Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BWH89KH/
Series Information: http://www.avasinclairauthor.com
Release Date: May 19
For centuries, the Drakoryan lords have taken sacrificial maidens. As a village widow, I thought myself safe from their attentions. I was wrong.
I am Thera the Healer, and I blame the Drakoryans for the death of my husband and father. They were killed before our dragon lord rulers resettled us in the Drakoryan Valley ahead of war with the ShadowFell.
Now they seek to recruit village men into their army to fight the enemy. But I seek to convince my people that the enemy is not some black dragon we have never seen, but the one who keeps us.
Now the Drakoryans are accusing me of sedition, and seek to neutralize my influence in a manner I will not accept. They seek to wed me to five Drakoryan lords tasked with keeping order in my village.
They won’t get what they want without a fight.
As I walk through the village, I think of them. Even in the cold, I fancy I can still feel the heat of their huge bodies as they surrounded me, hear the steel in those deep voices when they refused to release me from this fate. It was in those moments that I realized the power of the Drakoryans. I’d thought I’d seen it when they became dragons, but their true power lies within. There is a force in them that speaks to something deep inside me, something I’d buried along with the bloody shirt.
They have given me leave to stay at my cottage at night, yet I know that will end. By day, one or the other is not far from me. Each evening now, we take our meager meals together, and when we do, I say little, having little to say. Instead, I listen, seeking to discern the nature of these men who have vowed to make me their mate.
The Lords of Kry’bil speak of the needs of the village and worries over the continuing cold. They speak of asking the witches for permission to hunt the woods for meat. I continue to learn from their conversations. These strong Drakoryan males are deferential to the feminine power in the mountains. Magda, the healer who mentored me, told me that healers have a special connection with the divine. I think of how I can sense an illness before it is described to me, and of how easily the vision of my Bran came to me wish a message. Perhaps there is magic in me, too? Perhaps, I think, there is magic in all women.
Magic in women. But magic in men, too.
Sometimes, my eyes fall on the lords, and I catch myself staring at their hard chests, their large hands, the corded ridged muscles of their forearms. I think of how it would feel, being pressed into furs beneath one of their powerful bodies, of parting my legs to be entered by a cock I’m sure would be more than sufficient to fill the aching need I try to deny. At those times, I doubt myself, and fear the image of Bran was nothing more than a manifestation of my own loneliness and physical need, just another misguided impulse, not unlike revenge.
Yet sin or sign, I am drawn to the Lords of Kry’bil a little more each day. My nipples harden when they say my name. I feel the heat coming off their bodies as they pass and feel moisture seep from my throbbing pussy. The woman in me is stirring awake. Having felt passion, I know what I am missing, and when I walk from a cottage to find all five waiting for me with serious expressions, my heart leaps a little in my chest.
“Can we have a word?” Lord Erdorin asks. I nod, looking at them from under the hood I’ve pulled up over my head.
“We can wait no more, Thera. Drakoryans are not like other men. Once a mate is named, we burn and weaken if the wait is long.” He glances towards the mountain. “We cannot afford the luxury of weakness. Not now.”
I swallow nervously as he continues.
“It has always been the practice for us to battle for first rights, but you are no virgin.” He pauses. “We will have you, Thera, however you will decide in what order.”
“How?” I ask. “How do I choose?” My eyes travel from one to the other.
Dark-eyed Erdorin, his jaw dark with stubble, wears his wavy hair at shoulder length. Gyrvig, with his russet hair and beard is different from the others. Jareo wears his long hair in a single braid. He is the sternest, the most serious.
And then there are the twins, dark and bearded. I tell them apart now by their birthmarks. Tyri’s is on the left. Yrko’s is on the right.
“Choose,” Gyrvig says. The heat coming from him is the strongest. Jareo hangs back, staring intently. He has a fighter’s eyes. The twins, so large, so fierce, wear the same expression of want. I look back at Erdorin and give him the answer that seems most fair.
“Very well,” I say. “Oldest to youngest.”
A fresh wave of heat comes off of Erdorin. His brothers’ disappointment is palpable.
“We will sleep outside tonight.” Jareo says.
“No…” I shake my head. “If I must…if we…let it be in my cottage, in my home. I will not be taken on the floor.”
Erdorin smiles. “I have seen the bed in your cottage, little one. It is small like you. We will end up on the floor just the same.”
I scowl. “Perhaps. But it is my floor. I would awake in my own house tomorrow.”
“Very well.” He gives me a nod. “I will come to you at candle time.”
He turns away then, and I realize I am trembling.
The wait is over. Tonight I will be claimed by the first of five Drakoryan lords.
I walk to the bench by her table and sit down. I guide her onto my lap. Tears fill her eyes as I do.
“Bran used to hold me thus,” she says.
“Would you rather I not?”
She shakes her head and sniffs. “No, I don’t mind. It’s nice.”
“I would make you smile, and often, healer.” I smooth a strand of hair from her face. “I would take you beyond the valley to a hidden glen where water of the clearest, coldest brooks sing as they flow around moss-crowned rocks. I would lay down as a dragon so you could climb on my back and carry you to touch the robin’s egg sky. I would take you to meadows where berries the size of plums grow sheltered in the forest’s edge.” I pause. “I cannot replace Bran in your heart. None of us can. But a woman who treasures such pure and simple things surely has a heart so big to hold the love of more than one man.”
“It seems I have no choice, my lord.”
“You will mate with us. But love? That is always a choice. We will dedicate ourselves to birthing a new love from you, just as you birth new life from the mothers you tend.”
“You have a poet’s tongue.” She colors again.
“It would dance with yours, healer, if you would consent.”
I move my mouth to hers, slowly, deliberately. I feel her breath before I feel her lips. It is sweet with mint. The tip of my tongue meets hers, and when it does, I fight to keep from squeezing her too suddenly and too tight. I feel my cock rise like a sword, jutting into her bottom through the cover of my skirt. I feel her gasp into my mouth. Thera scrambles off my lap, and I silently curse my lust as she steps away.
I stand, and her eyes are fixed on the front of my leather skirt. It’s lifted away by a cock stiff with need. She glances from my face to my skirt. I hold my breath, afraid. For a moment, it looks as if the healer may flee. Instead she speaks.
“Remove your garment, Drakoryan.”
These were not words I expected to hear. My hands move to my waist. I stand to undo the clasp and pull the sash over my shoulder, dropping it and the skirt to the floor.
“By the gods…” Thera’s words are barely whispered. Her eyes are fixed on my cock. She looks up at me. “Are all of you the same?”
I look down. “Big, you mean? Yes.” I can’t help but smile. “Yet each is different.”
“Different?” She drags her gaze to my face. “How?”
“Come here, and I’ll show you.”
My coupling with Erdorin, Jareo, and Gyrvig has given me confidence. I am no longer afraid. I allow myself to be easy with the twins, who exude power and virility. Tonight I coyly asked who is the older, seeking to determine who will be next to take me. I got no direct answer. They turned the conversation to other things, and when I got up to clear away the table, I realized I was alone with the twins.
“Where have the others gone?” I looked to the door, embarrassed to have been so focused on Yrko and Tyri that I’d not even noticed.
“Perhaps they thought it time to leave us alone.” The light tone in Tyri’s voice is replaced by a different one. It’s serious. His deep voice sends a little shudder through my body. I turn from where I’m standing. My heart begins to pound.
“So tonight I’ll be with one of you?”
The twins rise from the table and walk over. When they reach me, Yrko puts a finger under my chin and tilts my head back so that I’m looking up at him and his brother.
“No, Thera. Tonight you’ll be with us both.”
“Both?” I struggle to get the word out.
Tyri nods. “Drakoryan twins are different. If I am cut, Yrko feels it. If he feels lust, my cock gets hard. If I am hungry, his stomach growls. When we shifted for the first time, it was together. And when it comes time to claim a mate…”
As unprepared as I was for this revelation, I am even less prepared for the touch of both men moving over my body. Yrko moves behind me; his hand span my waist and slide up to cup my breasts. Tyri, who is facing me, reaches down to cup and squeeze my buttocks.
My reaction shames me. I feel a trickle of arousal slip from the seam of my aching pussy. It seems so long ago that I was a widow certain she’d never lie with another man. Since then, I have been with three. And now I am about to be taken by two at once.
Ava Sinclair bio:
Variety is the spice of life and Ava Sinclair writes a little something for everyone, from dark romance to menage to kinky AF age play. But the one thing that is consistent in her books are strong storylines, alpha males, and strong women whose hearts and bodies aren’t given up without a fight.
Ava lives in southern Virginia, where she enjoys hoarding books, hiking, running, spoiling her cats, and spending time with her Eurasian eagle owl, Lucius.
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