Chained Soul by Eva Chase
11
Talia
The newest healer frowns and tweaks her bulbous nose the way she has a dozen times already, as if it’s a switch that’ll activate more of her skills. She murmurs a few more magic-laced words with her hands hovering above my chest.
I don’t feel anything except a faint tingle of energy passing through me, the same as during all her other attempts. I can tell she hasn’t noticed any difference either from the way she knits her brow afterward.
“I’ll do some more searching of the records and meditation with the Heart, and return when I have more ideas,” she tells me.
I nod my thanks and hold myself still and somewhat regal on the bed until she’s stepped outside. Then I flop back into the pillows with a groan.
Corwin’s voice flits into my head in an instant. All right?
Yes,I reply quickly. Just no progress either. I know they’re all trying to help, but I’m starting to feel like a test subject in a lab.
Corwin sends a tendril of apologetic sympathy my way. That’s the last healer we’ve called on. I believe Sylas and Whitt should be returning soon with the results of their investigations. In the meantime, I’m sending someone up who will hopefully make you feel more like a person again.
I sit back up, my curiosity piqued. Who?
All I get from my soul-twined mate is mischievous silence. I don’t totally mind, seeing that he’s been able to find a little good humor in spite of the situation.
It’s only a minute before a soft knock sounds on the door and a cautious voice travels through. “Talia?”
A smile springs to my face. It’s Harper. I haven’t seen my best friend from the pack in days with all the upheaval.
“Come in,” I say, scooting to the edge of the bed.
Harper slips inside, her slim form as graceful as ever. She takes me in with her over-large eyes, looking as if she’s a little worried that I might collapse right in front of her at any moment.
“I’m fine,” I say, my smile softening. “For now, anyway. It’s good to see you.” My gaze drops to the bundle of fabric she’s hugging against her. I don’t even need to ask the avid dressmaker what that is. My cheeks flush in sheepish embarrassment. “You didn’t have to bring me any presents.”
“It’s not because you’ve been sick,” Harper insists, relaxing enough to hop onto the bed next to me. She pinches the shoulders of the new gown and gives it a shake to unfurl it. “I started working on it as soon as Sylas announced that you’re with child. An expecting mother deserves the clothes to honor that fact.” She grins at me.
As my gaze slides over the dress, I have to catch my breath. “It’ll be an honor to wear something that gorgeous.”
Harper’s work is always impressive, but this… She’s combined sections of deep green and rosy pink so that the wearer will look as if they’re embraced by vibrant brambles bearing roses. A line of the delicate blooms arcs along the belly area as if to cradle the growing child. I can see in it how much any new life matters to the fae, how much the entire pack will be celebrating the baby growing inside me.
I rest my hand over the spot where it’s growing, even if there’s no outward sign of it yet just a few weeks in, and add, “Thank you. I love it.” Now I just need to get my men to come up with an occasion for me to wear it. It’s way too fine to act as a nightgown.
Harper grins even wider. She folds the dress with a few swift gestures, sets it farther back on the bed, and leans over to give me a quick hug. “I want to see you in it so many times on your way to becoming a mother and afterward.”
There’s an unspoken wish underlying those words. She wants me to survive long enough to wear it all those times.
I swallow hard. “I intend to,” I say with all the confidence I can summon. I bring my legs up and turn to sit cross-legged against the headboard. “I haven’t had much chance to see the rest of the pack lately. How’s everyone doing? Anything interesting to report?”
I don’t need to tell Harper that I’m looking for light-hearted news because there’ve been so many serious developments I’m already very aware of. She tucks the smooth strands of her flaxen hair behind her ear and tips her head to the side with a thoughtful smile.
“Well, the sheep made a break from their pen, and Elliot had to chase a few of them all the way onto Arch-Lord Donovan’s domain. The way they were bleating when he brought them back, you’d think he was going to carve them up for dinner instead of just milk them to make cheese.” She lets out a giggle. “And a couple of women from Arch-Lord Celia’s pack asked me to make them matching dresses. You won’t believe the theme they wanted…”
She chatters on about the day-to-day activity in the domains around the Heart, and I mostly sit back and listen. A bittersweet ache forms around my own heart that despite the possibility of impending war, normal life is still carrying on as well as it can—but I can’t really take part in it.
Is Whitt still holding revels? I can’t imagine him being in much of a partying mood these days, but I should encourage him to host one. The pack needs a chance to unwind and be happy even while we’re guarding our home so carefully.
Harper is just finishing an animated recreation of a silly argument between Brigit and Pomya when footsteps sound in the hall outside. When the door swings open, Harper’s mouth snaps shut. She pulls her posture straighter as Sylas and Whitt come in. She’s always a little awkward around the ruler of the pack, maybe remembering how close he came to banishing her after a few of Ambrose’s pack-kin caught her up in a scheme against me.
Sylas shows no lingering animosity, though. He nods to her. “It was good of you to come. I can see my mate has been enjoying your visit.” He gives me one of his quiet but warm little smiles.
“I’ll come back again soon,” Harper says to him and to me, giving me another quick hug, and hops off the bed. “I don’t want to get in the way, though.” She dips into a low bow, waves good-bye to me, and leaves me with my mates.
For a little while as she and I talked, I’d been able to avoid thinking about the reason Sylas and Whitt were out “investigating.” Now, taking in their relatively somber expressions, my spirits sink. Everything isn’t normal, especially with me.
“Was there nothing?” I ask. They’d been following up on a few mentions of rare curative plants from Whitt’s records, but they hadn’t been sure how accurate the brief details were or, in at least one case, whether the plant even existed to begin with.
Sylas sits down on the edge of the bed by my tucked feet and nods to Whitt, who detaches a leather pouch from his belt. “We were able to track down a couple of the herbs we were seeking. Neither of them gives off an aura that’s particularly potent, but they show no sign of being harmful either, so we may as well see what they do.”
The first sprig Whitt pulls out has shiny round leaves and puffy blue flowers. He pulls off one of the flowers and starts to crush it between his thumb and his opposite palm. “One story suggested that skybloom might dispel hostile magic if the mashed petals of the flower are rubbed over the afflicted area. It’s only noted in one place, so it obviously hasn’t been tested much.”
I loosen the bodice of my dress so I can tug it down over my shoulders, letting the neckline settle against the slope of my breasts. Whitt swipes the blue paste across my sternum with some murmured words. The stuff absorbs into my skin over the next few minutes, leaving behind only a pale blue tint.
“Do you feel any different?” the spymaster asks.
I concentrate deeply, but I can’t pretend the prickling sensation that’s been with me since the curse first struck me has disappeared. It remains as always between my lungs. “No,” I admit reluctantly. “As far as I can tell, the curse is still there the same as before.”
“Well, the effect may take some time to kick in. In the meantime, we also managed to dig up a clayvin root.” He brandishes something that looks like a knobby yellow carrot.
“I managed to dig it up, you mean,” Sylas says with a hint of a teasing tone.
Whitt holds up his hands in mock self defense. “It’s not my fault clayvin only grows in the deepest of crevices and you’re a significantly better climber than I am. If I’d gone down, I’d never have come back up. It was my spell that found it, though.”
Sylas chuckles. “I’ll give you that.”
Seeing their easy banter, hearing the way they worked together on their mission, brings a welcome warmth into my chest. I tip my head toward the root. “So what do we do with that one?”
Whitt waggles it. “This is meant to be made into a tea that you’ll drink. But it’s supposed to be brewed at sunset and drunk at midnight for the best effect. We’ve got a bit of a wait to try that one out.”
“So much to look forward to,” I joke, but my own laugh falls flat.
A cloud of gloom passes over both my mates again, and the warmth that formed before tightens into an ache. We should have so many things to look forward to: the newfound peace between the realms, our lives together as mates, the child I’ll be bringing into that union. But the threat of the Murk has cast a shadow over all the joy we should be sharing.
We should celebrate anyway—because who knows if we’ll have the opportunity to later.
I slip across the bed to tuck my arm around Sylas, leaning my head against his shoulder. He hums happily and hugs me to him. Whitt takes the opening to sit down at my other side, giving my shoulder a quick peck.
It’s all very gentle and comforting, but being enveloped between their bodies and their contrasting scents, a spark of deeper heat flares low in my belly. I don’t question the urge, just push myself up to plant a kiss on Sylas’s mouth.
He kisses me back tenderly, his hand stroking over my hair, but when I move to swing my leg over his lap, he catches me around the waist. “I don’t think we should push the limits of your body right now.”
I tug at his shirt. “I think we’ve discovered plenty of things my body is definitely capable of that wouldn’t require pushing it to any limits.”
“That was when you were well.”
I balk at accepting the concern that’s turned his brown eye even darker. I’m still their mate, and I want the full benefits of that relationship, thank you very much.
Keeping my fingers curled in the front of Sylas’s shirt, I glance at Whitt and then back to the arch-lord. “I feel fine right now, other than missing getting properly close with my mates. It sounds like you two worked very well together finding me possible cures. There are lots of other ways I enjoy having you work together.”
I do my best coy gaze through my eyelashes, but I’m not sure it works. I’m not exactly an expert at flirting. Sylas hesitates. Whitt teases his fingers over my outer thigh, but he doesn’t move his hand any farther. I don’t think he’ll take me up on my invitation if his lord won’t.
With a determined huff, I grip Sylas’s shirt harder and straddle him before he can stop me again. I stare firmly into his mismatched eyes. “I want the men I’m mated with. The Murk are trying to take everything from me, and I’m not letting them take this away too. Don’t you dare help them do it.”
Then I press my mouth to his.
Whether it was my speech or the fierceness of my kiss or both, Sylas’s reluctance flies out the window. He kisses me back with a growl, hard and hot, the hand on my waist sliding down to my bottom to pull me closer against him. I rock into him, gasping against his lips as I feel his shaft hardening beneath his trousers.
Yes. I want this. I want him, and Whitt, and all my mates when I have the chance.
I’m still alive. Orion hasn’t broken me. We’re together, and we’ll celebrate that, no matter what other troubles come our way.
Another hand travels across my shoulders, brushing aside my hair. Then Whitt’s skillful mouth is branding the side of my neck. As I continue kissing Sylas, the spymaster nibbles a path up to the crook of my jaw and then nips my earlobe with a jolt of pleasure that propels another gasp from my throat.
“I think our mighty mate should have what she wants when she’s asking for it so very clearly,” he murmurs, nuzzling my hair before marking another trail of heat down to my bared shoulder blade.
Sylas lets out a sound somewhere between a grumble and a groan. He tugs the bodice of my dress farther down, the neckline flicking over my nipples, and cups one of my breasts. The swipe of his thumb over the peak mimics the sweep of his tongue into my mouth to tangle with mine.
Whitt strokes his deft fingers over my other breast until my chest is awash with quivers of bliss. They drown out the faint prickling sensation completely. I arch into my mates’ combined touch, kissing Sylas even harder and then turning my head to seek out Whitt’s mouth as well.
How lucky I am to have this at all, to have found not one but four mates who can take me to such heights and who’re happy to do so alongside each other.
I grasp Whitt’s shirt and pull back just enough to meet his eyes and then Sylas’s. The declaration sears up from deep inside me. “Whatever happens, whatever Orion puts me through, I’m glad I’m here. I’d rather be here with you even with his magic in me than living a normal life in the human world. Even if giving you up would cure me, I wouldn’t do it.”
“Talia,” Sylas says in a strained voice. He kisses me again, roughly, as if he doesn’t know how else to express his response.
Whitt wraps his arm tight around me in the joint embrace. “The only way I’d ever give you up is if it was the only way to save you. But we won’t let it come to that. And right now, all I want to do is see you writhing with all the ecstasy we’re going to bring you.”
The promise in his heated words sets off a giddy tingling over my skin. I yank at his shirt in an effort to hurry us on toward the writhing in ecstasy part. Chuckling, Whitt pulls it over his head.
I turn to him, sliding off Sylas’s lap to mount my other lover in turn. As I trail my hands and my mouth over the toned planes of muscle defining Whitt’s chest, he tips his head back with a strangled but pleased sound. I lap my tongue over one of his nipples, and then he’s cupping the back of my head, drawing me up to claim my mouth as thoroughly as he can.
Sylas tosses aside his shirt and leans in, his bare skin scorching against my back. He kisses the back of my neck and down my spine, his hands teasing around my hips and between my legs, just shy of the spot now throbbing for contact.
I push Whitt down on the bed, unable to stop myself from grinding against him. He hisses through his teeth. Through some silent communication, he and Sylas lift me up to peel my dress and my panties off me. I tug at their trousers.
“So impatient, mite,” Whitt teases, stealing another kiss as he unfastens his pants. While he kicks them off, Sylas tucks his hand right over my core.
I moan at the rush of delight. For a few seconds, all I can do is lean back into Sylas and ride his hand. When he pulls his fingers away, I whimper in protest, but it’s only an instant before Whitt’s hardness settles against me.
My mouth waters with the deepest kind of hunger I know. I shift forward over Whitt, knowing his body so well now that I can line myself up without even thinking. He caresses my cheek, his eyes alight with both desire and adoration, and thrusts up into me.
Pleasure sweeps through my sex and up into my torso. I sway over Whitt, meeting the rolls of his hips as my hands brace against his chest, adrift in the haze of sensation.
As Whitt pushes himself up to bring my breast to his mouth, Sylas traces my other opening with magically slickened fingers. My body trembles with eagerness. I reach back with one hand to squeeze his arm encouragingly, and he lets out a rumble that sounds almost desperate with his own hunger.
“My love,” he murmurs as he stretches me with one finger and then two. An embarrassingly needy cry tumbles out of me. “You deserve every pleasure we can give you. Never be afraid to ask for what you want.”
I ask now with the motions of my body, pressing back into his touch over and over as I rock with Whitt. An intoxicating heat spreads all through my abdomen. Then the head of Sylas’s thick shaft tests me. He pushes inside slowly, a little farther with each bob of my hips over Whitt. The blissful burn of my stretching muscles nearly shatters me apart right there.
“Mmm,” Whitt says. “This is indeed an excellent cooperative effort. We’ll have to come up with them more frequently, I think.”
He winks at me, and my breathless giggle is lost in a moan as both men plunge into me together. I clutch Sylas’s arm braced next to me and Whitt’s shoulder beneath me, riding the wave of ecstasy they’ve conjured inside me higher and higher.
With each gasp and whimper that slips out of me, they speed up their pace, their muscles flexing with the effort. Our skin dampens with sweat where our bodies brush against each other.
Whitt pinches my nipple and swivels his thumb over my nub at the same time, and I feel the wave start to break. The tremor shakes me, pleasure whirling through every nerve before it bursts like the flare of a bonfire.
Sparks fill my vision. As I cry out, my inner muscles clenching, both of my men groan. Sylas comes with me, Whitt following at his heels.
We collapse together in a jumble of sweaty limbs and sated breaths. I tug my mates closer on either side of me, seeking as much of their heat as I can get as my body coasts in the afterglow.
But even that contentment can’t completely mute the faint, inescapable prickle that rises up through my chest once more.
