Chapter 7 #2
Lucas flails on the bed with an “Oh shit,” getting caught in the blankets before he wrenches himself free enough to sit up.
The sheet twists around his hips as he hovers awkwardly over my supine, sobbing form, his fingers splayed like I’m a curse for him to tease apart.
The despair in his face produces a choked laugh from me.
His bandage is soaked and in desperate need of changing, but he ignores it, his eyes scanning me.
“Fuck, Tor, I’m sorry. I was being stupid.
I thought you’d laugh. I swear. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Nothing says sexy like woven cotton.”
I shake my head and pant desperate breaths to try to get control of my voice. I rasp, “Lucas, you lost your hat.” I gasp for air, my voice transforming into a warbling wail. “It’s probably spider food by nooooooow!”
He stills before bursting into a joyful laugh. It almost stops my crying, but I’m on a roll. The release of my emotions is like a tsunami, washing me away with all the wreckage of my life.
Lucas’ relaxed body sidles next to me and I’m pulled into a tight embrace.
I pant, huffing against his chest and beg, “More.” Lucas’ arms tighten, one sliding around my middle and the other slipping up my spine to tangle his fingers in my rats’ nest of long hair.
I gasp in breaths that taste like him, body vibrating against the hard strength of his frame.
Lying limp, my sobbing subsides into sniffling as his warmth soaks through the iciness of my skin. Finally, my bones thaw.
His leg slides around mine, hooking at my calf, so our feet touch. My eyes close, and I nearly moan into the comforting embrace that’s held me for four years, one that I almost lost for a chance to read a Dual Thread grimoire.
My eyes burn anew. I squeeze them shut and push them against Lucas’ neck. I shift minutely, trying to get even closer, and my thigh slides farther between his. The edge of my chemise rides up and my bare thigh brushes something.
My eyes blink open. “Are you…” My eyes widen. “Are you naked?”
He shrugs in answer.
“Ew! Lucas!” I try to smack him, but only manage a flop, with my palm colliding into his pec. It stays there, my fingers playing with his chest hair. It shouldn’t be nearly as fascinating as it is and I cover my blush with snark. “Your man bits are everywhere.”
He rumbles a response. “Yes, but now I know you don’t mind man bits.”
My face grows hotter. It was much easier to hide when he thought I was only attracted to women.
But instead of pressing his advantage, Lucas shifts his hips away, and it’s so considerate that a fresh wave of tears washes over me.
I sniffle, eyes swelling in an unseemly manner.
He pulls me back to his neck and I grumble, “Your shoulder is gross.”
“Like I give a shit. Come here.” He tightens his arms, bringing my head to his clean side. Jinx must’ve washed him while I was unconscious because he smells fresh, his natural scent filling my nose. It gives me the strength for what I must say next.
“The Arachnomicon is trapped in the basement.” My words are barely more than a harsh whisper.
Lucas nods, combing my tangled hair gently. “I figured.”
He rests his head against mine and it’s so soothing that I almost lose my will to continue. But I have no choice. “The venom.” My breath shivers and I brace for impact. “It has a prolonged effect. It’s weakened your magic.”
He pauses. His hand disentangles from my hair to lift for him to study his rings. They glow before sputtering and dying. “For how long?”
“A few days with proper rest. Maybe more. Your body needs time to heal.” Lucas tenses.
I ramble on, unsure how to comfort him. “Being a magician saved you. The Entropy properties of the venom feed off magic in the blood. If you were a weaver, if it had bitten me, I would’ve died before reaching the top of the stairs.
But your magic is from your rings. It’s going to make the connection to them unstable while you heal. ”
“Hm.” He works his jaw, his fingers rippling. “What a very specific venom…”
I shudder violently; the sensation of the spider’s legs dragging me is inescapable.
Something dark twists in my gut. Lucas’ insinuation sinks deep into my psyche.
Yes, the venom could be a very clever defense against other priests back before the rules of magic were in effect.
But to be hired for an acquisition for a deadly grimoire that can transform into a weaver-killing spider at the same time the Order has discovered me…
That would make it a very clever, dastardly trap set by the type of coward my father is.
He would try to kill me without bothering to face me himself.
My eyes narrow and my body tightens. I’m going to have a very long conversation with Mr. Solomon Nightingale when he arrives to pick up his book. The kind of conversation that has given my basement a monster-under-the-bed kind of reputation within the Guild.
Lucas’ warmth disappears as he abandons my bed to sway dangerously to his feet. I gasp, flopping painfully after him. Fuck, my chest feels like it’s been punched and I only manage an inelegant sprawl. My voice cracks horribly when I yell, “Get into bed, idiot!”
Lucas snatches the bedpost to steady himself. “I’m fine.”
He’s not, but the words die in my throat.
Holy fuck, Lucas Flint is naked. My lips part as I take him in from head to toe and back again.
He is a chiseled masterpiece of masculinity.
No matter how many times I’ve seen him undressed while meticulously patching him back together, he always manages to catch my breath.
I shake my head harshly to clear it. “Where are you going? You can’t even walk.”
Lucas waves me off. “I just needed a moment to get stable. See? I’m fine.” He nods towards my bathroom door. “I’m going to clean up.”
I counter, “You’re already clean.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t awake to enjoy it.” He nods towards the door and adds, “Care to join me? The things I can do with a sponge will have you begging for more.”
His tone holds his usual brand of playfulness, and yet my body reacts as if it were a true invitation.
Temptation sweeps through me in a sinful wave, warmth flooding my center as pleasurable awareness purrs within me.
My gaze dips down indecently. Fuck, he’d probably be an amazing lay.
The power in him, the dexterity of his hands from working his magic.
Not to mention the impressive size of him…
I bite my lip, forgetting myself.
Lucas’ head cocks, his eyes lighting. My heart pounds as he turns towards me, his hand still gripping the post of my bed.
His voice has a huskiness that wasn’t there before and goosebumps ripple over me.
“Perhaps a good cleaning could ease some of this…” His smile curls and, holy fuck, this is going to be hard to say no to. “… unbearable tension.”
I bite my lip harder to keep the humiliation of gasping a desperate yes at bay. My one saving grace is that I’m too weak to throw the blankets off myself and spread my thighs wide in invitation.
Lucas steps closer and his playfulness almost breaks my resolve. “We could have one of those purely platonic baths I’ve heard so much about.”
A memory stirs of another life in another bath. Valen’s bath. The massive claw-footed tub held both of us easily, his musician’s hands sliding over me in perfect rhythm. A strawberry caught between his lips. My body arching over as I took a juicy, sweet bite.
My throat works, almost tasting the expensive wine we stole from his father’s cellars for the occasion.
But Valen probably loathes me now.
My heart pangs. The sadness is frustrating, and the guilt makes it worse. Guilt from stealing from Valen and guilt that I’m looking at Lucas and thinking of another man.
I force a playful smile. “A tempting offer, and I’m sure you’re an excellent back washer, but no.”
Lucas’ expression is careful as he scans me and my stomach drops. Can he tell something is wrong? But before he can ask whatever question formed in his mind, a feral growl from the stairs interrupts us.
Jinx stalks forward in her humanoid form, patchy fur raised. “Get your ass back in bed before I tie you to the headboard.”
Lucas turns from me and my shoulders sag in relief. He gives Jinx a wry grin. “Bet you’d love that.”
Jinx scowls. “Please take what I’m about to say very seriously. If you touch me, I will vomit. Now get back in bed.”
“Then please take what I’m about to say very seriously… No.” Lucas smirks wickedly when Jinx hisses. With a wink that is more attractive than it has any right to be, he limps off to disappear into the bathroom.
Door shut and water running, I lock eyes with Jinx.
Those cat eyes scan me, hard and disappointed. “You can barely move.”
“Yeah, but I can talk.” I try a smile. “And I slept well. And look.” I lift my hand to hover it shakily two inches off the bed. “See? Look at that.” It flops back down with a thud. “Where’s my gold medal?”
Jinx is unmoved. “It’s not a good sign that you’re still so debilitated even after proper sleep. I know you won’t listen, but I must say it anyway.” I shift under Jinx’s intense stare. Her voice lowers. “You have too many parasitic spells to maintain, and you must stop feeding them.”
I roll my eyes. So overprotective. “Jinx, it’s fine. I fed the shop with the excess magic from the inventory. It barely took a nibble from—”
Her fangs flash. “If only that was the limit to your insanity! You think I do not know? I live within your soul, child. I know you fed the curse without me. And worse! You ripped from it mid-feed and immediately went into battle. You cannot do that, Astoria! Your threads are unbalanced enough as it is.”
My eyes are wide, my heart thundering as I defend myself. “How was I to know the spider—” Her glare cuts me off and I swallow before trying again, “I admit that it was shortsighted, but so much of the situation was beyond my control. I’ll be more careful.”
Jinx rubs her temples before continuing.
“You’re damn lucky you didn’t die instantly.
Now your grimoire is out of reach, with no way to commune with it.
You’ll start to feel the strain from the curse and your threads will become unbalanced when one begins to become dominant with no way to ease the burden. ”
I try to speak, but Jinx cuts me off. Sorrow softens the shifter’s gaze, her voice dropping. “What if I’m not able to save you next time? I cannot lose you, Astoria.”
I hesitate, and Jinx turns away from me.
Her voice is still low, a stark contrast to my familiar’s usual prickly tone.
“I’m going to check downstairs and make sure all the wards are holding.
Stay in bed. I’m serious. Don’t test me, or you’ll risk more than my temper.
The moment you are better, by my assessment, we will journey into your heart to evaluate the state of your threads.
Then we’ll know how much shit we’re in.”
All I can do is nod and watch my familiar disappear down the stairs, a fresh new layer of guilt adding to my growing pile.