Page 70 of Warrior Princess Assassin (Braided Fate #1)

I look over, because the question is interesting, and in a way I don’t understand. His eyes find mine, and I recognize an awareness there. A perception that I lack. Like the way he saw the king’s brokenness—or the way the king saw his.

“Nik was captured by the Draegs,” Ky says. “Held for weeks. Most of his regiment was slaughtered. They always keep a few for torture. They burn them as a lure for me.”

I remember him saying that Draegonis forces would set a fire to lure him out, but this is more brutal than I expected. The knowledge cools some of the heat in my body. My heart pounds.

“How did he get free?” says Asher, and his voice is calm, as if he’s unaffected.

Ky’s hand drifts over my face again, then strokes a path up Asher’s cheek. “We rode in and got him.”

He’s so loyal to his soldiers. No wonder they’re so loyal to him .

I have to clear my throat, because I don’t want to talk about tortured soldiers. “What about Garrett and Callum? Are they a couple?”

Ky snorts. “If you ask them, they’ll say no.

You might have noticed that Callum is not the type to confine himself to one partner.

” He pauses, and there’s a weight in the hesitation.

“But they’re very...very close. Sometimes among soldiers there’s a connection that forms. A bond that keeps pulling them back together, regardless of anyone else. ”

I wonder what he’s thinking of. His hand is tracing along Asher’s shoulder now, drifting through his hair. But Asher’s eyes are on me, vivid blue and intent—and a bit heavy lidded.

I roll a little to face him, then reach up to touch his face. His eyes close, but his lips part when I stroke a finger across his mouth. I feel the hardness of his cock twitch against my thigh again, and he shifts against me. A small sound pulls from his throat.

Then he draws back. “I should leave you both.”

“Please stay,” I whisper—but then I clench my eyes closed, because maybe I shouldn’t say that at all. I did just swear to an alliance. Saving a country shouldn’t mean I have to leave someone behind.

Asher smiles, but it’s a little sad. “He’s to be your husband, Jory.”

But Ky twists a finger through his hair and gives a gentle tug. “She’s in love with you , Asher. You should stay.”

Asher inhales, likely to protest again, but the king rolls onto his knees to lean right down over him. He puts a hand against Asher’s cheek, and his voice is low and intense and sure. “Do you want me to make you?”

Asher goes completely still. His pupils seem to dilate. His lips part.

The king laughs softly and lets go of his hair, then sits back on his heels. “You’re right. Men are easy.”

“Fuck you.” But Asher doesn’t move.

The king smiles. “You love her back, Asher. You should kiss her.”

So Asher does.

He’s swift and precise, no fumbling or uncertainty at all. He takes me in his arms and I hear the king’s sharp hiss of breath, and then I’m drowning in the taste of Asher’s mouth. I remember what he said earlier about teeth, and the instant I feel the brush of his tongue, I tug at his lip.

I’m rewarded with a small grunt of pleasure, so I do it again.

But too quickly, Asher pulls away. His eyes are hot and daring. “Kiss him .”

I stare back at him for a moment, but then I turn.

The king catches my waist in his hands, and he’s less gentle than Asher.

It reminds me of that moment we were tussling by the fire, the way Ky pressed me into the dirt and thrust against me.

When his hands slide up my waist, his thumbs brush right over my nipples through the thin fabric, and my insides seem to bloom.

I shudder without realizing it, gasping against his mouth.

“Slow,” Asher murmurs, catching me from behind.

I lean back against him, and now I feel them both, hard and needy, pressing against me. Their breathing has gone a bit ragged, and I shift, wanting to feel them.

They both make a sound, and it’s deep. Primal.

Masculine. Asher’s hands are so tight on my hips, pulling me against him—or maybe pulling himself against me.

He’s all but tucked into the cleft of my buttocks, and again, my clothes feel like too much .

His mouth lands on my shoulder, his teeth pressing into my skin.

The king’s hand is still on my breast, but when I make a little gasp, he replaces it with his mouth, sucking my nipple into his mouth through the fabric.

He’s slower now, careful, but my breathing shudders anyway.

My hands clutch at his shoulders, but I trace a path down the muscle of his chest. When I trace a finger around one of his nipples, he makes a small sound that gives me courage.

I go farther, find the lacing of his trousers, and hesitate.

Then I steel my spine and stroke lower, my fingers light and delicate, exploring.

The king reaches down, wraps his hand around mine, and grips hard. Then he hisses a breath, and the sound makes my insides give a hard pulse.

There’s something so carnal about it. Almost aggressive. I would never touch myself like this. It takes my breath away.

Then he does it again, dragging my hand against the hard length of his cock through his trousers.

“I don’t know how to pleasure a man,” I whisper, suddenly uncertain.

They both go still. The king looks right into my eyes and says, “You’re bringing me quite a bit of pleasure, Princess.”

But it’s Asher, at my back, who nips at my shoulder, then says, “Do you want to learn?”