Twin Passions: 3 (15 page)

As though they, like her, could not bear the heightened sensations, they began thrusting inside her, hard, deep. Each hardened length of cock filled her, retreated, thrust inside her with brutally ecstatic strokes that had her crying out breathlessly.

She was locked within their arms, within their magick, and within a pleasure she wanted only to hold to her forever.

They fucked her in perfect rhythm, one impaling her as the other retreated, only to have the other return with a penetration that rocked her body as one pulled back.

Each thrust was filled with rapture, a loss of control and a need they were locked together within.

The primal intensity swirled inside them, binding them together with searing desperation.

Astra became lost in the haze of primitive hunger. Twin cocks filled her, harsh male groans filled the air and her flesh began to burn in response.

Each hard, thick impalement charged each crystalline spore of magick that thundered through her bloodstream. A whirlpool of sensations swirled violently through her, overtaking her, rocking through her.

Surviving such pleasure was not possible. Astra’s cries became breathless, harsh as her muscles tightened on the thrusting cocks. Each stroke of their cocks fucking into her ignited another nerve ending, pushed the boundary and threw her closer to the edge. Each pulsing stroke filled her, stretched her, sent pleasure-pain tearing through her until it ignited her orgasm in such an explosion that she could only arch, a shattered attempt to scream leaving her throat. An attempt only. She could barely cry out. There was no breath left in her. There was nothing but the pleasure. Nothing but the incredible, agonizing ecstasy tearing through her as it tore through them.

Thick, pulsating jets of semen began to spurt inside her as each surged deep at once. Her orgasm burned higher, stronger. It shuddered through her, rocked her and sent her magick surging through flesh and bone straight to the souls of the Wizards possessing her.

Rhydan and Torran felt it. Felt her magick lock inside them, felt a pleasure that defied all known ideas of pleasure, release or ecstasy.

Even the Garden of Nirvana was not said to possess such powerful sensations. It tore through them, rocked their hips against her and flooded her further with their release.

It was more than they could have expected. More than they had ever dared to imagine. Pleasure surrounded and burned, blazed in rapture and overtook their senses.

And left them bonded with their Sorceress in ways they knew they could never imagine such a nightmare as to have it no longer exist.

As they collapsed beside her, Torran opened his eyes and stared back at his brother over their precious Consortress. Their greatest treasure. And silently, in a way that only Wizard Twins could, they made a vow.

No matter the consequences, they would lay down not just their lives but they would ensure the punishment of stealing this treasure’s peace would be far greater than any could imagine.

She would not suffer her Joining with them.

They would ensure it.

Chapter Fifteen

There were no Justices awaiting them when Astra and her Twins were shown into the throne room. There were no Wizard Justices, no guards.

There were only the Rulers in Waiting and the Guardian of the Powers of the Covenan Lands, along with the Cauldaran rulers and their Consortress, Brianna Sellane, the Veressi and the dragon Garron.

There was no accusation in their expressions, there was no sense of anger or recrimination.

As she neared the dais, she noticed the fourth, empty throne. Once, the three thrones would have held the queen and her daughters, Serena, Marina and Brianna.

Brianna’s Joining with the rulers of Cauldaran exempted her from the ruling line, just as Marina’s status of Guardian of Power exempted her. Serena’s disappearance, as well as her mother’s, left the ruling house near empty of a throne to guide it.

Marina’s Joining with the Sashtain Wizards had for the first time placed Wizard Twins on the throne. Marina could not rule, but her Consort, or in this case, her Consorts could, until the queen or the heir returned. Or until another ruler could be selected in the case of their deaths.

Kneeling before the thrones, her Wizards went to one knee beside her.

Astra had exchanged the leathers of her warriors’ attire for a brushed-silk gown of palest green and bordered by Gnomes lace in the color of the softest cream that Marina had bade one of the Sorceress of the Brigade to bring to her earlier. On her feet she wore delicate shoes with soft leather soles sewn with brushed silk that matched the lace of her gown.

About her neck, dripping from her ears and placed strategically in her upswept curls were jewels gifted to her by the house of Sellane, and just before leaving their room, by the Wizards who now faced her sovereign in waiting beside her.

The jewels, glittering diamonds, rich emeralds and deep sapphires, sparkled with iridescence and life as her magick brought out the unique colors of each stone.

“Rise, Delmari,” Caise Sashtain commanded.

Torran and Rhydan each allowed a hand to grip her upper arm and pull her up as well when she made no move to do so.

“You are Delmari as well, Sorceress,” Kai’el informed her, his voice amused. “Sorceresses have been too long without their Wizards. You are Delmari now, just as they are Al’madere when the situation warrants it.”

“Yes, sovereign,” she answered softly.

Marina no longer sat on the throne between her two Consorts. She instead stood behind it, her fingers curled over the edge of the bright-blue brushed-velvet back.

“Sovereign, you know the reasons for our deceit,” Torran stated. “What reason have we for being here?” He looked around the throne room, took in the absence of guards but the presence instead of the Verega, their Consortress and the Sashtain and Veressi Twins.

Caise Sashtain allowed his lips to quirk before turning to his Consortress.

“Queen Amoria declared there would be no Binding Ceremonies until Wizards were found to be either guilty or innocent of deceit against the throne,” Marina said softly. “I have, as Consortress to the Sovereigns in Waiting, waved aside that command this one time for you, cousin, warrioress, and I give to you the Binding Ceremony I know you have always dreamed.”

With a wave of her hand candles lit throughout the room, and Astra felt her breath catch in surprise and joy.

The magick of the sovereigns and the Guardian hiding the presence of those that now filled the throne room.

Friends and family, warriors and Wizards, and beneath an arch of magick stood the Wizard and Sorceress Priestesses who presided over the Bindings of those higher magickal sects.

“Marina?” She turned back to her cousin, uncertain now.

“Astra, you are guilty of no crime.” Marina stepped from the throne dais and moved to her, taking both her hands in hers. “You committed no crime, instead, you have aided in bringing a great power to the land. One that will aid this upcoming battle in ways neither of us could have known. But, for your friendship, your loyalty and the years you have watched my back, Serena’s and those of the Brigade, I give you this gift.” She waved to the arch of magick. “Come, cousin, receive the blessing of the gods and know that you and yours now hold a place with the Select, as well as within our hearts.”

Her Binding Ceremony.

As her Wizards moved, walking along the emerald-green tapestry that covered the floor, her heart swelled with joy, thankfulness and love.

This was the moment she had always dreamed of.

The moment of her Binding.

The first of many days with her Wizards, and the first day of a Joining that would complete them all.

Rhydan and Torran took their places before the Priests and Priestess who stood waiting to complete the ceremony.

Looking around, seeing no Wizard, no Sorcery to give her to her Wizards, she pushed back that lost, lonely child inside her that had always dreamed…

“Sorceress.” It was Garron who spoke from behind her.

Turning, she watched the great dragon, his gaze filled with affection, with fondness. “Know you, that you are a favored one of the gods?”

Her lips parted in surprise as she glimpsed Camry moving to her.

Dressed in a pale-yellow-and-fiery-red dress that lovingly hugged her from breasts to hips, the Sorceress brought to her a trailing bouquet of white Fiera roses that glistened with the soft aura of diamond brilliance. The roses of the gods. It was said that only the goddess Musera possessed such roses and gifted them only to her most beloved Sorceresses.

“How…” she whispered as Camry kissed her cheek gently.

“They were delivered by a Thunderbird,” the Sorceress whispered in awe. “How lovely are they?”

They were incredible. There were dozens upon dozens of the pure-white-diamond glistening flowers, trailing from where she held them to her knees.

“The gods have bequeathed to you a dream, Sorceress,” Garron stated, his voice rasping and low. “Turn child, and see what they have sent you.”

A gasp filled the room as she turned—slowly she turned and faced the impossible. A dream she had been certain—had known could never be hers.

Yet he stood before her.

Dressed in the white uniform of brushed silk, the colors of the house of Al’madere adorning his broad shoulders. His thick, dark-blond hair was secured at his nape, his golden gaze filled with love and pride as his bronzed flesh radiated with life.

“Do you accept your Wizards with love, joy and with a willing spirit?” her father asked her, his deep voice, never forgotten, always loved, wrapping around her as tears filled her eyes and joy swelled her heart.

“Papa,” she whispered, reaching out to touch him, feeling the warmth of his face, the rasp of the closely trimmed beard he had always worn.

So handsome he was, with that look of having aged that he would have possessed had he lived.

“My treasured child.” Reaching up, he cupped her cheek with the utmost gentleness, his palm warm, the callouses his palm possessed rasping at her cheek. “Do you accept your Wizard Twins willingly?” he asked again.

“With all my heart.” She was crying, but they were sobs of such joy. “How is this possible? How are you here?”

“A gift from Musera, given by the One, pleaded for by your Wizards, precious, for your strength, your acceptance and your gentle heart in the face of Alisante’s treachery.” The gentleness of his voice was a memory that had sustained her as a child and now wrapped around her in truth. “Your Wizards have loved you from afar, protected you and sought to comfort you. And now they have lent their magick and a vow to the One to always cleave to you and yours, in exchange for this gift. But know this, they would have given you that and more, whether the One heeded their pleas or not.”

His gaze shadowed as he spoke of Alisante, then cleared as he tucked a strand of hair, the color so similar to his own, from her shoulder to trail behind her back.

“I always watch over you, daughter,” he whispered then, for her ears alone. “Always I have been close, lending to Musera and your Wizards my voice in awakening the One. Giving to him the truth of the purity of your love, the strength of your dedication, your joy and your acceptance of the land and the magick that are so much a part of you. I will always be close.”

He took her hand then, placed it on his arm and turned her to the Wizards who awaited her.

She could not take her eyes from him.

Her precious papa.

This had been her dream of her Binding Ceremony. To have her papa, so brave and strong, lead her to the Wizards she would share her life and her lands with.

Leading her past friends, family, her sisters in battle, her Guardian Keeper and those who had been a part of her life for so long, she could think of nothing that could be more perfect than this gift.

As they neared the altar of the One and the Select, her Wizards stepped to the center of the aisle, turned to her, watching her with such love that their magick was an aura around them in such differing shades of blue that they glowed.

Stopping before them, her papa lifted her hand to them and asked, “Do ye Wizards Delmari accept my beloved daughter and open your Wizards’ souls to all that she is?”

“Sorcerer Al’madere, so we do,” Rhydan answered, his voice echoing with his vow.

“Sorcerer Al’madere, so we do,” Torran repeated, his own voice throbbing with the truth of his vow.

“So then do I give to you this precious daughter. Know ye that I always watch over her. And know ye that in this treasure you are given beats a heart that the One created to cleave unto you, to remain open, willing and filled with the purity of a Sorceress’ magick and a woman’s pure, enduring love.”

“So do we accept, Sorcerer Al’madere,” her Wizards swore. “We open our souls to hers, our heart to hers. We give to her our strength, and forever more, we give to her our magick.”

That magick glowed, built, then as she watched in awe it flowed from them, merged with hers then as she watched, the merging colors flowed around them, around her, enclosing them in a lush, heated aura of such magick it stole her breath as it seemed to disappear into the pores of her Wizards even as she felt it sinking into hers.

“Come ye to the gods, Torran, Astra and Rhydan,” the Sorceress Priestess said gently, her voice trembling with the same wonder Astra felt weaving through her as her papa moved to where her Wizards had stood as she walked to them. “Come ye, to the heart of each—”

To the heart of each.

To her Twins, and her Twins to her.

Together, as the gods had meant them to be.