CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HAVEN
Soft, steady breaths escaped Rozlyn’s shapely lips as she slumbered beside Haven. He’d managed to slip briefly into sleep after having not slept well during the day. And perhaps Rozlyn had struggled with the same issue before they’d left the tower since she’d fallen asleep almost as soon as she’d crawled into bed. He looked toward the window, where darkness still reigned. The sun would rise at any moment, so if they remained at Nightshade’s manner, he wanted to leave as soon as possible. Two years was fucking long enough to wait.
Haven’s original plan had been to come into Nightshade’s room, fuck Rozlyn on the ferryman’s bed, and be finished in mere moments. But when the words should we begin left her plump lips, he hadn’t wanted sex to be fast and done with. He hadn’t fucked anyone in two years and he’d deserved an orgasm that would satisfy him.
The marquis hadn’t desired to only please himself, but her . How many times had Rozlyn been rewarded as a courtesan when pricks came to her requesting only their lengths be sucked or a quick cock to a warm pussy? As her hot mouth so brilliantly catered to Haven’s cock with such precision and focus, he’d only thought of her, not Vivienne. He’d tried to imagine Vivienne’s tongue swirling up his length, but he fucking couldn’t. And then he’d wanted to feel Rozlyn’s slick folds with his fingers, and it hadn’t only been him, his shadows had demanded to touch her too.
Sex with Vivienne had been damn good, but with Rozlyn, it was utterly gratifying. More pleasurable. He hadn’t known how refreshing a courtesan could be. But that didn’t matter—it was only lust. His match was what he needed, and after the night spent with Rozlyn, it would make him and Vivienne even. Haven wouldn’t regret not thinking of her when fucking Rozlyn. As Vivienne was riding Adham to orgasm, Haven knew good and well that she wasn’t thinking of him.
Pathetic .
As temptation got the best of him, Haven cast a glance at Rozlyn, her parted lips, the swells of her breasts peeking out from the neckline of her dress. If she’d remained unclothed, he knew he would’ve given in and taken her again, fucked her until they were lying in tangled ruins. He regretted not tasting her sweet pussy. And her mouth … but he wouldn’t garner the flavor of her lips. For the match’s sake.
Haven’s gaze lingered on her form, and he wanted to curve his body around hers. He tightened his fists, then stood from the bed, knowing he would wake her for pleasure if he stayed there.
At Nightshade’s bedroom window, he waited for the sun to rise. Mist rolled beneath the orange orbs, and stars flecked the sky like sparkling jewels. The bastard had known better than to return. Haven didn’t want the ferryman looking at her again. But Nightshade would eventually see her every day… Because of the bargain.
Once Rozlyn roused from sleep, what would he say to her? He couldn’t admit that she would be given to the ferryman instead of returning to open her dress shop.
Haven white-knuckled the window sill—he didn’t owe a courtesan a damn thing. She’d willingly come to Haven, and while under his contract, he had the right to bargain her. Nightshade was who she would have to barter with for freedom, but deep down in his savage heart, he knew the ferryman would ensnare her forever because of her royal lineage. A bargain was a bargain, and even if Haven wanted to go back on the arrangement, Nightshade would deny him. There was nothing the immortal wanted more than power, and Rozlyn would give him that.
It wouldn’t matter to him how many men Rozlyn had fucked either since the ferryman had pleasured countless more. Perhaps they were a match in their own right. A bastard princess and a bastard half-god whose parents hadn’t chosen to keep them.
Haven gritted his teeth as he imagined Nightshade yanking on Rozlyn’s hair as he thrust into her from behind, the way Haven had. His blood boiled, his heartbeat raging, and he torched the thought before it consumed him.
“The sun is rising.” Rozlyn yawned.
Morning light spilled through the window, and he’d been caught too much inside his own head to take fucking notice of the thing that truly mattered.
He turned to face Rozlyn, watching as she stretched her arms. Her breasts lifted higher, and he bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted metal and looked back out the window. One fuck. That is all that will ever happen between us. No more.
Haven opened his locket to see if there was a possibility he wouldn’t need Rozlyn’s hair, that maybe he could send her back to the tower so he wouldn’t be tempted to take her again. But the lock of hair from the day before had turned gold, while the more recent one was still ruby red. A part of him was pleased that he still needed her.
Fabric rustled, and Haven found Rozlyn digging into her satchel and fishing out a pair of scissors. Though he hadn’t demanded it of her yet, she snipped a piece of her hair, then placed it into his palm with a smile. “Here.”
Haven furrowed his brow as he studied her bright expression. Why was she smiling at him? She’d never once had a joyous expression when it came to cutting her hair. It hadn’t mattered if it grew back afterward. Being free from the tower must’ve made the small sacrifice worthwhile for her.
He snapped his locket shut. “Gather your things. We’re leaving.”
“How far is the castle from here?” she asked as she slipped her satchel’s strap over her head.
“Two or three days. I won’t be flying the entire way, so prepare yourself for a long walk when instructed. Do as I say and don’t do anything foolish,” Haven said, holding her gaze.
Rozlyn bounced as she struggled to pull her second boot on. “Being curious isn’t always foolish.”
Haven rolled his eyes. He noticed a long tendril of hair hung near her eye, and he caught himself when he lifted his hand to brush it behind her ear. “Tie your hair back up and meet me downstairs.”
Rozlyn gathered the pins that had fallen on the floor the night before. She appeared unfazed that they’d fucked, but why would she? The sun was shining and they weren’t trapped in the tower.
Even though Haven’s thirst had subsided, he drank from his flask as he descended the stairs. The burn was exactly what he needed to push away the memories of the night before.
Now that it was dawn, Nightshade would be hard at work. By now, he was already at his gondola, tediously rowing spirits across the lake.
A few moments later, Rozlyn met Haven near the porch, her scarlet hair drawn back, revealing her round face. The sun’s rays highlighted her soft and delicate features more than ever.
“Hold onto me as you did yesterday,” Haven instructed. He told himself it was so he could use his hands if necessary, but selfishly, it was to have her body flush with his, even if he wouldn’t allow it to lead to fucking.
“Let’s see if I get used to the nightmare of falling to my death,” she said as she wrapped her arms around him, then circled his hips with her legs.
“Perhaps if you kept your eyes open,” Haven drawled. But he had to admit she’d faced her fears well when he’d flown her the prior night. She hadn’t argued or complained.
As Rozlyn adjusted her hold on him, her breasts rubbing his chest, he swallowed deeply. His hands veered down to her backside to hold her steady, and he released the gargoyle part of him. With one crack of his wings, he took off into the cloudy sky.
In the distance, the mist grew thicker, making it harder for him to see what rested before them. Rozlyn trembled, but she kept quiet, taking everything in stride. As he thought about it, Rozlyn was the only woman he’d ever carried. Not once had Vivienne flown in his arms across this court, only beside him in her raven form. He’d never asked her, even though he’d wanted to fuck in the air a time or two.
For hours, Haven soared Rozlyn past flat landscape and over several dried-up lakes. He only took a break here and there so they could stretch their muscles. Rozlyn’s stitching had worked well on his wings as though they’d never been torn. As they traveled through heavy mist, his vision straining, a foul stench pierced the air, far bolder than the bog had been.
“It smells like rotten meat,” Rozlyn said, burying her nose into his shoulder.
“This is pleasant compared to some of the places further west.” He smirked.
A soft bite came at his shoulder, and he fought a smile. Before he could say anything, thunder rumbled and lightning snaked across the sky.
Fuck ! They were still a good distance from the abandoned cottage he planned to rest in. Lightning illuminated the sky again in pinks and oranges. Rozlyn gripped him tighter and Haven wound his arms around her waist. The gods’ power was something Haven’s sorcery was no match against.
“Should we go down?” Rozlyn shouted over another boom of thunder.
Haven descended, searching for shelter. In the distance, a manor slipped into view. He’d never spent the night in it before, but he’d been inside on one occasion when he was younger. The sorceress who’d once lived there had embedded parts of her spirit into the walls. Remnants of her spelled objects lingered, making the visit unpredictable and potentially dangerous. The stay would be much smoother than a storm in Souldark though.
He soared toward the manor, finding it nowhere near as lush as the place where he generally stayed. All of the windows were cracked, broken, or completely gone. Paint chipped from the green shutters that still managed to cling to the siding, and the roof had a gaping hole. The porch was empty, the gardens full of rows of dead bushes.
Droplets of rain began to fall from the sky just before he landed near the door. “We’ll sleep here for the night,” he announced.
Rozlyn slid from Haven’s body, and he released his shadows to put barriers across the windows and roof. As Haven and Rozlyn stood beneath the porch, the sky opened and heavy rain poured from its gray depths. He ignored the storm and unlocked the door with his shadow, then stepped over the threshold first so he could monitor and locate any corrupt sorcery. The manor looked just as it had when he went inside years ago.
Rozlyn peered around the home, her mouth agape, and her doe eyes shining. “Everything is upside down in here. I love it!” Cups, jars, books, the table—anything and everything. Above them, various-sized jars were stuck to the ceiling’s entirety.
“Love it?” He arched a brow. It looked like a clustered fucking disaster.
“Yes!” she chirped.
“It used to belong to a sorceress of the Shaderain Court.” He shrugged. “It was rumored she was mad and altered animals using her spelled objects. A chicken with the legs of a goat and the body of a mule, for one. She’d tried it on people too, including a young prince, which was one of the many reasons why she was shunned from the court. A bit boorish to use one’s sorcery in that way if you ask me.”
Rozlyn gasped. “That’s positively frightening, especially if it were my head being swapped with that of a goat! Would my mind be inside the goat, or would the goat’s mind be mine?”
“That all depends on what the sorcery wielder chooses. Would you like me to try?” He lifted a hand.
“No! And that better have been a jest.”
“I never jest.” Haven smirked. “Now, come on.”
Rozlyn followed him down the hall where paintings of mutilated animals hung upside down. As they reached a dusty staircase, she asked, “What is the Souldark village like where the lord lives?”
“Cottages, markets, a castle. But once a sorcerer or sorceress takes a home in the village, they aren’t allowed to leave.” It was one of the reasons Haven had never chosen to live there when Adham offered him a cottage. Before the lord had fucked Vivienne. Now he wondered if the offer was made simply so Vivienne would be closer.
Rozlyn tilted her head. “Why?”
“Because the lord says so,” Haven grumbled when they reached the top of the stairs. It was a tradition that had been passed down through the generations. Supposedly it kept the court safer, but to Haven it was a way to keep the villagers tamed.
“Is he a good man?” Rozlyn placed a palm over Haven’s mouth as he scowled. “Besides the situation that happened with Vivienne.”
“You mean besides him fucking my match,” Haven said after removing Rozlyn’s dainty hand from his lips.
“Yes, that.” Rozlyn winced.
Haven thought about his journeys to the Souldark Castle over the years. He’d been eleven when he first met the twenty-one-year-old lord. Adham had always been demanding of the villagers, but he hadn’t been cruel, at least not to those surrounding his castle. The rest of Souldark he didn’t give a fuck about and left it for Nightshade to deal with. Spirits didn’t matter to the lord in the least—it was just something he’d inherited when his father died.
“He’s a fucking selfish bastard who shouldn’t be in charge of any court,” Haven spat.
“And you wouldn’t be selfish if you were a lord?” Rozlyn asked, cocking her head.
He arched a brow. “I’m always a selfish bastard, and I don’t pretend otherwise.”
Haven knew exactly what he was doing, and he would never go back on his plan. A weak-minded sorcerer wouldn’t be the perfect match for anyone. As for the court, he only wanted it to impress Vivienne.
Haven’s thumb ring warmed, and he looked down, watching as it changed from black to white. Haven wasn’t a fortune teller by any means, but he assumed that meant the remnants were awakening. Something not quite dead and not quite alive. He would create a spelled barrier in a room to keep the fuckers out.
Swishing echoed from behind the closed doors in the hallway, all but one near the end, and his ring darkened as they approached. He threw it open, and a set of stairs ascended before him that led to the attic.
Rozlyn clenched her dagger, not a hint of fear in her eyes.
A dagger would do nothing against this magic. But he would make damned sure his sorcery did.