Decorated Alphan warriors Mateen and Bynton are on a clandestine mission to one of Earth’s refugee camps, in search of the one woman who might complete their bond. Tempering their instincts to capture and hold, both men realize they must court their chosen woman to win her trust.
Avanelle Rein is merely trying to survive in the chaos of a dying society. The last thing she expects is rescue at the hands of golden-skinned alien men. Despite her attraction to them, she fears their warrior ferocity.
Facing danger from Xyran raiders draws the three together as they explore their new relationship and one another. An unexpected challenge during an ancient claiming right forces Avanelle, Bynton, and Mateen to decide if their bond is strong enough to survive.
Be Warned: menage sex (MFM)
The light brightened, and she flinched as her eyes adjusted, jumping when she felt hands at her clothing. Adrenaline flooded her body, and she struck back, flailing at the assault even as she pushed with her feet to slide further away. Strong hands gripped her wrists and thighs, and she was pressed down on the soft surface. Two faces swam into focus, the big men, no longer enveloped in meters of fabric. They were wearing sleek leather tunics and pants, black as fear. Golden skin, golden eyes, square jaws and tight mouths, they resembled each other closely. Dark hair fell around their shoulders, and when they moved closer, she noticed glossy black curves among the strands. Horns. Devil horns growing from their skulls.
All the gruesome tales flooded her mind, and she screamed. Their grip on her eased, and she kicked against the bed until she fell off the side onto a carpeted floor. On hands and knees she struggled to escape, only to be captured by hard hands. They were the alien demons, come to capture her and eat her. Women had been disappearing from her community for years. Most had blamed perverted killers, but there had been whispers of these golden men with horns being in the area before some had vanished. She strained against their hold, her exhaustion forgotten as the basic urge to survive gave her a final burst of energy.
“Quiet. Calm.” The deep voice carried right into her brain, and she twisted her head to look at the villain who’d spoken. It was the one who hadn’t smiled, the one who’d stroked her buttocks like he was measuring her for a roasting pan. Unaccountably, she stilled, the tension in her limbs easing as she stared into his gleaming eyes.
“I am Mateen of the Albin. I’m not going to harm you.”
Another voice cut in, and she turned to see the other devil, a slight smile returning to his mouth. He’d been the one who spoke before. “And I’m Bynton of the Albin. I’m not going to hurt you either.”
She didn’t believe them, but wherever they were touching her felt only warm and solid, not painful. Big, solid chests hemmed her in; thick thighs pressed against her legs. A few shallow breaths calmed her a bit more. If they were going to eat her, she’d probably be in bloody chunks by now.
“What do you want with me?”
The men looked at each other and softened their hold on her enough that she could move a bit.
“We want to talk to you.” Mateen stared at her, his brows lowered.
“Learn about you.” Bynton released his hold on her arm long enough to adjust the way her cowl fit against her head. She swerved away from his touch, and he dropped his hand.
“Didn’t have to grab me to do that.” It was only bravado talking at this point. She knew her legs were going to shake soon and she’d fall. Too little to eat over the last few weeks, running and screaming, terror, had all stolen away whatever she’d been holding in reserve.
“We did. We needed privacy with you, and that wasn’t an option at the camp, was it?” Mateen’s voice was low, his reasoning logical. No, there was no privacy in the camp for anyone. She hadn’t had a moment of silence or peace since the soldiers had forced the evacuation of her apartment block in Puerta Santigo over a month ago, not that she’d had much solitude there. A blanket sectioning off half a tiny room hardly counted as a home. But she’d belonged there. Once she’d been evacuated her life had turned to hunger, filth, and desperation.
“Privacy for what? Are you going to kill me?”
Mateen narrowed his eyes, and she felt Bynton release her entirely as she asked her question.
“Kill you? Why would we—?”
“To eat me. The devils like to eat us, or so the stories go.”
“We aren’t devils.” Bynton took a step away and jammed his hands on his hips, throwing his broad chest and thick arms into perfect display. “We are decorated warriors of a respected house, not uncivilized cannibals.”
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