Our bickering stopped as we all seemed to be lost in our personal fantasies. It was obvious to me that we all had an identical reaction to the female. I looked, and I lusted. I wanted to throw her over my shoulder and take her home, strap her down in the town square, and fuck her with the entire town watching me plant my seed in her womb.
But that wouldn’t happen now. We would have to claim her here, at Viken United. Here, on this island of neutral ground. And it would have to be done with my brothers.
She hadn’t moved and we stood staring at her as if she were a puzzle we could not solve.
“We can agree that fucking her will not be a chore,” Lev said. “However we go about it, however it makes our cocks hard, it will be a pleasure.”
“Yes,” I agreed. My cock was already hard and I was just looking at her completely clothed. I could only imagine how I’d feel once she was naked before us.
“Yes,” Drogan confirmed.
“Can we agree then—” I began, shifting my cock in my pants, “—that we should focus not on our differences, but focus on what we now must protect and cherish together. Her.”
“If he expects us to breed her and then abandon her and the child, he is mistaken,” I said, my voice laced with the lifetime of anger. “Sector One’s belief in family—a mother and a father caring for their children—is very specific. I won’t let this child grow up as I have.” I offered each of my brothers a quick glance. “I will kill anyone who tries to take her, or my child, from me.”
I’d been an orphan. No real mother or father. I’d been raised by the government, by nannies and tutors, without a family. It had not been easy. In fact, it had been fucking awful. There was no way I’d subject anyone to that, let alone my very own child.
“The politics behind this can wait. Once she awakens, she cannot,” Lev replied.
“Neither can my cock,” Drogan muttered.
Both Lev and I smiled at that.
We looked down upon her for a moment. “She will be afraid. She belongs to not one man, but three,” Drogan said. “Look at us.”
I glanced at my brothers. We were big and troublesome, cranky and aggressive. We were bred to be leaders; our size, our power, made us fierce. “We are not tame,” I added.
“We may not have like minds on much, but we must agree about her and how we take her.” Lev angled his head at the sleeping woman. “I refuse to let her suffer. As Tor said, I refuse to leave a child to grow up under the regent’s care.”
He spat the word “care,” for the regent wouldn’t care for a child any more than he would a family pet.
Drogan nodded and looked at me and Lev. “She is ours.”
“If this isn’t a trap and she chooses us,” I confirmed. “Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Lev and Drogan replied at the same time.
“Which one of us will stand with the other men to prove the match?” Drogan asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” I replied. “She’ll choose one of us from the group. The regent wouldn’t go through all of this if he wasn’t sure of the match.”
“This is for our benefit. I agree with Tor,” Lev commented. “It matters not who stands with the others as long as we take her away from here together. No one else touches her.”
“Agreed.”
Chapter Three
Leah
My eyes blinked open as if I’d just taken a nap. Just seeing a ceiling made of dark paneled wood was enough to nudge my brain into realizing that I was no longer in the processing center. It was quiet, no hum of the air conditioning, no machines. The air was warm and humid. A rustle had me turning my head. I seemed to be resting on a hard table and an old man sat in a high-backed chair at its edge. Using my hand on the wood, I pushed myself up to sitting. I wore a green dress, simple in design, yet long. It covered my legs to my ankles, yet my feet were bare. It had long sleeves but a low-cut bodice. It wasn’t overly revealing, but I was fairly large so I always had cleavage. The dress was odd, old-fashioned in style, something a woman would have worn a hundred years earlier.
The man sat so still, so patiently. He had gray hair and a beard, the deep grooves of old age lined his face. His attire was similar to mine, simple and unadorned, but gray. “Are you… are you the man who is my match?” I asked. I cleared my throat, my voice sounding scratchy. Had they sent me to such an old man? He had to be eighty, if he was a day.
He smiled then, the creases at the corners of his eyes becoming deeper. “I am not. I am Regent Bard. Your match is just out that door.” I looked in the direction he pointed. “When you are ready, we can go to him.”