Page 19 of Dalla’s Royal Guards (Second Chance #3)

“We keep her safe. Having two of us and knowing what has happened before gives us an advantage. One or both of us will be with her. We get her back to Narva and add Donovan and the others to her security.”

“Discreetly. Something tells me that she wouldn’t enjoy being in a golden cage,” Nasser warned.

“I suspect you are right.”

Dalla stayed under the water as long as she could. It had been impulsive of her to open her heart again. Her offer had been made without thinking.

It wasn’t like she was in love with Musad and Nasser. She hadn’t known them long enough to feel that depth of emotion. They were not Pascal and Gerold. These men had led different lives, had different memories. They were not the men she had known before.

And yet… she’d had an immediate physical response to them.

And she could not help a few moments here and there where it felt exactly like these were her men, only changed by what they had learned before—except of course that they didn’t remember before.

A few hours in their company had quickly taught her that she was drawn to all the differences in them that she saw.

She wanted Musad and Nasser.

And she was even more hopeful now than she had been in her past life.

Gerold and Pascal had been products of their time and culture.

Even after she’d saved them from their attackers, they’d wanted to confine her to a life hidden behind the high walls of their palaces simply because she was a woman.

Perhaps they all could have found a solution that would make them happy. But perhaps not.

Her burning lungs forced her to the surface. Her gasp of air doubled when Musad and Nasser emerged into the light of the torch. Musad was unbuttoning his shirt. Nasser had already removed his and was tossing it aside.

The cool air of the cavern caused Nasser’s nipples to harden. It was strange that her eyes were focused on the darker buds visible through the matting of black hair that covered his chest. She blinked when his hands moved to the buttons of his trousers.

“I wish we had soap.”

“Moss. There is a fragrant moss that smells like mint. It grows along the edge of the pool. Hakeem told me about it. When crushed, it creates a liquid,” she murmured in response to Nasser’s wistful comment, though she was fully focused on his body as he removed his trousers.

“Show me.” She pulled her gaze away from Nasser to Musad and immediately forgot all about answering his demand.

He was standing in front of her in all his glory. She released a breathless chuckle. He raised his eyebrow at her and stepped into the pool. She grinned at him.

“I enjoy seeing you like this,” she said.

“The feeling is more than mutual,” he said heatedly. He came closer, and for a few wonderful seconds, she got to feel his body against hers in the water as their lips touched in a sweet, open-mouthed kiss. Then he murmured, “Back in a moment,” and moved to the moss at the far side of the pool.

She blinked and turned to look questioningly at Nasser with a pout.

Nasser laughed ruefully and admitted, “We are trying to go slow.”

She laughed incredulously. “Do you like slow or do you think I need slow? Because I assure you, I have had plenty of time. Centuries of it,” she replied.

“I think we’ll like every kind of speed with you,” he answered softly. “So why not let us tease you for a while?” He caught a wad of the moss that Musad had scraped from the far edge of the pool, tilted his head back, and slowly rubbed the moss down the side of his throat.

She bit her lip at the sight, then turned to glare at Musad who was grinning as he rubbed the moss across his chest. The gleam in his eyes was intoxicating.

A delicious warmth swept through her body that had nothing to do with the warm water circulating around her. A wicked smile of delight curved her lips.

“Follow me then,” she ordered Nasser, and then she moved to Musad and wrapped her fingers around his, taking the moss from him. You missed a spot, jameela. ”

Her smile grew when Musad caught his breath and Nasser groaned behind her.

Dalla’s fingers skimmed over Musad’s skin, trailing the soft moss along the defined ridges of his chest. He tensed beneath her touch, his breath hitching as she lingered over his heart.

“I can feel it,” she whispered, her eyes lifting to his. “Your heart… racing.”

Musad’s lips curved into a lopsided smile. “That’s because you’re touching me, jameela .”

Dalla’s laughter was soft, breathy—stirring something primal in both men. Nasser moved in closer behind her, his hands sliding over her waist as he lowered his head, his breath hot against the curve of her neck.

“You’re not the only one affected,” Nasser murmured, pressing a slow, reverent kiss to her damp skin.

Dalla trembled, caught between the heat of Nasser’s mouth and the intensity of Musad’s gaze.

She turned her head, meeting Nasser’s lips halfway.

Their kiss was slow, exploratory, a contrast to their previous kiss, and Musad’s presence in front of her was so strong it was almost a caress.

She felt full of molten fire, and her need was more urgent by the second, even as she yielded to Nasser controlling the pace.

Musad growled low in his throat. “My turn.”

Nasser released her mouth, and Dalla turned her head, gasping when Musad closed the distance, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that stole her breath. Where Nasser’s kiss was tender, Musad’s was demanding—filled with the raw edge of a man who’d been holding back for far too long.

Their bodies pressed together, water sluicing between them, adding a slickness that made her shiver. Nasser’s lips traced the line of her shoulder, his hands stroking down her arms, possessive but careful—as if she might vanish like a dream.

“You feel… real,” Nasser whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “So real.”

“I am,” she whispered back, turning just enough to thread her hand through his wet hair and draw him in for another kiss. She tasted him—earthy, male, and hers. She felt the shift in Musad as he lifted her against him, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

“Tell us to stop,” Musad rasped, his lips brushing over her jaw, “and we will.”

Dalla met his gaze, fierce and unyielding. “Don’t stop. Not now. Not ever. And hurry .”

And with those words, restraint shattered.

Nasser pressed against her back, his hands trailing up to her breasts as Musad lifted her until she settled over his throbbing shaft. She moaned, and her heart pounded as he nudged her soft lips apart and began to press deeper.

“Musad, Nasser,” she breathed, her eyes widening as Musad slowly filled her.

Behind her, she could feel Nasser’s arousal. His fingers pinched her taut nipples until she thought she would scream. She would have—if Musad hadn’t claimed her lips while driving his hips upward, sealing their connection.

A shudder ran through her when Nasser bent forward and sucked on her neck as he rocked his shaft between her firm buttocks.

Images of both brothers claiming her at once swirled through her mind.

The thought of being possessed so completely drew a moan from her, and she dropped her hand down to feel behind her.

Nasser hissed, his eyes widening when her hand wrapped around him and she guided him closer. Musad, realizing what she was doing, rose slightly, cupped each of her buttocks in his hands and spread her.

She gazed into Musad’s glittering eyes. Possessiveness flared in his gaze—blended with something deeper. She leaned into him, pulling Nasser closer over her back while she spread her legs further.

“I want you. I want you both,” she murmured, her voice brushing over Musad’s heated flesh. The words tasted of freedom and joy and anticipation.

Dalla’s breath caught at the sharp bite of pain as Nasser pressed forward. She breathed through it, her body trembling, forcing herself to relax as they worshipped her—together.

They moved slowly, learning her, touching her in ways that made her feel cherished, revered.

The water lapped around them, the sound mingling with their quiet groans and whispered words.

Touch became their language. Every kiss and caress, a whispered vow.

Their passionate words filled the air, breaking through centuries of loneliness that she hadn’t fully known she still carried.

Musad’s lips found the curve of her breast while Nasser’s mouth traced a burning path down her throat.

Their hands explored, mapping every inch of her body as if committing her to memory.

Dalla arched between them, caught in the delicious pull of two lovers who saw her—truly saw her—not as a ghost of the past, but as their future.

“Mine,” Musad growled, fierce and raw against her skin, his body claiming hers with every slow, powerful thrust. A sharp thrill rushed through her at the declaration.

“Ours,” Nasser corrected, his voice a low, rough promise against her ear as he moved in perfect rhythm with his brother.

Dalla’s eyes burned as she looked between them. There was no fear, no hesitation—only truth. “And you… are mine,” she panted.

The world narrowed until there was nothing but the feel of their bodies, the taste of shared desire, and the heat of something deeper—something neither time nor death could erase.

They came together in a tangle of limbs and whispered promises, forging something new—something none of them could name but all of them felt. A bond—fragile, yet unbreakable—born not just of passion, but of trust, understanding, and a love that defied lifetimes.

For the first time in centuries, Dalla felt whole.

And for the first time since her original lifetime, she dared to believe she wasn’t alone anymore.