31. Chapter 31
31
Chapter 31
August
Winnie struggled with the button on my breeches, her fingers fumbling slightly before she glanced up at me, a flicker of determination crossing her features.
I gently moved her hands to the side so I could unbutton them for her as I took deep breaths trying to calm myself.
When my cock bulged out, she took in the sight before raising her eyes back to mine. Her emerald, siren-like eyes made my breath hitch in my throat. A smile formed on her lips as if she knew exactly what she was doing to me.
She dragged her tongue slowly up my length, her movements deliberate, her gaze flicking up to meet mine, a mixture of mischief and intent in her eyes.
Fuck me.
Her grip tightened on my thighs, her nails digging in just slightly as she opened her mouth and took me in. Her lashes fluttered briefly, and I caught the way her shoulders relaxed, as if settling into the moment .
Yeah, she knew exactly what she was doing.
Her motions were slow, and it had me gripping the arms of the chair to keep myself from unraveling. Every touch from her ignited a part of me that had never felt so alive. She grabbed the base as she quickened her motions causing some of her hair to fall into her face. I reached down to sweep it away, and when I did, her eyes locked onto mine. My grip on her hair tightened, forcing a moan from her lips, and I couldn’t hold back any longer.
I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her on top of me, pushing myself into her with one quick thrust. I groaned when I realized just how ready she was for me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me so deeply that I forgot how to breathe for a second. She matched my pace as her fingers trailed into my hair.
“Harder,” she moaned against my lips.
Fuck, my Winnie liked it rough.
Our ragged breaths mixed together as she clenched around my length and yelled, “August!”
Gods alive, my name had never sounded so good. I could listen to her say it a million times and never grow tired of it. My pace quickened as I trailed kisses up her neck. I could smell only her scent for the rest of my existence and never want anything else.
Between the kisses, I ran my teeth across her neck, fighting for control of that part of myself that wanted nothing more than to taste her again. Every inch of her seemed to pull me further into something I couldn’t name—something dangerous. She was fire and gravity all at once, and I hated the way she unraveled me. My grip on her waist tightened, not just to hold her closer, but to steady myself. I wanted to lose myself in her, to let her consume every thought and impulse, but the darker part of me whispered caution. A line was forming between want and need, between control and surrender. I wasn’t sure which side I stood on anymore.
“Do it,” she panted as my teeth grazed her skin.
“What?”
She pushed my head into her neck, urging me to bite her, and it was like every wall I’d built around myself cracked. My fangs extended, instinct roaring louder than reason, and for a moment, I wondered if I would stop once I started. I bit her and something between a gasp and a moan escaped her lips as she pushed my cock deeper into her. Her blood sang to me, rich and intoxicating, and I hated myself for how much I craved it.
How much I craved her.
Her grip tightened in my hair as her body grew still, and she clenched around me once more. Between her moans, her blood, and her wrapped around me, I followed her into release.
After our breaths slowed and the warmth of her body faded slightly, I sat in silence, staring at her. The fire’s glow cast flickering shadows across the room, but my focus remained entirely on her in my lap. She looked impossibly serene, yet the chaos she brought into my life was anything but. Her dark hair shimmered like raven’s wings, her emerald eyes sharp and piercing, and her full lips, soft and inviting, curved as if she knew more than she let on.
I knew I should speak, should address the swirling thoughts tangling in my mind, but for a moment, I simply let myself exist in the quiet tension that always seemed to surround her. Every time I looked at her, I felt that dangerous pull—the one that made me forget everything except her. But tonight, I couldn’t let that pull blind me. Not again. I inhaled deeply, steadying myself as I stood, bringing her with me, and wrapping a blanket around her.
After walking to the desk, I spread the journal open on the desk and flipped to a section near the middle, running my finger along a line of cryptic script.
“I was going through this last night,” I said as Winnie came to stand at my side. “I think these are spells. I can’t make sense of them, but I thought you might be able to.”
Last night after Winnie left me and I regained a sliver of composure after what had happened, I fumbled through several pages of Carrow’s life before he came to Joveryn. My hands had trembled as I turned the pages, her presence still a hum in my veins. Each passage I read seemed to echo with a truth I wasn’t ready to face, the words blurring as my thoughts drifted back to her.
A fae who was once immortal but powerless, consumed by greed and determined to find a way to become stronger. He stole from a witch in Alentara who eventually found him and cursed him. He spent the next year trying to find a witch to help him, but word had gotten out about him, and no one in Alentara would help.
His knowledge of magic was extensive, and he understood the spell required to regain immortality. Yet, without the necessary tools or power, he remained unable to perform it, his ambitions thwarted by his limitations.
She leaned over my shoulder as she scanned the text, her brows knitting together in concentration. Her fingers lightly traced one of the symbols, her movements hesitant but purposeful, as though she were trying to unravel its secrets. Her scent wrapped around me, jasmine mingling with the faint remnants of our earlier closeness, clouding my thoughts. The tension between us hadn’t faded—it clung to the air like smoke, impossible to ignore. I wanted her again, and that terrified me. I tried to focus on the symbols, but the pull she had on me made it nearly impossible.
She nodded, her lips pressing into a thoughtful line. “They’re spells,” she said, her voice quiet, almost reverent, as though speaking the words aloud carried weight. Her finger brushed over a strange symbol. “But they aren’t any I’ve studied before. These must be the spells Carrow brought with him from Alentara. The ones he used to make himself immortal.”
I stilled, a sense of relief forming over me after finally finding something that might be helpful. “So this is it,” I murmured. “This is how he did it.”
Winnie turned the page, the parchment crackling softly under her hand. The next set of symbols was more intricate, woven together in a pattern that felt both ancient and dangerous. Winnie’s eyebrows furrowed, seeming to not understand anything on the page, but one symbol had me placing my hand on hers, preventing her from turning the page again.
My heart pounded, the weight of the moment pressing heavily against my chest as the realization took shape. The air between us felt charged, the unspoken truth hanging there, ready to shatter whatever fragile balance we’d maintained. My lips parted, the words catching in my throat as I fought against the storm of emotions threatening to consume me. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind—what this would mean, what she would do—but I knew I couldn’t hold it back any longer. Finally, I whispered, “Delvaux.”
Winnie stiffened beside me, her heart rate racing. “What did you say?”
I turned slowly as I studied her. “Delvaux,” I repeated. “Your ancestor . . . she was the witch who cast this spell. She’s the one who made Carrow immortal.”
She shifted her eyes to the candle burning on the desk, her hand curling slightly against the edge of the journal. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, I thought she might deny it, might try to bury whatever truth I’d just uncovered. But the flicker in her eyes betrayed her—a mixture of guilt and resolve she couldn’t quite mask. Her heart rate continued to climb, a subtle tremor betraying the calm expression she tried to maintain.
I realized it then—the way her shoulders tensed, the flicker of hesitation in her movements, and the way her lips parted slightly, as if preparing to speak but deciding against it. The name I had spoken wasn’t a revelation to her; it was a wound she’d carried in silence, festering in the shadows of her determination. She already knew. She’d known long before I said the name. The guilt and resignation were written all over her face, even as she tried to focus on the flame. It was the kind of knowing that weighed heavy, a burden she had carried in silence, and now I had spoken it aloud, leaving no place for her to hide.
“You knew already,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.
Her shoulders straightened, her gaze snapping to mine with a sharpness that caught me off guard. Her emerald eyes burned with defiance, but beneath it, I saw the edges of vulnerability—the fear of what this connection might mean, of what I might think of her now. “Yes. Why does it matter that she is my ancestor? All that matters is that I find and kill Carrow.”
I stopped, running a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling to the surface. I took deep breaths to calm myself because no matter how much it aggravated me that she kept this from me, all that mattered was that I knew now.
And it wasn’t like I was telling her the entire truth either.
I turned to her again, her features sharp as if she was waiting for me to say something so she could explode on me. Instead, I cupped her face, the connection making her slightly jump in surprise before I whispered, “And to think you couldn’t be any more perfect.”