Page 15 of Randall (The Tenth Step #3)

Flynn

“Let’s move back to the fire,” Randall whispered once Flynn’s tears had lessened. He kissed first Darvon’s hair and then Flynn’s, having to lean down to reach Flynn because he was much shorter than his mates.

Flynn let Randall lead them to the cleared circle Darvon had made with his Fae magic.

He’d watched in awe as both of his mates used their gifts.

If he had anything to be jealous about, it was that.

They had talent at the tip of their fingers, born with it.

He had only what he could physically use: his herbs and tinctures.

Randall ripped off chunks of bread and passed them around before pulling out a small knife and cutting the fruit into pieces. As Darvon ate, half of his long silver hair fell like a curtain around his shoulders, hiding his face when he dipped his head.

Flynn swept it back, wanting to see his mate.

“May I braid it?” The crinkle across Darvon’s forehead was cute, as was the scrunched nose.

When he finally shrugged, Flynn threw off the blanket and scurried around behind him.

His mate’s hair felt like silk when he trailed his fingers through it, smoothing the long strands, untangling what had still been braided, before he separated it into three parts and began forming a new braid.

Randall held out a piece of blue ribbon. “Here.”

Flynn smiled his thanks, then worked the ribbon into the end of the braid before wrapping it several times around the end and tying it off. He pushed the braid over Darvon’s shoulder so he could see, but really it was so Flynn could place a light kiss on the bare skin of his neck. “Beautiful.”

The shudder that ran through Darvon appealed to a raw hunger Flynn had never felt before.

He repeated the kiss, gripping Darvon’s arms, holding him in place as he then ran his nose up the back of his mate’s neck, inhaling the scent of him: wild woods, lavender, and citrus.

Bright and bold, and that fast, he was addicted.

He’d already cataloged Randall’s scents: crushed leaves, cinnamon, cloves. Deeper scents that spoke of his generational magic. Randall was a born magick user, with strong ties to the land, but also learned. He’d studied spells and casting and runes.

In contrast, Darvon’s Fae magick was elemental, mostly of earth, with hints of air and water.

It was why he had no problem shifting the ground they sat on, but had struggled to start the blaze.

Randall wouldn’t have. Feeling how Randall had pulled the water from Flynn’s fur with barely a word, how he’d layered warmth over him to fight off the chill, how he’d spoken a command and, with a twist of his hand, the forest paths brought Darvon back to them.

His mates were powerful; he was a lowly shifter. A Fisher cat. Small, benign, nothing of consequence. He shrank away.

After a moment, Darvon turned. “You stopped. Why?”

“I’m… not like you.”

“So?”

Flynn huffed, curling his hands into fists and bouncing them on his thighs. “I don’t have magick like you.”

“So?” Randall repeated Darvon’s question. “We don’t need our magick to love you.”

Flynn stared at him. Love? “That fast? That fast you can love me?”

Randall grinned. “From the moment I realized why the raven found you and followed you. Something inside you is bound to me. That something urged the raven to watch over you. Darvon’s vision proved it.

You are for us. We are for you.” He held out a hand, wiggled his fingers, and Flynn leapt to grab them.

Flynn held Randall’s hand and grabbed Darvon’s, lifting both to his lips, kissing them, and then holding them to his face. “My mates.”

Darvon took hold of Randall’s other hand. “My mates.”

“Yes,” Randall said, staring, his gaze darting back and forth to look at them both. “My mates.” He stood and pulled them to their feet. Walking backward, he tugged them to follow, bringing them to the carriage, and when he opened the door, inside was a bed.

Darvon laughed and then kicked off his boots before climbing inside. He bounced a little, wearing a wide smile. “Impressive.”

Randall shrugged and pushed Flynn inside, tugging the blanket free and exposing Flynn’s naked, lean body, before he bent to remove his boots.

Flynn grabbed Darvon and helped him remove his clothes.

Meanwhile, Darvon petted him. Stomach, arms, outer thigh, hair, but never touching his hardening cock, doing its best to point at their handsy mate.

When Randall entered the carriage, shirtless but still disappointingly clothed from the waist down, he took the space behind Flynn, lying on his side, watching them. By the time Flynn wanted to scream for Randall to put his hands on him, his mates had manhandled him to lie flat between them.

They hovered above him, fingertips tracing across his skin, circling his nipples before adding lips to kiss and taste and nip at his flesh. In turn, he touched them: the silky smooth pale skin of his Fae and the curls of dark hair that covered his mage.

Flynn writhed beneath them. Each new brush, each slide of their fingers, brought pleasurable sensations he’d never felt before. The people of his clan had always overlooked him. Smaller, slighter, different. That he apprenticed with the healer was another barrier none had crossed.

He had a flitting thought that his mates might care, but that thought was whisked away when Randall placed a delicate line of kisses on his cock.

From root to tip, then the tickle of his tongue as it swept across the slit.

The moan Randall made hit Flynn like a punch in the gut, squeezing his insides, tightening everything as he came in a rush of ecstasy greater than he’d ever felt using just his hand.

Back arched, cock jerking, his spend spilled across his stomach.

His mates stared at him a moment before Darvon dragged a finger through his release. When he stuck his finger in his mouth and tasted it, Flynn groaned. He’d never seen anything sexier in his life. He tugged on Darvon’s braid, pulling him down into a kiss where he tasted himself on Darvon’s tongue.

More fingers drifted across his body, then Flynn felt Randall’s tongue licking up the mess.

Flynn’s cock twitched, and though his mind wanted, his body was sated.

Exhaustion seeped into every pore as he was finally able to let his guard down.

He’d been running for days, constantly looking back over his shoulder, fearing for his life, but now with his mates watching over him, his eyes closed, and he let sleep take him.