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  “Wendy,” he rasped as if he spoke a sacrament, as if her name encompassed every need raging inside him. “I felt your fantasy, your precognition. It’s what we all want.”

  When Zent, Zion and Zotorro swiveled their heads as one, their green eyes brilliant as sunlit gems, their features carved by a desperate hunger, Wendra shut her eyes. She couldn’t look. She just couldn’t.

  I feel like I’m about to be sacrificed on an altar belonging to ancient primitives. Her breaths bolted from her and didn’t seem to return to her lungs as Zavier lowered her. The hard surface felt slick and cool, and Wendra guessed she’d been laid on what was called a service table—a large, low square table used in screen entertainment rooms for snack foods, reading material or craft projects.

  I’m a sex snack, a willing sex snack. The words looped around her mind. I’m certainly not the latest book to be fashionably read. No, how can I feel this way. Had her fantasy really been precognition?

  Their hands tugged on her shirt, pulling it up. She grabbed at their wrists, resisting, desperately wanting to feel them overpower her.

  “Restrain her,” Zavier commanded gutturally.

  Within moments, they slid her shirt up and off while keeping her body completely still, utterly under their control. She was totally naked. Theirs.

  Theirs for the taking.

  Wendra refused to open her eyes, but the sound of their heavy rapid breathing rocked her senses. The primal smell of their bodies overwhelmed her and made her feel heady, nearly delirious. She moaned, her breasts suddenly aching with a need that frightened her and excited her. Even though she felt the strength of their hands pinning her down, the actual power of their muscles remained incomprehensible to her. Truly, it was as if her flesh was mere fluff to them.

  “SlashFlame Kitten,” Zion praised. “Look at her curls. More fiery than the blazes of decadent hell. God, she’s going to be a good ride for all of us. I can’t wait until we see her flaming slash. When are you going to open her?”

  “Not yet,” Zavier hoarsely answered.

  “Not yet,” Zent echoed. “I want my hands all over her ivory curves first. Then my cock plunging into her sweet, sweet hole.”

  “I want my hands on her breasts. Look at her nipples. Fat and flaming pink, ready to be sucked.” Zotorro’s voice felt like it lust-hunted

  Her as much as his brothers, fiercely shocking her. She keened a whimper of distress and desire, and wanted to squirm, writhe with the hunger possessing her loins. Still, pressed firmly against the glassy surface was exactly what she craved the most.

  “Wendra, from this point on, we are your masters. You have to learn that.” Zavier’s harsh voice cut inside to her core.

  “No. I may want sex with you now, but I want my freedom. My freedom to dance.” Frantically she shoved the words past her lips before her desire could stop them.

  “You belong to us,” Zent ruthlessly rasped, his voice aimed at her ear. “It’s the only way we can keep you protected.”

  “You have to obey us,” Zion reinforced. “You need us to survive. And we need you.”

  “For sex. You need me for sex,” she accused, then swallowed her sob and squeezed her eyelids tighter. No, she didn’t believe that totally. Her stubborn anger caused her to lash out, and her fear. She’d never come close to being taken this way.

  “Wendy, we need you. It will make us stronger, bond all of us closer. It is the way now.” Zotorro spoke near her ear, the timbre of his voice like hot flowing lava. He smoothed his hand over the swell of her breast, then caressed with a finesse that had her moaning in raw desire, despite being afraid. Her nipples peaked, and felt like stiff buds straining toward their mouths.

  Riselda’s words suddenly entered her mind with the clarity of a ringing bell. You want to be claimed, Wendra. In fact, you need it to be truly happy.

  “Look at her,” Zent rasped. “I want my aching rod pounding between her thighs. They’re white as fresh cream.” He claimed her belly with his hand, stroking downward. Wendra resisted the urge to arch up to him, her pride interfering. “I want her spread wide when it’s my turn. You going to hold her for me, brothers?”

  Just the thought of being held wide open had her sex juices dripping.

  “God, yes!” Zion pinched her nipple and quickly released it. “I want her teats in your mouths when I take a long hard ride inside her sweet hot hole. Smell her, leaking her juices for us.” He slid his palm down her thigh, then stroked back and forth, driving her more insane with the torment of wanting what she shouldn’t crave so primitively, his cock taking her. Their cocks taking her. Hard, slow, fast—she didn’t care. She merely wanted.

  Damn their donkey banging balls for making her feel this way, for making her want them all with a frenzy that was foreign to her.

  “Yes,” Zavier uttered, his voice reminding her of a heathen god.

  All of their hands stroked over her body, sweeping over her curves, molding and squeezing her breasts and sliding possessively over her butt. Everywhere, they sensually molded her flesh, especially her thighs. Wendra could only writhe, feeling the extreme pleasure of their enthusiastic caresses as she struggled against their hold.

  God, it was such extreme pleasure to struggle and feel their hands on her this way.

  “Kitten,” Zent rasped. “She feels better than I ever imagined.”

  Wendra moaned loud and long as the speed of their languid strokes increased. They claimed her body even more, seeming to mark her with the brazen flow of their palms over every inch of her. More and more often, their hands slid intimately inside her thighs, brushing against the curls hiding her sex. Their fingers gripped her hips, feeling like burning brands on her skin. She cried out, her pleasure becoming an ecstatic torture. Even in her fantasies she’d never imagined it could be this good.

  “That’s it, kitten,” Zotorro hotly encouraged. “Hold her breasts. She likes her teats plucked.”

  Two large hands surrounded and trapped her breasts, squeezing the rounded swells into peaks. The lovely torments of hell had no mercy, Wendra decided, as pleasure sliced down her belly, cut a simmering path over her mound then stimulated her clit to a delicious ache. Her body stilled completely and her nipples screamed for attention. Zotorro pinched hard. Then he plucked hard and rhythmically.

  With her bliss an agonizing and beautiful wave throughout her flesh,

  Wendra slipped into delirious pleasure, watching what remained of her resistance dissolve.

  Oh please don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Every fiber of her pleaded. She whimpered, trying to beg Zotorro not to stop what he was doing to her. Not to stop until the fiery relief of her climax.

  “Kitten. She’s so goddamn beautiful like this.” Zion’s husky purr barely registered, but she knew his hands caressed up and down her waist and hips, further exciting her.

  “Take her over the edge,” Zavier ordered. “I’ll spread her legs.”

  Wendra felt his hands, nearly hot as coals, glide along her thighs, shaping them. Masterfully, he parted her thighs, holding her open. His hands were a vise wrapped around her knees. Her limbs helpless with pleasure, her nipples being plucked savagely, she couldn’t have resisted had she wanted to, had she wanted to obey the tiny remaining part of her still sane enough to say no to this pleasure for the sake of her freedom.

  “SlashFlame Kitten,” Zion groaned. With one finger he tenderly separated her wet curls. Carefully he pulled back the flesh of her mound with his fingertip. Wendra almost screamed from the pleasure softly ripping up her belly. “You’ve got to see her clit. It’s huge. Red and gleaming like the devil’s own sin.”

  “God.” Zavier uttered a fierce groan.

  For a long moment Zotorro clamped her nipples between his fingers. He gripped her enormous hard buds without compromise, holding. Wendy basked in the wild pleasure.

  “Look,” Zion prompted. “I’ll bet her clit is pulsing for us.”

  “Our first look at her. Together.” Zent’s voice was dar
k and primitive. “My cock is in hell until I can get it inside her.”

  “Wendy,” Zotorro harshly praised. “My rod has never been this heavy, this fucking hard. She’s beautiful.”

  With her nipples starved for more stimulation, Wendra uttered a sharp scream. She tried to buck her hips. The restraint of their hands only increased her pleasure while the pain of need clawed up her insides. God, she had to have an orgasm. Now.

  “Do it,” Zavier desperately rasped.

  Zion’s finger slipped over her clit, then lightly fondled the length, easing the wanton frantic ache, yet building a more ruthless need inside her.

  “That’s it. Do it to her.” Zent squeezed her breasts a bit more, adding to her rapturous sensations and to the torrid heat of her flesh.

  When she thought she would burst apart at her very seams, the ache climbed higher, then blossomed outward in a tumultuous bliss that soon had her sailing, as if she winged through heaven.

  “Stop. Just hold her.” She heard Zavier speak from on high. Everything bloomed inside her, magnificently unfolding, flowing outward as she continued floating, nearly mindless.

  Once she began to fall, and once she became aware, she struggled not to land. The Dark brothers waited for her.

  Her loins still hungered for the thrusting of their cocks, yet she wasn’t prepared for this. How could she be, even with her wicked fantasies of being taken by the shadow men?

  Oh how she’d fantasized about Zavier recently, the different ways he would take her if they ever...

  She’d imagined him fiercely ravishing her body and her senses as a woman until the heaven of her climax could never escape her. Or he would woo her with powerful tender lovemaking. Of course, that had been Zavier as he once was, not how he’d been altered by The Harbinger. Still, she never dared think he would take her in this primal way, spread before him like this, his brothers holding her down.

  Chapter Three

  Dark Zavier of the Valorous

  Swearing his loins had transformed into a twisting giant serpent and his cock had lengthened into painfully throbbing steel, Zavier stared at the one woman he’d always wanted. Yes, he’d had women, lots of them at one time. Before he’d grown more of a conscience and figured out there were superior uses of his time and his life. Then, he’d thrown himself into assisting those who needed him to make certain justice prevailed.

  He’d become known as the Dark Terror of Justice Hall. Whenever he showed up at a criminal hearing on the side of the accused, everyone knew he’d discovered the evidence that proved them innocent. One of the judges had developed an eye tick the moment he appeared in the hearing room. The telltale tick had carried over to society gatherings, privately amusing Zavier no end.

  During his time of enjoying woman after woman, he’d even convinced himself Wendra was just the woman his brother, Zotorro, passionately beat his heart for; that he had forgotten her. Yet, the truth was, she’d always haunted him, a luminous presence that shadowed his soul, and tempted him to an endurance he’d never believed possible. The endurance not to go win her heart, for the sake of his brother.

  It had been hell on Heaven’s green world to pretend he didn’t want her and not to touch her. To not indulge in the beauty of her flaming tumbling hair and her ivory curvaceous body. She could dance to dreams. She didn’t just dance to music, she listened to the dreams in a man’s heart and she danced those dreams, at least, in his heart. Her bodies whirled, sinuous as a blaze, and undulated like a love goddess, fierce or fragile.

  Now she was spread before him, his for the taking, her lush carnal beauty all his. Even though he was now compelled by an internal urge to share her with his brothers and to enjoy with a fevered lust. One that consumed his flesh as her flames appeared to consume her as she’d jumped from the rooftop—nearly stopping his heart.

  Everything within him in that moment had seemed to die. And he had prayed like every hell he’d ever envisioned that she could fly inside her blaze. Or that he could rescue her. God help him, that he could rescue her.

  They could rescue her.

  Releasing his grip on her knees, Zavier stood, entranced by the juicy red folds of her kwim, pleasured by her orgasm yet still in need, still ready to be possessed. When he had sensed, then glimpsed her fantasy-precognition, he had rejoiced. He’d always known she was a woman who needed a man to possess her entirely, boldly. That her desire was to be dominantly taken in the bedroom, yet remain independent. How many scenarios had he imagined doing just that?

  Zavier stroked his cock to take the edge off. Good lord, he was hot as the hearth of the ancient god, Hadres.

  “Just hold her for me.” His words felt like pagan grunts. “Zent, hold her shoulders down.” He nodded toward his two other brothers. “Hold her arms and legs.”

  “How wide?” Zion kept his grip on her arm and slid his arm beneath her thigh, matching Zotorro’s movements.

  “Keep it comfortable for her.” Zavier thought he was going to drool like a dog salivating for a raw meat bone as they spread her thighs for him. Raw bone. His cock felt like a hellish raw bone. The ivory skin of her inner thighs glistened with her moisture, in sharp contrast to the brilliant flame-red color of her curls surrounding her rose-red feminine folds. And her smell, it wafted up to his nostrils, all fiery and sweet spice, close to her scent when she danced.

  Hell’s truth, he couldn’t count the times he’d paid off the owner of a dance club for a private booth to watch her, hidden by the darkness. Drooling like a deprived dog when hunks of meat were out of his jaw’s reach.

  Briskly he rubbed his thumb over the top of his cock’s head, reducing his need to spear inside her furiously. Widening his own stance he touched his starved, blood-pounding tip to the entrance of her slick sweet hole, and shuddered inside like an awakened volcano.

  Her eyelids flew open. Her beautiful blue-green eyes stared at his ready shaft, and then shone wild with apprehension for an instant before need darkened them again.

  “Careful, big brother, are you going to fit?” Zion’s gaze was riveted. “She might be too small.”

  Zavier growled, low and hot, with the agony of being denied, and with the ferocity of his passion for her, then sought her gaze.

  “Wendy, it’s okay, I promise.”

  Her eyes fluttered shut again, fragile as tiny bird wings. Her throat convulsed, her blood pulsing from desire, and a trace of fear.

  Keeping himself tightly controlled, he shoved until most of his cock’s head was enveloped in the most silky furnace of heat he’d ever experienced. Clenching his eyelids, feeling the cords of his neck strain, he groaned, then jabbed a bit deeper. Inside her, the woman he’d dreamed about possessing, for what felt like forever.

  “Pure fucking heaven,” he hoarsely ground out. He thrust short strokes inside her several times, and then paused while streaks of sensation shot up his loins, up his torso, sparks of scorching pleasure.

  With his body burning like black fire, he leaned over her and planted his fists. He wanted her eyes open to him. “Wendra

  ,” he gruffly commanded.

  “No.” The whisper softly burst from her defiant lips. Still, she blinked her eyes open.

  “Keep your eyes open. I need to see if I’m hurting you.”

  “You are!” Her bottom lip pouted exquisitely.

  “How bad?” He pumped his cock slowly and rhythmically and watched her eyes glaze over with sheer pleasure.

  Gradually he lunged faster and deeper, but kept his rhythm smooth, flowing powerfully in and out of her. She whimpered, so fragile and so blissfully he quaked inside, the pleasure spewing through him like lava. As he launched into her she sang her whimpers to him, boiling pleasure through him even more ferociously. When she keened a moan of utter bliss, he drove harder, taking her sweet blazing satin with a force that caused her to close her eyes and simply undulate her hips naturally. Each time he plunged his cock deep into her she was his sultry flame goddess. His. Dancing to the thrust of his rod. />
  His final explosion of bliss came too soon, yet it rocked him as if he stood beside an opening chasm, the ground splitting asunder and shaking from a brutal earthquake.

  “Wendra, my Wendra.” Straining and paralyzed, he could only speak through clenched teeth.

  Eventually the rage of pleasure lessened and he longed to hold her, hold her like the dream woman she was to him. Instead he touched her heated brow with his lips, and then eased his ecstatically throbbing cock from her. The moment he could, Zavier swept slow caresses down her gorgeously curved body.

  Languidly, she writhed, responding to the caress of his hands over her. He knew she experienced pleasure’s intoxication. What he wanted to know was how she felt about him. How had he pleased her?

  Truth to himself, he wanted to know down to his soul how soon she could forgive him for not being the man he once was, the man that would never have let another touch her. After shaping her thighs slowly with his hands, he stroked over her sumptuous calves, then over her lovely feet. Stepping back, he engraved her naked beauty in his mind. Her creamy breasts, voluptuous yet not too huge, with their vivid pink nipples, oh yes, he had plans for them. Later.

  “Your turn,” he spoke to Zent, moving to switch places.

  His brother’s cock strained forward, reminding him of a hurled javelin. His cock’s head had neared a shade of slate blue and he moved awkwardly, so desperate was his need to mount Wendy, and continue the bonding between them all.

  Slipping his hands down her arms, Zavier caught her wrists, and then raised her arms above her head. Knowing it was what she desired, he firmly, yet gently manacled her wrists inside his hands, then groaned at the way her round delectable breasts changed shape, her red-pink nipples higher, more succulent in appearance. She was a woman who should always be suckled by a man. Him. And now his brothers.

  “How wide do you want us to spread her?” Zion circled his palm on the inside of her thigh, his stroke deliberate.