Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

One moment Guinevere was on her way to the bathing chamber. The next, she was back in Kael’s lap. Now, Maddox’s fangs were in her neck and dragon venom was going into her body that she didn’t want an audience for because it felt really good.

The next thing she knew, Kael’s fangs were on the other side of her neck. And now, dual venom tore through her, at different frequencies, one from the left, one from the right, each fighting for dominance in her bloodstream by two men who would rather die than let go.

It was double ecstasy. So much that she didn’t know what to do with it.

Their roars vibrated through her collarbone and into her ribs, a frequency that bypassed her brain and went straight to something primal. Something that didn’t care about politics, or propriety, or the fact that there was an audience. Something that just wanted more.

Sterling and Ryker’s jaws hit the floor in unison. Eyes glued. Souls evicted.

"Are they both..." Ryker’s voice trailed off. His brain was split between holy shit and hell yes, and neither half was winning.

"Yes," Sterling answered.

"At the same..."

"Yes."

"On HER..."

"Yes."

"Is that even anatomically..."

"Apparently."

"Should we..."

"Absolutely not."

"We should leave."

"We should."

Neither man moved.

The doors burst open and Blair Drakencrest took in the scene. She had walked in on a lot of things in her life. None of those experiences had prepared her for watching both of her brothers latched onto the same woman’s neck like a pair of territorial mosquitoes. She was going to burn this fucking Keep to the ground and salt the ashes, and then she was going to find whatever bastard deity thought this was funny and file a formal complaint.

"For fuck’s SAKE," she snapped.

Then her eyes landed on Ryker and Sterling, who were watching the whole thing like it was a zoo exhibit and they had paid for front-row seats. Neither had even noticed her.

Blair stormed over, grabbed Ryker’s flask out of his hand, and took a long pull. Then she used it to point at the door.

"March."

Ryker didn’t even notice the flask was gone. Both men stayed planted in place, eyes on the spectacle, like the Gods themselves couldn’t have pried them off that spot with a crowbar.

Blair grabbed Sterling by one ear and Ryker by the other and hauled them backwards out of the room like two idiots she was personally returning to the manufacturer.

"Ow ow ow ow—"

"You’re a High General, Ryker. Act like it."

"I AM acting like it. High Generals observe and report. I’m OBSERVING."

"Observe the hallway."

She kicked the doors shut behind them. The timing could not have been better because the second the door latched shut, both roars upgraded from angry to full-blown, fuck-fueled mating roars.

Outside the room, the guards exchanged a glance. The sound traveled through stone, through wood, through the very concept of privacy, and arrived in the hallway with the subtlety of a war horn played at a funeral. Across the Keep, a window rattled. A painting fell off a wall. A servant dropped a tray.

Blair’s face went green and she made a sound like a cat rejecting its dinner. If anyone ever asked her what the worst fucking day of her life was, she wouldn’t even have to think about it. This bullshit. Right here. Burned into her memory like a brand.

Ryker slow-clapped exactly twice before Blair’s hand came down like a flyswatter.

"Don’t applaud this."

Sterling had a smirk on his face, something so out of character that Blair damn near checked him for a pulse, because a smiling Sterling was either a sign of the apocalypse or proof that hell had frozen over.

"We’re never speaking of this," Sterling said. "If anyone asks, I was dead for that entire minute."

Ryker pulled out a second flask from gods-know-where and offered it to him. Sterling took it without a word, drank, and handed it back.

"Done," Ryker replied. "Also that was the horniest choir practice I have ever survived."

Sterling took a breath so deep it sounded like he was preparing to free-dive, which he was, straight into the worst sentence of the evening. "Agreed. Those two just throat-fucked the building in harmony."

Blair looked at the ceiling, then at the floor, then at her own hands like they might offer an alternative reality. They didn’t.

"Both of you shut the hell up."

Ryker mimed locking his mouth and throwing the key at Sterling, who caught it and threw it over his shoulder. Blair stared at the spot where the invisible key landed like she was genuinely considering picking it up and shoving it where the sun don’t shine.

They walked out of the corridor with Blair sandwiched between them like a prison warden. For fifteen seconds, it was silent, except for the two mating roars blasting through the entire Keep like horny air raid sirens. Then Ryker’s impulse control said absolutely the fuck not.

"Twenty gold says Maddox finishes first."

"Kael has got the underdog hunger though. He might go first," Sterling countered.

Blair’s head swiveled to Sterling so fast her neck cracked. "What the actual hell? YOU TOO? Ryker, I expect this from. You’ve spoken maybe nine words to me today, Sterling. NINE. And you used them on THAT."

Ryker mimed wiping a tear of pride off his cheek, hand over heart, like Sterling had just given a wedding toast.

"Thirty if she bites one of them back. That would make it a three-way marking."

Sterling pulled the flask back from Ryker, took a sip, and handed it back with the quiet authority of a man who had just decided to participate fully in this circus.

"Forty if they both pull back and immediately start arguing about who marked deeper."

Blair’s righteous fury stalled mid-launch because her brain had already run the simulation and Sterling’s prediction was airtight.

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