The Queens of Merab: Temair's Rayne
|by Violet Summers |
cover art by Bryan Keller
|Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure|
|Theme(s): Ménage, BBW|
|Series: The Queens of Merab|
On the world of Merab, women rule, while men wield the magic.
It's been an equitable system, until now. Temair knew that one day she'd have to step up and take her place as Queen of Emetra; she just didn't expect for it to happen so soon! Now she finds herself on a Tour of the Queendom in search of her four Consorts –- the four men whose Elemental magic will awaken hers.
She's found her first Consort, the prickly Fyre Lord Miach, and they journey on to the Rayne Lands, where Miach comments the local uniform consists of... skin!
Rayne Lord Dathan is Miach's polar opposite, fun and easygoing. Temair immediately wants him, while Miach wants to get as far away from him as possible. When the threats against Temair's life escalate, Dathan must step up and prove to his Princess and her First Consort that he's strong enough to love them, and strong enough to defend them –- and their world –- as well.
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"Great Mother," Nuriel breathed behind her, just loudly enough for Temair to hear. She twisted in her saddle and looked questioningly at her foster sister.
"Just look at them," the lovely blonde continued in an awed voice, her eyes devouring the seven gorgeous men ranged in a tight arrow on the stairs to Villa Rayne.
The seven sons of Rayne ranged in age from sixteen to thirty, Temair remembered. She let her gaze roam from one to the next, and had to admit Nuriel had a point. Each was more gorgeous than the next. They stood proudly, their golden beauty on display, covered only by low-riding sarongs in a multitude of shades of blue.
Nuriel sighed gustily, and Temair didn't even try to suppress her laughter at her friend's salacious appreciation of their hostess's sons. Her days of silence were over. They had to be if she were to be an effective Queen.
To her right, Miach snorted derisively. "It's no wonder she's got her own little army of sons, as the local uniform seems to be skin." When she turned his way, though, Miach had that little smile playing around the corners of his mouth. The one that lit a fire in her core, and sent lava rolling through her pussy.
"I'd ask if you were jealous," she quipped, laughing again at his outraged expression. "But you know full well you're as gorgeous as any of them." She gave him an exaggerated once-over. "Actually, My Lord Husband, you're more glorious than most of them."
Nuriel and Sorcha -- who was riding slightly behind Miach and to his right -- had been listening, and now both women joined Temair's laughter as the rather moody Miach preened, subtly of course, under Temair's compliment. Her sister princesses, though, didn't receive the benefit of his smoldering gaze, and the promise of his body. That was reserved for Temair alone.
Firmly drawing her attention away from her Consort's sculpted body and back to the task at hand, Temair directed her gaze to Lady Rayne, who was waiting regally at the top of the stairs. Her silvery-blue hair was dressed in elaborate braids, most likely to combat the heavy humidity of the land. Temair could already feel her own curls drooping and concentrated for a moment on the fyre within her, which had awakened at her joining with Miach. It took a moment, but she was delighted to feel the moisture gathering at her nape and weighing down her hair begin to evaporate.
The man standing next to the Lady, Temair knew, was her eldest son. The Lord of Rayne, the Lady had explained during their mirrored conversation, was out with the hunting parties. They'd not expected the Royal Visit for another few weeks, and so were "woefully unprepared." Considering the parade of dancing citizens tossing handfuls of flower petals at her, Temair was a bit daunted at the idea of what prepared would have looked like.
She hadn't paid a lot of attention to the eldest son during their approach. The Lady had also mentioned in their conversation that she thought one or two of her younger sons would make a good match for Temair. Her eldest, she'd confided, was a bit of a playboy, and not well suited for a life of politics.
Now, after fully appreciating the banquet of half-naked male flesh ranged over the stairs, Temair found her attention on the eldest son. He wore his hair in a loose, shoulder length cut; full of layers that should have made it look shaggy, but instead made it look tousled, as if he'd just crawled out of bed. It looked almost black from a distance, much like Miach's, but when he shifted into the light she realized it was instead a deep, indigo blue, fitting of his element. He tossed his head, flipping longish bangs out of his eyes, and for Temair, for just a second, time stopped.
His almond-shaped eyes were dark, but as his gaze met hers they flashed with brilliant blue sparks. Temair felt that look like a physical touch, tingling over her body in a way very similar to Miach's tendrils of fyre.
She must have caught her breath, or made some sort of noise or movement, because Miach was instantly at her side, utterly disregarding the protocol that dictated he should stay a stride behind.
"What is it, Spark?" he asked, his gaze following the line of hers. His movement, thankfully, broke the attention of the eldest son of Rayne, who flicked his gaze in Miach's direction. This left Temair's attention free to notice the way young Lord Rayne's eyes widened and Miach's narrowed as their gazes touched.
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