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And also:Gods yes. That part he hoped Ragnar couldn’t read in the curl of his snarl.
Ragnar whined, quietly. He held Leif’s gaze, questioning, and slowly, slowly, flicked out his tongue and licked over his cockhead.
Every line of Leif’s body jerked with tension; Ragnar may as well have licked every inch of him, chin to chest to the soles of his feet, darts and tingles filling him head to toe. His tongue rested there, cushioning the tip, and he held still, waiting for his alpha’s decision.
Finally, Leif nodded, and Ragnar smirked again, a fast twitch of his lips, before he spread them wider and swallowed Leif down to the root.
Leif shot off embarrassingly fast, and Ragnar swallowed every drop. It was the most intense orgasm of his life.
But a one-time occurrence, he told himself, firmly, once Ragnar had licked him clean and come to snuggle up against his shoulder, humming and chuffing quietly against the side of his throat. Only the once, he swore.
But the next night, when they were deep in the tangles of the Inglewood, he gripped Ragnar by the hair and dragged him behind a thicket of bushes. Ragnar grinned at him again, slice of sharp teeth in the dark, before he bent his head to please his alpha.
13
Steel chimed on steel, again and again, a musical ring that echoed out across the square of garden they’d converted to a training yard. In its center, Reggie and Connor circled one another, trading blows in quick, blocked and parried strikes.Clang, clang, clang. Then they sprang apart and circled once more, taking one another’s measure, searching for openings. Amelia sat beside Leda, perched on a low stone wall and sipping cold tea from wine goblets. She didn’t knowwhathad happened between her two generals, only that something certainly had.
Both were flushed from exertion, sweating, clothes steaming in the afternoon sunlight. Reggie wiped his forehead with the back of a gloved hand and left a smudge of dirt behind.
“Careful, Lord Fop,” Connor said with a laugh, teeth gleaming white in his scruffy, dirt-streaked face. “Your lily-white face might need a washing after this. You don’t want to exert yourselftoomuch.”
Reggie sneered in return, but there was a laugh threaded through his voice when he said, “Come now. I could show you how it’s done. I promise the soap won’t hurt you.”
Connor’s grin widened, and they rushed together, swords clashing.Clang, clang, clang.
Connor got tripped up on his footwork and stumbled back a step; nearly fell and had to spin away out of reach to keep upright.
“Ha!” Reggie crowed. “You’re getting slow.”
“Watch yourself, young one. Slow and steady wins the day, yeah?”
“Wins therace,” Reggie shot back. “And we’re not racing.” He came on again, and Connor met him with a two-handed hold that banged the blades together, and left Reggie gritting his teeth against the vibrations. He could doubtless feel them through his whole body, echoing at the root of each molar and at the base of his neck.
Amelia wrinkled her nose in sympathy. “What do you think this is all about?” she asked Leda in an undertone. “They’ve always sparred – with words, mostly. But this is…different.”
“Hm,” Leda hummed. “That’s because they’ve fucked.”
Amelia whipped to face her. “What?”
“Shh, or they’ll hear.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, whispering this time.
Leda’s gaze was on the men, calling a truce now, waving each other off, and abandoning their swords to eager squires in exchange for water flasks. “Don’t play the maiden,” Leda said, though fondly. “You certainly aren’t one, and given your love for Oliver – pardon me, His Lordship Oliver Drake” – she chuckled – “that’s going to take some getting used to for this crowd. But you aren’t willfully blind about the ways of men, thanks to your cousin. Look at them.”
Reggie and Connor had moved to the opposite wall, perched on its edge, sipping water. Reggie said something too quiet to hear that left Connor snorting. He turned his head, sweat-damp long hair tucked behind his ears, and Amelia had a clear glimpse of his profile – and the very soft, unguarded gaze he’d pinned to Reggie, while the latter was unaware, telling a story with lots of hand gestures. Water slopped from the mouth of his flask, and Connor’s smile was small and intensely pleased, wholly different from his nasty, mocking grin.
“Gods,” Amelia murmured. “They have, haven’t they?”
“Men get this look when they’re besotted,” Leda said. “And Lord Connor Dale’s practically boiling over with it. It’s a bit hard to look at it, honestly. And the bad part – I don’t think our young Reginald has a clue how invested he is.”
As they watched, Reggie turned to Connor, who wiped his face neatly clean, only mildly interested now.
“Aw,” both women said at once.
“I knew they didn’t hate one another,” Amelia said. “But I thought all the banter was a disguise for a secret admiration for one another. One that might blossom into friendship.”
“Oh, it blossomed into something all right,” Leda said with a chuckle, as Reggie’s gaze dropped, plainly and boldly, to Connor’s mouth, and Connor leaned in closer to him, as though pulled on a string.
