to tangle with
the two of them. He wanted them with a fierceness that had him so
hard his cock curved up toward his navel at the thought of being
sandwiched between the two of them.

“You’re hurt,” Michel argued.
“We’ll be gentle, Michel,” Cord interrupted before he could argue

further. “He won’t be hurt anymore.” Gods, maybe they would bite
him. He knew from the dreams he’d had that he’d really, really like
that. He wanted to be buried inside them, mark them with everything
he was…and be marked in turn.

“Gods, he smells fantastic,” Michel rumbled, rubbing his hard

cock between the valley of Dru’s buttocks. The sleeping-while-naked
thing had its benefits.

“I’ll get the oil,” Cord chirped, scooting away from the two of

them and scrambling backward to the chest where they must’ve kept
the oil. Dru raised his hand to pull Michel’s head down for a kiss only
to realize that it was tied with a thick leather strap and connected via
chain to a pole. Annoyance flickered through him.

“Take this off. I won’t hurt you,” Dru commanded, half turning

toward Michel. He’d rather die than hurt either one of them.

“It’s not us we’re scared of you hurting. It’s other people here in

camp,” Michel said. He hesitated for a minute before reaching for his
discarded pants beside the pillow pile. “While we’re here, we can
keep you untied, but when we’re not, we’ll have to restrain you.
Okay?” Dru seethed. It must’ve showed on his face because Michel

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stopped rummaging in his pockets and looked at Dru full-on. “It’s just
until we get you back to Salvatore and we figure out what to do about
the binding. Please, Druas, you said you’d trust us.”

Reluctantly, Dru nodded. He had said that he would trust them.

“Fine. Please, just take the fucking thing off.”

Michel reached up after he’d found the key and unlocked the

mechanism on the leather cuff. “I love you, Dru. I thought you should
know that.”

The statement nearly brought Druas to his knees. His heart beat

wildly, and tears instantly sprang to his eyes. He felt like he’d been
waiting forever to hear that. “I love you, too.” He knew it was true.
He looked over and saw Cord returning with a small vial of oil.

“Well, I love you both as well,” Cord piped in. “And since we’re

all about the love, let’s make some. Shall we?”

Dru laughed at his smaller mate. He just seemed so happy and

absolutely nothing would dampen his spirit. “Yes, and I love you,
Cord.” He reached for his smaller mate and pulled him into his arms.
Cord tilted his head up, and Dru obliged him by pressing their lips
together. The kiss sizzled just as Dru knew it would.

The heat of the desert had not dried out the luscious lips caressing

his own. The smaller man whimpered as Dru lapped at the entrance to
his mouth, demanding he open for him. Their tongues slid along one
another, pushing and withdrawing in a clear imitation of sex.

He ran his hands down the tight body before him. The hard lines

of Cord’s body thrilled him. He could already imagine himself buried
inside him. Something was missing, though. Michel’s hands came
down on his hips, and that feeling vanished.

“Get me ready,” Dru commanded, breaking the kiss for a split

second. Michel’s hands trailed down his ass and moved to the crease.

“Going to fuck you, pretty,” Michel rumbled. “Okay?” Dru could

only nod his assent. He wanted nothing more. Cord tossed a small vial
of oil at Michel who caught it easily.

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“We’re going to have to be quick,” Cord reminded, already fisting

his cock as Michel’s hands slid back down to Dru’s crease and teased
the puckered entrance he found there. Dru had never seen himself as a
person to be fucked, but damn if he didn’t want it with a passion right
now. Something inside him bristled. He should fight, if for nothing
else other than the opportunity to be held down. He snarled and
twisted, slamming his lips down on Michel’s so that the kisses they’d
shared the moment before transformed into a battle.

“Gods, that’s hot,” Cord said, his hand working his dick harder at

the sight of the two of them. Michel growled and shoved one of his
fingers deep into Dru’s ass without warning. Druas gasped and rocked
his hips, wanting and fighting at the same time. He pushed his hips
back, fucking himself on Michel’s digit.

“You want my ass?” Dru groaned against Michel’s lips. He’d

definitely done this before. Definitely experienced the sheer awesome
power of this man’s hands.

“You want my cock?” Michel returned, just as aggressively as

Dru. Perfect.

“Fuck, yes!” Two more fingers joined the first, roughly readying

him for the sex that was to come. The shifter spread his cheeks and
drizzled what was left in the vial down the valley of Dru’s ass crack.
The feeling sent a shiver of want through him.

The fingers were removed and the thick head of Michel’s cock

pushed against his tight hole. Dru gasped, writhing against the
invasion. So good. So right. He twisted, trying to throw Michel off
halfheartedly at best. It was like a wrestling match, but it could only
end one way.

Michel’s cock shoved deep, skewering Dru with pleasure as his

thick prick shuttled its way in and out of Dru’s muscular ring. All the
fight went out of him in an instant. Yes. Yes. Yes. More. Fuck! He
wanted his lover’s cum inside him, needed to be marked internally as
well as externally. This was the only man allowed to dominate him
like this. The only man on the planet that was allowed to own him.

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Well, except for Cord. He would allow Cord to fuck him, but it
wouldn’t be the same. With Michel, it was a toss-up of who would
really be the winner in a contest of wills.

The shifter set a beautiful, hard pace that was designed to drive

Dru over the edge in no time flat. Dru felt mindless in his arms,
completely and utterly helpless against the power of his mate. He
lifted his eyes and met Cord’s as he jacked his cock in rhythm to
Michel’s thrusts. He licked his lips. His smaller mate groaned and
shuffled forward, jerking himself off close enough that Dru could
smell his arousal.

Michel drove into his ass, hitting his prostate with every feral

lunge. “Mine!” the shifter snapped. “Fucking take it. My ass. All
mine.”

“Yes. Yours. Fuck. Michel. Yours.” Dru didn’t care what he had

to agree to in order to get Michel to never stop, but he would say it.
The pleasure stretched on and his cock hurt it was so damn hard. A
final lunge sent Dru over the edge, screaming his pleasure to the
rooftops as Michel bellowed his own from behind him. Dru leaned
forward and sealed his mouth over the head of Cord’s dick as the
smaller shifter shot. He swiped his tongue over the hole, coaxing the
burst of seed as it erupted into his willing mouth.

They stayed that way for a frozen moment before his mates pulled

back with near-identical groans of satisfaction. Dru smiled dizzily.
Nothing felt as good as this. Michel’s hand snaked down and wrapped
around his still-half-hard cock.

He nipped Dru’s neck. “Ready for round two?” His half-hard

length stirred in renewed interest. Oh hell yes.

“Knock, knock, guys!” the Ravyn from before called out a second

before he stepped into the tent. Dru snarled at the interruption. He was
fucking aching for more attention from his mates. It was just another
mark against the Ravyn he was tempted to bury six feet under.
Michel’s arms wrapped around his middle and squeezed in warning.

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“Ger, this better be good,” Cord griped, crossing his arms over his

chest and glaring at the Ravyn.

“Well, it is. I wouldn’t interrupt otherwise,” Ger said, his eyes

flicking over their nude forms before hitting the carpet. “Natiri’s back
with his new husband, and they want to come in and see you guys.
Thought I’d warn you before they got here.”

“Get dressed,” Dru snapped at Cord, who he just realized was

naked. At least he was standing in front of Michel. Cord chortled a
little at his command before bending over and collecting his pants
from the bottom of the pillows. “You, too,” he said over his shoulder.
Michel kissed his neck and gave his hips a squeeze. He felt him move
out from behind him. A thought occurred to Dru. Germany raised his
eyes and met his. The evil Desmond put inside him reared its head.

He felt his body move before his mind could process what he was

doing. Salvatore’s pet Ravyn would look fantastic with Dru’s hands
wrapped around his throat. One less Ravyn would mean Salvatore
was weakened, one step closer to ruin. He hated Salvatore and
everything he represented. Desmond was the rightful heir.

Ger raised his hands in a defensive position as Dru reached for

him. He was going to kill that little fucker…

Pain exploded in his nose and head as Germany moved faster than

Dru could follow. His head whipped back, and his back collided with
the floor of the tent. How the hell did that happen? He groaned and
clutched the offending pain in his face. He’d have black eyes in a few
hours, he could almost guarantee it. He froze as a blade was laid on
his throat, pushing down hard enough to bite.

“Brother, you touch me again, I will drop you where you stand.

Again. Got it?” Ger asked, his voice deadly. “I love you, but you’re
not free-for-alling on my ass. I forgive you for what you do because I
know you’re not right in the head right now, but this whole trying-to-
kill-me thing won’t be tolerated.” He raised his eyes without
removing the blade at Dru’s throat. “I thought you said you tied him.”

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“We untied him while we were with him.” The sheepish voice of

his bigger mate reached his ears.

Ger rolled his eyes. “Don’t do it again. Keep him leashed until we

fix him. I don’t care if you have to tie him with one of those baby
leashes to you and Cord. Keep him tied.”

“Don’t you order them to do anything, ever, Ravyn. Do you hear

me?” Dru snarled. It would’ve been more intimidating had he not
been flat on his back.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you. You’re the big, bad Dove. I got it,” Ger

said sarcastically.

“They’re mine,” Dru snapped. “Being a Dove has nothing to do

with it, you Ravyn bastard.”

Ger just laughed.

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Chapter Sixteen

Cord knew the shackles they’d put on Dru’s wrists and ankles

didn’t make his mate pleased, but he’d proven irrevocably that he
couldn’t be trusted not to act on the impulses that drove him. Ger
scribbled in his notebook on the low-lying table, glancing up
occasionally as Michel and Cord hand-fed Dru from their plates.
They’d had to change Dru’s dressings because of how active he’d
been since he’d awoken, which had been about as pleasant as a root
canal. The sharp intakes of breath that escaped Dru as well as the
death glare he leveled at Germany whenever something was painful
enough to make him cry out let everyone know exactly how he felt
about the subject.

His sullen mate looked vastly unhappy, and Cord could sense how

much pain he was in. There was a certain amount of guilt attached to
that knowledge. After all, Cord had been the one to bite into his leg.

“Wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know, and I would’ve killed you if

given half a chance,” Dru said, swallowing the bit of bread that
Michel fed him. Their bond was open to its fullest extent, the cord
wide enough to allow their thoughts to mingle on a level that almost
made the mates’ thoughts innate to one another.

Cord sighed and leaned his head against Dru’s arm. “Do you want

me to go to the physician and get some herbs for pain?”

“No. It makes my head feel like it’s filled with spiderwebs. Pass.

I’ll deal with it.” Dru used both his hands to pick up his cup and take
a swig of the wine Michel had poured him. “Where the hell is this
general of yours? I want to get this over with.”

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“He’ll be here soon, Dru. Please, show a little patience,” Michel

said, reaching out and rubbing Dru’s rigid back. He frowned. “Your
back is knotted all to hell. I’ll have to give you a rubdown later.”

“A back rub sounds good to me,” Dru murmured, his eyes only

half mast. He was getting tired already. It had been a very active and
very long day. Despite their earlier nap, his body was demanding he
heal, and to do so he had to sleep. “Where are Crave and Gorgeous?”

Ger looked up at that. “The other Doves you were with?”
“Yeah.”
“They’re prisoners of the dragons over in their encampment, far

out of your reach,” Ger answered. He shook his head. “It’s so weird
talking to you like an enemy, brother.” He paused. “You don’t even
feel like Druas anymore. At least not completely.”

Cord felt the whiplash of regret go through Druas and crowded

closer to his side. The idea of Dru being less than himself made his
mate depressed. Cord wished that they’d been able to make love
before Ger had come in. He thought it would go a long way toward
lifting Druas’s spirits. Dru felt okay when he and Michel were around,
but Cord imagined he would feel even better if he felt closer to them
in the both physical and mental sense.

“He’s still Druas,” Michel said firmly. “And you’re upsetting my

mate, so hush.”

Ger fell silent once more and continued writing in his notebook.

Cord drummed his fingers on his thigh. Man, this is awkward. This
didn’t resemble the close brotherly tie that he’d grown used to when
being around two or more of the Ravyns. They’d even opened their
family to include Michel and Cord, and that inclusion had meant a lot
to the both of them who’d never really fit into the traditional roles of
even their own people. Working so closely with the vampires had
separated them largely from the other shifters, but they were separated
from vampires because they viewed them as employees. They’d
found a place among the Ravyns unlike anywhere else. The fact that
their mate had been a member of the group was icing on the cake.

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It was a relief when Natiri ducked into the room. The seven-foot

general gave them a smile that didn’t quite go all the way to his eyes.
He looked…tired.

“Hello, Ravyns. My camp hasn’t burnt down in my absence,

despite the fact that you’ve had trouble. Thank you,” Natiri said,
walking farther into the room and flopping down on a set of pillows
they’d left out for him.

“Where’s the new husband, Natiri?” Ger asked, smirking slightly.

“Never thought you’d settle down, old man.”

Natiri snorted. “A marriage that was arranged between monarchs

that I was never privy to is not exactly my idea of a romance, but
what’s done is done.” His eyes flicked toward the door. “He’ll be
along, I’m sure. His royal highness is courting, so he believes that we
should be attached at the hip.”

“You’re not liking the courting?” Ger asked.
Natiri snorted. “I’m not a maiden.”
Cord couldn’t help but agree. Natiri was massive, the biggest man

Cord had ever seen with the exception of the dragon clutch that
belonged to Rasta. To think of a man courting him seemed almost
silly. He was a man used to being in charge, and Cord imagined he
wasn’t happy at being slotted into the position of beta male.

“The circlet looks nice,” Cord said, wanting to contribute

something to the conversation. The thin, gold circle was simple with
only the subtlest of decoration in the forms of Celtic knot work in the
metal.

Again, Natiri snorted. “Yeah. It was the simplest one in the

treasury. At least he knew better than to pick out one of the gods-
awful ones that had all the dangling, sparkly gems. Dragons feel like
they have to wear half their hoard all the damn time.” He made a
sound of disgust and touched the gold on his head. “Trying to
convince them that I really don’t want something glittering and I’m
not being modest is like convincing a dog to leave a bone alone after
he’s claimed it. It’s bloody well impossible.”

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163

Okay, well, so much for trying a neutral subject. Cord watched

Michel hide a smile behind his napkin as he wiped his face of crumbs.
The connection between them wavered, and Michel and Cord turned
to look at Druas, who had perked up and tilted his head like he was
listening to something none of them could hear.

“What is it, pretty?” Michel asked. Fear started trickling into

Cord’s mind. What was wrong now?

“Desmond is holding Court. He’s just announced that there is to

be a draft. He’s not happy about the reaction to it.” Dru sounded
dazed as he spoke. “The nobles are arguing with him. No one argues
with him. Gods, he’s pissed.”

“That is fucking creepy,” Ger said softly.
Dru surged to his feet and nearly fell over for his trouble. “I’ve

got to go. He’s calling us.”

“Us?” Cord asked.
“The Doves. I’ve got to go. Unhook these things,” Dru demanded,

extending his hands toward Michel and Cord.

Ger huffed. “He has obviously missed the whole point of being a

prisoner of war. Desmond’s mind fuck certainly didn’t affect your
stubbornness.”

Cord saw the frustration building in Dru’s face, and he knew that

his mate was heading for another explosion. “Unhook his binds,” he
instructed Michel. Dru turned toward him. “Want to go for a walk,
baby?” Dru reminded Cord a little of the turned cats who, for
whatever reason, were infected by the spirits of the shifter’s beasts
and turned into unstable creatures somewhere in between human and
shifter. Sometimes it helped to get them out of the situation and let
them walk off the feral energy.

Dru nodded. “Yeah.” He sounded strained. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Ger opened his mouth. “Do you think it’s a good—”
“Trust me, Ger,” Cord interrupted. He saw the indecision on Ger’s

face, but he got a nod anyway. They were Ravyns. They backed one

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another up. It was almost the first time Cord had been showed so
completely that he was a part of the brotherhood.

“I’ll have a couple warriors follow you,” Natiri offered.
Cord nodded. “Fine, just have them hang back.”
“Will do.”
Michel unlocked the bottom half of the chains to free up Dru’s

legs and pressed a kiss to his injured thigh and then unlocked his
wrists. “You sure walking will be okay?”

“I gotta move,” Dru muttered, his eyes already darting to the door.
“I’ll bring him back,” Cord said. “You stay and get the info on our

departure. Okay?”

Michel agreed and gave both of them kisses before ushering them

out into the sunlight. It was early evening by then, the sun making its
trek toward the horizon and turning the regularly golden-orange sky
into something of burnt sienna.

They walked in silence for a good twenty minutes, watching the

demons as they moved around camp and went about their business.
They moved farther out from the busy center toward the less-
populated area at the edge of the tents. The open dessert was beyond
the line of tents, and Cord hoped that Dru would be okay with staying
in the stretch between the demon tents and the dragon’s site.

“I hate this,” Dru muttered, kicking a rock about the size of a yo-

yo out of his path. “I was uncertain before, but now I feel…torn.”

Cord listened to the misery in Dru’s voice and ached to take it

away. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“You two are the only thing I’m certain about.” Dru seemed to

take comfort in that, which pleased Cord to no end. “I mean, you’re
mine.”

“Yes,” Cord agreed. “I am. So is Michel.” Again, they fell silent,

each seemingly lost in their own contemplations. His mate hadn’t
even grabbed a shirt when Cord had made the suggestion to walk, so
everything showed in his musculature. Cord watched as the muscles

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165

slowly relaxed in Dru’s shoulders. The walking was doing the job
he’d hoped it would.

“How did you know?” Dru asked suddenly.
Cord looked up. “How did I know what?”
“That I needed air.”
“Ah, well, I’ve seen similar reactions in turned shifters from my

clan. When the soul is in conflict, anxiety spikes.” He paused. “Plus
I’m your mate. I’m supposed to know you better than I know myself.”

“It’s kinda nice.” Dru looked almost shy when he said it. The

wind changed direction and blew the slight scent of arousal into
Cord’s nostrils. The anxiety had turned to need. He’d never met
anyone else’s needs but Michel’s. His eyes scanned the area and saw
a small rock outcropping fifty feet away. The bond warmed, and he
knew that Dru could sense the direction of his thoughts. Without a
word, Dru reached over, took his hand, and tugged him in the
direction of the rocks. They just needed a little privacy.

Cord’s heart thudded in his ears as he was led to the rocks. He’d

never been with just Dru before. It felt like an intimacy that he’d
never experienced. He was already hard as a virgin on his first fuck. It
actually made it hard to walk because his dick was rubbing
uncomfortably against the rough material of his pants. He was
extremely glad they only had a few more feet to go.

Dru squeezed his hand and pulled him behind the rocks. Dru’s lips

were almost instantly on his, and Cord gasped as his tongue forced its
way into his mouth. The dark edge of dominance made Cord shudder.
Oh yes. He wanted Dru and felt the need to come together with him,
to reinforce the bond which had been so new before Dru had been
stolen from them.

“Are you ready?” Dru murmured against his lips.
“Yes,” Cord breathed, already panting lightly. He’d lubed himself

up early in preparation for the lovemaking that was interrupted.

“Good.” His hands went to Cord’s pants and pulled the button free

of the loop. He groaned, eager to have Dru’s hands on him. His mate

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carefully unbuttoned the line of buttons which held his pants together
until his cock sprang free and waved eagerly for Dru’s attention. Cord
blushed at the vulgarity of it.

“You have a pretty dick, baby,” Dru purred, reaching out with one

hand and pumping his dick with expert strokes of his fist. He swiveled
his hips, fucking into that tight grip. “Gods, you make beautiful noises
when you’re touched.” He licked his lips. “I want to suck you, baby.
Will you let me?”

Cord swallowed hard and nearly came at the thought of Dru’s

mouth on him. “Only if I can suck you, too.” It was something that he
and Michel had enjoyed in the past, a secret fetish of his in which he
hadn’t been able to indulge in a while. Both of his mates loved
fucking too much to let him have some mutual fellatio.

“Done, baby,” Dru murmured, unbuttoning his own pants and

laying them out carefully in the longest part of the shadow from the
rock. The sun was setting quicker now, and the shadows played over
all the tan skin Dru exposed to him. Cord pushed his pants the rest of
the way off his hips, kicked off his shoes, and stepped out of them. As
a shifter, nudity was natural. However, when Dru’s eyes were on him,
he felt sexy in his nakedness.

Dru flopped down on the pants he’d discarded and motioned for

Cord to join him. Cord obeyed without question and licked his lips in
anticipation. Without warning, Dru flipped him to his stomach and
hauled his leg over his head so that he that he was straddling Dru’s
face with Dru’s cock in his own.

“Dru…” He groaned the word. A finger circled his hole, making

him jump before he relaxed into the touch. The digit teased him until
he was pushing his hips back in a silent plea for penetration.

“Suck me, Cord. Now.”
Cord couldn’t resist the dark rumble of command in Dru’s voice.

He was dying for a taste of his lover anyway. Leaning forward, he
took the head of Dru’s hot cock into his mouth. The salty, liquid pre-
cum exploded on his tongue, and he couldn’t help but suck harder to

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167

draw some more of that flavor into his eager mouth. The moan his
lover issued gave him a sense of intense satisfaction. He suckled
eagerly, bobbing his head up and down.

A warm, hot cavern engulfed his prick, and the finger that had

been teasing him plunged into his ass. Cord suckled his dick in
thanks, loving it with all the muscles of his mouth to try and convey
his adoration. My mate, gods, my sexy mate.

His hips plunged downward, fucking Dru’s face as the demon

managed to master Cord’s reaction despite being the one on bottom.
He commanded Cord with clever licks of his tongue and plunges of
his fingers. Cord was making little noises of need in the back of his
throat as he was toyed with by his larger mate. He sucked harder on
Dru’s cock, focusing his energy on giving Dru the blow job of his life
to keep from losing himself and coming too quickly.

Dru spread his legs wider and gave a moan of his own, bracing his

legs so that he could get leverage to fuck himself upward into Cord’s
mouth. Cord indulged the feral thrust by relaxing his throat and taking
everything Dru had to give deep into the back of his mouth. It just
seemed to incite Dru more, because the mouth on his dick sucked
almost desperately, and the fingers moving in and out of his ass flexed
with greater urgency.

Who’s the boss now, my sexy mate? He would’ve smirked had his

mouth not been stuffed full of his lover’s body. The fingers working
him hit a bundle of nerves particularly deep inside, and a spasm of
sensation ricocheted through him.

Dru pulled off his cock for a second. “Come for me, Cord.” The

command made his brain turn to absolute mush. Cord continued with
his task of driving his mate crazy, but he knew he was approaching
the edge of no return. He could feel the orgasm burning up his spine,
filling his mind with the urge to come down his mate’s willing throat.
He resisted the urge to plunge his arousal deeper into Dru’s mouth. As
much as his lover wanted to please, he was still relatively new to the

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act of giving head and Cord didn’t want to gag him. But, gods, it felt
so damn good…

A scrape of teeth on Cord’s sensitive skin made him shudder and

grunt out praises around the object in his mouth. He was close. So
close. The fingers fucking him twisted and set off those nerves once
again, and his eyes rolled. Dru did it again. And again.

Gods, I’m going to come so fucking hard. The thought flitted

across his mind an instant before he climaxed. His whole body
convulsed as pleasure swamped him, stealing away thoughts of fear
for the future or for his mate’s sanity. Nothing existed but the cock in
his mouth and the man in his arms.

Cord spiraled down from his high in an almost-lazy fashion. The

fingers were withdrawn from his still-clenching butt, and the mouth
came off his arousal with a final lick. Still, Cord concentrated on
nothing but Dru and giving his mate pleasure. I love this man. I love
this man. I love this man. It became a mantra in his head.

Finally, Dru gasped around Cord’s length, and an accompanying

flood of fluid shot into Cord’s mouth. Cord sealed his lips over the
crown of the jerking head, swallowing as much of the flow as he was
able as his mate gave him his pleasure in a gush of physical desire.
Dru reached around and pushed on his shoulders, signaling for Cord
to take him deeper. Relaxing his throat once again, Cord indulged
him. They stayed that way for an endless moment before Dru started
to soften in Cord’s mouth and made a little sound of protest as Cord
lapped at the ultrasensitive tip.

He drew off Dru’s length with a pop of satisfaction. Licking his

lips in search of any stray hints of pleasure, he rested his head against
Dru’s hip. It was full dark now, the world a nest of shadows and the
only light the red glow of fires from the numerous encampments
around them.

“Gods, that was beautiful,” Dru whispered softly, pulling Cord up

and around so that he was resting against Dru’s chest. “Is it always
like that?”

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169

“Pretty much. Except it gets better with time, or so I’m told,”

Cord answered. He pressed a kiss to Dru’s sweat-slicked chest. They
were both probably covered in the red earth they’d been lounging in,
but he didn’t give a shit. He felt close to Dru for the first time in
weeks, and damn if it didn’t feel right as rain.

Dru snorted. “If it gets any better, you’re going to have a demon

with cardiac arrest or an aneurysm or some crap on your hands.”

Cord rolled his eyes but smiled all the same. It was nice to be

content for once. Everything had just been crazy since they’d first
come together. A rocky start to a mating was okay, though. It made
Cord appreciate his mates all the more.

“Cord, I remember touching you,” Dru said unexpectedly,

squeezing him to his side. “I may not remember anything else, but I
remember my mates. You and Michel are everything to me.”

The words set off a cacophony of sensation in his chest. It felt so

good to hear, but the knowledge that they’d come damn close to
losing Dru made him sad in a way that wasn’t rational. He tried to
shrug it off, but he’d believed for weeks that Dru was probably never
coming home. The mourning had taken its toll.

Dru turned his chin up. “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
Cord swallowed. “I’m okay. I’m sorry. I just, I was just so

scared…”

“Shh, mate. I’m here now.” He paused. “I believe you when you

say I was a Ravyn. I believe you when you say I was never on
Desmond’s side. I want…I want to break the connection between the
king and myself.”

“Thank gods,” Cord murmured, relief washing over him like a

soothing balm. “You won’t regret this trust, Dru. I promise.”

They fell silent again, just enjoying the company of each other as

the sound of wind moving over the desert lulled them into a place of
peace. Cord’s stomach rumbled, interrupting their moment. He
blushed, embarrassed. Thank the gods it’s dark. My cheeks are on
fire.

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Dru chuckled. “Okay, let’s go back. You need some food.”

* * * *

Michel felt the bond pulse in time with his mates’ lovemaking.

Discreetly, he pulled a pillow into his lap to keep his reaction to the
arousal his mates were sending down the line hidden from the other
men in the room. Though, if the knowing looks were any indication,
they knew perfectly well what he was feeling.

Ger finished scribbling in his notebook and slapped it shut. “There

isn’t a reason to delay our return to Earth. We need to get this
situation with Druas taken care of ASAP, you feel me?”

“I feel you,” Michel said. “And furthermore, I agree. Think you

can handle things from here, Natiri?”

The general nodded. “I can. I’ve already been in contact with

Prince Salvatore. The army starts marching on some of the larger
southern cities in a few days’ time. You Ravyns need to return to
Prince Salvatore’s side as soon as possible to ready yourselves for the
whiplash that is to come. Desmond will send everything he has to try
and get rid of the problem at its source.”

“When your mates get back, we’ll leave for Earth and then go on

to the faery realm. It’ll be the best place to hold a defensive position
or to launch an offensive one. The guys and I have already discussed
the necessity of it,” Ger said. “We’re going to move all our families
out of Haven for the time being. The Entertainers have properties in
New York that we’ll use until this is over.”

“Is leaving Haven really necessary?” Michel asked. The

Entertainers had been there for hundreds of years. It just didn’t make
sense to move them.

“It’s either leave or shut everything down entirely, which Santiago

would have a fit about. They’re not warriors, and we need the space
as a base for the vampires from the other clans to leave from. We

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don’t trust Desmond not to strike out at our lovers and children.” Ger
sighed. “This isn’t easy.”

Michel shook his head. “No, it’s not. It might be best to move

them to the faery realm as well. I mean, it is a fortress of sorts.”

“There are problems with that as well, but we can talk it over with

Salvatore when we get back,” Ger said.

They were interrupted by a huge nine-foot giant who ducked

through the door only to hit his head on the beams overhead. Michel’s
eyes bulged. Christ! Where do they grow these people? The fact that
there was someone alive who was in fact bigger than Natiri was a
shock to him. Rasta’s clutch had never been that close to him. He had
to be a dragon. He had jet-black hair with red streaks throughout and
a pair of ruby-red eyes that were almost the same shade as
Salvatore’s.

“Sorry I’m late, Natiri. I was enjoying some of the children you

have down the road. You did not tell me you collected orphans,” the
huge man said, smiling softly to reveal white, straight teeth.

Natiri rolled his eyes. “I don’t ‘collect’ orphans. They’re the

children of my people who have died in battle. I can’t very well leave
them parentless and homeless, can I?”

“It is a noble thing to care for the offspring of your warriors. They

will come back with us to our kingdom when we return.” The giant
seemed to be completely ignoring Natiri’s thunderous expression and
less-than-welcome tone.

“We are not bringing thirty kids to the dragon realm. They’re

demons. They will stay in Demontia,” Natiri said firmly.

“Where will they go while your warriors fight? How will they

survive when war tears this world apart? They will absolutely go to
our kingdom. If you do not wish to keep them as heirs, then we will
find a way to adopt them to other creatures who desire children.” The
male sat beside Natiri and draped his arm over Natiri’s shoulders.

“We’re opening a freaking adoption agency now?” Natiri

rumbled, clearly unhappy.

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“Hush, lygan. I told you that I would take care of things in your

life when we wed, did I not?” The giant smiled at Ger and Michel,
and Michel couldn’t help but feel like he was being sized up. “Are
you not introducing me to your Ravyn friends, lygan?”

“Stop calling me that,” Natiri snapped. It was the first time Michel

could recall seeing Natiri ungracious. “This is Germany and Michel.
They’re the Ravyns I’ve been telling you about. Minus the two that
are out walking.”

The dragon inclined his head. “It is nice to meet you, Ravyns. I

hope that in the future your Prince Salvatore, may he attain his true
crown, and my family can resume favorable relations once more. It
has been too long since dragons and demons were friendly to one
another.”

“Begging your pardon, my lord, may we have your name as

well?” Germany asked, smiling a little sheepishly. “Natiri didn’t give
us your name.”

The dragon frowned. “Ah. Of course he didn’t.” Was that a flicker

of annoyance in his expression? “I am Prince Dyend of the Crimson
line. The same line your prince is from, I believe.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Prince Dyend,” Michel said. “Rasta

has been a great help to my fellow Ravyn and my mates since he’s
arrived. I just thought you should know that. Your people have been
wonderful.”

“Hopefully, they will be of greater use in the future, but that is

neither here nor there,” the prince said. His eyes turned to the general.
“Natiri, it is time we go rest. You’ve been traveling too long, and I
have need of you, lygan.”

Michel heard the dismissal. He could totally relate. He couldn’t

wait to grab some alone time with his mates, either. The problem was
how he was going to stand up and not prominently display for the
entire room the fact that he was hard.

“I am not tired,” Natiri rumbled. “Besides, I want to go to the

fireside dances.”

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173

“You will rest first.”
“You don’t get to order me around, Dyend. I am not a weak-kneed

pup you get to train to your likings.”

“I didn’t say you were.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Ger grabbed Michel’s arm. “Leave them to it. Marriage isn’t

agreeing with Natiri, apparently.” The Ravyn was smiling.

Michel frowned. “That’s cruel.” He let the other Ravyn tug him to

his feet, and he managed to adjust himself with his spare hand as
discreetly as possible before walking out of the tent.

“It’s not cruel. I don’t remember ever seeing Natiri so interested

in someone and fighting the attraction so damn hard. It’s cute,” Ger
said after they’d wandered a few feet away.

Michel gave him a look that said he was out of his mind. “That’s

him being attracted to someone? It looked like he couldn’t stand the
guy.”

“You have to learn to understand demons a bit better, friend. The

stronger they react to something, the more vulnerable they’re feeling.
Natiri likes his new husband and is trying very, very hard not to seem
like he likes him too much.” Ger grabbed the arm of a passing soldier.
“Go to Natiri’s tent and collect the things belonging to the Ravyns
Michel and Cord. Bring them to the seer’s tent.” The soldier nodded
before dashing off.

“Why are you getting my stuff?” Michel asked.
“Because we’re leaving from there. I’ll go ahead and get the

power collected to open the bolt holes. Speaking of which, you two
really need to learn how to do that. It’s ridiculous that two Ravyns
can’t even get home.” Ger took a right between a row of tents and
then a left down another. He pointed to the brown, unimportant-
looking tent on their right. “That’s the seer tent. All magickal
activities are supposed to be performed there. It’s the central power
hub of the whole encampment.” He ducked inside, and Michel had
little choice but to follow.

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“We have need of the space, sister. May we use it?” Germany

asked in Demonish to the short, squat woman who was grinding herbs
on a small table in the corner.

“Of course, Ravyns. This place is always open to you,” she

answered with a smile. She stopped her task and stepped around the
table before vanishing out of the back entrance.

“So now what?” Michel asked as Germany took a seat in the

circle of the carpet on the floor.

“Now we wait for your mates to get back.”

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Chapter Seventeen

“Mi-mi, Cordie!” Two squealing tornados threw themselves at

Dru’s mates’ shins as they stepped through the bolt hole to Earth. The
gate hadn’t even shut behind them when the two small creatures were
running around their ankles like puppies. Michel bent over and
scooped one of them up and started scattering kisses over the little
one’s face. The other one walked right up to him and stared up at him,
raising his thin arms as if he wanted Dru to pick him up.

“What the hell is going on?” Dru asked. I wouldn’t have forgotten

children. Surely I wouldn’t have forgotten if we had freaking children.
Two pairs of golden eyes turned toward him and regarded him
curiously. They were imitations of his own. Damn. We have children.
He swallowed hard. He felt strangled by the thought. Being a father
was a terrifying prospect.

“Daya?” one of them asked. It was the demon word for daddy.

Fuck. I’m a dad. He knelt carefully and opened his arms.

“Look, Iso, it’s Daya!” the little one squealed, throwing his arms

around Dru’s neck and burying his little skull against his throat. The
one in Michel’s arms started squirming until he put him down. He
immediately threw himself at Dru.

“Daya!”
“You waited until now to tell me we had children?” he asked in a

strangled voice. He held on tightly to the child in his arms and forgot
how to breathe.

“Um, it’s sort of a recent development,” Cord said, shifting from

foot to foot uncomfortably. “You didn’t know about them before you
were taken to Desmond’s.”

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“Then why are they calling me ‘daddy’?” he snapped. The little

one in his arms made a noise of distress, and he instantly regretted his
tone. “I’m not mad.” He huffed, trying to make up to the child.
Children were so fragile. He was so damn big! He didn’t know how to
be gentle.

“Sound mad,” the kid muttered, raising his head to look at him

full-on. Twins. We have twins. He was going to throw up.

“Welcome home, guys,” an unfamiliar man greeted in a cheery

voice. Dru looked up at the extra guy in the room. He had a wise-ass
grin on his face, but when the twins looked at him, it turned into an
instant pout. “I see how you two are. Two seconds with Daddy and
his boyfriends and you forget all about Uncle Ally-Cat.” He gave Dru
a wink. “So since Santiago and Ger are Father and Sire, what are you
all going to be?”

“Whatever they want to call us,” Michel said instantly. Yep. Dru

was pretty sure he was going to throw up.

“Daya, no worry so much,” one of twins demanded, cupping his

cheeks in tiny hands. Gods, they’re so small.

“What’s your name?” Dru managed to ask around the lump in his

throat.

“Hardwin,” the child said proudly.
“And you?” he asked the other one.
The little one worried on his bottom lip and looked down

bashfully. “Iso.”

His heart expanded impossibly, opening up to the two of them in

that instant. They felt like his. Not like Michel and Cord felt like his,
but they were a part of his family nonetheless. He smiled as he settled
into the thought. He was still terrified, but the what-the-hell-am-I-
going-to-do feeling was fading as the two of them regarded him.

“Those are pretty names. You two have been waiting here for us?”

They nodded. “Have they been good to you here?” Again they
nodded. Good. I don’t have to beat anyone’s ass. The protective

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177

thought startled him. He’d been a dad less than five minutes, and he
was already super protective. Gods help me.

Germany stepped around him so that he could get out of the

portal’s entryway and close it behind him. “You need to get in contact
with the fae and see when they can get people over here to take us to
the other realm. We’ve got the first battle scheduled in a couple days’
time, and Desmond is very aware of everything we’ve been doing.”
The stranger frowned. “Get the lead out, Ally-Cat. There is no time.”

“Yeah. I missed you, too, jerk,” Ally said. “So what’s up with

Dru? He’s being weird, and the bond is silent as the freaking grave.”

“It’s a lot to explain. Suffice it to say, he thinks he’s a Dove. I’ll

explain everything when we get to Prince Salvatore. I need to talk to
Santiago and make arrangements for the troupe to get the hell out of
Haven,” Ger said. He was looking pretty strained. The sense of
satisfaction that filled Dru at the fact also came with a healthy dose of
shame at the pettiness of it. “The fae realm is our safest bet.”

“Once we secure the prince, you’re going hunting, aren’t you?”

Ally asked, the first serious look Dru had seen plastered on his face.
“I’m coming with.”

“Yes. Hunting is just what I anticipate doing. But that’s ultimately

up to Salvatore. If he decides to allow me the hunt, I will of course
take you along as well.” Ger looked at Druas. “But first we gotta deal
with that.”

“While you run around, shall we take Druas to his room with the

boys? I want to keep his stress down. If we start exposing him to too
much, I’m afraid he’ll lose control,” Cord said, smiling at Dru
apologetically. He was probably right, but…

“I would never do anything to frighten the children,” Dru

rumbled. His grip tightened on the two of them.

“He knows that, pretty,” Michel said. “He just wants to keep the

stress level down until everything gets settled. Jumping between
worlds and moving half a household is a difficult and stressful task.
Let Germany and Allasandro deal with all the legwork. We’ll go pack

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things for us, and we’ll need to go shopping at some point before we
leave.”

“Shopping?” Dru asked.
“Yes. The children are going to need some clothes and things.

Plus, it’ll be Christmas soon, and they’ll need something to open,”
Michel said.

“Actually, it was Christmas five days ago. Happy New Year,”

Ally interrupted. “We bought them some stuff already, but I’m sure
they’d like something else from their papas.”

“We missed Christmas?” Cord asked, looking pained.
Dru frowned. “What the hell is Christmas?”
“Is where everybody gives presents, Daya,” Hardwin piped up.

“Ally said we could get everything we wanted at kaskas.” The market.
“We got lots.” He beamed proudly, and Dru found himself smiling.

“Sorry, Cord. You did miss Christmas, but that’s okay. The little

ones got a ton of stuff from all their uncles. They were in hog heaven.
Damian was friggin’ loving it.” Ally laughed. “He called the adoption
agency we’re going through at least five times since the little ones got
here trying to hurry the process along.”

“They’ll still need more,” Cord said stubbornly. “Come on. We

need to start packing either way.”

Dru agreed. “Yeah. They need something from us.” He leveled a

glare at Ally who held up his hands in surrender.

“Hey, we’re just trying to make them feel at home. They missed

you guys.”

“I’ll catch up to you two in a bit. Dru needs to rest,” Michel

interrupted before an argument could ensue. “Come to Mi-mi, boys.
Let Daya up.”

They went willingly but did look at him, almost making sure that

he was following. He so didn’t believe them that this was the first
time he’d met these two. They were way too familiar with him to just
be meeting him. But then again, what did he know about kids?

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179

They’d apparently been in the lower levels, because they trudged

up three flights of stairs before they came out to the main level of the
house. It was a massive residence. His leg and side were aching by the
time they reached the marbled landing.

“Ngh,” he grunted as he stepped down on his legs again and pain

shot up it.

“We need to get that leg examined by a real doctor. You demons

may have some killer home remedies, but some actual medicine
would not be amiss,” Cord said, immediately coming to his side.
“We’ve got one more set of stairs to go up to get to the Ravyns’
rooms. Is that okay?”

“I’ll make it. The tear in the muscle is just bothering me. It should

be healing faster than this,” Dru griped. Iso and Hardwin swiveled
their heads around to look at him.

“Daya sick?” Iso asked, his bottom lip beginning to tremble.
“I’m fine, kiddo. No worries,” Dru reassured. He’d have to watch

his reactions from now on. He didn’t want the little ones to worry
about him.

“I could carry you,” Michel offered, swinging around toward

them. “Cord could carry the kids.”

“I’m fine, I said,” Dru rumbled. He would not be carried up the

stairs like a 1920s heroine just because he had a little scratch on his
leg.

“More of a puncture, love,” Cord commented, reading his mind.

Dru rolled his eyes and stomped toward the stairs as gingerly as he
could manage without losing his all-important image of masculine
strength. Demons displayed their strength to the nth degree. He was
no exception to the rule.

After two short pauses and a few moments where Dru wasn’t

exactly sure he could make it to the top, he hit the landing.

“Stubborn,” Cord muttered, hovering hear his elbow as he took a

wobbly step forward.

“Bite me, kitty cat.”

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Michel snickered. “I’m calling the doctor when we get to the

room.”

They slowly made their way down the hallway and paused outside

a room numbered four. Dru looked at his mates. Were they going to
open it or what?

“We know where it is. We’ve never been inside,” Michel

explained. “Go ahead, Dru. Open it.”

Dru hesitated for the barest of moments before he opened the

door. The first thing he was hit with was the wide windows whose
curtains were pushed back to the brink to allow as much light as
possible to shine through them. The second thing he noticed was that
the whole place was a jungle. Plants and water decorations littered the
space, making it into a sort of jungle oasis with the bed as the
centerpiece. Huh. I really brought the outdoors in.

Two sets of rumbling purrs rose up to caress his ears. He looked at

his mates who regarded the room with no small amount of
appreciation. They apparently liked it. The canopy bed at the center
was a mesh of blue and green, a combination of earth and water. It
really was beautiful.

“Hiya, Asshole,” an alien voice squawked, nearly making Dru

jump out of his skin. On the right side of the bed where the nightstand
should’ve been was a twisted hunk of wood that was carved out with
places for swings and toys of various types. Atop it, tethered by a thin
string, was a gorgeous red, blue, and yellow bird.

Dru blinked. “That thing just talked.” Demontia didn’t have any

talking wildlife. Holy shit! Too-intelligent eyes regarded him.

“Hiya, Asshole,” it repeated.
Michel started laughing as the kids stared at it with the same

fascination as Dru. “It’s called a parrot, a Macaw to be exact.” It
ruffled its feathers and opened its wings.

“Come here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” it said.
Cord giggled a little at that. “They’re really smart. You never told

us you had a bird, Dru.”

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181

“Um, well, in my defense, I don’t remember having a bird.” Dru

continued to stare at it. It really was beautiful. Was it his pet? He
supposed so. He approached it cautiously, and it seemed to get really
excited the closer he came. It bobbed its head back and forth, nearly
dancing in enthusiasm. He reached out his hand, and the thing nuzzled
him like a cat. Smiling, he scratched behind its head, and it made a
little noise of contentment. It turned its head and took Dru’s finger in
its mouth, not hurting, just holding on. It was almost like a handshake.

“Wanna see. Wanna see, Mi-mi!” Hardwin demanded, squirming

out of Michel’s grip.

“Sit on the bed, Hardwin,” Michel commanded. “You want to see

the birdie, too, while Mi-mi makes a phone call and Cordie starts
packing Daya’s things?” he asked Iso. The shyer boy nodded and let
himself be put down. The twins climbed onto the canopy bed, and
Dru gave the bird one last pat before kicking off his shoes and joining
them. Normally, he would’ve insisted on helping Cord out as he went
to the closet and started taking out clothes, but he was just so damn
tired from everything. It had been night in Demontia, but it seemed to
be midday here. Couple that with his injuries and it was no wonder
that he wanted to lay down and sleep.

The twins cuddled to both sides of him, and the bird moved

closer, examining the two smaller versions of Dru as if trying to
figure them out.

“What’s his name, Daya?” Iso asked in his soft voice.
“I don’t know,” Dru answered truthfully. He closed his eyes and

felt the two warm bodies beside him. Hopefully, he’d have answers
for them soon.

“He named Pretty. Like Daya,” Hardwin insisted, his little skull

pressed against Dru’s chest.

“Like Michel calls me?”
Hardwin nodded. “Yep. Like Mi-mi calls Daya.” The little one

paused. “You sleepy, Daya?”

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Dru tried to force his eyes open, but they just wouldn’t cooperate.

He was too tired. With a sigh, he gave up the fight for consciousness
and let himself slip into a dream.

* * * *

Cord packed everything in the variety of duffle bags that Dru had

stuffed into the back of the closet. His weapons had their own special
cases, but he figured he wouldn’t be giving him access to them
anytime soon. Dru and the twins had dropped off to sleep about
twenty minutes ago, and so he worked in relative silence as he did his
task. He longed to go curl up in bed with them, but there was just too
much to do. Though, the calming sound of water flowing over rocks
and the smell of jasmine weren’t exactly conducive to him moving
any faster.

He could hear Michel’s muffled voice on the other side of the

door, talking to the vampires’ doctor. He was arranging for a home
visit, and that suited Cord just fine. Dru really did need a professional
looking at his wounds, though he knew Dru healed quickly because
he was a demon.

Michel ended his phone call and stepped back into the room. “The

doctor will be here in about an hour to look at the wounds. Ger texted
me and said Santiago has agreed to transport everyone in the
Entertainer line plus some into the fae world. We’ll be going over
earlier with Allasandro, though. Apparently, Salvatore is all about
seeing Dru and what has happened to him.”

“Shhh!” Cord shushed, glancing at the lightly snoring Dru and the

equally unconscious twins. “They just dropped off a minute ago.”

Michel chuckled quietly. “That didn’t take long. I was only on the

phone for twenty minutes. Can I help you pack anything?”

“Can you take the weaponry down to the basement where they’re

going to open the gate? I don’t want Dru to get any weird ideas.”
Cord smiled at his lover and gave him a kiss in gratitude when he

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183

nodded. He wondered what it would be like to have a home with his
mates and the boys. The Ravyns had made it clear from the beginning
that they always lived with one another, but the war would hopefully
be over soon. What would that mean for the brotherhood?

“I’ll start hauling this crap downstairs, then,” Michel said. He

grabbed up the two heavy, plastic weapon cases and headed back
toward the door. He looked at the bed. “Let them sleep.” The three of
them curled up on the bed was the most adorable thing Cord could
remember seeing. For not being related to Druas, both Iso and
Hardwin looked a lot like the Ravyn.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” he asked as Michel reached the

door. The bigger shifter’s gaze flicked over to the bed.

“They’re beyond beautiful.”
Cord couldn’t agree more.

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Chapter Eighteen

The blond-haired advisor to the Faery King escorted them down

never-ending hallways past very relaxed-looking guards. Dru rubbed
his chest as the ache he felt there grew with each anticipatory step.
They had dropped off the children in the massive children’s room
where Jeremy, Ger and Santiago’s son, was already installed with all
his video-game consoles. The guards had assured them that
Allasandro had ordered the toys that had been given to the twins
brought up while they went to see Prince Salvatore. Therein lay the
reason for his extreme nervousness.

Though he was several worlds away from Desmond, his will still

held sway over Druas’s mind. A deep, unbending hatred bubbled like
sludge in his heart at the thought of the man who caused Desmond so
many problems. The idea of being in the same room as that man made
him fear for his sanity. If he got the opportunity, he wouldn’t be able
to resist the impulse to kill him.

A man Dru hadn’t met before stepped out into the hallway. His

golden eyes swept over them before he crossed his arms over his
chest. “He stinks of anger and evil thoughts.” The man sighed. “He
doesn’t feel like our Druas, though I can clearly see that he is him.”
He shook his head and turned his back. “Bring him in. Prince
Salvatore and Judgment are waiting.”

Dru felt a surge of adrenaline wash over him as the door opened

and the guards moved back out of the way. He itched for a weapon of
some kind. The enemies all around him made him twitchy. No matter
how much he told himself that these people weren’t really his
enemies and that his mates had told him the truth when they said that

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185

he wasn’t actually a Dove, he still felt like he needed to act on the
aggression pulsing through his veins in time with his heart.

He stepped through the door with his mates right behind him. It

opened up into a massive library of some kind. On the desk was a
statue of a raven that had to be as tall as his smaller mate and looked
heavy. He was intensely glad he hadn’t had to lift it for some reason.
Swallowing hard, he stepped far enough into the room so that the door
could snick shut behind them.

His eyes went to the two men who stood on either side of the

statue. The smaller of the two had a black faux hawk, dark eyes, and
facial piercings. He leaned against the back of the chair on the left.
The other had brilliant red hair the color of blood that was cut into
artful spikes, and he had bright red eyes. Instant recognition filled
him, and he trembled under the impulse to launch himself at the
deposed monarch. He clenched his fists and commanded himself to
breathe.

Through the haze of the desire that ordered him to strike, to kill,

the bond between himself and his mates flared bright, eclipsing the
urge. He relaxed into the sensation and let it calm him. The man who
had greeted them in the hallway took his place beside Salvatore with
his dagger drawn.

“Thank you, Tony,” the smaller man with the facial piercings said.
“Druas? How are you feeling?” The sound of Prince Salvatore’s

voice plunged him deeper into Desmond’s will. Luckily, his mates
were there to pull him out of the king’s mind and back into his own.
They crowded behind him close enough to where he could feel their
heat. It helped.

“I…” He swallowed. “Don’t talk. Your voice. It makes me want

to…hurt you.”

A look of pain passed over the monarch’s face before it faded like

it never had been. “Ah, I see. Step forward to the statue. Let’s see
what Judgment can do for you.”

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He took one step and then another. Moving closer to Salvatore

was probably not a good idea. He wanted to kill him and felt a huge
satisfaction at the thought of twisting a knife into his pale chest.

“Oh, sweet Ravyn, what has he done to you?” a sympathetic voice

asked in his head. He hissed at the mental touch. What the fuck was
that? “He has stolen you, Druas. He has raped you in the worst of
ways.”

“Can it be fixed?” Salvatore asked. The entire room seemed to

hold their breath.

The statue spoke. “I can alter the bond, but I cannot break it

without killing Druas. Desmond has taken a chunk of his soul.”

The breath left Dru in a hiss at the statement. So much for things

being fixed. He couldn’t stay here if that was the case. He couldn’t be
around these people. He’d take his mates and his sons and go
somewhere. Maybe he’d go back to Earth. Michel and Cord could get
some assistance from their clan, and they could build or buy
something in pack territory. They could be away from the conflict,
and he could find a little peace away from Desmond.

After a pause, the statue spoke again. “I think I can bring back his

memory and possibly dampen the sharpness of the connection by
reforging a bond with you, Salvatore, but a part of him will always be
connected to Desmond so long as the monarch lives.”

“Anything would help.” Michel’s deep rumble behind him made

Dru half turn. Why couldn’t they just let things be? The statue had
said he couldn’t fix him. He just wanted to get the hell out of this
room before he took a chunk out of Salvatore’s ass.

“Druas, look at me,” the statue commanded. Dru did, the rubies of

the statue’s eyes capturing him. His stomach rolled as he felt the
invasion of another mind crash into his own. “Forgive me, Ravyn.
This may hurt a little bit.”

No shit! He muffled his scream by biting down hard on his lip

until he tasted blood. Images, pictures, and memories flashed through
his mind in rapid succession, including those of the Court magicians

Ravyn’s Mates

187

ripping the information they desired from his mind. Gods, he’d been
so naïve. The Cranes had been right. He’d been fucked over in the
worst of ways.

The sickly green bond between Desmond and himself flared for

an instant, but the thread seemed to be shredded layer by layer until
the bond that remained was the barest of threads. Relief rushed
through him in a calming wash. Oh thank Gods.

It wasn’t until the mental touch became less forceful did he realize

his eyes had squeezed shut during the process. His breath was coming
out in pants, and the warm hands of his mates may have been the only
thing that was keeping him standing.

“Dru?” Salvatore asked.
“I remember. I remember you. Fuck. That was awful.” Dru

wished his head would stop spinning like this. “Salvatore. They know
everything. They know everything that we were planning. They know
troop numbers and about the faeries and vampires. Gods, I’m so
sorry.” His sentence ended in a sob, and his mates suddenly
surrounded him, enveloping him in their scent.

“It’s not your fault, pretty,” Michel assured, rubbing his cheek

against the side of his lover’s head. Cord pressed a kiss to his neck.

“They’re right, Dru. That was not your fault,” Salvatore’s voice

was warm with understanding. “So when did you get mated to two
shifters?”

“In Demontia. My prince, please forgive me,” Dru said, pushing

past his mates and having to grab ahold of the desk to keep from
toppling over.

Salvatore stepped around the desk and took his shoulders, pulling

him into a tight hug. “There is nothing to forgive. You didn’t
willingly give him anything.”

“I can still feel him. The bond is diminished, but it’s still there. I

can tell you exactly where he is. He’s in his room with his
concubines. I know what he feels.”

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“But you don’t have to act on his will. You’ll never be free of him

until he is dead, but you no longer have to obey him. Your mates’
bond helped break most of it,” the statue interrupted.

Salvatore hugged him tighter, and Dru clutched at his prince

tightly. The bond between himself and his brothers flared to life, and
tears of gratitude pricked his eyes. My brothers, my dearest friends.
He felt dirty having a piece of Desmond inside him, but he knew that
he would find a way to break it. He’d kill Desmond himself to
accomplish the task. He could still feel Desmond’s will in distant
rumblings inside him, but he felt no compulsion to obey. At least he
wasn’t a willing traitor. The thought made his mind trip up as memory
hit him.

“Holy shit!” he shouted.
Salvatore pulled back and gave him a curious look. “What is it?”
“Theron. Where is he?”
Salvatore frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but Tony spoke

up instead. “He was in his room painting twenty minutes ago.”

“You’ve got to stay away from him. He’s working for Desmond

as a spy,” Dru said. He might as well have dropped a bomb in the
room. Tony looked like he’d been slapped, and the sharp inhalation
from Salvatore and Destin told him that no one had expected that.

“You’re sure?” Salvatore asked in a tight voice.
“Yes, I’m sure. The Doves were bragging about it. He’s been

reporting to Desmond on us. I don’t know how, but he’s been in
contact. Three of the Cranes are stuck in the dungeon.” His dizziness
was thankfully starting to fade. As his mind cleared, it became easier
for him to focus.

Tony’s jaw ticked, signaling how pissed he really was. “I’ll go

take him to the dungeons.”

“Make sure he’s in one of the more comfortable cells. There may

be an explanation,” Salvatore cautioned. He looked a little sick
himself.

Ravyn’s Mates

189

“Yes, my prince,” Tony said. He looked stiff and vastly

uncomfortable. Poor Tony. The super loyal Ravyn leader didn’t know
how to deal with betrayal. He stepped around the desk, walked across
the room, and disappeared out the door.

Salvatore sighed as the door thunked shut behind him. “I’m glad

you are back on our side, Dru. You did well in contacting Natiri for us
and getting everything arranged over in Demontia. I’m sorry you
weren’t fully healed by Judgment.”

The small Faery King piped up suddenly. “We may be able to use

your connection to Desmond, actually. You said you can sense where
he is?” Dru nodded. “That will help us find him when the coward
goes to ground as the war heats up. This may work for us. Good job,
Druas.”

Dru snorted. “Thanks, my Prince Destin. Anything for the crown.”
The punk-rock fae grinned. “Smart-ass.”
Salvatore massaged the bridge of his nose as he often did when he

was stressed out. “Why don’t you take your mates back to the rooms
we arranged for you? We’ll meet back up for supper tonight. I need to
rest a bit and talk things over with Destin. I need to figure out what
we’re going to do with all this new information.”

The dismissal was clear. Dru gave a bow and straightened,

reaching for his mates as he did so. He was so happy to remember
them in all the wonderful detail of their mating. Why he had ever
even contemplated the possibility of life without them was beyond
him.

They managed to get out into the hallway and follow yet another

guide to their sets of rooms. The fae were nothing if not gracious
hosts. He was barely holding onto his control. He felt like he’d been
separated from his mates forever. Having their memories stolen from
him was equivalent to having someone erasing their connection. He
needed to reaffirm their bond like he needed air in his lungs.

The door wasn’t even shut before he launched himself at Michel,

nearly tackling him to the floor in an effort to strip him of his clothes.

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Judgment had not just healed his mind. His leg wasn’t throbbing
anymore, either. He demanded Michel’s kiss, ravishing his mouth
with deep plunges of his tongue. His larger mate groaned and
wrapped his arms around the Ravyn.

“My mates, mine,” Dru growled the last word, already panting and

hard.

“Christ, Dru. I missed you,” Michel managed to gasp out between

kisses. He backed them up to the large bed and pushed Dru back onto
the plush surface. Dru attacked his shirt and pants, chucking them off
the bed and out of sight. It was the first time he’d be with his mates on
an actual bed, and he couldn’t fucking wait.

His mates mimicked his mad behavior, stripping with a speed that

bespoke of their equally desirous need.

“Please tell me there is lube in this place,” Dru begged, reaching

down and stroking his already-dripping cock as he watched his two
lovers slink across the floor toward him. Michel reached the bed first
and slid onto the soft mattress. Cord paused by the side table and dug
in the drawer for a small bottle of lube which he held up triumphantly.

“Prince Salvatore really thinks of everything,” Cord mumbled,

tossing the bottle to Michel, who had flipped Dru to his stomach with
his firm, muscled ass in the air for his perusal. He watched as his mate
caught the bottle and drizzled some of the contents down the crack of
Dru’s already-needy ass. The cold lube made him shiver. A finger
circled his entrance, dipped inside. His eyes rolled. He wanted to
fuck, and he didn’t want all the prep that would come with Michel
treating him like he was going to break.

“Get over here, Cord. I’m going to fuck you through the goddamn

mattress,” Dru commanded as Michel’s fingers sawed in and out of
his already-clenching ass.

“Can’t wait, baby,” Cord murmured breathlessly, jumping into the

bed beside them. Dru wasted no time in grabbing him and pulling him
beneath his trembling body. Michel tapped his shoulder with the
bottle, passing it along now that he had coated Dru’s entrance

Ravyn’s Mates

191

generously. Dru took it graciously and uncapped the bottle and poured
its contents onto his hand. He had to push himself up on his knees to
be able to reach Cord even as spread and willing as he was.

He pressed one finger into Cord’s fluttering hole and then another.

Cord cried out, his head kicking back in pleasure as Dru fingered his
star with careful plunges of his fingers. He knew he was probably
rushing things, but he needed this in a way he couldn’t explain to
anyone else. His mates understood, though. He felt it through the
bond they shared.

“I’m ready. Please, please, Druas. I don’t want to waste any more

time. I’m ready. Please,” Cord babbled, his hips rocking back and
forth in countermovement to Dru’s fingers. Dru was glad he was
ready, because Michel’s fingers pushing in and out of his ass was
driving him crazy. Those long, talented fingers kept hitting hidden
pleasure spots inside him.

Without warning, Michel’s thick dick speared his quickly

prepared ass. Dru gasped in equal parts pain and pleasure. It was a
toss-up what side of the fence he was going to fall on. Cord made a
frustrated noise and wrapped his legs around Dru, pulling him
forward off Michel’s prick. He took Dru’s cock in hand and forced
the fat head against his clenching entrance.

“Fuck me, love me, mate me. Please,” Cord all but sobbed at him.

Dru could do nothing but obey the dictates of his smaller mate. He
shoved forward, fucking himself into the tight body beneath him. The
pleasure that played over Cord’s face made his heart clench.

“I love you. Love you both so much,” Dru said before he could

stop himself. Oh hell. He didn’t really want to stop himself. Michel
chose that moment to thrust back into him, hitting his prostate with
that desperate lunge. Michel groaned behind him.

“I love you, Dru,” Cord promised, his eyes shining.
“My mates,” Michel rumbled, “my beautiful mates.”
Dru cried out at the dual sensations of taking and being taken. He

would never get used to this wonderful three-hundred-sixty-degree

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sensation. They started a rhythm that was impossible to maintain. It
would send them skyrocketing in a matter of minutes, and he knew it.
He fucked himself into Cord’s tight depths, and his eyes rolled as
Michel scored his pleasure spot with every hard lunge into his own
body. Within minutes he was ready to explode.

“Please, mark me,” he begged, needing to feel the teeth of his

mates sink into his skin, reaffirming their bond and physically
decorating his skin with proof of the shifters’ claim.

They didn’t leave him waiting long. Michel kissed his neck where

it met his shoulder, swirling his slightly rough tongue over the surface
before Dru felt the telltale prick of his fangs as they slowly pierced
the skin. Pleasure erupted through him, and he cried out as whatever
chemical reaction the mating mark set off proceeded to detonate like a
nuclear explosion. Cord’s mouth found the heavy muscle of his chest,
and his teeth sank into the flesh he found there.

Dru lost it. With a strangled shout, he came, his vision narrowing

until he felt like he was seeing down a long corridor of black.
Distantly, he was aware of his mates shuddering through their own
orgasms, but he was so focused on how overwhelming his own
sensations were that he could do nothing but gasp out his pleasure and
sink into the abyss of desire. Michel’s body locked inside him like it
had the night they’d mated for the first time, and Dru smiled in
happiness.

He collapsed against them. The energy needed to stand up or to

even roll over was too much for him, and he sighed as he inhaled the
scent of their lovemaking. If he could stay right here for the rest of his
life, he would be happy.

“I’m never leaving you guys again,” he promised them both when

he’d regained the ability to speak. With a groan, Michel managed to
pull out from behind him so that Dru could do the same. He was glad
the bed was big enough to accommodate all of them comfortably,
because Dru loved the way that they could all lie beside one another.
If he had his way, it would be for the rest of his life.

Ravyn’s Mates

193

“We’re never letting you out of our sight again,” Cord said,

turning on his side so he could cuddle to Dru’s chest. Michel did the
same on the other side, and Dru smiled in contentment.

“And if you ever tell us to wait for you, we’re going to stalk you,”

Michel added, nipping at Dru’s chest. Dru chuckled at the both of
them, his eyes beginning to droop as the toll from the past few days
finally caught up with him. They stayed silent for a good five minutes
as they basked in their afterglow.

Dru yawned. “I’m all about finishing that nap now.” Cord’s light

snore answered him, and Michel’s steady breathing told him that his
mates were well ahead of him. The Ravyn smiled softly to himself,
kissed both of their heads, and let good dreams carry him away.

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Epilogue

Three weeks later

It was decided that Germany and Allasandro would be the ones to

go on the assassination mission to Pandemonium, the capital city of
Demontia. Dru would be their guide to finding Desmond when the
time came. His connection with the king was still too strong for him
to go with them, but from the fae realm, using a communication
device made from some kind of fae magick, he would tell them where
to go.

Dageus had already taken the vampire and fae troops over to

Demontia to join Natiri’s men on the front, and the battles had
savaged the southern half of Demontia from their reports. Tony was
still acting as personal bodyguard to Prince Salvatore, despite the
near-impenetrable security of the Faery King Destin’s home world.
He’d seemed strained lately, as if a lot rested on his shoulders that
was beyond the understanding of even his brothers-in-arms. Prince
Theron had been imprisoned in the lower levels of Destin’s castle,
and Dru wagered that had a lot to do with Tony’s bad mood. He was
in charge of extracting whatever information could be gained from the
traitorous prince.

All the mates and Entertainer vampires had been moved over to

the fae realm for the duration of the war. None of the vampires were
happy to see their demon mates leave for more dangerous climes, but
the preservation of their families and the children enabled them to
accept the burden of being left behind. The vampire Damian and his
brother, Alexander, in particular, were having a hard time of it.

Ravyn’s Mates

195

Santiago seemed to be hyperfocusing on Jeremy and the training of
the members of La Petite Morte, their entertainment company, to keep
from thinking about Germany’s prolonged absence. Despite the fact
that the shows for the rest of the season had been cancelled, he
wanted to keep everyone in tip-top shape.

Dru was intensely grateful that his mates and he were chosen to

stay in the fae realm and help keep everything running smoothly.
They’d been largely left in charge of shuttling supplies from Earth to
Underhill in order to protect the people from Earth who had come
over independent of the energies of Underhill, which tended to tie
anyone who partook of its bounty to the energy of its world.

Today was the first day in quite some time where they’d been

allowed a free day. Prince Salvatore and King Destin were at the fae
Court, doing whatever it was they did there, Tony was down in the
dungeons with Theron again, and the rest of the troupe seemed to be
down in the left wing where Santiago had set up their practices. Since
the additional food supplies had already arrived earlier in the
morning, Dru and his mates had the rest of the afternoon to
themselves.

They’d decided to take the twins down to the third-floor garden

and have a sort of picnic for them. It was still hard for Dru to wrap his
mind around the fact that he had gained two mates and two children in
the span of two months’ time. At first he’d been terrified, but now
they’d developed an easy sort of rhythm. Despite his initial hesitation
at having kids, he loved Iso and Hardwin so much he ached. He
couldn’t even remember what life had been like without both mates
and kids running around his rooms.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Michel asked, spreading the blanket out on

the lawn under the branches of a full blooming fruit tree of some kind.

“What’s good?” Dru asked, putting Hardwin down so that he

could go chase after a pack of fae children as they played a game of
tag around a grouping of rocks by the small creek that ran beside it. It

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really seemed that the faeries built their homes around nature instead
of the other way around. Dru liked it.

“Life,” Michel said, smiling. Cord brought up the rear, carting

both Iso and the picnic basket with ease. He, too, had to let his
squirming demon boy down so that he could join his brother in the
game of tag. He rolled his eyes and put the basket down on the
blanket’s edge.

“Agreed,” Cord said, kissing both of his mates in turn.
“Agreed,” Dru echoed, smiling.
He stretched out on the blanket with his mates on either side of

him. He looked forward to the future that lay ahead of him.

“So did you want to go back to Demontia when everything is

settled?” Cord asked as they watched the children play. They’d have
to call them over for sandwiches soon, but until then, they let them
frolic.

Dru shrugged. “I used to think I wanted to settle in Demontia after

the war, but now I’m not so sure. Earth is looking pretty fantastic.”
He knew it wasn’t exactly fair judgment, but he’d nearly lost his
mates in his homeland and was loathe to return to it.

“Well, we can do that if you’d like. Michel and I had discussed it

a bit a while back ago. It would be nice being close to the clan and the
vampires. Allasandro, Dageus, and Germany will probably be staying
there as well considering who they’re wed to.” Cord’s stomach
rumbled, and he began digging out the plates they’d brought with
them.

“Well, then it’s settled. We’ll live on Earth. Besides, we’re

Ravyns. There is nothing keeping us from visiting Demontia
whenever the urge strikes us. I guarantee Salvatore will be oscillating
between Underhill and Demontia anyway. We can make it work.”
Dru was very satisfied with the plan. He felt like the kids would at
least have a better education on Earth for the time being. Things
would be rocky in Demontia first thing after the war, and it would
probably take Salvatore a few centuries to fix it.

Ravyn’s Mates

197

“Iso, Hardwin, come get some food!” Michel yelled as the crowd

of kids raced by. The twins hesitated for an instant before turning and
jogging back to their fathers. They were right where they belonged.
Cord started handing out sandwiches, and they started chattering
about the new friends they’d made. Dru smiled as he took in the
scene.

Peace and family, the two things he wanted most, were within his

reach. He rethought that sentence. He’d already found both in a way,
and for that, he was forever grateful. The war would end, and life, the
way it was meant to be lived, would be upon them before they knew
it. Until then, he would cherish what he had and love them with every
cell in his being. He glanced at his beautiful blond-haired lovers and
knew that loving them wouldn’t be a hardship. Loving them was easy.
They were his mates, after all.

THE END

HTTP://JANADOWNS.BLOGSPOT.COM/

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jana Downs lives in the beautiful mountains of Western North

Carolina with three cats, one dog, several dozen fish, and a very
understanding partner-in-crime who hates to read but makes
exceptions for her stories.

You can usually find her either watching bad reality TV, buying

way too many books on Amazon, or dreaming up another man or two
to occupy her time because life is good but several drop-dead
gorgeous nonexistent men is just better.

Also by Jana Downs

Siren Classic ManLove: Gladiator Games

Siren Allure ManLove: Ravyn Warriors 1: Ravyn’s Blood

Siren Allure ManLove: Ravyn Warriors 2: Ravyn’s Heart

Siren Allure ManLove: Ravyn Warriors 3: Ravyn’s Destiny

Siren Classic ManLove: Ravyn Warriors 4: Ravyn’s Dance

Siren LoveXtreme Forever ManLove: His Guardian Angels 1:

Angel Bound

Siren LoveXtreme Forever ManLove: His Guardian Angels 2:

Angelic Ties

Siren LoveXtreme Forever ManLove: His Guardian Angels 3:

Angel Kin

Available at

BOOKSTRAND.COM

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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