Page 14

Chapter

Eleven

A fter Gwyneth mutters words of love, followed by a threat of disowning me as a sister, she scurries off into the depths of the library, leaving me with the brothers and an allergy-ridden mirror man.

“Where are my capons?” I won’t forgive them if they ate them. Hamish and Eugene deserve a life of clucking contentment, right after I check if those eggs they enjoy leaving around are for our consumption, or if we’d been accidentally stealing them all along because of the language barrier.

Malachi rolls his eyes toward Hart. “They have taken up residence in Hart’s room.”

My gaze swings in Hart’s direction. What an odd choice for my capons. “And you are okay with that?”

He shrugs. “I found them on my bed where you had been lying, so I gave them the sheet which smelled of you, and now they have used it as a foundation for a nest in the corner of my room.”

My capons got to work fast. I’ve hardly been gone a few diurnals. But then again, what is the lifespan of a capon? Two annuses? Three? If that’s the case, then one diurnal is more like a big annus for them. My heart squeezes. They are going to have forgotten who I am.

“Nobody is forgetting you, Calamity,” Hart grumbles. “You are, for better or worse, unforgettable.”

“Aww, Hart, that’s practically a declaration of love.”

He scowls, but understanding my superior insight, he doesn’t argue.

Nash snorts and grabs my hand, tugging me to my feet and out of Theo’s warm lap. “Let’s get you back to our chambers and warmed up,” he growls low.

My skin flushes, partly from being so close to Theo, my personal heated blanket, but mostly from the gleam in Nash’s gaze that dares me to push him a little. Or maybe a lot.

Nash leads the way as I try to negotiate the entirely flat and unobstructed floor with maximum effort and minimal gain.

With the Idol’s giant fork in one hand and the sword in the other, I struggle to center my balance.

Also, heels do not mix well with clumsy maidens, calamitous ladies, or mistaken damsels. Idols, I’ve lived a full life already.

We start down one of the many identical stone-lined corridors, and wide-eyed folks give us a generous berth. Men stare at my unusual attire, some even craning their necks to get a better look, while others leer at me.

Theo scowls at one of the smirking Charmings. “Avert your eyes before I gouge them from their sockets.” He whimpers and scurries off. Is there a prerequisite for all Charmings to be mellow poopfloofs? How sad for maidens of the realm.

After the fourth trip from me and the third growl from Theo, Nash halts and whips off his white shirt, gifting me with an amazing view of those hard-earned muscles. My gaze trails down, then down some more. Oh, holy Idol balls. Can one get pregnant from staring at such manly perfection?

“No, Daphne,” Nash murmurs in my ear as he wraps me up in his shirt. “One cannot. But I will give you a biology demonstration to clear it up. I believe you are more of a hands on kind of learner.”

I grin at him. “You are correct.”

He scoops me into his arms and cradles me against his chest as he moves faster through the palace, following the little dragon symbol up the stairs. I glance over his shoulder at an amused Theo, an eyebrow-arching Malachi, and a scowling Hart.

“If the west wind changes, your face will be stuck like that,” I advise.

“But I’ll still be pretty,” he shoots back.

Be still my heart. My grumpy knight has a sense of humor. “True, but doesn’t it get tiresome holding such an expression when smiling is easier? You need to put out into the universe what you want to get back.”

“Is that why you get calamities?” he muses.

“I put interest and intrigue out, and that’s what I get back. The universe works in mysterious ways. You may not get exactly what you ask for, but it always provides what you need.”

“You are talking in riddles. The ocean has washed away any remaining common sense you had.”

“I had none to wash away, so your point is moot.”

A door swings open just as Hart shakes his head, but he can’t hide that twitch of his lips. I made the great Hart Stirling smile, even if it was at my expense. I have achieved the impossible.

Nash drops my feet to the floor in the middle of the living area, which connects their bedrooms. Theo closes the door and flips the lock.

I lay the sword and trident down on the sofa.

Probably best I don’t tempt the Idols into murdering me this diurnal.

The four knights surround me, each crossing their arms and leveling their gazes at me.

Blazes, am I ready for this? Each of them may harbor a soft spot for me, but I’m not stupid.

People don’t turn their gazes away from these men without good reason.

I’d be wise to remember that they have a reputation, and they earned it.

I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear and laugh nervously. “So, which room can I get cleaned up in? The salt water is dulling my hair, and I don’t need to tell you about the dangers of getting sand in my floof.”

None of them speak, but Nash’s gaze drops to the wicked heeled boots on my feet before it slides up my legs, his eyes flaring with heat as he tracks the way I look in his shirt.

I sling my thumb over my shoulder toward Hart’s room. “I best check on Hamish and Eugene to determine if we are going to need to grovel to them for the rest of the annus.”

“Don’t move,” Nash growls. I freeze and swallow the anxious knot in my throat. Get it together, Daphne. If you want to dance with darkness, you can’t run the tempo they show you it.

“Tell us what you did to get out of the ocean,” Hart says. His voice is low, deceptively lulling, which is a lie because he not only bites, he devours.

“I already told you,” I whisper. “I made a deal with a crocodile, who helped me to steal the trident and gave me the words to get back here.”

A stirring of the hair on my nape sends a shiver down my spine as wood smoke and danger engulf my senses. Theo’s hands slide underneath the shirt, and he releases the laces of the corset. His hot fingers cause goosebumps to erupt down my arms. “Did anyone touch you, pretty mouse?”

I shake my head. “No, I put these on.”

The three brothers study Theo’s movements with sharp precision.

But it’s Nash’s dark gaze that unnerves me as Theo pries the restrictive garment from my body.

It falls to the fall with a smack against the rug.

Theo’s fingers trail between my breasts, and I arch my spine, begging for his attention.

He huffs a laugh as he fiddles with the laces on the shorts, freeing me of them in less than a tempo.

His fingers tuck into the side of the leather, and he tugs them down my legs, over the boots, and onto the floor.

“Leave the boots,” Nash instructs with a tilt of his head.

Malachi licks his lips and takes a step forward, then another, crowding me against Theo’s back, so I am once again the filling in a knight sandwich. But it’s not fear that has me immobile; it’s something dark, brutal, wild. I stare into Malachi’s crystal-green eyes and arch a brow as a dare.

“Now what are you going to do?” I whisper.

He smirks, and then his lips are on mine.

Soft, seeking, soul-destroying. I could drown in his kisses and leave the realm with a smile on my face as I met my demise.

My body moves restlessly against him, caught in a carnal dance we are born with as I seek friction.

I need something deeper. Malachi holds my head hostage, tilting it to gain entry to my mouth the exact way he wants it.

Theo’s hands paint a maddening pattern on my stomach and ribs, occasionally grazing the underside of my breasts, pulling whimpers of need from my throat, which Malachi gladly swallows.

My eyes flick open to find Hart with his arms folded and his jaw ticcing, and Nash with a faint look of amusement, but the promise of fire in his eyes. I can’t handle any more heat; I’m likely to combust as it is.

Nash’s eyebrows dip as Theo’s hand spans my stomach.

He flattens me against him so I can feel how I am affecting him.

Oh, Holy Idol ovaries. My core clenches in protest as heat gathers low.

Malachi’s lips leave mine as he paints a hot path across my jaw, up to my ear, and down my neck to my collarbone, making me shiver.

“Again, pretty mouse,” Theo drawls. “What deals have you made?”

Nash narrows his gaze as he awaits my answer. It occurs to me they are trying to distract me into revealing the truth. But they already have all my truths.

My breathing stutters as Malachi tugs the shirt open, and his lips caress the swell of my breast.

“Tell us, Calamity,” Hart snaps. “Before we have to get involved.”

My lips tip up. “Is that meant to be a threat?”

“Are you willing to find out?” he asks with a tilt of his head.

There’s something wrong with me. I should run away screaming down the castle’s corridors, but I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than in a closed room with these four knights as they use my body to extract secrets that don’t exist.

“I made no deals other than the one I explained with the crocodile,” I breathe as I get a little lightheaded from the chaos Malachi and Theo create inside of me. This might be the true meaning of chaos—a beautifully brutal price paid in the flesh.

“I believe her,” Nash decides.

My shoulders sag. I can’t take much more teasing. I’m ready for what follows.

Nash steps forward and places a hand on Malachi’s shoulder.

He lifts his head, his heated gaze burrowing into my soul as he takes a step back.

Wait, what? Where is he going? I was a good girl and made no stupid deals.

Surely I get rewards in kisses, orgasms, and whatever else he wants to extract from my body?

Nash snatches my hand in his and pulls me away from Theo, who groans in protest. I feel ya, buddy.

“What are you doing?” I ask as he tugs me toward one of the bedrooms.

He pauses and glances over his shoulder. “Taking you somewhere private to punish you. Unless you prefer witnesses?”

“Why am I being punished at all?” I ignore the witnesses comment.

He turns to face me, and his free hand wraps around my chin, holding me hostage so he can stare into my eyes.

“Have you forgotten you were meant to remain safe here in our chambers? Have you so quickly dismissed your role in becoming a vital part of our narrative, and then sacrificing yourself to the whim of the Idols for a damn sword?”

My eyes narrow. “I will always come for those I love. Asking me to remain behind was a miscalculation on your behalf. If anything, you should punish yourself.”

He shakes his head. “Falling for you is all the punishment I need.” My heart twists, and my shoulders drop. He believes me a punishment?

He punctuates his declaration with a hard kiss before pulling away. “Now, I’ll ask again. Witnesses or private?”

“I vote for witnesses,” Hart drawls.

I cock a brow at Nash. “Private. Do your worst, Nash Stirling.”

He shakes his head and drags me into his bedroom. “Oh, I intend to, Daphne Stone. Now take off your shirt. I want to see my blank canvas before I paint you with scandal, desire, and sin.”

I glance back at the door. Is it too late to ask for witnesses?