I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.
Author's Note: Not sure I'll get to post Monday, my granddaughter is here for a visit! Also, the story Edward tells Isabella in this is my own little creation. I used to make up stories for my kids quite often, and this is just a twist on one I used to tell them when they were little. Thank you for reading!
Chapter 8: The Seven Brothers
It was rather different sleeping in my bed with another person. Isabella slept restlessly, but I was pleased to see that, even in the grip of slumber, she reached for me. Often, she would murmur so quietly that I could not make out the words as she rubbed her body against me like a contented kitten. Her actions did nothing at all to alleviate the arousal that surged and sang through my body. The fire was low in the hearth, merely a glow that lent a dim illumination to the chamber, when she opened her eyes and seemed rather surprised to find herself wrapped around me. I had to smile at her sleepy confusion. "My humble apologies, Your Majesty," I whispered. "Was I thinking too loudly?"
A line appeared between her dark brows and she tilted her head to study me. Then her expression suddenly cleared. "Oh...that's me now, isn't it?" Her eyes were wide and anxious. "That is going to take some getting used to, I fear."
I wanted to take her hand and place it around my manhood, which seemed to throb in time with my heart beat. But I knew it was too soon; too bold a move for this first night. Instead, I moved closer and let it rub against her thigh. "Oh..." she whispered. "Again?" she sounded surprised.
I laughed quietly and gently cupped her breast. "As many times as you feel comfortable with, Isabella. I fear I am quite insatiable when it comes to you."
"You were...pleased?" she asked shyly. Her hands found their way to my shoulders, where she clutched at me and gasped as I closed my lips over one hard, pink nipple.
"Very pleased," I whispered. "And now I want to please you, too."
She shifted restlessly beneath me but I did not hurry. I continued my tender assault on her sweet breasts, licking and nipping and sucking until she was murmuring and sighing in mindless need. She wanted release, though she did not know yet what it was she sought. At last, I allowed my hands to move down her sides and in between her slim thighs. I slid one finger into her heat and she arched against me.
"Edward?" She sounded both confused and worried.
"Don't fear it, love," I soothed. "It is only pleasure that awaits you."
She stiffened for a moment and I kissed her deeply, feeling her relax at last beneath me. Her hips began moving in rhythm with my touch, her thighs falling apart to welcome me further, her sighs filling my mouth. I began to learn what pleased her, though she was not sure herself. When I swirled my fingers gently and then them thrust into her, she gasped and cried out my name. When I suckled at her breast as I moved my fingers inside of her, she began to tremble. I licked her nipple, sucked it into my mouth being mindful of my teeth. She became more and more restless beneath me, her hips answering my motions with her own.
I felt her completion begin to claim her. She clutched at me tighter, buffeted by the sensations raging through her body.
"Edward?" Her voice was a cry for reassurance.
"Let go, Isabella, I will catch you," I promised her. "I will always catch you."
She groaned and closed her eyes and I knew the instant she had given herself up to sensation and need. I felt her body tighten around my hand, clutch at me, squeeze me, rippling with tiny movements. I moaned, thinking of feeling that around my cock. Gods, I wanted to feel that, to lose myself in that. Soon, I promised us both, soon.
As she trembled her way down from her release, I removed my hand and slipped my cock inside of her. She moaned as I stretched her, moving in slowly but steadily. I put my arms under her, cradling her, holding her shoulders. "I've got to have you now, Isabella," I said by way of apology. My control was fast slipping through my fingers, but Isabella murmured her sweet surrender and I thrust hard. We both cried out. It felt painfully good. I buried my face in her neck; I let her fragrant hair bewitch me as I moved. She began catching my rhythm, her hips moving in time with mine. My balls tightened and the ache in my spine spread. I was not going to last this time either and I felt like I was fifteen again, taking my first woman. I muttered a curse as my climax ripped through me without my permission.
Damn it all, I used to have better control than this. But I was shuddering and shaking and spilling myself inside of her again, whispering her name over and over again as she held me. She soothed her hands over my sweaty back, murmuring my name and telling me that she would catch me too. When at last I had some strength I leaned up one elbow and brushed the hair back from her flushed face. "Oh my Isabella, you shall be the death of me," I confessed. Her face grew rosy and her eyes darted away from mine. Secrets glimmered in her dark eyes and I had to know. "What is it, love?"
Her eyes grew warm and soft, her smile was sweetly sinful. "I think I like this marriage business," she admitted shyly.
I laughed and kissed her again, simply because her lips tasted sweet and I was a man in need.
~Duty~
We slept a few more hours and then I heard a stirring outside the chamber doors a few hours after dawn. The women were there to inspect the sheets and declare the marriage valid and consummated. A servant was with them with a tray of food which I desperately needed. There was my mother, Lady Renee, the highest ranking duchess and the royal midwife. Renee and my mother held up a robe for Isabella and shielded her from sight as she slipped from between the sheets. I had pulled on some braies to cover my nakedness, more for Isabella's sake than my own.
As Isabella blushed, chastely dressed in a heavy robe and eating some bread and cheese by the fire, the women glanced at the sheets and made their pronouncement. It was a rather embarrassing moment, but I pretended to ignore them. Then Lady Renee and the midwife changed the sheets. When they were done, Renee cradled her daughter's face, studying her a long moment, searching for something.
At last, she gave a satisfied nod, turned to me and gave me a curtsy. Something in the gesture spoke of gratitude, and I inclined my head in recognition. They took our dishes away and we were alone again. By tradition, for the next three days no men would enter our personal apartments. There would be only our mothers and some female servants to take care of our basic needs.
Our bellies full and feeling drowsy and satisfied, we crawled back into bed. She laughed when I told her that robes were not allowed in the royal bed. Her face crimson, she shrugged out of her robe while I removed my own garment. I leaned back and pulled Isabella into my arms. She snuggled against me like a sleepy child. "Talk to me," she whispered. I tamped down my disappointment. I knew she had to be sore. Later this afternoon I would call for a bath for her with soothing herbs. And some wine. Perhaps we could share the bath...
"About what?" I asked as I rubbed silken strands of dark hair between my fingers.
Her hands began tracing patterns on my chest. I gave myself up to her gentle exploration. She was getting to know my body as I was getting to know hers. "Anything," she replied quietly. "I like the sound of your voice."
As her hand moved down my chest toward my belly, I caught it and held it fast. "You must stop there, little love, or we shall not be talking," I warned her.
She giggled and buried her face in my side, which was merely a fresh torment. I firmly took her hands and searched my mind for something that might interest her and distract me. "All right then, this is a story my mother used to tell me about the Seven Brothers." I remembered my mother telling me the stories and I hoped that one day I would tell them to my own children.
Isabella snuggled closer. "My mother used to tell me those tales too, but I want to hear how your mother told them." She closed her eyes and listened as I began to speak.
"A long time ago, before the Mother Mountain or the Seven Hills existed, there was a king. Our realm had many enemies and our land was wide open to attack. They came by sea and over the plains to the north, seeking the riches of the tiny kingdom. King Aro defended his kingdom against his enemies over and over again and was well beloved by his people. He and his wife had seven sons."
"What was his wife's name?" Isabella interrupted.
I paused. "You know, I've never heard what her name was." I shrugged. "Lost to time, I suppose."
Isabella frowned, her eyes still closed. "Typical," she muttered.
I squeezed her close. "And then Aro died, leaving his queen to defend the land and raise his sons. Most women would have failed," I continued.
Isabella leaned up and rolled her eyes. "Why do you think most women would fail?"
I tugged at a strand of her hair. "Because they aren't you."
That seemed to mollify her, because she gave a little grunt and settled back against me. "Continue."
"Now who is always giving orders?" I teased. "So, there were seven brothers," I said. "There was Mazenrir, the eldest. Like all of his brothers, he had a special gift. He could hear the thoughts of men."
"What about women?" Isabella asked. "Could he hear their thoughts?"
"I don't think any man can truly understand a woman's mind, tis too complex for our mere male comprehension," I said.
She kissed the flesh at my side and I willed my body into submission. She was so sweetly tempting and had no idea, which merely made me want her even more. The Seven Brothers, yes...
"Then there was Rakis, the Mischief Maker," I said. "He was just a year younger than his brother but was not jealous that his brother would inherit the throne. His gift was loyalty and truth. In fact, he vowed to never marry or produce children so that they could not weaken his brother's claim. He was a prankster, but his heart was completely faithful and true." I kissed the top of her head. "After Rakis came the twins, Talus and Toros, the Hammer and the Sword. They were the warriors of the clan, bold and fearless. They were happiest on a battle field."
"And then there was Mengus," Isabella said. "The Mood Maker."
I nodded. "Mengus could manipulate the feelings of those around him. He could make them angry or suspicious or happy or fearful. After Mengus came Rhoden, The Shield. He could strengthen the walls of any keep with the power of his mind alone."
Isabella sighed contentedly and placed her arm over my chest. "You have a lovely voice," she murmured. "Keep talking."
"The youngest was Menrir," I said. "His gift was to see the future. He could see what was coming but could not change it, so I suppose it was both his blessing and his curse. He finally went mad but his brothers cared for him until the end of his days." Isabella looked up at me.
"That's rather sad, don't you think, to have a gift that ultimately destroys you?" she asked.
"I suppose it could happen to anyone," I said. "We take a strength and allow it to become a weakness."
"Or," Isabella said thoughtfully. "We think of something as a weakness when in truth it is a strength. It might all be in how we view a thing."
I kissed her again. "And finally, the Brothers were old enough to hold the kingdom on their own and the queen grew tired. She told her sons that when she died they were to take her ashes and spread them along the northern borders of the land, so that she might continue to protect them. The brothers thought it a foolish request, but did so."
"And from the ashes rose the Mother Mountain," Isabella said quietly.
I nodded. "She swore that she would always help protect the brave men who guarded our borders, and so she does." I held Isabella close. "She watches over the barons, men like your father. She shelters them and protects them from our enemies."
"My brothers and I often played in the shadow of the Mother Mountain," she said with a smile. "Once we climbed higher than we were supposed to and I fell a long distance when some rocks gave way. My mother was furious and would not let me out of her sight for a full moon cycle. I finally annoyed her so much with my complaints that she set me free." She laughed. "She was most displeased with my brothers as well. Jacob was just a babe, but Emmett and Jasper suffered her full wrath."
"They should have watched out for you better," I said with a thrum of useless, tardy anxiety. I sighed.
"Finish the story," she instructed me.
"And as the brothers died, the other brothers and their children spread their ashes too, from the Mother Mountain to the southern sea and from their ashes rose the Seven Hills."
"Is it true that you are descended from Mazenrir?" she asked.
I laughed. "That is what my ancestor said," I admitted. "Henry the White."
"Why did they call him The White?" Isabella asked. "Mother never said why."
"It was said that his skin was so fair that it shone like a diamond in the sun," I told her with a smirk. Her lips looked too soft and inviting for my peace of mind. "It was also whispered, though never to his face, that his mother had gotten him in her belly when she came upon a nightwalker and that was why his skin was so fair – that he was not fully of this world."
"You are fair," she said, brushing back my hair. "But you do not sparkle in the sun." She made a little face. "I should like to see that." Her eyes glinted with mischief.
"You are incorrigible," I said. Her arms wrapped around my neck and she pulled me close. Then she yawned widely before I could kiss her.
"And you are inexhaustible," she said, nudging her hips toward my rampant erection. "Let me sleep for an hour and then I shall see to that stout fellow that presses so impudently against my leg." I was thrilled at the boldness I sensed in her.
She closed her eyes, but a lingering smile played upon her lips. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the throbbing in my manhood. After a long pause, she opened her eyes again, biting her lip. "Does it hurt?"
"Does what hurt?"
Her hand drifted down my belly and I got her meaning. I grabbed her hand. "Yes, a little," I admitted. "It is only because I want you so badly. But I do not want to hurt you. I can wait. You are sore, and tired. I've been greedy after all. Rest, and then we shall see how things proceed."
"Can I...can I touch it?" she asked with innocent curiosity.
I groaned. "Oh Isabella, I would like nothing more, but if you do I fear I shall forget all of my fine intentions and have you right here and now."
A determined look came over her face and she wrapped her fingers around me. I jerked in her grasp. I was torn between guiding her motions and ripping her hand away. Then she tightened her grip and I gave up the battle. I put my hand around hers and squeezed, showing her how to stroke me. She was an eager and willing pupil, murmuring her amazement at how readily my flesh responded. We kissed and she kept up the rhythm of her hand. I was thrusting into her grip, feeling her soft breasts pressed against me, greedily taking her mouth with mine. It was all so sweet... Her hand tightened and sped up.
"Isabella!" I managed to gasp. "I...I..."
I could give her no further warning, my speed spilling out over her hand and onto my belly. I shuddered and cursed under my breath. When I had regained my breath I watched with amusement as Isabella stared at her hand, obviously wondering what to do with the mess I had left there. I grabbed my discarded tunic and gently wiped her hand clean. I pushed her down against my chest. "Sleep now, little love. We are both weary."
She yawned again. "Being married is quite exhausting," she muttered just before she closed her eyes.
