Aamon and Malakar are dressed, I note. Back in the clothes they came in. It gives me some hope that they’ll give me a chance to recuperate before starting over.
“How are you feeling?” Malakar perches on the cushion by my feet and pulls my legs into his lap. His long fingers rub and knead the wire marks across my thighs. “Did we hurt you?”
Despite the overwhelming desire to shut my eyes and sleep for the week, I chuckle. “Yes, but...” I add quickly when they stiffen. “I liked it.”
Aamon kisses the top of my head as Ciaran leans in and captures my lips in a slow, loving motion of tongue and fingers through my hair.
“We have waited for such a long time to be with you again. We may have gotten carried away,” he says with a sheepish grin.
I pull back to peer into his eyes — soft, pale silver. I let my gaze travel along the hard lines crafting his gorgeous features.
But it’s not his face.
The one he’s ... they’re wearing belong to people I don’t know anymore. They’re masks that only serve to make me all the more curious to see their faces.
“When can I see your actual form?”
He strokes my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Whenever you wish.”
“Now?” I press.
Ciaran chuckles. “I would wait. Our true forms won’t fit in this house.”
“We’d be a bit squished,” Malakar murmurs, grinning.
I bite my lip. “That big, huh?”
The three burst out laughing and I giggle at the beautiful sound filling the room.
“We can be as big or as little as you like, your highness,” Ciaran says, the first to sober.
“No highness business,” I say quickly, nose crinkling. “It’s too weird.”
Malakar and Aamon exchange grimaces, but Ciaran captures my chin, turning my attention to him.
“Father will not like that. He was very clear that everyone must address you with respect. Including us.”
“We can use your name in the bedroom, but in court...” Aamon adds.
I raise an eyebrow at the silliness of that. “He literally fucked me in the middle of court. What kind of respect does he think I’ll be getting?”
Ciaran and Aamon study me with matching confusion that has their brows pulling together, and both turn to the third man who winces sheepishly.
“That’s my fault. That was a fantasy. Father would never share you with anyone else ... besides us. And even we have rules.”
“But I saw it,” I insist. “And you said he’d make me sit on him in front of everyone...”
“It was a game you liked playing.” His grin is apologetic, but dirty simultaneously. “He’d make you think you were surrounded by people while he made you take him.”
I want to be relieved. I certainly never thought I’d be the kind of person who enjoyed being watched, yet the thought of it has me shifting slightly against Cieran’s hard thigh.
“And that’s why he liked playing that game with you,” he teases into my ear when I release a rush of liquid across his lap.
“Why did I leave then?” I ask. “If everything was so perfect and I was so happy, why am I not still with him?”
“Because everything has rules, my love,” Ciaran answers softly. “When you came to us the first time, there were factors that prevented us from keeping you. Specific events.”
“Like what?”
