Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 132138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 661(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 661(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Tears prick at my eyes because he so beautifully explained the sensation. “It’s because I planted it. I knew people would be able to eat because I worked.”
Lach takes a step in so he’s shoulder to shoulder with his brother. “I know your laugh. It hasn’t really changed since you were a child. When you laugh, it isn’t some polite thing. You laugh from your gut, and it fills my every sense with joy. You light up the room when you walk into it, even if it’s only a dream.”
“I am no beauty, Lach. Haven’t you figured that out by now? I know I projected myself that way in our dreams, but I’m not beautiful. I don’t even look noble anymore. My hands are callused, and my skin is tanned from the sun.”
“And I’m scarred. Shim is the only one here who didn’t try to look perfect,” Lach points out.
Shim shrugs. “It’s because I am perfect.”
“I don’t mind the scars, Lachlan,” I admit. “But I know that the world isn’t going to view me as a beautiful princess.”
“We do. Gods, Bronwyn, you’re the loveliest woman in all the planes. Do you really need the world to think so, too?” Lach crosses his hands over his massive chest, the stance so arrogant, but I can hear the boy he was.
He’s the protector, even in our dreams, even when he was a child, he was the one to go first. Not because he had to lead, but because whatever happened, he wanted it to happen to him instead of me or Shim.
And Shim was sweet, so sweet. He was the one to sit for hours holding my hand as I looked out over imaginary lakes and ponds. When I would cry, Shim was the one to hold me while Lach looked on, his fists tight, angry that anything could make me sad.
They were dreams, but I do know these men.
The situation is far more complex than they’re making it out to be.
“I could make it easy on you, Bron.” The look on Lach’s face lets me know I’m not shielding at all.
And neither is he. He sends me an image, or Shim does. It doesn’t matter. I’m blasted with the mental image of me tied up and waiting for their pleasure. But only after I earn it. I terrified them, and they want a piece of my hide.
Like Dante is disciplining Kaja. They can show me. They can initiate me into those dark pleasures. They trained for it, studied the art of giving pleasure, but they took none themselves.
Shim smiles. “I wouldn’t say none, love. Just none from other women. There was an enormous amount of yanking our own dicks. I swear, Lach there damn near wore out his wrist when we were teenagers.”
Lach slaps his brother on the chest. “Like you were better. I was the one who had to listen to it. Bronwyn. Bronwyn. Oh, you feel so good, Bronwyn. The only consolation was that he never lasted very long.”
Shim frowns. “I did so.”
Despite my precarious position, I feel joy at seeing them act like obnoxious brothers. This is one thing I definitely remember. They always bicker.
I’m so damn confused. I want them, but I want my freedom, too. I’m not sure I can ever go back to being that perfect princess I was raised to be. I lived too much, saw too many things.
I turn my back on them. If I give in, I’ll be exactly what they want. Sweet and submissive and more than likely pregnant in a month. I’ll be relegated to the sidelines. It can’t happen. “You two go. I’m going to stay by the fire. We’ll talk again when we see my brothers, and we’ll sort out this whole marriage thing.”
“Marriage thing?” Lach parrots me, pure astonishment in his voice.
“We have our answer, Lach. It’s time to go,” Shim says.
I’m surprised at the disappointment I feel with Shim’s utter reasonableness. It’s wrong, but I want a bit of a fight. My stomach is in knots. I’m in a corner, and I have no idea how to get out. I want to sleep with them, want the comfort of their big bodies surrounding me, but I don’t want the responsibility of making the choice. It isn’t fair. I’m being exactly what Dante calls me. I’m a brat, but I can’t make myself turn around and ask for what I want.
“You’re right,” Lach says, his voice a grave finality.
I’m not going to cry. Damn it all. I’m not. This is what I want. I want time to sort everything out without the distraction of lips and tongues and hands and cocks.
I give a shout as Lach hauls me up and tosses me over his shoulder. “What?”
“You gave us your answer, Princess. We’ll do this the hard way.”
I gasp as Lach’s hand comes down on my ass. “How dare you!”