Two Roped and Ready [Bewitching Desires 6] (Siren Publishing Menage Amour) by Mellanie Szereto Page B

night and awakened with the dawn? Faint snippets of conversation she must’ve overheard told her otherwise. Among the voices, two stood out—gentle male voices speaking words of encouragement over and over. I’m here with you, Ilona. Take all the time you need to get well. I promise to stay with you.
    She recognized those deep, melodic twangs. The men she’d brought home with her from the past talked with that distinctive Texas drawl—the men who’d asked who she was when they landed in her apartment completely naked. The transportation charm had erased any memories they had of making love to her.
    Disappointment and heartache cut through her as though the awkward scene had happened only a moment ago. A tear leaked from the outer corner of her eye to roll down her cheekbone to her hair. With the panicked rhyme, she’d accidentally erased their minds of having shared a bed and her secret, leaving her back at the beginning of the quest for her mates. Any affection they might’ve held for her was gone. Their proclamation that she belonged to them and they to her had been negated.
    With less than a week until the third-quarter moon, she couldn’t waste a minute. She had to seduce them, make them fall in love with her, and tell them the truth about herself within days—whether she had the energy to climb out of bed or not. Giving up wasn’t an option she intended to consider. At least not yet.
    Loathe to slip from the warmth of her bed, Ilona stretched her legs beneath the covers, flinching at a slight cramp in her calf. The sooner she got up and moving, the sooner her body would recover from the poison and inactivity.
    The movement stirred a woodsy aroma, triggering a spasm between her thighs. She had no reason to worry about having missed her fertility cycle if a masculine scent brought that kind of response. Where had it come from, though?
    She pushed at the blankets tucked up to her chin and scooted her bottom under her to sit. A substantial lump lay on either side of her, one topped by a tousled head of blue-black hair, the other with a dark-brown mop of curls. Their eyes were closed, and both men seemed out cold. Why were PC and Quayde in bed with her? Was this her chance to remind them of how amazing their threesome sex had been?
    Using logic was her specialty. Until her method proved a failure, she’d exploit its success. That her heart was already involved fueled her determination. Even if her mates didn’t remember her, they still had pledged themselves to her before their memories had been altered. Somewhere inside, they had to care for her.
    Crawling on her hands and knees to the foot of the bed, she forced her weak body into action. Her legs threatened to crumple as she stood, but she gripped the corner post to maintain her balance. Step by step, she managed to walk to the closet and retrieve several lengths of fabric from her sewing basket. She’d planned to make quilts for the cribs in the nursery with the pastel muslin cloth. Unfortunately, her skills didn’t extend to needle and thread.
    They did, however, include extensive knowledge of knot tying.
    She gathered every bit of her strength to quickly bind Quayde’s and PC’s ankles to the bedposts before moving to their wrists. Neither man so much as sighed as she laced the strips of material through their feet and hands. They didn’t seem to notice the cooler air when she removed their covers or the bouncing of the mattress when she settled between them to rest.
    Her muscles trembled like she’d been unconscious for far longer than eight hours, sixteen hours, or even an entire day. She must’ve skirted closer to death than she’d imagined. Several minutes of slow inhales and exhales restored some of her vigor.
    While she regained control over her weakness, she studied the breathtaking forms of her naked mates. Lean legs and narrow hips. Rippled abdomens. Impressive pectorals and biceps. They were works of art, and they were hers—unless they