II

II
 The Door hit the floor with enough force to make the room tremble. A second later, Seneca stepped inside and my gut dropped.

I expected an instant attack.

The situation was unexplainable. Finding your brother naked in your breeder’s room while the walls burned was a situation that demanded instant violence. 

Punishment for Malrik, possibly death for me, the mere breeder who had been caught in a compromising position with her master's brother. 

I expected Seneca to run in a blur across the room, throwing his entire weight against Malrik, breaking through the wall, shattering his jaw.

But he didn’t move.

Not immediately. 

His eyes were wide, taking in the mess of the scene, while mine were fixated on him.

Thoughts tumbled in my head, crashing into each other frantically. 

Why isn’t he reacting? Why isn’t he screaming? Is he going to kill us both? Why is he so quiet? WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?

The silence was louder than the fire. It was a suspended second of horror where I waited for the executioner's axe to drop, but the executioner just stared.

Then, the smoke filled the room again, thicker this time.

I clutched at my shirt, fisting the fabric against my nose and mouth, coughing and choking as the air turned to poison. It stung my eyes until I couldn’t see anything. Sweat broke across my face, mixing with the soot. The side of the wall—the closet, the wood—that had caught fire gave a sickening groan.

THEN, CRAAAACK.

Before I knew it, everything came collapsing to the ground, sending a wave of sparks and heat rushing toward the bed.

The ceiling overhead groaned next, the entire room shaking to its foundation as a huge chunk of its wall razed to the ground. 

The wood of the bed wobbled again, this time I scrambled to my feet, and held out my arms as I tettered to stand upright with the violent shaking. 

“Riley, get down!” Seneca yelled from the door. “GET OFF THE BED!” 

My eyes were wide. 

My chest was heaving. 

I didn’t know why he was yelling. 

The sudden roar of blood in my ears from adrenaline as I fought to stand still lulled out every other fucking sound. 

Seneca was gesticulating wildly, “OFF THE BED! GET. OFF. THE. BED!” 

I looked all around.

The bed was the safest spot to be.

Every other place was on fire. 

The vanity—the mirror, the chair, the curtains, the rug—all around, everywhere on fire.

I was stuck.

In the center of a roaring flame. 

Then, it happened so fast.

First, I realized Malrik was gone..

Next, before that realization even sunk in, the bed exploded in fire. 

I screamed and scrambled towards the edge.

My pants caught on fire.

It burned.

It burned so hot that I could do nothing but cry, launching off the bed to the floor rumbling beneath my feet. 

The entire room was seconds from falling apart.

Ziarah stood at the door, in the exact spot Seneca had just been.

Her lips parted. 

I couldn't hear her.

I couldn't hear anything.

My pants was on fire.

My shirt was on fire. 

I WAS ON FIRE!

“The Dominus’ breeder's on fire!" 

The shriek was swallowed by the sound of Seneca speaking in my ears. 

"I've got you! I've got you! I've got you!” He whispered frantically, scooping me off the floor. 

The moment he touched me, the fire went off. 

But all around the room, chaos persisted. 

In a few long strides, Seneca was out the door and walking down a long stretch of hallway.

In his haste to get me somewhere safer, he sped past Ziarah who was marching a couple of maids in the direction of the room, very angry. 

“What caused the fire?” She shrieked. 

Her voice echoed off the stone walls, overpowering every other voice responding to her. 

It was ironic, I noted, groaning as I clutched Seneca's shirt, that she was asking what caused a fire outbreak in a house that was always full of dragon Lords. 

However the maids were responding to her, too scared to be the one to get the blame. 

“It was a lantern!”  one squealed.

“Impossible!” Ziarah snarled. “There were no lanterns in her room!”

Another one perked up. 

“We weren’t here. We were off duty for the day!” 

Another crash in the distance. 

Ziarah’s anger heightened.  

“ELIN MENTIONED SOMEONE WAS IN THE ROOM WITH HER—” 

My heart dropped. 

“WHO. WAS. IN. THERE?” 

“Only Elin.” One of the maids cried. “Only Elin had been tending to her since—”

Before I could hear anymore words, we were out of the hallway. 

The noise faded into the background, until there was no sound other than the groans that escaped my lips and the thud of Seneca's  heart against his chest. 

It was at this moment, I felt him.

All of Seneca.

Like he was the only thing existing outside of the burn on my skin. 

A door creaked open, and he stepped into his room.

He didn't pause. He crossed the massive space in three long strides and laid me down on a bed that felt like sinking into a cloud.

My lips parted in a shaky breath as I sank into the mattress.

The switch of scenes was insane. 

Within a few minutes, the craziest things had happened. I had been transported from my bedroom on fire into the Dominus’ large space. 

Seneca was right in my face, hovering over me. 

My legs were stinging from where the fire had licked my skin, but at the back of my mind, the image of Malrik stuck like dirt I couldn’t wash away.

Malrik naked. 

Malrik aroused.

Nina had always giggled about men, whispering vulgar names for their members—cocks, dicks, thick shafts, balls—and warning that the big ones would hurt like hell for a virgin. But her giggles hadn't prepared me for the reality. Seeing a man fully aroused, with that length and thickness of cock was more intense than any picture Nina had painted. 

It made my stomach flip. 

It made my pussy clench, despite the pain on my skin.

And now, looking up at Seneca, that same heat flared again.

I wanted him.

I wanted to open my legs for him right here, on these silk sheets. I wanted him to crawl between my thighs and fill me until I was crying out his name. 

I wanted to take his seed deep inside my womb, to let him plant his heir in me just like I was chosen to do. I wanted to be filled. Stretched. I wanted to be fucked.

Did this make me a whore?

Just like Ziarah had called me the night of the selection? A used-up whore eager to spread her thighs for both her master and his brother?

And even though like a coward, Malrik had run at the first sight of Seneca, leaving me in the fire, I couldn’t hate him like I wanted to. 

I couldn't feel past the relief that he had gotten away. 

And I couldn't feel past the fog of lust clouding my head as I watched Seneca’s frantic hands reach for the waistband of my ruined pants.

The sound of tearing fabric interrupted my spiral. Seneca ripped through the burnt remnants of my panties, discarding them on the floor.

Sweat gathered on his forehead and the crease of his brows. The golden glow of the chandelier overhead cast shadows over his sharp cheekbones, but it couldn't hide his eyes.

They were glowing.

Not red like Malrik’s but they had a glow in them. 

I hadn’t realized it when he scooped me out of the fire, but now, I did. 

With the realization that I could still hear every thud of his heartbeat echoing in my own chest, I knew this connection had to mean something. 

We were lost in each other’s gaze.

For the first time, I truly saw him.

Not with hate and not with anger.

He was terrifyingly beautiful. 

He looked to be in his early 30’s or maybe even late 20’s as I’d never cared to know what age the dragon Lord could have been. His dark hair was so rich, so dark, toppling over his forehead, drooping close to the glow in his eyes. His lips were plump, glistening with saliva, and I caught a bead of sweat rolling down between his brows and towards the bridge of his nose. I wanted to… run my tongue across his skin, but I held back shamefully. 

Did I want the two brothers? Was that it? Did I want both Seneca and Malrik?

Seneca looked like he was restraining himself from devouring me whole. I could see the confusion in his furrowed brows, the silent question, but more than that, I could tell he felt exactly what I felt. Maybe even more.

He broke eye contact, his gaze dragging down my body. 

From my heaving breasts, exposed where my shirt had torn, down to my bare thighs.

He paused with a frown.     

“Healed,” Seneca whispered, the word barely a breath.

“Uh?” I muttered dumbly. 

“You’re healed. There’s no…. mark.”

I sat up in bed speedily, surprised by my own strength and the complete lack of pain. I looked down at my legs. And he was right, I was totally healed. Smooth pale skin where I expected gory open wounds. 

“What… how…. how?” I stuttered. “That’s not possible. The fire burned me. I felt the pain, I felt the pai—”

“And what do you feel right now?” 

What I was feeling  was insane, something I’d never felt before. 

I wanted to be spread open on this very bed, but I didn't just want one of them.

A vulgar image flashed in my mind of Malrik’s mouth, latched onto my nipple, his teeth grazing the peak until I screamed, while beneath me, Seneca—with that thick, terrifying length I’d seen on his brother—drove into me. 

I imagined Seneca’s heavy cock filling me to the brim, stretching my virgin pussy until I cried out, his seed hitting the back of my womb in hot, thick pulses while Malrik’s fingers worked my clit into a frenzy as he sucked and bit into my nipple. 

What the fuck is wrong with me?

The thought made me whimper, but my pussy only got wetter. I felt like a whore. A dirty, desperate breeder who wanted to be used by the whole bloodline. I wanted them to take turns. I wanted to be the middle of a Veylor sandwich, lost in their musk, their sweat, and their heavy, monstrous dicks. I wanted to be filled until I couldn't walk, until I was nothing but a vessel for their combined power.

Now, I knew what Aletta felt like when she talked about wanting to be bred by all three brothers. 

Something must have made her that way. 

But, that wasn’t me. 

I’ve always hated the dragon Lords, not fantasized about being taken by them at the same time. 

But the soil had been prepared.

Had it been prepared for both Malrik and Seneca?

Or did Malrik’s mark on my arm still have an effect?

All I could think, all I needed was to be fucked. It was a feral need that made me lean towards Seneca before I could stop myself. I reached up to brush the softness of his lip with my thumb, my fingers shaking.  

I felt like a bitch in heat, wanting to latch onto her alpha and fuck him stupid. 

“Riley,” Seneca growled, catching my wrist in his hand. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” 

But I knew. 

I knew very well what I wanted, and how I wanted it.   

My lips parted in a whimper as the ache flared. 

And before I knew it, I was leaning forward and smashing my lips against Seneca’s.