Chapter Thirty-Three
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Olline was floating. Heat cocooned her body, electrifying her nerves as something pulled into them. Like a mental sigh that slowly eased all the tension out of her, her once brittle bones, the muscles so tight they were about to snap, relaxed one by one by one by one.
Until Olline was alive again.
With a shuddering, sharp intake of breath, Olline sat upright and opened her eyes. She couldn’t see anything; her vision was out of focus even though she knew she was no longer in the dark. Her heart rabbited with worry; had they succeeded? Did they get away in time?
In truth, Olline hadn’t died, but damn if it didn’t feel like it.
She had never used her magic to depletion—or near depletion—before and she was not eager to ever, ever do it again. With a start, the reason she had nearly imploded came back, hitting her like a fist to the temple. Her reckless overexertion of her power trying to dismantle Casimir’s—she cut herself off with a gasp.
“Casimir!” she croaked, her throat dry and scratchy like she had been guzzling gravel.
No one answered, and slowly her vision returned. That’s when she saw where she was: back in her apartment, but it was all wrong . Every single one of the dozens of plants she had so carefully cultivated was dead, nothing more than brown, withered husks. Her pothos and philodendron were black, withered vines. Her succulents were so shriveled they held no shape in their fat leaves. The purple passion plant was nothing but dust, and her ferns and massive monstera lay on the floor, a breath away from disintegrating.
Now the sensation made sense: the little magic she had remaining called back the pieces of her from the only source it had available. Her precious plants. Olline’s posture crumbled under the weight of her grief. These were her creations, her friends, and they all had returned the life she given them so she could live. It didn’t seem fair that she should remain hurt and depleted, while the very things that had buoyed her through loneliness, heartbreak, had seen her grow and make life altering changes were now . . . gone. Tears burned her eyes and her heart thudded dully in her chest. Olline was glad she couldn’t see what had become of her precious orchids. That would have been one blow too many to her cracked and battered soul.
“Cas,” she said again, her voice cracking with defeat. But this time, she got an answer.
“Ollie,” her name was a hymnal on his lips. “You found your way back to me.” The bed dipped next to her, and even with her vision blurry with endless tears, Olline would recognize that lavender and eucalyptus scent anywhere.
She reached out blindly, and Casimir caught her fingers in his strong, elegant hand, careful not to crush her still-healing hand. “I’m right here, my precious caster, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Olline closed her eyes, slumping into Casimir’s warm embrace. Her strength was coming back to her faster now, even though she hated knowing the source of that strength. Even so, she could only manage a whisper to ask, “What happened?”
“Collapsing the room worked, maybe too well,” Casimir said, his voice nonchalant, though she suspected that was for her benefit. “But we couldn’t reach you. You were wasting time on me, of all the silly things. Isobel knew we couldn’t move you safely until you finished what you were doing, but Sofia was starting to panic.” Casimir’s body shifted, tensing as he moved closer, but held himself back. She could feel Casimir’s shoulders drawing up, and him tucking his elbows into his sides, his guilt over his actions a physical barrier between them. “I felt your power withdraw as the first chunks of the ceiling came down.” Olline stiffened and Casimir took a deep, pained breath. “No one was hurt. We got out all right, thanks to you, my dear. Though, did you really need to worry about my chip right then and there? I didn’t—I don’t deserve such consideration after . . .” Casimir trailed off, his voice thick as his throat constricted and he averted his gaze, unable to look her in the face.
Realization over how much his treatment had scared him, had hurt her, squeezed Olline’s gut. The horror and guilt of his actions kept Casimir close, but unable to offer the comfort of his powerful arms like he had when Wolfe attacked her. Olline was torn. Logically, she understood Casimir wasn’t responsible for his actions under Etzel’s influence. Emotionally . . . her wounds were still bleeding, and she suspected Casimir’s were just as raw. Healing would take time, but perhaps that was a journey they could make together.
Olline pressed her lips together, burying the fear that made her chin tremble. Reminding herself that the man currently on her bed was the real Casimir, and the version of him that had attacked her was only a nightmare now. She snuggled closer and put her head on his chest. They remained that way, silent for the moment, while Olline listened as his erratic heartbeat slowly became steady again.
“Yes,” she said simply. She cleared her throat. “I couldn’t risk you again. I didn’t . . . I couldn’t risk someone else flipping your switch on. Not again.”
“I’m so, so sorry, Ollie.” Casimir’s voice was tight, as if regret were strangling him. He rubbed his face with his hand. The other was poised, hovering around her, afraid to touch her, like he was no longer worthy of touching her. “Etzel succeeded in turning me into a monster. At least in your lovely eyes. Hasn’t he? There’s no recovering from this blow.” His shoulders quaked with repressed sobs of remorse.
A strange sense of relief tugged at her, a tiny ember of warmth chasing away the numbness in her chest. It would have been easy, even natural, for Casimir to merely wave off what he had done as having nothing to do with him. In a way, he would have been correct. But him owning up to the wrongdoing, the pain and fear he had caused, even if it was not his choice to do so, gave her hope. That this, while a terrible blow to the fledgling relationship growing between them, was indeed something they could recover from.
She shook her head lightly. “ You didn’t hurt me. Etzel did. He made you . . . subdue me. I know what that chip does to you, Cas. I know you’d never hurt me. My body may just take more time to remember that fact. If I flinch or cower, it’s not because,” Olline couldn’t finish, the muscle memory of his hands around her throat made that impossible, even if it proved her point. She clasped her hands in her lap to stop them shaking and waited for the pain in her throat to subside as she slowly relaxed against Casimir’s chest again. “I’m not afraid of you, but I am—was afraid of what others could force you to do. Taking the time to make sure that couldn’t happen again? Well, it was a risk I had to take. You were— are worth the risk. But if you need to hear me say it anyway, I forgive you.”
Casimir sucked in a ragged breath, blinking rapidly at her in disbelief. Before a slow smile of relief tugged at his lips, bringing a touch of color back to his pale cheeks. His arms tightened around her, anchoring them together, as he buried his nose in her hair and his warm breath washed over her. “You are a wonder that never ceases. If I have to spend the next century atoning for bruising your delicate skin, I’ll gladly do so. If you wish, or allow me to,” he whispered back, his voice husky with emotion. “Thank you.”
The tension ebbed a little, but Olline kept her eyes closed until she was certain tears wouldn’t blur her vision anymore. “How long was I out for?” Thankfully, her voice was a little stronger this time, the raspy tremor nearly gone. Her plants, her creations, and the power she gifted to sustain them, their sacrifice was doing wonders to bring her back to her old self. Which hurt her heart almost as much as her still aching, fragile body.
“Close to twelve hours.”
To be so close to death, so completely depleted of life energy . . . She shouldn’t have woken up, at least not here. Maybe if they had taken her to a hospital that specialized in seersha and caster patients, maybe, maybe she would have recovered. But this? This didn’t make sense.
Sensing her turmoil, Casimir said, his tone soothing, “You were so unresponsive that Isobel suggested we come here. I agreed, explaining your apartment was filled to bursting with your plants. I thought they’d bring you comfort, being somewhere safe and familiar. But Isobel’s worked on enough casters in her day job to know that if I brought you here, the magic you used to make your darling little plants would come right back to the source. She tried explaining it, something about natural preservation instincts. Admittedly, it was hard to pay attention when you were so faded in my arms. She was still worried, though. We all were. Sofia did her best, but,” a chuckle that might have been a sob of relief cut Casimir’s words off, but he continued before Olline could make sense of it. “But your plants, your power, Ollie, it’s all so incredible. You’re incredible.”
Casimir took a deep breath, gently brushing the hair off her forehead and tucking it behind her ears. “There was so much life in your plants that you, well, you’re here. Back, and safe.”
That knowledge was too big, too much for Olline to handle. All those times Olline swore her plants were reacting, were listening to her as she bustled about. She had brushed it off. It had been safer to believe she was personifying her plants rather than acknowledge she had created living batteries through her love and magic.
Olline had always known such a thing was a possibility. Many casters created such batteries to carry with them in case they needed their power to defend themselves against a more powerful entity. But Olline had never intended that, had never consciously chosen to make batteries. All she had wanted to do was create beautiful plants, to fill her space with greenery and give herself something to focus on during those moments when she wasn’t in the office.
Her breath rattled in her chest, she hadn’t wanted this to happen, had always been so careful so it would never happen. She knew how deadly it could be to overexert herself. And yet, here she was now, alive because her passion had her putting more magic in her houseplants than most earth casters would bother with. She would mourn her plants, but she would also honor what they had given back to her, too.
However, Olline wasn’t the only miracle in the room, the only person who was back and safe, forever. Her eyelids stuttered open, making her lashes flutter as she looked up into Casimir’s face.
Her vision cleared, and she traced the sharp line of his chin with a finger that no longer shook. She traced the contour of his mouth, the plump lower lip that arrested the breath in her lungs with his sleepy smiles, his genuine smiles. Olline’s fingertips danced away and his mouth parted, his gaze locked on her. Those deep garnet eyes that had seen too much pain without recollection looked at her now like she was the answer to every question he could ever have. Her hand cupped the side of his face before moving to his forehead, brushing back those silky silver-white curls, tucking the strands behind his tall, pointed ears. Her fingers trailed to the back of his head, where she gently brought his face to hers until their foreheads rested against one another.
Olline inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with this incredible man, this survivor . He could have taken all of Etzel’s files, all his power, and used it like Etzel had. Casimir could have lied to himself, trying to convince himself he was doing it for a greater purpose. Only to succumb to the same trap of power Etzel had. Instead, he had given it all up. She didn’t think he would appreciate it now, but she was so, so damn proud of him. One day she would tell him, maybe when he wasn’t so raw, maybe when she finally processed that her dormant power in her plants brought her back. Casimir had been so scared of Etzel and what he could do and take from him for centuries, that simply killing him had, ironically, been an act of restraint.
“You are too, you know,” she murmured, her lips a hair away from his. “Back and safe, I mean.”
“Because of you,” Casimir cut in quickly. “You saved me, believed in me when no one else would have. I’m only here because of you.”
She smiled, her lips barely brushing his in the action. “We saved each other, Cas. And we can heal from this. We will heal. Together. We make a good team.”
He shifted, holding her more comfortably but never moving his forehead from hers, his lips still a breath away. “You’re far too modest. We make a perfect team,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice when all she could see was the sparkle in his eyes. “I’d like to kiss you now,” he murmured after a moment, his voice husky and breathy all at once.
“I hope you’ll do more than kiss me.” Casimir stilled, his arms tensing around her. He pulled away enough for her to see the worry in his eyes as they trailed over her injuries. She rubbed the tip of her nose against his, grinning. “It’s fine. I’m fine. After everything, it’d just be nice to feel . . . alive again.”
He made a humming sound deep in his chest, his arms relaxing, but his hands still held her possessively. “You are my life,” Casimir said so faintly she almost couldn’t believe she had heard him correctly. But then his lips were on hers, so achingly soft and sweet that Olline couldn’t think of anything. She didn’t want to think of anything but the press of Casimir’s body against hers. The tenderness of him now was what she wanted to remember, to replace her muscle memory of him from a mere twelve hours prior.
Casimir shifted them both, so careful, so gentle not to hurt her damaged hands, handling her like she was fragile, precious glass. She wanted to tell him he didn’t have to be so careful with her, but that would require her moving her mouth away from his, where his tongue was softly seeking entrance. She arched against him, giving him permission and full access to her body.
He kept one arm around her waist, moving her hips so they perfectly lined up with his. His other he used to ease off the stretchy pants and the oversized shirt he had put her in. A shiver raced down her as the cool air hit her bare skin. But it soon disappeared, replaced by the heat of his body as his mouth was on her once more, trailing down from her lips, brushing her neck, nipping at her tattoo like he seemed to love, before his tongue flicked over the hollow of her throat.
The aching terror from before melted from her mind and muscles under his touch. One day, she wanted to enjoy all of Casimir without near abductions being their cruel foreplay. But for now, they both needed to be reminded that life was good. It could be sweet. And what could be better than reminding each other of that fact, together?
With a delightful pang beneath her sternum, Olline realized that, despite everything, she had no desire to be anywhere else but right here in bed with Casimir. That frozen, grief-stricken part of her thawed, and a familiar warm, peaceful connection to life the flora in her home had once given her, enveloped Olline once more.
He trailed one of his long, graceful fingers around the swell of her breast, her nipples pebbling instantly. His body rumbled against her, a moan of satisfaction deep in his chest. He trailed more kisses down the center of her chest until he was pulling her nipple into his mouth, running his teeth along the sensitive skin until her breath was coming in fast bursts, a moan of pleasure building in her chest that was echoed by the spreading heat between her legs.
All too soon, Casimir was moving down her body again, trailing kiss after kiss down her stomach. He pulled her with him so he could kneel off the bed, his hands positioning her closer to the edge of the mattress, draping her legs over his shoulders. He looked at her then, a hungry desire plain in his gaze, but so was a question. If she didn’t want this, if she was too tired or achy, he would stop. But she didn’t want that.
Their existence over the past day had been fraught with so many near misses. They had come far too close to losing each other. That Olline’s heart ached for Casimir. She craved him. All of him; mentally, physically, whatever he was willing to give. Like a transplanted flower, her roots needed to anchor her home once more. Emotionally, that would take time, but physically? They could at least begin forgiving each other with their bodies right now.
She bucked her hips up, arching her body in an invitation. “Take me,” she said, her voice low and smoky.
“With pleasure.” And he was lifting her to him, his mouth on her in an instant. His tongue was almost cold with how hot and wet she already was. He hummed against her as if she were the most delicious thing he had ever eaten. His teeth grazed her sensitive clit, his tongue licking her deep inside. Olline swore she could see bursts of color, hundreds of tiny blooms, as he speared her with his tongue again and again, devouring her.
His tongue moved in dizzying patterns, and Olline could not get enough. Reaching down, she tangled her fingers in his cloud-like hair and pressed his face firmly against her. Casimir moaned with such intense pleasure at having his face buried deep within her that, beyond the blinding pleasure, Olline thought she would burst with the sheer bliss of having this man at all. He sucked on her bud greedily, teeth grazing it enough to make her gasp before he was drinking her in again, letting the wave of pleasure recede before bringing her back to shore a second later with that wicked tongue. Her hips bucked, fingers gripping his hair ever tighter, her pleasure so intense it nearly tickled. But she continued to hold him firmly against her pussy, grinding against him as he moaned into her.
Olline gasped, her pleasure coming quick and hard, building faster, mounting higher. She whimpered, trying to bury her moan of pleasure, but it was a losing battle. His tongue twisted in her, coaxing her to the edge, and then—“Casimir!”
Her orgasm swept over her like a landslide. She twitched against him, and still, he held her firm against his wicked mouth as he savored her pleasure, bringing her carefully not quite to the shore, but within sight of it. Only then did he lift his face from her. His mouth glistened as he smiled teasingly at her, but all Olline could think was how glorious he looked kneeling between her legs.
Without delay, he shoved his pants down, his erection already at her entrance, as he lifted her hips with him as he stood. His hands cupped her ass, spreading her wide before him so he could marvel at the entirety of her.
She looked up at him, at how devastatingly beautiful he was with her wetness all over that perfect mouth. He looked down at her, his gaze greedy on her bare breasts, her face, and yet, he hesitated. “I want you, Olline,” he said, his voice gravelly with desire. “I want you so badly all the time.”
Olline knew he wasn’t just talking about the obvious, but fuck if she didn’t want him filling her up again right now . Regardless, she didn’t need to think of her answer.
“I want you, Casimir. I forgive you.” Like a healing balm spread over her, merely speaking the words aloud had a radiant glow of adoration heating her bruised and battered heart. “And I’ll happily take all of you.”
He smiled, he wasn’t oblivious to the innuendo and in one swift movement; he thrust himself into her. At this angle, he was able to hit deeper than he had before, and even before he found that perfect rolling rhythm of his, she was already moaning in ecstasy.
He held her hips up as he thrust deeply into her, all the way to the base of his long cock each time. Always so careful and gentle with her, like he was apologizing with every roll of his hips. Soon his careful, torturously slow, steady thrusts, where she felt every single glorious inch of him before slamming back in, picked up in speed and tempo.
Casimir was about to lose himself completely.
“No,” she said, her words mixed with a moan. He slowed but didn’t stop, and she propped herself up. “Together,” she panted, pulling him down onto the bed and flipping herself onto him so she was straddling his hips. “I want to watch you cum with me this time,” she said, repositioning herself to take him again.
She rode him mercilessly. Her hips rocked in hard, quick motions. Casimir’s fingers dug into her hips and thighs as his own orgasm quickly approached. He threw his head back, biting his lip, trying to make it last, but Olline was too close again to stop. The friction from grinding on him was too much and soon she was calling his name again, and he was lifting his hips to meet her, thrusting deeper until there was nothing but him and her and them together, connected.
“Olline,” he cried her name, a gasp, a prayer of ecstasy as they climaxed together.
He twitched beneath her and Olline lowered herself, covering him with her body, careful with her bandaged hands. Casimir wrapped his arms around her, holding her in place, neither moving until sleep claimed them.
Olline woke with Casimir lightly sliding her black and deep jade hair through his fingers, twirling the strands idly before running through her hair again. Olline sighed contentedly and draped her arm over his chest, snuggling into his warm, firm side. He nuzzled the top of her head with his chin, inhaling deeply, as if he couldn’t believe this was all real.
Same, Cas .
For as much as she wanted to have this moment be the only one that mattered for the rest of all time, the creeping vine that was her anxiety twisted through her. She had been deep in a healing sleep for so long before, well, before. She couldn’t avoid reality any longer, nor did she really want to. Too much was at stake still to ignore what had happened to Etzel Straub, and their part in his downfall and murder—there was no prettying that up, even if the bastard deserved what Casimir did to him.
As Olline searched for the right words to break this beautiful moment of serenity, she slipped a leg between Casimir’s, letting their feet touch and rub together. It was such an innocent gesture that Olline was surprised by how Casimir reciprocated the movement. It made it easier to ask, “Did Delora do it then? Did she enact the killware? Is it . . . over?”
Casimir didn’t answer for about three seconds, which felt like thirty years to Olline, who couldn’t help but hold her breath through the silence. He stretched an arm out of the bed, careful not to move Olline away from him, as if any loss of her skin against his would be an unspeakable crime. He placed one of her holo-tablets on the bed next to them, its screen still dark.
“Find a news feed,” was all Casimir said.
She didn’t even need Casimir to specify which news feed. Delora Peralta’s face was everywhere Olline looked.
She wore a pristine red and white pantsuit during the press conference, which complimented her ebony skin and the black halo of her curls, making her look like some avenging angel—Olline was certain that she did it on purpose. The news ticker under her listed lawsuit after lawsuit, violation after violation, and all the names of the corporations and biomagitech developers tangled up in Etzel’s web of corruption, blackmail, and even murder. Delora didn’t mention how she got the evidence, she didn’t need to. With Etzel dead, it allowed the Under Senator to expedite her proceedings, no longer needing to tread carefully lest Straub catch wind of what she was up to. Standing around her were some of the victims Etzel had used his control chips on; she only knew because she spotted Sofia, Isobel, and even Bode lurking in the back.
Olline opened several tabs containing different feeds, some showed Delora detailing all the crimes, others had anchors commentating on Delora’s findings, and some showed live footage of investigators pouring through one of Etzel’s sky- towers, and clearing debris from the bunker basement Olline had collapsed on Etzel’s body. She got snippets here and there, but all the sources said the same thing: Etzel was being charged, posthumously, of severe corruption crimes against the city-state of Antal, and capital offense crimes against the ninety-three people he had implanted with illegal biomagitech control chips. Those people had been used to blackmail, coerce, and murder a nearly unimaginable number of people and corporations alike over the years.
One of the news feeds she maximized was a loop of Delora making a big show of running Olline’s killware. Olline nearly cried with relief, and she hugged Casimir all the tighter, knowing that, while she had sabotaged his chip personally, everyone like him was free now, too.
She searched, but there was no mention of Etzel being murdered. Olline breathed easier at that. Delora seemed to go with the cover story they had left her, and whether she knew the truth, or chose not to look into the circumstances around the room collapse and his death, it didn’t matter. The result was the same: Casimir was free. They all were.
Olline sighed, letting the feeds run as she turned to look up at Casimir. “You didn’t want to be there for the press conference? None of this would have happened without you. Antal should know you exist and thank you for ending Etzel’s corruption.”
Casimir gave her an unreadable look for a moment, then shook his head, a faint smile on his face. “And miss being here when you woke up? Perish the thought, darling.” She rolled her eyes at him, despite the heat of her blush.
“I’m serious!” she said, tracing the lines of his muscles around his chest and shoulder. “You deserve to be standing there beside Delora.”
Casimir didn’t answer. Instead, he flicked to another news feed, one Olline had minimized earlier to look at the investigators pouring through Etzel’s building. On this news feed, people complicit with Etzel’s plans were being arrested. Some names and faces were familiar, sending a coldness through her that shouldn’t have shocked her: her supervisor, Karter Wayser, was named, as was the IT personnel he had brought to her office, Camirin. However, what shocked her the most was that the security guard, Brayden, hadn’t been listed. Seemed like he was just “following orders”. Thankfully, Briallea Jensen’s name didn’t come up anywhere, and Olline made a mental note to reach out to the friendly woman when she was well enough to see her. She was about to ask what she was looking for when she saw him .
Kullen Everhart.
She barely recognized him; he bore so little resemblance to Casimir. Kullen was like sour milk compared to Casimir’s marble physique. It was clear Kullen had lived a rough life; he looked ancient even though he wasn’t terribly older than Casimir. Still, Olline couldn’t even pretend to feel sympathy for that walking hemorrhoid.
The holo-tickertape at the bottom listed him, as well as a dozen others, as accomplices that had sold people to Etzel in order to get out of their own debts. Olline’s stomach twisted, and she searched Casimir’s face, looking for . . . she didn’t know. Regardless of her condition, it made sense why he wouldn’t want to be around when his brother was arrested. Casimir still had thorny feelings around his big brother, to put it mildly. Feelings he would need to address one day, feelings he could finally heal from now that his brother would face justice.
Olline propped herself up on her elbow, resting a hand on Casimir’s chest, wishing the bandage wasn’t separating her from the full force of his heartbeat—which was beating calm and steady beneath her palm. “Are you all right?”
He covered her hand with his and gave her one of his slow, sleepy smiles that melted her insides every single time. “I am. And I’ve you to thank for that. For the first time in over a century, I’m me again.”