Gross!

"Holy cow," I breathed.

"It's unpleasant and has not happened in decades. But it is their due."

"Yuck," I mumbled.

Apollo again grinned, sliding a hand up my spine so his fingers could play with the ends of my hair.

"You will obviously not witness this," he declared.

Thank G.o.d.

"I'm down with that."

His grin turned into a smile.

"Now that I get the wolf business, what's with the birds?" I asked.

Again his brows drew together. "What birds?"

"I've heard mention of sending 'a bird' more than once. What's the deal with that?"

His brow cleared, his fingers tangled deeper into my hair but the expression on his face changed in a way I felt deep in my belly. In a way that made my beautiful Apollo even more beautiful.

I would know why when he murmured, "I forget that you have been here such a short time. It feels I've had you in my arms for decades. Strangely, at the same time it feels like fleeting moments. Those kinds of moments that are precious. I forget you still have much to learn of my world. But when I remember, I also remember how I enjoy my opportunities to share with you about your new world."

I melted into him and whispered, "I enjoy it when you do too."

He gave me a squeeze, dipped his face close to touch the tip of his nose to mine before he drew away and stopped being impossibly wonderful and went back to just being normally wonderful.

"Communication in this world, as you know, is slow. You've explained your world with its phones and computers. As you also know, we have none of that. Messengers on fast horses are used. But if a message is urgent, we send it with a bird. A bird can fly faster and straighter than any horse."

"Carrier pigeons," I said and his brows went up.

"They have these in the other world?" he asked.

"Yes, though they're not used anymore. Not like they used to be," I answered.

"Interesting," he murmured.

"So, do you use these birds a lot?" I queried.

Apollo nodded. "Yes, quite often. But not all the time. There are issues with this as the message is tied to the bird's leg so it cannot be very long. Thus, it has to be concise and cleverly written. Many a time a message was misinterpreted when the few words that can be written are not properly understood. And although birds are trained, if the distance is lengthy, they can come to harm or go astray and never deliver the message at all. Still, they are used regularly and if a message is important, two, three, or even more birds are sent with the same message in hopes one of them gets through."

I studied his handsome face as thoughts leaked into my brain, thoughts that then leaked out of my mouth.

"Are there others with powers such as yours, bidding the wolves?" I asked.

"Outside Frey and some men who practice sorcery, thus are trained to wield power, no."

That said a lot. At least to me.

"So, has it occurred to you," I began quietly, "that it would seem that all the men in this scenario, the husbands of the women from my world, have special things about them? Frey with his dragons and elves. Lahn with his might. Tor, chosen for whatever reason to have his soul connected to Cora. You and your wolves?"

He held my eyes and his fingers stopped moving and tangled in my hair.

"Yes," he answered.

"Lo-"

"We are all special, Maddie."

He was right about that.

Save one.

Me.

On this thought, I dropped my head so I could press my face in his neck and his arms wrapped around me tight.

"You are safe," he stated firmly.

I was.

Because he made me be with him, his men, his wolves.

"You are safe, my dove," he repeated, quieter but just as firmly.

"I know, baby," I whispered and fell silent.

After some time, he rolled us to our sides and snuggled me closer.

"Enough talk. We have another long ride tomorrow. Now you must sleep, poppy."

"Okay, Lo."

He gave me a squeeze.

I nestled in and closed my eyes.

Apollo fell asleep before me.

And when I slept, I dreamed of wolves, black mist and disembodied beaks pecking at me.

Thus I woke up fatigued and restless. And even waking with Apollo's hands moving on me, knowing all around me were special, adventurers and Raiders, warriors and warrior queens, lovers with interconnected souls, soldiers who commanded wolves...and then there was me, I woke still feeling empty.

Five evenings later, I had one hand to the headboard, one hand between my legs and both of Apollo's hands at my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, rolling and tugging my nipples.

Apollo was f.u.c.king my a.s.s.

And, believe it or not, I loved it.

Every freaking stroke.

"Baby," I breathed.

He kept f.u.c.king me. "Do not climax, Madeleine."

"Honey, I'm about-"

He stroked in, filling me, a strange and brilliant feeling, especially since it came after he made me lie still while he touched me, then spanked me while he f.u.c.ked me normally, then he oiled me and finally, when I was primed, slowly took me.

He tugged on my nipples. "You climax at my command."

Oh G.o.d. That was hot.

"I'll try," I gasped.

He started stroking again. "This is all I ask, poppy."

He kept going and I kept moaning, touching myself, struggling to hold back my o.r.g.a.s.m. The fight was making my muscles quiver and my fingers that were wrapped around the headboard dug in so hard I thought I'd break it with my hand.

"So beautiful," he grunted, plunging in.

G.o.d.

"So beautiful, Maddie," he rumbled. "G.o.ds, I wish you could watch you taking me."

G.o.d!

He stroked in and pulled out, declaring in a thick voice, "We'll get a mirror."

"Baby," I whimpered, his words driving me to the edge and I wasn't going to be able to hold it.

He knew it and ordered gruffly, "Take me yourself, poppy, then take yourself there."

He'd slid out. I only had the tip so I pushed back, taking him at the same time coming apart as my o.r.g.a.s.m shook through me.

When it did, Apollo hauled us down the bed and pressed in so I was on my belly, all of this with me still taking him. As my o.r.g.a.s.m continued to shudder through me, he kept f.u.c.king me before he pulled out and I heard his deep groans. I knew he'd slid off the sheath he'd put on when I felt him come on my a.s.s.

So.

Totally.

Hot.

"a.r.s.e up for me, dove," he murmured after he'd lifted his weight from me, and I shivered as I slid my knees up under me.

He rubbed his "seed" into my delightfully sore a.s.s and I closed my eyes, my thighs quivering as the intimacy of that, the s.e.xiness poured over me making me warm and hot again, all at once.

His thumb slid between my cheeks, coming to rest lightly on my a.n.u.s and he whispered, "Okay?"

"Totally," I whispered back.

I felt his hand curl around my hip, fingers digging in in an affectionate squeeze, as his thumb did some soothing circling. Then his hands left me, only for him to come back with a cloth. He wiped himself from me, the cloth was gone and his hands were back, gently moving me so I was on my back and he was between my legs.

Then he surprised me by bending and kissing my belly and as he was sliding down the bed, his eyes came to mine and he murmured, "Rest, my dove. You giving me that deserves a reward."

The minute he was done saying that, he draped my legs over his shoulders, dipped his head and gently, slowly, amazingly, beautifully ate me until I came again, my legs pressing into his shoulders, my heels in his back, my cries quiet but forceful.

By the time I came down from that one, I found myself on top of him, one of his arms wrapped tight around my back, the other hand cupped on my bottom, the tips of his fingers pressed into the inside curve of my cheek, soothing, claiming, possessive.

I closed my eyes.

"Did you like that, honey?" I murmured.

"You're very tight," he replied, his fingers giving me a squeeze.

I decided to take that as a yes.

He wasn't done.

"I want you facing a mirror, a.r.s.e up, shoulders down, climaxing for me while you watch me move in your a.r.s.e," he went on.

I swallowed an excited noise at his words.

He still wasn't done.

"But I prefer what's between your legs. It's wetter, sweeter, I can look into your eyes when I'm taking it and I can take it hard. And when you climax, it spasms, milking me of my seed in a way I like very much." His arm and hand at my a.s.s gave me a squeeze. "Very much."

That was hot, what we just did, and I loved it.

But I had to admit, I was glad he preferred "taking" my normal girl parts mostly because he liked looking into my eyes when he was doing it.

His hold again tightened. "Now all of you knows the stroke of my c.o.c.k." His voice lowered. "This is a gift, Maddie. One I cherish. Thank you for giving it to me."

He thought it was a gift.

Suddenly, as they had time and again since she'd said them, that detestable woman's words slid through my head and I squeezed my closed eyes tighter.

And you? The woman who uses a dead wife's charms to enchant her heartbroken husband so she can warm his bed in order to wear his jewels and earn her place on his arm? Is the world richer for your presence?

The answer to her question was, no. It was not.

This world or my old one, neither of them was richer for my presence. I'd done nothing kind. Nothing thoughtful. Nothing witty or smart. Nothing brave.