Page 50 of Awakened Destiny (The Dark Ascendant #3)

Brigid

Movement across the room draws my attention. Tiernan rises from the chair where he's been watching every lewd and lurid act, his eyes hooded. My breath catches at the sight of him—tall, muscular, his light brown hair falling across his forehead. The wooden bracelets around his wrists click softly as he approaches.

Unlike the others, Tiernan doesn't rush. His steps are measured, deliberate. He's studying me, analyzing every reaction like I'm a fascinating specimen he's cataloging. The thought makes me shiver.

"Your pupils are dilated," he notes, his voice low and clinical as he stands at the foot of the bed. "Respiration elevated. Skin flushed. Fascinating how your body responds so differently to each of us."

"Tiernan," I whisper, uncertainty and anticipation mingling in my voice.

"I've been observing," he continues, methodically removing his shirt. "Your responses to dominance. Your submission."

Rory chuckles beside me. "And here I thought you were just getting off watching."

"That, too," Tiernan admits without a hint of shame. His eyes never leave mine. "Move aside, Rory. My turn to collect data."

The way he says it makes heat pool between my legs. Clinical, detached—yet underneath, a current of raw hunger.

Rory kisses my cheek and slides off the bed. “ Be a good girl for him, Brigid.”

As Rory leaves, Tiernan circles the bed like a predator. I feel simultaneously exposed and intrigued under his scrutiny.

"Pull your knees back to your chest and spread," he instructs, not a request, but an order.

"I'm going to taste you now." He positions himself between my legs, his touch precise as he arranges my thighs over his shoulders.

His first touch is experimental—a single finger tracing the length of my slit. I jerk involuntarily.

Before I can respond, he lowers his head and delivers a precise, flat-tongued lick from my entrance to my clit. The sensation is so controlled, so deliberate, that I gasp.

"Oh god."

"Not god," he corrects against my flesh. "Just excellent technique derived from careful observation."

He returns to his task with scientific precision, each stroke calculated for maximum effect. Where Rory was enthusiastic and playful, Tiernan is meticulous. He alternates pressure and patterns, noting each time I moan or twitch.

"Your labia are swelling," he murmurs. "Increased blood flow indicating optimal arousal."

He slides two fingers inside me without warning, curling them expertly against my front wall.

"I ’ m going to make you come so hard you forget your own name." His clinical tone gives way to something darker. " I've been waiting all night to feel you squeeze my fingers while I suck your clit."

The sudden shift in his demeanor makes me clench around his fingers. "Yes," I gasp. "Like that."

"Good. Because while I find the physiological responses fascinating..." He lowers his mouth again, sucking my clit between his lips with precise pressure. "I find making you surrender even more compelling."

His tongue flattens against me, starting a rhythmic pattern that works in perfect counterpoint to his fingers. There's nothing random about his technique—it's as if he's memorized exactly what makes me respond and is executing it flawlessly.

I grab his hair, beyond caring about his clinical observations. "Tiernan, please."

"Please what?" His fingers curl deeper. "Be specific. What precisely do you need?"

"Make me come," I beg, arching against his mouth. "Please."

"With pleasure." He redoubles his efforts, his tongue moving in precise circles while his fingers maintain a steady rhythm. "Give yourself to me, Brigid. Give us one more."

And I do—my back arches off the bed as pleasure crashes through me in waves. Unlike the others, this orgasm feels measured, inevitable, like Tiernan has calculated every variable and determined exactly when and how I would break apart.

Through it all, he watches me with those analytical eyes, drinking in every twitch and gasp like he's committing them to memory.

"Beautiful," he finally murmurs. He presses a surprisingly tender kiss to my inner thigh. “ You ’ ve been a very good girl for us.”

They're moving as one now. The bed shifts as my mates reposition themselves around me, their bodies synchronized like dancers who've rehearsed this a thousand times. I lie boneless in the center, still trembling from Tiernan's attention, aware of their predatory focus circling me.

"Look at her," Lochan breathes, his hand sliding up my thigh. "So fucking perfect."

"And all ours," Callen adds, pressing his lips to my shoulder.

My skin feels hypersensitive, every touch amplified. Marius's shadow magic caresses my breasts while his physical hands remain at my hips. The dual sensation—corporeal and ethereal—makes me whimper.

"Too much?" Rory asks, his sunny smile belying the heat in his eyes.

I shake my head. "Not enough."

They laugh—five distinct sounds blending into one harmonious response.

"Greedy little thing," Tiernan observes, his fingers tracing patterns on my stomach. "Look how her pupils dilate when we touch her simultaneously."

"Less analysis, more action," Lochan growls, guiding my hand to his cock.

I'm surrounded, my body becoming the center of a perfect storm. Rory's mouth finds my breast while Callen's fingers slide between my legs. Marius whispers dark promises in my ear as his shadows tease and stroke places the others can't reach. Tiernan observes, his clinical gaze somehow adding to my arousal as he directs the others with subtle gestures.

"She's close again," he notes, fingers brushing my pulse point.

"Fuck, I love when she gets like this," Lochan groans, watching my face contort with pleasure.

My thoughts fracture, unable to track where one sensation ends and another begins. Callen's fingers curl inside me while Rory sucks hard on my nipple. Marius's shadows wrap around my throat—not choking, just applying gentle pressure that makes everything more intense.

"Please," I gasp, overwhelmed by their coordinated assault on my senses. "I can't—"

"You can," Tiernan contradicts, his voice soft but brooking no argument. "And you will."

My body's not my own anymore—it belongs to them, to us, to this wild magic we've created together. I feel my control slipping, the shadows inside me responding to my arousal, tendrils of my own power reaching out to twine with Marius's.

"That's it," Marius hisses, feeling our magic connect. "Let go, little queen."

The pressure builds impossibly higher. Five sets of hands, countless points of contact—they work together flawlessly, reading each other's movements and my responses without a word.

"Now," Lochan commands.

Everything shatters. Pleasure rips through me with violent intensity and I'm vaguely aware of screaming, of my nails digging into someone's skin, of wetness flooding between my thighs. My shadow magic explodes outward, dousing the candles and plunging the room into darkness.

I convulse, each wave of pleasure more intense than the last. They don't stop, don't give me a moment to recover—Rory's fingers replace Callen's, Tiernan's mouth takes Rory's place, Lochan's grip tightens on my hips. They're merciless, wringing every last drop of pleasure from my body until I'm sobbing, begging incoherently.

"Look at us," Marius demands.

I force my eyes open to find all five watching me with expressions of naked adoration mixed with primal satisfaction. Their faces blur through my tears as another orgasm tears through me, gentler but no less profound.

"Ours," Callen growls.

"Always," I gasp as my body finally, blissfully goes limp.

***

I wake up in the middle of the night, the room still cloaked in darkness. The air is warm, heavy with the scent of sex and sweat, and my body feels deliciously sore—every muscle tender, every inch of my skin humming with the memory of their hands, their mouths, their cocks. I shift slightly, and a soft moan escapes my lips as I feel the ache between my thighs. It ’ s a good ache, one that reminds me of how completely they claimed me, how thoroughly they made me theirs.

The bed is massive, but even so, we ’ re all tangled together, limbs intertwined, bodies pressed close. I lift my head slightly and take in the sight of them, my mates, my kings. Lochan lies beside me, his large frame sprawled out like a conqueror resting after battle. One arm is draped possessively over my waist, his fingers brushing against my hip even in sleep. His dark hair is mussed, his jaw relaxed with contentment. The gruffness he wears like armor during the day is gone now, replaced by a rare vulnerability that makes my chest tighten.

Callen is on my other side, his pale skin glowing faintly in the moonlight filtering through the windows. He ’ s on his back, one arm thrown above his head the other resting lightly on my stomach. His breathing is slow and even, but even in sleep, there ’ s a hint of that cunning charm that always seems to hover around him. I can ’ t help but smile as I trace the sharp line of his jaw with my fingertip, feeling the faint stubble there. He stirs slightly, murmuring something unintelligible before settling again. Tiernan isn ’ t far away, just the other side of Lochan, flat on his back and as calm in sleep as he is when he ’ s awake. I wonder what he ’ s dreaming about. I hope it ’ s me.

Rory is curled up at the foot of the bed, his golden hair tousled and his face peaceful. One arm is draped over my calf, his fingers brushing my skin in a way that ’ s almost protective. Even in sleep, he radiates warmth and joy, and I feel a surge of affection for him. He ’ s the light to Marius ’ s shadow, the balance that keeps us all grounded.

Speaking of Marius, he ’ s lying on his side watching me, his dark eyes half-open as if he ’ s been watching me sleep. When our eyes meet, he smirks lazily.

“ Can ’ t sleep?” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

“ Just woke up,” I whisper back, pushing myself up slightly on one elbow. His arm twitches as if he wants to reach for me, but he stays still, his gaze never leaving mine. The shadows in the room seem to shift subtly around him, responding to his presence even as he rests.

“ You ’ re thinking too much,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine. His hand finally moves, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his touch deliberate and possessive. “ You should be resting. We ’ re not done with you yet.”

I feel a flush rise to my cheeks at his words, the memory of their hands and mouths on me still fresh. “ I know,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “ But I can ’ t help it. I just… I want to remember this. All of it.”

Marius ’ s smirk softens into something warmer—something almost tender—as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against my ear. “ You don ’ t have to remember it, little bird,” he murmurs. “ You ’ ll live it every day for the rest of your life. You ’ re ours now. Always.”

His words send a thrill through me, and I feel the truth in them. I ’ m right where I belong. With these five beautiful, incredible, fearless men.

I ’ m home.