Chapter Five - Leigh
Once I know no one from the party is following me, tension lifts from my shoulders. I slow down to catch my breath, exhaling a long sigh, relieved to finally be alone.
Ravi needs my help to find the right spell in Aradia’s journals to close the portal. The answer is hidden somewhere in them; we just need to focus long enough to find it before dawn. If we don’t—
Calloused hands brush my hair as something silky is placed over my eyes, stealing my sight.
Adrenaline sizzles beneath my skin. Before I can call for help, a deep, familiar voice whispers, “Where are you running off to, princess?”
My breath trips over itself at the hot and rough sound. Wilder.
“Well?” he presses, drawing the blindfold snug. His hands are all control, his body heat steady behind me.
My fingers explore the fabric—soft, smooth, decadent. “What are you doing?” My voice is unsteady as he walks me backward, my back pressed to his chest, his pulse as untroubled as ever. He always does this. Wilder’s always calm while I’m a bundle of nerves. “Where are you taking me?”
Urgency nags at the edge of my mind—portal, wedding, Gianna’s endless to-do list. I can’t afford to get distracted, not tonight.
Yet, with just a few words, he has me trembling with anticipation.
Damn him. He blurs my world at the edges, leaving only himself in sharp focus.
There’s so much left to do before tomorrow, yet everything feels insignificant when I am in his presence.
I should tell him to stop messing around, to let me go, insist I need to go to bed, but I’m also curious about what he wants and longing to stay close to him, as always.
“You’ll see,” he practically purrs.
“How? I can’t see shit.”
Wilder chuckles.
“Wilder.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
I give a slow nod. Of course I do. Doesn’t he realize I’d trust him with my life by now?
I’m keeping secrets, but it’s not about trust. It’s about protecting his happiness.
I haven’t seen him this carefree in ages.
I want it to stay that way. I refuse to let my actions ruin our wedding or our relationship. We’ve come too far.
There was a time when I feared what he’d do if he knew my secrets. Lunar Witches belonged to a hunted, persecuted magical sector, but Wilder chose me. Fell in love with me, shadows and all.
He’s the light to my darkness, and I would be rootless without him.
He must sense my mood shift. “I’m sorry I got caught up talking to Jax and the others. I swear our wedding takes precedence over work.” The concern in his voice sounds genuine.
Does he think I left the party because I saw him talking to his friends and assumed they were discussing Blade business? I frown. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Even if they were, it wouldn’t upset me.
Wilder stopped being a Blade, saying he did it for me, for us, even though I wish he hadn’t. I appreciate the gesture, but being a Blade was his passion. Still, he can’t be convinced that’s true. I’ve tried, but I could always try harder. I don’t want him waking up regretful five years from now.
“Maybe you should let me sleep,” I tease, “so you can go finish talking to Jax. Maybe there’s been a break in the case.”
He laughs—a dark, delectable sound. “Is this a test?”
“No.”
His grip on my hip feels deliciously possessive. “If you want me to show you just how badly I want you, I’ll do it.”
My foot catches on the hem of my dress, and I stumble, but Wilder’s hands on my arms tighten to steady me.
The Blades are patrolling; Ravi is on spell duty.
I can allow myself to be in love for five minutes, unless Wilder is planning some elaborate wedding scheme, and I am blindfolded as part of a prank.
“I’ve had enough socializing for tonight,” I murmur nervously.
He tsks. “Good, so have I. What I have planned is just for the two of us. And don’t lie and tell me you’re too tired. I’ve been waiting all night to get you alone.”
I stop thinking about portals and daemons. Nothing else matters except him.
Lust has my core clenching. “Are we still in the hallway? Can people see us?”
My hands reach for the blindfold, but Wilder captures my wrists. “Leave it. I like you like this.”
“Like what—”
“Vulnerable. Mine to bend and shape as I please.”
He kisses my neck, mouth lingering as I gasp. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Whatever the hell I want. Is that a problem?”
I bite my lip.
“Shouldn’t we go somewhere private …” I strain to listen, trying to hear beyond my thundering heart, searching for footsteps or laughter. But there’s only Wilder.
He presses closer. “Here’s fine.”
Wilder gathers the hem of my dress, sliding the silk up my thighs.
Cool air teases my naked flesh. No underwear—never possible with fabric this delicate—and now I’m startlingly, appetizingly bare.
He parts my thighs, his mouth at my ear, scraping teeth against my skin. I tremble for him, knees weak.
“Tell me if we are alone,” I breathe.
“Does it matter?” His fingers graze my slit, feeling the dampness there, and then a low, primal groan rumbles against my skin. I grow even wetter in response. “This is your house, your party, and you’re going to be my wife. Let them watch.”
I’m floating, moored only by Wilder’s touch as everything else disappears.
“O-okay,” I answer with a breathy moan. I’m unsure if I’m responding to his question or reacting to his claiming touch.
I should stop—queenly decorum, lingering responsibilities—but his thumb finds my clit, circling slow. All thought dissolves.
“I think you’re excited by being watched,” Wilder teases. “Look how wet you are for me.”
“People will talk,” I try, half-hearted—a whimper more than a demand.
“What did I say?” His smile is audible. He’s baiting me; he cares too much to really risk being caught.
His thumb keeps stroking, slow and persistent, igniting a fire within me. I breathe in his scent—earth and smoke, the essence of him—grounding as my body trembles.
One finger slips inside, then another, working me open. He’s unhurried, unrushed.
Wilder’s an expert cartographer, mapping my body with aching precision, charting every place that undoes me until I’m trembling, breathless, ready to beg.
The sounds that escape me are low; need swells with every movement of his hand.
He senses my struggle between want and constraint. “Don’t hide. Let me hear you.”
“Faster. I need you,” I gasp, shamelessly moving my hips to grind against him.
He circles my clit faster. I curse inwardly—decorum shredded.
“Oh, fuck,” I cry, voice raw as tension coils so tight I can barely breathe. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Wilder doesn’t stop. I grip the expensive material of his jacket. Wilder’s lips crash into mine, swallowing my wanton moans.
Fumbling blindly, I search for the button securing his pants. I’m desperate to touch him. Finding what I want, I slide my hand down to free him. My palm wraps around his hot, hard, heavy dick. He groans, sending shivers through my body.
“I thought you were nervous about people seeing?” he hisses. “Are you done being shy?”
I’m liquid magma. “Mm-hmm.”
Wilder’s laugh is triumphant. “Good. I want everyone to see how lovely you look when you come. Is that what you want?”
I know we’re alone. I know his games.
“Please,” I breathe, rocking my hips for friction, aching unbearably.
“I can’t say no to you.” He slides his fingers deep, curling until I let out a desperate sound that makes him do it again.
I gasp as he gently bites my lip, tugging it between his teeth. I’m speechless, just a wet, pulsating mess in his hands. He’s leaking pre-cum into my palm, craving more. Just like I am. I want to taste him.
“Your hands … gods …” I manage to gasp out, unsure if I even say it aloud.
“What about them?” Wilder grinds out, holding me so close I can’t escape.
I’m shaking, breath coming ragged. “Fill me,” I whisper, so needful it’s almost a sob. “I. Need. More. More than your fingers.”
I shriek as Wilder lifts me by my hips. My legs lock around him, my back hitting the wall hard enough to rattle paintings, and what was that other sound—books?
He fumbles between us, then lines up, notching his thick crown at my entrance.
He teases for just a moment—devilish—then thrusts in quickly but firmly, filling me to the brim.
We’ve been having sex for years, yet each time he enters me, the shock of fullness and the perfect contradiction that he could never quite fit but somehow always does catch me by surprise.
Wilder curses, clutching my hips, pressing into me. Both of us are caught in the moment, only breath, tension, and the delicious ache of him stretching me.
“You’re everything,” Wilder rasps. He moves his hips slowly at first, until he finds a steady rhythm. “So fucking tight … So perfect for me.”
He slams into me again and again, pinning me to the wall. My body arches with desperation as he drives faster, each thrust sending pleasure spiraling higher until I’m right on the verge of euphoria.
Wilder groans. “This is such a pretty dress.”
“Ruin it,” I gasp between words.
“What was that?” Wilder’s voice is thick with lust.
“Ruin me,” I demand, jerking my hips. “You’re so deep—I can feel you everywhere.”
For one wild, reckless heartbeat, I almost beg him to forget the brew, give in, fill me, and make me his in every way.
Let me carry a piece of him inside me. The craving burns sharp and bright.
We’ve whispered about a family in the dark, flirted with the idea, but neither of us is ready for that commitment—not yet.
He fucks me harder, and the wet slap of our bodies is wickedly indecent music that makes me clench around him, anticipating our dramatic finish.
My moans spiral higher, incoherent, nails digging into his shoulders as I build, and build—
“Leigh. You may want me to ruin you, but you’ve ruined me,” he pants, voice rough, hips stuttering.
I clench around him. Yes, right there.
“So close—I can’t—holy fuck …”
Wilder moves faster. “You can.” He’s solid inside me. “Come for me.”
Like a meteor, my climax is white hot. My inner walls clamp around him. Shuddering, I cry out as my release tears through me.
It doesn’t take much more time before Wilder’s hips jerk. His body tautens, and he twitches inside me, coming in hot, thick bursts. He groans, the jagged sound ripping from his throat, and he’s clutching me so tight I almost can’t breathe.
My heart is a galloping horse, yet the rest of me collapses, boneless in his grasp.
Wilder presses a soft kiss to my shoulder. “You know how to put on a show.”
“More like we do.”
Wilder sets me on my wobbly feet. My heels teeter, but I use him for leverage.
Rough yet gentle fingers glide across my face. “Let me untie you.”
Wilder undoes the knot, and the blindfold falls away. My grandfather’s wood-paneled study comes into view. It’s untouched, as if he didn’t die over thirty years ago. Even his tobacco pipe still rests on the desk. The door is shut.
“So, we’ve been alone this whole time?” I ask, smiling. Knew it.
Wilder laughs as he fixes his clothes. His hair is a lost cause. “Disappointed?”
A little.
“I should get cleaned up,” I say, rubbing the intense wetness between my legs. Ravi is waiting. “You should go back to the party. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Wilder tilts my chin up with two fingers. His jade eyes bore into mine. “Just a sec.”
“Yeah?”
He smiles with a sleepy yet satisfied grin. “You’re perfect.”
“You have to say that to me because I’m going to be your wife,” I joke.
A groove settles between his brows. “I get to say that because you’ll be my wife.”
I roll my eyes, but my limbs are buzzing. “I should go.”
Wilder’s grip tightens, but it doesn’t hurt. “Are you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?” I meet his intense stare, dead on.
“Where were you going in such a hurry, Leigh? In the opposite direction of your room, no less.”
He’s fucking impossible. “I— I—”
Wilder distances himself from me. “I thought we were past this?”
“Past what?” I reach for him, trying to ignore how my heart breaks a little.
If I didn’t need to close this portal, I’d spend all night with him like this, naked, just the two of us.
But the portal is open, and everyone—including Wilder—is safer not knowing I caused it.
Tomorrow will be perfect. We’ll say our vows, kiss, dance, and I won’t let my mistake ruin what I know will be the best day of our lives.
“The lies.”
Before I can defend myself, voices echo outside the room. Someone screams our names.
Wilder lifts a brow. “Does that sound like …”
“Janus!”
Wilder and I burst from the room to find President Janus Dyer in the hallway, wearing her purple party suit and a wild-eyed expression.
“What is it?” I ask, heart in my throat.
“The apocalypse is here.”