Fates Magic Page 5

  "Fated, elder?” Kieran accused, irritated at her interference.

  "Undoubtedly,” she replied.

  Ondrea pulled down at the camisole, urging Kieran's hand from beneath, her skin burning crimson against his body. “Father, remove yourself,” she demanded.

  "And you, Father,” Kieran added.

  Neither moved to do so.

  O'Ken motioned to them, his mouth moving as if to protest. “This ... This is unacceptable,” he finally managed.

  "Do I tell you and Mother how to make love?” Ondrea huffed, straightening the strap over her shoulder again. Her legs lowered, hanging down around Kieran's, a stark reminder that she was bare and opened for him.

  He forced his mind from it, taking a deep breath and willing his cock down a notch or two. “I recall you and Mother telling me any mate destined for me would be a joy.” In fact, his father had told him he'd never know sexual fulfillment as he would with his mate.

  "Ondrea!"

  "Kieran!"

  The two older men glared at each other.

  "I do not approve.” O'Ken's voice was tense and cold.

  "On this, we agree,” his father stated.

  Kieran's heart ached. This was what Ondrea felt those five days of being rebuffed by his family.

  "You don't have to approve,” the elder reminded them. “The Fates Room and the Ellix Spinner have both attested to the match."

  O'Ken glared at her then turned his attention to his daughter. “Come with me, Ondrea. We'll discuss this away from these healers."

  Ondrea stiffened against him then pushed toward the edge of the table. Kieran placed his hands on her hips and eased her to the floor, unsure of her intent.

  She turned to her father, fairly vibrating in anger. “I-am-a-healer.” Each word was enunciated and clipped, lending a military air to the response.

  His expression announced he found that an unfortunate situation he wished he could remedy.

  "And I am a fighter,” she informed him.

  "As I well saw,” Markus quipped.

  "Be still, Father,” Kieran ordered.

  "Kieran—"

  "Enough!"

  His father ignored the warning to cease hostilities. “Her games nearly saw you dead."

  O'Ken turned on him. “Ondrea doesn't play games with life, Medici."

  "No. She ends it like you, O'Ken."

  "Enough,” Kieran and Ondrea shouted together.

  "Ondrea—"

  "Enough, Father. I'm staying. You're leaving.” She glanced at Kieran. “They are of a type, you realize."

  "I do now,” he sighed.

  The movements of O'Ken's hands and lips drew Kieran's attention, and he yanked Ondrea behind his body to block her father's view of her, severing the half-formed translocation spell.

  "Kieran, enough is enough,” his father insisted.

  "Yes, it is. I'm seriously considering whether we'll be safe in either home."

  "Now just a—"

  His protest died, as Ondrea's arm circled Kieran's body, anchoring her to him to avoid being translocated without him. Their fathers wore matching expressions of shock. O'Ken gasped, and both paled.

  Kieran looked down, confused at the change. They were half-dressed, but they'd been so clothed the entire time.

  It took a moment for the significance of what he was seeing to sink in. Ondrea's arm lay roughly as it had on the day of the attack, completing the unbroken line of Gabriel's single slice. To reinforce it, Kieran traced the line from his abdomen, over her forearm, and across his chest.

  Markus found his voice first. “What was she doing?"

  Ondrea answered, providing the bit of information Kieran wished he understood himself. “I was trying to push Kieran away from the fight.” There was something meek in that, as if she anticipated either Kieran or her father to take her to task.

  He reined in the urge, his heart warming that she'd tempted Fate so sorely on his behalf. “I told you to stay behind me.” It came out a growl, but it was better than the rant he'd stifled.

  Whatever answer she might have made was drowned out by her father's protest. “Sarke attacked my daughter?"

  "Oh, but it was acceptable that he attacked my son?” Markus roared.

  "What? Of course, not! I never said that."

  "Perhaps they would be safer with Medici."

  O'Ken glowered down at his opponent in this verbal sparring match. “Are you mad? Kieran placed himself between Ondrea and that murdering whelp. All of O'Ken would lay down our lives for him."

  Markus raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but you'd need an army of healers to handle the casualties."

  "So, your son is an instig—"

  "Of a type,” Kieran sighed. “Elder, if you would be so kind as to translocate our fathers to a place to discuss this..."

  She nodded and cast the spell. Their fathers disappeared, protests at being forced away echoing after their physical forms were gone. The room went unnaturally still in their wake, but it didn't remain so for long.

  Ondrea's hand slipped down his stomach and into the front of his sleeping pants. Kieran moaned at the first stroke of her hand up his half-erect length.

  It wasn't half-erect for long. A heartbeat later, he filled then overflowed her hand, wrenching a gasp from her. She eased around his body, looking down at the damp spot on his sleeping pants with wide-eyes.

  Kieran pulled at the tie and let the pants dip, revealing the tip, nestled to her delicate fingers. “Did you miss me?” he teased.

  "Intensely.” She released him, planting both hands on the tabletop and levering herself up. Her legs circled his again, reeling Kieran in.

  He cupped the back of her skull with one hand, and thrust the other beneath her camisole, playing at her still-wet slit. “Now, where were we?"

  "Not far enough,” she breathed.

  His mouth covered hers, and his tongue surged inside. Kieran groaned, as she followed suit. Ondrea pushed his pants down his thighs and grasped his cock, stroking him then bringing the crown to her ready body.

  Kieran surged inside, their lips parting as Ondrea arched her back. A moan rose between them then panting breaths. Kieran drove into her, anticipating her milking climax, holding off to feel her come for him.

  Ondrea's magic beat at him, playing against his own. He closed his eyes, imagining years of this. What had he done to be so blessed?

  "Will we really do this in the greenhouse?” she gasped.

  "And the bath ... The mountains ... Lake Chaos...” He matched the cadence of the words, groaning at the first whispers of her release. “Every room of the house ... There are so many places and positions, Ondrea."

  Her short nails raked at his back, drawing a hiss from him.

  "Every one you wish to experience,” he offered.

  Her climax sent a wave of nurturing energy over him, and plants burst into bloom all over the room. Kieran couldn't hold off longer. In the next moment, he was releasing waves of his fluids into her. Ondrea groaned, leaving new furrows on his back.

  He laughed in relief of his pent-up need, a need that had been denied while he healed. Silently, he promised a less frenetic encounter for the next time, something he promised every time and had yet to deliver on, in the heat of the moment.

  Ondrea's fingertips left his shoulders and gripped tight at his buttocks, forcing Kieran deeper inside her. Her hips tipped back and forth, sending sparks of arousal up his length and racing through his body.

  "What do you want, Ondrea?” Spirits and spells, he'd give her whatever she asked for.

  "The bath. Oh yes, the bath will be just right.” Her eyes were closed, her face a mask of longing and hunger.

  He eased Ondrea off his cock and to the floor, stripping the last of her clothing off then his own. Halfway to the bathing room, a spell stopped him in his tracks. The smell of roast meat teased his senses.

  A platter of food and drink was settled in the center of the table they'd just vacated. Kieran stared at it in co
nfusion, trying to work through who'd sent it or why. The idea that the elders were spying on them didn't sit well with him.

  Ondrea's lips pressed to the hollow of his shoulder, drawing Kieran's attention back to her. “They are intent on me eating correctly,” she explained.

  Before he could question that, she ended the conversation with a massage to his sac. Whatever she knew could wait. For now, he intended to be buried inside his mate ... first his tongue and then his aching cock.

  * * * *

  Ondrea shivered at the intent gaze Kieran raked over her, taking the offered bit of meat from his fingertips. She chewed and swallowed, disconcerted by his silence.

  "Kieran?"

  "Do you need to return to your studies?” he asked.

  "No. My mentor has excused me from formal studies ... for now."

  His hand settled on her woman's curls, his thumb stroking idly at her clit. “How long?"

  "I—” Ondrea gasped then forced her breathing to even. “I don't know."

  "Three weeks,” he requested.

  "A month, if you like.” A month of this would likely kill her, though the mirrors indicated it wouldn't. Oh, but what a way to die.

  Kieran shifted his hand, stroking two fingers inside her. “Perfect."

  "Is it?” Ondrea spread her legs, more interested in what he was doing to her than what he was saying.

  "It won't take more than a month."

  Her heart skipped in excitement. “Planting your seed in me?” The elders had said it would be soon, and the mirrors concurred.

  Kieran turned her chair, forcing his knees between hers and urging her wider. “Considering your cycle, that will take only days ... if it's not accomplished already."

  Ondrea's body reacted fiercely to that. “What will take a month?” she managed in a thin voice.

  "Breaking the families of their bickering.” Kieran started pumping his fingers in and out of her, making her cream flow in preparation for climax.

  She moaned, shaking her head. He believed that would take a month? Impossible.

  Kieran's fingers disappeared, and a hastily cast translocation spell sent the tray away. In the next instant, she was on her feet and bent over the edge of the table. One more, and Kieran was inside her, not gently as he'd been in the bath but with a growl that announced his intention to master her.

  The heat of the tray teased at her nipples, and Ondrea pushed back on him.

  "A month, Ondrea,” he vowed. “But we must work together on this."

  She nodded, incapable of speech as he worked at her arousal, enflaming her body with precision.

  "Until one or the other offers to work toward resolution, without us suggesting it, we stay here. We don't—” He groaned, stroking a hand through her hair then fisting it. “Leave here."

  "Will the elders allow that?"

  "I imagine they will. Spirits and—"

  His translocation spell sent them to the bedroom. Once the mattress supported her abdomen instead of the edge of the table, he was ruthless. Ondrea licked her lips at her rising arousal. Even if Kieran was wrong, and they didn't cave in a month, a month of this would be Fate's Fields on the face of the world.

  * * * *

  "I'm simply stating—” Markus began.

  Kieran sighed. “If you state it again, we shall take our leave for the next eight months."

  "Kieran!” His mother's voice went panicked at that, and he shot her a wink behind his father's back. Ariel forced down a smile. “Really, Markus! Do stop. Kieran may decide to follow through. He has been serious about every other threat ... er ... warning."

  Yes, he had ... and so had Ondrea, which was why there was something resembling peace between the two families.

  It had started with two weeks at Fate Castle. As long as the missives either demanding their presence or vying to outdo the other family in bringing them home continued, they'd begged off on leaving. The Medicis had hit on the, to employ a pun, magic combination first. They'd invited the young lovers to dinner and included a guest list ... topped by the O'Kens.

  The dinner had been tense but civil. Ondrea's mother, Alia, had graciously accepted Ariel into the wedding plans discussed after the meal. The men had shared whiskey in the small drawing room ... and a second dinner had been arranged at the O'Ken household two weeks after.

  Those two weeks had passed with Medici, but missives had flown between the two households several times daily, and Alia had made twice-weekly trips to conduct wedding planning and visit. More than once, Kieran had come upon Ondrea and both of their mothers, laughing like school girls, most likely sharing stories about their men.

  The Medici family would travel to the O'Ken estate with Kieran and Ondrea and stay for dinner. After that, the two weeks until the wedding would be spent at O'Ken. Though they hadn't confirmed anything past that, it was a safe bet that they'd split their time between the two homes to keep the peace ... as long as the families continued to behave themselves.

  "Kieran,” his father pleaded. “The earliest days of a child's development are so important.” He dared not say more than that. Any outright accusation that the O'Ken estate might be counterproductive to a forming infant would go too far, and he knew it.

  "Ondrea assures me that her home is very calming. The herbs sent to her were grown there. If such superior healing plants can grow, I imagine our child will do well."

  "Very well,” he conceded, but Kieran could tell his father was reserving final judgment until he'd established the harmony of the O'Ken household for himself.

  Ariel offered a smile and followed Markus out of the room.

  Ondrea pressed to Kieran's back, chuckling. “Why do you do that?"

  "Do what?” he asked, perplexed.

  She hesitated for a moment. “You didn't see our child's birth in the mirrors."

  His heart stuttered at that. “No. You did?"

  A sound of pleasure escaped her lips. “I know very well what bed she's fated to arrive in."

  Kieran looked to the bed they'd shared for the last two weeks, a smile spreading on his face. “Do me a favor."

  "And that would be?"

  "Don't tell my father."

  The laughter she vented into his shoulder choked off at Markus's call to join them for the translocation to O'Ken. Oh yes, keeping the families in line was going to be a joy.

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  About the Author

  Brenna Lyons wears many hats, sometimes all on the same day: Senior Editor of Mundania Press, former president of EPIC, author of more than fifty published works, columnist for ERWA, special needs teacher, wife, mother ... In addition, she's a member in good standing of WRW, TELL, EWAG and Broad Universe.

  In her first five years published in novel-length, Brenna has finaled for six EPPIES, three PEARLS (taking honorable mention second to NYT Bestseller Angela Knight), two CAPAS, a Dream Realm Award and has won Spintetingler's Book of the Year for 2007.

  Brenna has been termed “one of the most deviant erotic minds in the publishing world ... not for the weak.” (Rachelle for Fallen Angels Reviews) She writes milieu-heavy dark fiction, mainly science fiction, fantasy and horror—straight genre, romance and erotic crosses—poetry, articles and essays.

  With degrees in accounting and computer programming, backgrounds in everything from teaching to clerking, tracking fraud suspects to working for the Air Force and the Navy as a civilian, it's a strange irony that Brenna Lyons will become best known for her first love ... writing.

  Brenna enjoys talking to readers and can be reached via her site at www.brennalyons.com/.

  * * *

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