Sanctuary With Kings (Tempting Monsters, #3)

by Kathryn Moon

Conall gasped into my mouth. He threw me down to the ground, reared high, and reached between us, pinching one nipple and rubbing at my clit, and I was already screaming before I realized his intention. I came, clutching his cock, my first honest orgasm in centuries, stunned and almost frightened by the force, by the taste of my own relief.

Cool fingers slipped under my palms, and I jolted but didn't release myself. Claws skimmed against my skin, not scratching, just wedging themselves against my cheeks, a gentle force pulling my hands away. It was Laszlo, not Conall, staring down at me, solemn and quiet as ever. The sight of him took my breath away, silenced my scream in an instant. He was gilded and beautiful, every hair and feather capturing the sunlight. He gathered my tense hands and pressed them down into my lap before reaching up once more. His thumbs pressed to my cheekbones and then stroked down firmly, loosening my jaw and leaving my lips parted. They moved up to my forehead, circling over the spot, spreading down to my temples, over my jaw again. One determined and careful touch at a time, he erased the strain of my forced smiling, a wordless treatment. I swallowed as he stroked down from my jaw and over my throat. He extended his fingers, keeping his claws away, finding muscles I'd forgotten and soothing them calm again.

He smelled like tea and something clean and sweet. I wanted to arch into him, but he was sapping me of all the tension and strength that had seized me from the dream, his hands now circling and dragging down my arms. My lips shut, not torn and chapped but smooth at last, and his eyes stared down at my lap as he massaged my hands out of their painful claw. "Laszlo," I rasped. "I brought you the wax for Hywel's scales," he said.

Laszlo reached up to my face again and I flinched instinctively, but he didn't retreat, just slid his claws into my hair. My breath caught and my eyes slid shut as he combed through my strands.

"I haven't visited him recently," I murmured. "A few days is nothing to a sleeping dragon," Laszlo answered softly. "The werewolf's strength isn't sticking to you." My eyes flashed open, startled at the idea that Laszlo could read so much, knew so much. But he was right, and I shook my head slowly. "The nightmares seem to…unravel it all over night."

"I'll visit Hywel today," I said, although there was a tension in the way Laszlo spoke of his slumbering lover that left me uncertain as to what he really wanted me to do. Laszlo just leaned back, wings shifting to reveal a large porcelain jar sitting on the bed by my calves. "Hywel never has nightmares." I puffed out a breath, my brow furrowing as I muttered under my breath. "Lucky him." Laszlo echoed my puff, made it sound more elegant than I had managed, and slid off the bed, heading for the door. "Give him some suggestions. He might share his dreams with you."

Hywel was stretched out on his side, one front leg extended out of the cave entrance, his belly displayed, softly pink and streaked with white. His long tail was stretched around the cavern, a few tables of treasures now knocked over, gold spilling over carpets. He liked being touched here. My cheeks were flushed and néktar was heavy in the air, and there was a leathery seam near his hind quarters, where twin cock heads were parting the fold, threatening to emerge. The seam had been almost invisible when I started my work, but it'd grown swollen over the hours of me rubbing my hands and cloth over the dragon's long stomach. I was curious—the tip of one cock was the size of my head—but it was crossing a line that didn't feel right either for Laszlo's or Hywel's sakes to go and investigate further.

Instead, I kept my eyes forward on the pattern of the longer, smoother scales, and spoke to the dragon. "I remember a party I attended. It was midsummer in Dublin. The fae attended, wearing the most absurd attempts at glamours. But the mead was rich that year, and there were only a few of us who noticed their presence. I ended up spread out in a fairy ring outside of the city." My breath caught as the dragon rumbled in drowsy approval. "Mm, yes. Hands and mouth and everything else full. Every inch of me kissed. I was chased out of town the next afternoon, but I couldn't walk straight, and…"

Hywel was sleeping, silent now, his chest nudging against my shoulder as he breathed. But it was a relief to speak. Laszlo told me I should offer Hywel suggestions, but instead I found myself confessing. I turned my head, let his scale burn against my lips as I spoke, the words barbed, biting and scratching as they were pulled up from my chest.

"I managed once for more than forty years. I stole a dinner knife, and I kept it hidden for six years, wondering if I would be brave enough to use it. On myself. On one of them." The more I spoke, the easier the words flowed. "And then…there was a girl who needed it more than me. Who wouldn't have survived another visit from her client. She killed him, and I was so…so jealous," I hissed, digging my fingers into a seam between scales. "So proud too." A tear dripped from my jaw and slid quickly over Hywel's polished scales.

"But part of me thought…always thought that my mother would interfere. That someone would come. And not two hundred years later," I gasped out, pulling my hands away, clenching my fists against the rising tide of pressure that rose up in my chest, threatening to crack me open. I pressed my tight hands into my thighs and arched my chest, waiting for the need for air to force me to draw a breath. It came gusting into my lungs, swaying me, chest heaving. We will have vengeance, pretty morsel. My hand slapped against Hywel's side, the weight of the words a great pound in my head that nearly toppled me. But his voice wasn't painful. It was stone and silk. It swarmed me, cradling me even as it bore down. I blinked and found one opalescent eye open and gazing back at me.

I understood Conall when he was flirting, joking. I was overwhelmed by him when he was earnest.

"When Hywel wakes, Birsha will have real cause to fear this battle he's been so eager to wage," Conall said, voice low and growling gently. His arm around my waist sank low on my hips, hand barely squeezing at my ass, his hips pressing into mine. Vengeance. "And you, mo chroí, will have a world at your feet." I shivered at the words, not understanding the way they touched my skin, sank low in my belly, throbbed in my core. Conall grinned at last, sharp and a little hungry, honest too. He leaned in, pressing us explicitly together. His hair swarmed my vision, blocking out my view of Hywel, my heart racing at the idea of the dragon seeing Conall hold me so close. "I can't wait to see what you claim for yourself," he snarled in my ear. I gasped, my breasts brushing against his chest, and his fingers tightened on my ass. I wanted to shift in place, open my thighs to him, wanted him to take us down to the floor and rut me, sudden and rough. I wanted Hywel to watch, to wake.

I'd forgotten how to be a dance partner, how to settle in someone's arms and let them lead me. Even my sex with Conall was often wrestling for control, battling for pleasure.

Conall's wildness reminded me of who I was before Birsha caught me in the brothel, laid a baited web and snared me for centuries. It wasn't possible to let go of those painful years, but his joyous revelry dragged me through them, back to life and joy. Not careless pleasure but determined delight.

I found Laszlo in the archway of the corridor that would lead to his little sanctuary of a room, away from the revelry. But he was watching me and Conall, and for the first time, I read his expression clearly. The crease between his brows, the crooked purse of his lips, the craving and sorrow in his gaze.

"You have to dance with me too," I said, the words only just audible under the din of the dreamers. Conall opened our stance, facing Laszlo too, as the gryphon glanced between us. He opened his mouth and I knew at once, my shoulders drooping, that he would refuse. "Be a gentleman, Laz," Conall goaded. He lifted my hand and extended it toward the watching gryphon. Laszlo's eyes rolled and I flashed a quick, grateful smile at Conall, who turned on his heel and bent to kiss the back of my hand, as elegant as a courtier. Laszlo joined us, and he didn't storm through the shadows as Conall had, but politely waited for them to pass, even dipping his head once in acknowledgement of a greeting.

Laszlo sighed, but Conall didn't wait for an answer, leaving us. Laszlo stepped closer, his arm bracing my waist gently. He stepped and my body followed instinctively, the movements unfamiliar but his leading was elegant and calm in comparison with the storm of dancing Conall had led me through. "He is…young," Laszlo remarked, turning us, his gaze glancing over Conall. I laughed at that summation and nodded. "He is." It made me ache, actually. I didn't know how old Conall was, how long he would live, but I knew he was young compared to me, to Laszlo and Hywel and Asterion.

But Laszlo was not a creature who needed hedonism and ecstasy to survive. And Hywel, his partner, was asleep. Had been as long as I'd been captive. Longer.

"So many misunderstand immortality," I murmured, drawing Laszlo's eyes back to me. "They think it means time passes faster, that days are minutes and years are days and we rush through our lives. But you cannot change the length of time, or how it stretches around you." Laszlo's face was slack, yellow gaze bright and open. "Centuries are long," I said. "Very," Laszlo said, brow folding in a shared pain. "Has no one else been here with you?" I asked. "Visits," Laszlo murmured. "Brief affairs." You are lonely, I thought, but the words didn't need to be said. Just as Laszlo didn't have to tell me that he understood how long I'd suffered under Birsha.

"We will have more years with him awake than I have waited as he slept," Laszlo said, his quiet voice brushing against my hair. "But you're right—it does not change the length of the years." Of being alone. Laszlo was the perfect height for me to rest my head on his shoulder as we danced, to hear the slow and steady thump of his heart under my ear. We sighed together, stepped together, spun slowly in the company of shadows together.

"Hywel?" I called. Come here, blodyn bach. You've wandered far enough for one night. "From London to Wales," I mused. The dragon rumbled, two eyes now blinking at me in the dark, broad face rising up to stare down at me. Who feeds you nightmares? "My memory," I said. The woods ran by quickly now, my steps carrying me farther, closer to Hywel, who was no longer shadow but a glowing ember in the night. The grass warmed and softened under my feet, mossy carpet and stones of gold. Then my bed will be your respite. Come and sleep in my scales.

What had been distant was now directly in front of me, Hywel's towering form, his bright opal eyes watching me. A tangle of pillows and blankets and clothing sat cradled between his huge legs, and he purred and rumbled as I climbed into the nest. "I'm glad you are in my dream," I murmured, curling on my side, stroking one hand over the heavy ridges that ran down his legs. His head lowered, breath surrounding me, sweeter than I expected, lavender smoke and summer sun. I'd never fallen asleep in a dream before—it was a funny sort of idea—but it felt like sinking underwater, and my lips curved as I drifted deep into slumber.

I woke with smooth, warm glass under my hand, my body cradled perfectly in swathes of fabric and goose down pillows. A wet coil stroked around my ankle and calf, warm and silken. I blinked and found that my bed was made of red dragon scales, recently waxed and polished by my own hand. Hywel's cavernous hoard glittered beyond his leg, and every minute or so a great heave of warm air stroked over my body. Which meant… I twisted and found the slightly open maw of the King of Dreams poised at my feet. A long, thick, black tongue extended out past the large teeth and fangs to twine around my left leg.

You wake. I gaped at the massive jaw poised just past my toes, the spiked dragon chin tucked down against his body, his eyes turned forward and almost crossed to stare down at me. "I…" I cleared my throat when no words rose to my tongue. You were sleepwalking, blodyn bach. It'd been a long time since I'd heard any Welsh, but the name he gave me was simple—little flower. The dragon's lips didn't have to move to speak, and his tongue continued to wrap and caress around one leg, teeth the size of my feet bared in what I swore was a smile.

"You're awake," I said, stroking his right leg. Shh, don't tell the others. There was a hint of mischief in his heavy words as they soaked into my head, almost a whispering note. "Laszlo misses you." Hywel rumbled, purred, and sighed, a deeper, smokier breath washing over me. Not for much longer.

You've been taking care of me. The black tongue twined again, this time smoothing higher. I stared into the fearsome jaws, the dark red gullet, and marveled at how long that tongue extended, how far back in Hywel's huge mouth it rooted. "You've given me sanctuary," I answered, eyes flicking up to his, smiling at the picture of his slitted eyes narrowed to study, his flaring nostrils. I leaned forward, rubbing my palm firmly against the center of his snout, pressing my lips together to withhold my laugh as his eyes crossed and then shut.

Hywel shook and the whole room rattled and trembled and laughed with him, gold and books and jewels jangling in their cases, his grin broadening. I would like to taste you, blodyn bach, he answered, his tongue sliding higher, rubbing and looping near the top of my right thigh. His tongue squeezed, and I fell back on my elbows with a gasp. But I should like to feed you, not myself. My head fell back, a moan trapped in my throat, my eyes squeezing shut. I'd served and enjoyed many a monster in my lifetime, but never a dragon. "I'm…I'm not sure I could reciprocate," I managed, biting my lip. Hywel laughed again, even longer and heavier than before, and I could not restrain my groan as the sound—too low and rich to really ring in my ears—vibrated all around me and through the tongue that teased just shy of my bare sex. Someday, you might. Perhaps even soon. But no, my dwtty creature, not today.

I opened my mouth to correct him—there was no day that I could spread myself enough for those massive twin heads I'd gotten a glimpse of yesterday—but his tongue slipped loose from around my thigh and then played coyly at my center, petting and pressing to my sex. "Oh!" I arched between the dragon's legs, sank down into the blankets and pillows, and shut my eyes against the sight of the enormous open threat of his mouth as he licked me.

It was like the dull stroke of a cock spreading itself through my lips, but his tongue was not perfectly smooth; there were little bumps and grooves that teased my tender flesh. Oh, you are much sweeter than the...

His tongue slid up, over the coarse curls between my legs, tangling into the thin cotton of my nightdress, and I fumbled, pulling the fabric up, wrestling myself out and tossing it beyond his massive taloned feet. I stared at the thick, black length—no, it was a deep red color, like wine or pools of blood—watched it slither and slide, caressing over my belly, revealing a split end that eagerly stretched to cup and rub one breast. Hywel growled or purred, and I panted,

You are a very tempting morsel, blodyn bach. "If you eat me, you only get to do so once," I warned. Hywel's laughter came with néktar, as much as his overwhelming licks. I was spread between a dragon's legs, left open to his licking tongue, at risk of being gobbled up and forgotten. I was making a dragon laugh. I grinned and stretched my arms over my head, finding his huge feet, stroking the knuckles and down to the claws. I arched my back, and Hywel's tongue made a brief return trip to pluck at my nipples. Lush, he praised.

His tongue seemed to shrink, growing plumper when not stretched, and it prodded and pushed against my pussy, split and stroked on either side. I moaned and rocked into the touch, but I kept my eyes on those sharp bright teeth and the dark gullet beyond. "Laszlo—Oh! Hywel!" I grunted, twisting, trying to escape the determined grip of the forked tongue pulling my clit from hiding, and he released me with a rumbling chuckle. "Laszlo gave me the wax," I managed. My mate knows what kind of rare treasures I like to find in my hoard, Hywel murmured, and then returned to tormenting my sex, pulling at my folds, my clit, burrowing at my hole.

I laughed and then moaned as his forked tongue fucked my channel, dipping and rubbing and licking me from the inside out, while the other half burrowed against my clenching ass, wetting and slicking the nervous muscle. Let me in, blodyn bach. Give me my feast, and I will give you yours. "It's not fair—" I gasped, relaxing and immediately invaded by a squirming tongue. "Not fair that you can talk with your mouth full." Hywel laughed again, and tears pricked my eyes. His laughter was something like honor.

His eyes were sealed with the milky film layer, and his lids were beating shut, opening slowly and then falling closed again. "You're going back to sleep?" I asked, frowning slightly, crawling up to drape myself over his snout, ignoring the dig of his horns. He sighed, hot breath tickling my toes, tongue following and flicking briefly. Not for long, he answered, but I suspected his version of long might've been different than mine. Take care of him. I blushed at the words, knowing Hywel meant the gryphon, wondering if Laszlo would be able to let me try or if I would even know how.

Feathers brushed over my ass, talons combed through my hair, and I woke with a sharp breath, tea and sweetness in my lungs. "Forgive my touch," Laszlo rasped. "The pair of you are…exceptionally beautiful." My eyes opened to find the gryphon already stepping back, although he didn't look away from where I was spread over Hywel's sleeping head like the poorest excuse for a blanket.

Laszlo dove down, drawing my nightgown up from where I'd dropped it near Hywel's feet. "If you're not careful, he'll tuck this into the whole bundle and you'll never get it back again," Laszlo said, lips quirking. "I should've asked you, or—or…" His eyes widened behind the guard of those glimmering spectacles I wanted to rip away. "Nonsense. Hywell is the territorial one, not me. And if I had wanted you to stay away from him, I would've said so." His eyes lowered to my breasts, fixed there for a moment, and then skidded away. He drew my nightgown up like a shield. "I knew he would be good for you," he added.

Forgive my touch. I opened my mouth to tell Laszlo he could touch if he wanted to—I was feeling exceptional after a real night's rest and a fresh dose of pleasure for my soul to feast on—but he rushed on. "Asterion's returned. He and Conall are going mad looking for you. Hywel hid the passageway from them." It'd been almost two weeks since Asterion had disappeared while I slept, and my wobbling legs as I leapt off Hywel's head had more to do with nerves than weakness. "He can do that?" "Dragons know how to guard their treasure," Laszlo said, and his arms had slackened slightly, his gaze roving greedily over me.

I sighed and slipped my arms into the wide open sleeves. The garment was loose, the collar lace, and it sank low on my chest, my nipples visible through sheer, delicate flowers. Laszlo cleared his throat and leaned around me, digging into the tangle of fabric. He pulled a long blue tunic out of the bundle, shaking the dust out, brushing the feathered backs of his hands over the embroidery of vines. "Here. This is…this is one of mine," he said, and he helped me dress in the sheath too, which clung a little around my hips and breasts. A brief flash of smug pride brightened his still features, and he turned away from me.

Behind us, Hywel let out a low, soft growl. Laszlo snorted. "You can have her back when you wake, you lazy beast," he said, but the words were so tenderly spoken it was clear what he meant. Wake up. Wake up for me. Wake up for her. I recalled Hywel's request too, as he'd returned to dreaming. Take care of him. So I slid my arm around Laszlo's, snuggling into his side and the shelter of his wing that stretched, rustling in surprise.

"I'm right here," I called, interrupting the rising voices. Asterion's knees buckled as he spun, the whites showing around his dark eyes. He still had dust from the road on his trousers, and his collar was pulled open, a tantalizing glimpse of carved muscle swelling against the fabric as he heaved in a sudden breath. Conall's shoulders sagged and he swept tangled red strands back from his sharp features, offering me a crooked, weary smile. Asterion took one lurching step toward me and then froze as I approached. "I was napping with Hywel," I said. Asterion straightened, his gaze lifting over my head to find Laszlo. "He's awake?" "Not yet," Laszlo answered.

I'd crossed half the hall, but both Asterion and Conall's gaze sharpened on me at the same moment. Asterion's nostrils flared, and Conall's smirk stretched. Asterion's steps fell backward, inching away from me. "I'm glad to see you well, théa. I should…clean up from the road." He bowed, sharp and stiff, and then turned, hooves beating an urgent path toward the stairs. Conall huffed and shook his head, combing his hand through his hair once more, eyes sliding over me with a thorough curiosity. "Napping, were you?" he asked, flashing fangs in his grin. My face warmed. "You can both smell him on me, can't you?" Conall nodded, reaching me, his hands cupping my hips.

"I'm very curious as to what you and the dragon were doing during your nap," Conall teased. He tugged me close, breathing deeply, and then clearing his throat and shaking his head, eyes wide. "Mo chroí, is there anywhere on you that dragon didn't mark as his?" "Hush," I said, but a soft laugh escaped with the admonishment.

"Come take a swim with me," Conall said, one hand leaving its spot on my hip to catch my hand. "So you can wash him off me?" I asked. Conall hummed and shrugged, turning, but sharing a brief smile with me that admitted I was right. "I won't lie and say the dragon's mark isn't a warning I'm likely to ignore. But I'm not the only one Hywel's warned to steer clear of you," he said, glancing toward where Asterion had vanished. "I think Asterion's intentions were always precisely to steer clear of me," I said. "His intentions, perhaps. Not his desires," Conall said, voice low.

Whatever Asterion's desires were, they were ignored. In spite of his concern over my being "missing" when he arrived, he spent the next few days taking great care not to be in the same room as me. I didn't know where he slept, where he ate, where he spent the long hours of any day.

Ugh, I want MORE Asterion

Laszlo sighed, eyes turning to glance at me out of their corners. "You misunderstand. You should not be able to have nightmares here. Not under Hywel's protection." I turned back to the sea, my hands matching Laszlo's as they tightened around the stone railing. "I…" My heart pinched in my chest and I swayed forward, hips pressing hard into the barrier that kept me from lurching over into the tumbling, turning water. "I lived in a nightmare for a third of my life, Laszlo. I am not sure there is any shield that can hold my mind back from the reckoning now that I am free. Even Hywel." Laszlo's hand was warm, covering the back of mine, our fingers locking together.

"Laszlo—" "If there is nothing Hywel or you or I can do to stop them from coming, if you must remember, then share them with me," Laszlo said, simple and clear. He bent toward me, and I stared down at our linked fingers. His brow rested against mine, a warm, golden place against my aching head, a gentle clarity that made the moment real and the nightmares that plagued me distant ghosts. I opened my mouth to refuse, and the edge of Laszlo's spectacles brushed my cheek as he nuzzled his long, arched nose to my smaller one. "It was real, my dear. It happened," he whispered. I whimpered and pulled my face from his, but only so I could hide it against his shoulder, letting the tears that clawed their way from my eyes soak into the heavy weave of his coat. He continued in my ear, his feathers tangling on strands of my hair. "But the nightmares are not real. We cannot let them add to your already unjust burden."

Laszlo heaved in a breath and finally moved, his arms circling around my back, one hand rising to cup the back of my neck in a possessive clasp that was too gentle to be startling.

He pressed his hand over my chest, and my eyes widened. My heart stopped its uneven beating, steadying, and my lungs bloomed all at once, a great breath drawn in, clearing away the bound sensation. "Come inside, my dear," Laszlo said, words so gently coaxing, arms and wings cocooning me and ushering me along with the command.

"You're getting faster," he said, hiking me up, scooping one arm under me and raising his free hand to draw his thumb under my eye. "Still tired, though." I slung weary arms over his shoulders, clasping one wrist loosely as I tried to catch my breath, ignoring the pleasant stretch of my legs spread around Conall's body. I'd found a pair of kid leather breeches in my closet today and the freedom of movement was delicious, although I wished now for a skirt that would be easier to draw up and out of the way. "You might remedy that," I said, even though I knew whatever Conall offered would be a temporary reprieve, stolen away again in the night. His eyes narrowed slightly as he gazed up at my face. "I'm not sure. I get the sense I might not be…potent enough for you." I laughed at the sight of his bottom lip jutting out slightly