Rowan still felt the power humming in his blood, still felt the frenzy holding him captive, when he opened the double-door to the tavern. The room was packed, the air thick and sticky, loaded with ale, wine, sweat and adrenaline.
“Whitethorn.” Lorcan Salvaterre nodded in his direction from a table in the corner.
Of course he was already reveling in their victory, a tankard in one hand and a female in the other. No surprises with this bastard. At least Rowan always knew what to expect from his Queen’s commander. He sighed, calming the roaring in his veins, before striding over to the tall male.
“I helped myself after you were taking your time licking your wounds, hope you don’t mind,” Lorcan sneered, watching Rowan sit down across from him.
“As if you would have acted differently even if I did.”
Lorcan shrugged. “Probably not.”
Rowan unfastened his sword-belt and leaned the weapon against a bench, its blade still partly covered in what remained of the army Lorcan and him had crushed today. Just the two of them. Since Queen Maeve had realized they were her own two-male-army with their unusual powers, they were sent out alone more often than not. Sometimes, Rowan wished at least more of their cadre was with them, since Lorcan wasn’t a particularly pleasant companion – but he had become used to the Demi-Fae’s lust for brutality, hubris and loathing over the years. Had maybe even started to appreciate it. They might be explosive when in one room, but they also got shit done together, successfully as well, Rowan couldn’t deny it. That aside, Rowan didn’t necessarily pose better company either…
He stretched out his long legs, the cuts he had collected already healed again thanks to his magic. He knew he’d still need a good day of sleep tomorrow to fill up his reserves though.
Lorcan whistled softly to get his attention, sliding another ale to him over the table.
Rowan inclined his head in thanks. “Glory and gore,” he said, raising the tankard.
“Glory and gore,” Lorcan repeated, saluting.
They both took several deep gulps before leaning back in their seats.
The female on Lorcan’s lap giggled ridiculously, clutching his muscled chest with a manicured hand, so at odds with the dirt and blood covered armor. The warrior always chose black for his clothes, matching his bottomless eyes, shoulder-length hair and dark soul – and his mysterious powers even Rowan couldn’t fully comprehend after his centuries of existence. Lorcan, even older than him, commanded Darkness itself. Death itself, which had wrapped around the waves of men today and destroyed them inside out wherever his sword couldn’t reach them. A gift likely given by the goddess Hellas herself. Rowan was surprised Lorcan didn’t scare females as much with it as he did most males and men. On the other hand, he knew himself what wielding such a force could arouse: being known as the most powerful pure-blooded Fae male alive had opened him plenty of doors already – especially to bedrooms. Lorcan was the Demi-Fae version of him when it came to his strength. So wherever they appeared together… people either fell, fled or knelt. The latter for different reasons.
“What’s on your mind, Prince? Not happy about our win?” Lorcan pulled Rowan from his thoughts.
“Prince?” the female chirped before Rowan could answer.
He sighed again, slightly bending his head once. “Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle, lady.”
He could sense the agitation on her even before seeing the sudden, soft flicker in her pale, blue eyes.
“Always the show-off,” Lorcan teased, one of his big hands exploring her backside.
Rowan rolled his eyes but couldn’t fully hide the grin tugging at his lips. After the height of battle, he felt his head getting lighter by the minute.
The female assessed him for some heartbeats and he knew she paused on the tattoo peeking out of his armor at the neck, winding upwards over the side of his face until fading into his white hairline. Markings telling dark tales even his companion didn’t know every detail about.
She cocked her head. “Glad to make your acquaintance, Prince Whitethorn.”
“Rowan will do.”
“Rowan it will be.” His name was a purr on her tongue and he couldn’t stop himself from really looking at her then. She was striking, he had to give Lorcan that. Her long, dark-red hair was a waterfall over her upper body, swirling around her curvy outline like a second dress.
Lorcan caught him staring, a smirk appearing on his angular face. “Like what you see, Whitethorn?”
The female looked back and forth between them, long lashes fluttering, blushing a little.
Well played, she was almost convincing. Rowan was sure she knew exactly what she was doing.
“Don’t worry, Lorcan, I’m not in the mood today.”
It was no lie. Rowan knew many males needed the physical outlet after a fight, and he was no stranger to it himself – but he tried to avoid it, if possible, not trusting his still elevated power after battles like the one they had won today. He was aware how dangerous it could become for everyone around him. Not that he cared much. He didn’t care about most things these days, even after–
“Really?” Lorcan asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
The female pressed a hand on her cleavage, gasping a little dramatically. “Why, are you talking about me? Please, I don’t want to get in your way…”
Lorcan pulled her closer. “You aren’t. Our hawk over there is just a little disappointed he doesn’t have the same effect on beautiful females as I do.”
She giggled again, playing with his hair, while Lorcan drank more of his ale. The explicit glances she threw at Rowan in between made him angle his head though.
“Have you two strong males ever…” she bit her lip, lowering her eyes just slightly, “shared?”
Lorcan almost choked on his drink and Rowan raised his eyebrows. That again.
The red-haired beauty wasn’t the first one to ask. By far. Yet still, they had never… Rowan couldn’t imagine it ending well, especially not without ripping Lorcan’s head off whilst in the middle of pleasure.
The thought alone provoked a low growl in his throat. “Not interested,” he answered.
“Forgive my bluntness,” she said, with an attempt at coyness now. “It’s just… too tempting a thought.”
Lorcan leveled a glare at Rowan. He didn’t need to add words for him to understand the territorial challenge in his black eyes. Rowan crossed his broad arms. He still had no interest in taking the female away from him, but there was something about that challenge… Maybe it was his Fae instinct, maybe it was the predator hidden behind his second form; but Rowan suddenly couldn’t help himself.
“Tempting, you say?” he heard himself ask.
She smiled sweetly. “Very much, yes… Excuse a female for being captivated by the presence of two handsome warriors.”
“Hmm.” He let a finger slide along the rim of his tankard. Her eyes followed it.
Lorcan snarled in warning. Rowan felt reckless – too reckless.
“Changed your mind?” she asked, almost in a whisper.
Rowan shrugged. “I doubt your commander would like to feel inadequate.”
Lorcan’s elongated canines flashed in the candlelight. “Watch your tongue, prick.”
He let his finger circle a little faster. “Am I wrong?” The female’s pupils dilated slightly.
“Are you trying to rile me, Whitethorn?”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
The female chewed on her lower lip, fingers digging into Lorcan’s armor. “Please, I didn’t want to make you… angry…” She didn’t look scared at all.
Lorcan started kissing her neck, locking eyes with Rowan. Watching them made his jaw tense. She tipped her head back slightly, allowing Lorcan more access. When he reached her throat, she gasped softly, her thighs clenching.
The scent of arousal hit Rowan then – and he snapped.
He rolled his neck, hissing, feeling the animal in him taking over.
Lorcan grinned, his eyes even darker than usual. “Jealous?”
The female looked at Rowan again, breathing harder, Lorcan’s mouth still on her skin. Come, she seemed to say. Take me.
“What do you really want?” Rowan’s voice was nothing more than a grumble.
Her hand wandered down Lorcan’s massive body. “Both,” she whispered, eyelids fluttering. “I want both of you.”
Rowan leashed his power, wind and ice and lightning already building again inside him, clawing at what was left after their fight.
“You’re sure about this?” Lorcan rasped, fangs scraping along her skin, something glistening in his eyes when he stared Rowan down.
He stared right back.
Time seemed to slow between them.
The corner of Lorcan’s mouth twitched. And somehow, Rowan knew at that moment.
Another battlefield. Maybe an even more dangerous one. But one he couldn’t resist today. One he wouldn’t lose, either.

Rowan nodded towards the tavern’s upper floor.
Lorcan smirked. “I already paid for my room, go ahead.”
Rowan got up slowly, collecting his sword, leading the way upstairs. He heard the two following behind him, searching their way through the crowded room. Some heads turned when they passed, but Rowan could only focus on the primal demand in his system. It wasn’t about the female he didn’t even know the name of yet. This was about dominance. And everything in him screamed to make it clear who was the more capable male.
“Third door to the left,” Lorcan said, one hand still on his prey.
Rowan caught the key he tossed towards him without looking.
The chamber was decent, but he didn’t take in much of the furnishing. It didn’t matter. He just put his sword on the dresser and removed the armor from his torso, leaving him in leathers and a tunic in the middle of the room.
Lorcan closed the door behind them, leaning against it.
None of the two seemed to be able to act.
The female looked back and forth between them, a sly smile spreading over her face. “You,” she said, pointing a slim finger at Lorcan. “Why don’t you lie down?”
Lorcan stared at her for a moment, but then – to Rowan’s surprise – followed her request. They had yet to find a tavern bed that matched the dark warrior’s height, but he slumped into the sheets nonetheless, getting rid of his own armor on the way with a few adept moves.
She smiled wider. “I’ll be with you in a second.” She turned to Rowan. “And you…” She walked to him with elegant, silent strides, her hair trailing behind her, eyes never leaving his.
Rowan’s focus narrowed on her. She stopped in front of him, dragging the finger she had pointed with over him from his collarbone to the edge of his pants. His muscles twitched. But he waited.
“Sit down for me, will you? For now.” She pushed against his abdominals.
Rowan didn’t move an inch – but then that gods-damned finger slid underneath his waistband…
He snarled. She just grinned further, licking her lips once. “For now,” she repeated in a whisper.
He took a step back. And another. Until the hollows of his knees hit the armchair he had been standing in front of. She nodded, and he sat back. He didn’t know why he listened.
“What’s your name?”
She twirled a strand of hair around a finger. “Just call me Ciara tonight,” she purred again after a pause while turning back towards Lorcan. “Oh, and take your shirt off, while you’re at it.”
“Why don’t you do it yourself,” Rowan growled.
“I’ll take care of the rest. I promise,” she said over her shoulder with a wink.
The way she crawled onto the bed made him nearly rip his tunic off his body.
Lorcan had been watching them, propped up on his elbows. She leaned over him, starting to roll up his own top piece. He let her, his breathing turning deeper.
Rowan looked at them, looked at how she put her hands on this other male in front of him, and found himself caught between fury and thrill. Lorcan lay back so she could get the fabric off completely. She just sat there for a moment afterwards, reveling. Lorcan and Rowan were both honed by centuries of training and fighting, both gifted by their Fae genes. They were the tallest and strongest of their Queen’s cadre, leading for a reason. Thus Rowan couldn’t hold it against Ciara to marvel at Lorcan’s naked upper body – yet still, it made him clutch the arms of the chair he was sitting in until it creaked.
She bent down further, her backside elevated, kissing a path down Lorcan’s exposed skin. He exhaled audibly when her lips reached his groin. His eyes snapped to Rowan, gaze lined with possession and arrogance. Rowan’s growl rumbled through the room. Lorcan sneered. Before Rowan could yield to the attack his body was preparing for, Ciara sat up, placing a hand on Lorcan’s stubbly cheek, turning his face towards her.
“Eyes on me,” she whispered – and kissed him.
The kiss was deep and wild, far from appearing like the first one they shared. Lorcan gave in to it instantly, one hand sliding into her red mane, pulling her against him. She straddled him, mouth still attached to his, her fingers all over him, until they got caught in his pants, flicking the buttons open one by one. Lorcan was left in nothing but his undershorts quicker than Rowan felt comfortable with. Not that they hadn’t seen each other like that during their travels… But this was different.
Lorcan groaned when she sat down on him again, only the thin cloth covering him now. He grabbed her purple dress at the seam on her spine – and tore it in two like it was paper.
Ciara gasped against his lips. “That was expensive,” she crooned, biting his chin.
“I’ll buy you two new ones,” Lorcan said hoarsely, freeing her of it completely, removing all of what was beneath straight away.
She sat up, looking down on him, utterly bare, presenting herself with a confident smirk.
Rowan’s pants became a damned nuisance.
Her gown had been revealing already, but actually seeing her made his blood boil.
Lorcan seemed to feel the same, gazing at her with eyes as dark as the night.
“Do whatever it is you want to do right now, commander,” she whispered.
He didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed himself up so she was seated on his lap, legs around him, his mouth teasing every bit of her well-shaped breasts it could reach. She tipped her head back, moaning softly when he took a nipple between his teeth. Rowan noticed how she started moving against his length pushing dangerously against his shorts. He made himself look away.
They continued their show on the bed, touching, rocking, biting, breathing harder and harder. The arms of Rowan’s chair had his fingers imprinted on them permanently by now. He knew Ciara was provoking him, he knew she wanted him to react… And he was exactly that: a loose cannon.
Lorcan sat up on his knees, facing Rowan, pulled her in front of him with her back against his chest – and opened her thighs with his arms around her. The moment his fingers vanished between her legs, Rowan exploded.
One second, Lorcan was on the bed – the next he found himself at the wall, face pressed against the wood. Rowan’s hand closed around his thick neck. “What do you think you’re doing, bastard?” Rowan hissed, his voice barely recognizable, teeth only a fraction away from Lorcan’s throat.
“I met her first,” Lorcan snarled back.
“Well, she’s mine now.”
“Over my cold body.”
Rowan felt Lorcan’s power rising around him, felt his own joining in – but then their heads jerked to the side. They both froze at the scent and sight that hit them like a lightning bolt. Ciara lay on the mattress, watching them, legs spread wide, one hand pleasuring her own self.
“Don’t hold back for me,” she said, her voice an octave lower than before.
They both held their breaths, transfixed by Ciara’s audacity. Lorcan was the first to move his eyes back. What Rowan met in that gaze was war – cold, raging war.
“Get your filthy claw off me. Right. Fucking. Now,” Lorcan growled, so deadly quiet Rowan wasn’t sure Ciara heard it even with her delicate, pointed fae ears.
Rowan stared at him for a heartbeat longer, before he finally took a step back.
Not without hitting his head against the wall one more time though.
Lorcan’s magic crashed Rowan into the armoire.
“Do that again and I’ll make you regret the day Maeve made you swear the blood oath,” Lorcan threatened.
The sound of Ciara’s wetness underneath her fingers had them readjust their focus abruptly.
“Gods, what a show,” she groaned, still watching them, still playing with herself.
Rowan was at her faster than he could shift into his hawk form.
He knelt down in front of the bed, pulled her over the sheets with one sleek movement, and buried his tongue between her legs. The second her taste filled him, the second her sensual, shocked gasp filled the room, he let go of all pretense at reason. He pushed her thighs apart with his arms, used his callused hands to open her middle, and feasted.
He barely noticed how Lorcan almost jumped at him, how Ciara stopped him with a wave, how she made him join them on the mattress. The commander sat down at her head, and she pulled him down to her, kissing him once more, moaning into his mouth.
“Touch me,” she demanded, directing his hands to her bosom.
Lorcan hesitated, yet he gave in when she started stroking his length above his undershorts.

The air around the three of them was so charged with tension and pleasure, Rowan thought he could’ve cut it with his hatchet. It was too much even for him to fully realize. Both his and Lorcan’s mouth at Ciara’s lips, the female winding between them, none of them ever sure who it was who had pulled that last groan from her.
Once again, Rowan cursed his pants. But he wasn’t finished with her yet. He noticed the change in her breathing, the way her thighs and belly started to clench, how she felt tighter every time his tongue plunged into her. So he opened her even further, pinning her lower body down, concentrating on that sensitive bud. Ciara’s hips started to buck against his face.
“Yes… gods…,” she called out.
Rowan could sense Lorcan’s strife. But he forgot about it quickly the moment the female finally freed his cock, almost as if to hold onto it when her eyes rolled back. Lorcan cursed, pressing into her hand, his own tensing around her breasts.
Rowan couldn’t keep himself from looking then.
Lorcan might’ve beaten him in girth, but not in length.
He promised to himself with the last clear thoughts he was able to form to never address it. Ever.
Tongue still circling relentlessly, he watched how Ciara stroked Lorcan from root to tip, again and again and again, passing parts of the lust Rowan aroused in her to him. He hated it. And yet he couldn’t stop.
She was close now, her breaths turning into irregular hitches. Rowan would be the one to shove her over that sweet edge first, no matter if she was touching Lorcan while falling.
He let a forefinger slide into her, curling it slightly, moving it in cadence with his tongue. Ciara’s strokes grew desperate and fast, drawing a growl from Lorcan.
Rowan added a second finger.
She held her breath.
Still he didn’t stop.
And she shattered.
Her release was intense, her moan its own symphony, demanding everything from Rowan’s remaining self-control to not sit up and thrust into her there and then. Instead, he gave her hips free and kept his fingers in her a little while longer, letting her drive out the high.
The blue in Ciara’s eyes glazed, she finally looked at him, chest heaving, one hand squeezing Lorcan’s hilt.
“I should return the favor, don’t you think?” she asked huskily.
Rowan could only grunt, words failing him in the rush which was taking over more and more.
Ciara motioned him on the mattress. She groaned when he slipped his fingers out and sat down on her other side, avoiding any look towards his commander.
“Lie down,” Ciara whispered, making space for Rowan’s large body. “And you, get over there,” she added for Lorcan, pointing at the foot of the bed with one last stroke. Lorcan snarled at her. She only smiled again. “I have something much better for you.”
Need guiding them, both males obeyed. Ciara sat down between Rowan’s legs once he was sprawled out, turning her back towards a kneeling, now also entirely naked Lorcan. And they knew then what she wished to do.
More growling followed, from both of them now.
She laughed softly. “I promise you’ll enjoy this.” And with that she bent over and started unbuttoning Rowan’s pants.
Lorcan’s eyes slid to her raised backside in front of him. He used one of his giant hands to skim over her skin. She let him, smirking, not getting distracted from undressing Rowan. She decided to not miss out on anything and pulled both his leathers and undershorts off with one tug. Finally exposed like that in front of her, in front of them, Rowan felt both agitated and astir. He was leaning on his elbows, watching Ciara make herself comfortable.
She dragged a hungry gaze over him from head to crotch, stopping on the latter. “I always love a good challenge,” she said, wetting her lips. Rowan’s nostrils flared. “Hold my hair.”
Time stopped when he lay back into the pillow, reaching out one arm to collect her mass of red curls and wrap it around his fist. “Don’t let go,” was all she said before she bent down further, eyes locked – and swirled her tongue around his tip.
Gods damn him… Rowan couldn’t suppress a feral gasp, his other hand gripping the headboard behind his head.
She repeated the motion. Over and over. Teasing him. Until he barely had any choice but to grab her hair harder and push his groin up once.
Ciara’s sharp inhale turned into a smile, her canines showing. “Forgive me,” she said, clearly not sorry whatsoever.
She put a surprisingly firm hand around his root to hold him steady. And then she let him sink in. One inch after the other. He kept on watching her, admiring how his length started to glide into her beautiful mouth. Rowan was used to most females not taking him fully, so he–
“Shit…” He bit his lower lip, almost tasting blood, when Ciara pulled away her fingers and swallowed him wholly.
She slowly started to move her head up and down, using her lips and tongue to play with him on the way. The headboard creaked where he held on to it. When Ciara sucked in air to create a vacuum and switched to breathing through her nose, Rowan’s head fell back completely. All he wanted was for her to keep going…
So he barely realized how she elevated her backside further, how Lorcan grunted, how he put both hands on her to align herself for him. Ciara suddenly moaned deeply, muffled by half of Rowan still inside her mouth – and he saw in the corner of his eye how his commander’s face was changing into pure savagery when he finally pushed into her as well.