Chapter 36

Kit

"Iwill never take being clean for granted again," I murmur against the warm caress of bathwater. The bathing chamber is officially my favorite room in the palace. It's an enormous indoor natural pool complete with a clever apparatus that flushes in clean water and drains out the soiled. Better yet, it's large enough to fit the entire pack at once—even Quinton, who is sprawled on the other side of the basin, his knees and arms spread wide and wreathed in shadows.

The rift in the throne room officially closed just over an hour ago, and several of the most powerful dragons in residence were still there fitting a patch over the rip to ensure it doesn't reopen again. Cleaning crews were going through the palace and messengers have been sent to recall staff from Ettienne's reign back to their posts. For the time being, we had no where else we had to be. Or maybe we just smelled so badly that the staff conspired to tell us so.

Tavias massages soap into my scalp with powerful fingers and Cyril pours more water atop my head to wash away the soap suds. Shifting my bundle of wet hair to the side, Cyril skims my neck with his mouth. I arch up, which of course brings my hips right into Tavias's hardened length and the male groans with barely restrained control.

"And here I thought you were exhausted," I tease.

He narrows his brows at me. "Would you like to test that theory?" he asks, his voice dropping low before it sounds in my head. And I still have half a mind to take you over my knee, as you yourself mentioned.

A little gasping breath fills my lungs, a surge of need licking the inside of my thighs and low in my belly. The ease with which my body rouses for these gorgeous males is just… wrong. In the best of ways. Cyril wraps his hand around my waist and presses me back against him, his free palm sliding right between my folds.

Stars. I shift my feet, trying to relieve the growing pressure.

Tavias's eyes narrow on mine and he moves in closer. His lips brush my ear, even though he speaks into my mind. Have you ever been spanked on a wet backside? He inquires, his words edged with just the right amount of threat to make a shudder run through me. I've heard the sting is... quite memorable.

My backside tightens, dragging my sex over Cyril's hand. Oblivious of the conversation Tavias is carrying on with me mind to mind, Cyril slides a finger inside me. I grip him on instinct, grinding against his hand as I try to relieve the ache forming inside my core. Cyril purrs appreciatively and runs his mouth up the scales along the side of my neck.

"You smell like honey today," he whispers.

I know he means my arousal, because even I can scent it. Especially the way it spikes when Tavias crosses his arms over his broad chest and flexes his hand. Stars. I pray the warmth of the water covers up the flush rushing to my face as Tavias smirks and sends a very wrong image into my thoughts. One that has me bottoms up right here in the bathing pool, with my cheeks pink and my males filling all the right places.

Cyril's breath tickles as he slides his tongue over my skin.

"Don't tell me I'm missing all the fun." Hauck sits on the edge of the tub and slides his legs in. He's been with the healers, who'd managed to neutralize the lingering poison in his blood and knitted the wound in his thigh closed.

"Are you supposed to be getting that wet?" I point to the bandages now wrapping his leg.

Hauck slides all the way in, the water lapping just above his waist line, and strides over to me. "Good question." He swipes me from Cyril and hoists me onto his own hips in one smooth motion. My legs wrap around his waist on instinct though I groan at the loss of fullness inside my channel. Hauck aligns his full self with my opening and reseats me atop his length.

Cyril hisses and strokes himself, his gaze locked on my chest. Tavias grips my backside, massaging it firmly.

"Better not fall, my queen," Hauck purrs into my ear as I ride him. "Wouldn't want to tumble over and upset the healers."

"Stop calling me that." I groan at the delicious movement inside me. The scales along Hauck's cock expand in just the right way to stimulate every sensitive part inside me whenever he pulls back, then lie flat to let him reseat himself. Hard, deep, and determined. "I don't know what to do with all the people kneeling everytime they see me."

"Get over here and I'll kneel before you," Quinton says from the other side. His voice is rough, the erotic promise in it making me clamp around Hauck's cock and waist. Cyril joins Tavias behind me and cups my breasts, his thumbs rubbing each peak. He is going slow and gentle, like we have all the time in the world. Because for the first time, in a long time, we do.

I lean my head back. Cyril leans over to take my mouth with determined strokes. I feel his pleasure echoing through the bond, mixing with mine, with all of ours. And I kiss him back just as intently, leisurely.

"It's over, isn't it?" I say, when he finally pulls away. "No more priests, no more trials, no more Salazar, no more monsters spilling out into the throne room?"

"It is," Cyril assures me, a corner of his mouth quirking up. "My queen."

I bite his lip and he laughs. Stars, I love that sound. Love him. All of them. We've already dispatched word for Darren's pack to bring Lilith and the eggs to the palace, and tomorrow we will start to prepare the nursery. Tomorrow. Today—what's left of it after the battle—is for us.

Someone pounds on the door to the bathing chamber.

"Go away," Quinton calls. His heated gaze is on the connection between me and Hauck, where our bodies undulate in rhythm.

The pounding continues.

"Go. Away." Quinton repeats in his shadow voice, the kind that makes everyone but me shudder.

"Your Highnesses..." the voice on the other side is apologetic. "There is an issue. Reports are flowing in from the pier. It's an emergency."

"Rut it." Cyril pulls away with a scowl and stalks out of the tub, grabbing a towel to wrap around his hips before cracking the door open. There is a low murmur of conversation, then he returns, his jaw tight.

"What was it that Salazar ranted about before he died?" he asks.

Quinton pulls himself out, the water still running down the grooves of his muscles. "He called us already dead. It wasn't specific."

I reluctantly separate from Hauck and settle onto my feet. "It sounded like rambling. He wasn't exactly in a clear state of mind," I sigh, mentally cursing whatever is having Cyril pulling on pants instead of getting his cock back into the tub. "What's happening?"

"An incoming fleet has been spotted at the horizon. A hundred ships strong. All bearing Queen Nagaia's pendant and the standards of the Serpari Court," says Cyril.

Tavias swears and I shoo him out of the bathing pool before the tiny specks of lightning crawling over his skin get into the water. Hauck gets out as well, drying himself off. When he is done, he is just as wet as when he started. I swear, the male doesn't know how to use a towel.

"Geofrey's pack had serpent like armor at the masquerade," Quinton says, sheathing daggers along his trousers before even reaching for his shirt. "Salazar as good as announced his alliance with Serpari even back then."

"He must have called in the Serpari fleet while we were still at the trial grounds," Tavias says. The lightning is gone now and he is shifting into his commander general mode. "He knew that even if he took the throne, he would need help holding it long term."

Concern that I've learned to identify is Cyril's flows through the bond.

Hauck's arms come around me like iron bands. Like he refuses to let me go. And yes, he is still wet.

"We don't have the ships to stop them, do we?" I ask quietly.

Cyril's jaw works and he mutters something about needing to learn to shield his thoughts, but he doesn't ignore my question. "No," he says with brutal honesty. "Not that would get here in time."