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Falcon's Mate 1(4)

By:Michelle M. Pillow


pout in her tone. He looked at his other arm, seeing a dark-haired

temptress dressed very much like the lighter one, only in blue. Only

commanders, nobles and guests of honor would be seated in the hall,

with others only as room permitted.

He wasn’t surprised they knew his position, for the two long, dark

wings were hard to miss. Unlike the non-military Falconians, the

warriors had wings. Pure born had them since birth, others grew them in

time with the help of magic when they took their vow into the army. But,

unlike the others, natural wings were darker and longer, reaching nearly

to the ground when laid flat against the back.



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The blonde put her hand on his chest, twining her fingers in the laces

that held his tunic shirt together, which was more like a long jacket. The

laces crossed down the front, from neck to waist, only to hang open at

his legs so as not to hinder movement. The delicate silver and blue

material was of the finest quality. As the woman’s fingers traced the laces

down to his waist, his cock stirred in response, pressing against the tight

black breeches he wore underneath.

“I’d do almost anything to see Princess Ari’s Mating Day,” the blonde

said, batting her lashes with obvious meaning.

Rurik suppressed a frown as he thought of Ari. She’d been a stuck

up child and rumor had it she’d turned into an even more pretentious

adult. Over the years, her true nature had been more than apparent.

She’d signed the order to send his men on some of the worst missions. It

was as if she wanted him dead and all because he had a little crush on

her when they were children. Sure, he’d teased her, but mostly because

he wanted her to loosen up.

Well, they weren’t children anymore and he’d outgrown Princess Ari.

Now he was an acclaimed warrior of the Fifth and if his keen sense of

smell was any indication, these two women were definitely interested in

helping him pass his time at the palace.

Lifting his arms, he hugged both women to his sides. “Now, ladies,

don’t fight. You can both be my guest. There is plenty of room on my lap

for the two of you.”

The women giggled. Rurik lifted his gaze briefly to the high throne in

the middle of the hall, to where Princess Ari would drink from the

Chalice. Let the princess have her mate, and blessed wings save the man

chosen to it.

Already the hall was filled. Soon it would be time for the ceremony.

Drinks were set out in goblets along the lower tables. Seeing some of his

14



Talons: Seize the Hunter

men in the back, he could tell they were already far into their cups by the

way they moved and laughed. Rurik led the women alongside him toward

the table.

“May the poor sod be whisked away on blessed wings, far from this

palace and the arms of the princess,” said Lleu, his second-in-command.

The others laughed at the toast.

“Likely she’ll dagger him in her bed tonight,” Ivor added. The warrior

was missing an eye, thanks to Ari’s command to go into battle against

the Medical Mafia who tried to set up posts in their marshes. It wasn’t

that any of them were afraid of fighting the mafia, but at the time they’d

been exhausted from defending the skies against pirates. It wasn’t bad,

except Terrick, Commander of the Fourth, later told them his men had

been without a thing to do for months. Ari seemed to have it in for them.

“Only if it was a man from the Fifth,” Rurik said, holding the two

women to his side. “She does like to see our blood run, doesn’t she?”

“Oh, have you been hurt in battle, Commander?” the blonde asked.

“See now, my most pretty feather, the commander merely floats in

the sky as we warriors do all the work,” Ivor said. He pointed

meaningfully at the blue eye patch that covered the empty socket. “If it’s

stories of battle you’d like, then come sit by me. I’ve got many wounds

that could use a female’s gentle touch.”

The women giggled.

“Get your own.” Rurik laughed, taking a seat. With a swoop of his

arms, he hauled both women onto his knees. “These two are my guests.”

“Then you’d better take a drink, doves.” Lleu slid a couple goblets in

front of them, “Because I’m told the commander only looks cute after a

few dozen goblets.”

Rurik laughed at the good-natured ribbing as Lleu handed him a

goblet as well, taking it off a nearby table.



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“Hey, that’s mine!” a burly warrior with long blond hair yelled.

“Go squawk to someone who cares,” Lleu answered, just as surly.