Chapter Twenty-Eight
Henry
“ W hy do they have such a big market? This is ridiculous,” Genevieve whispered. Gods, she was irritating. And so fucking gorgeous. I could not tell if I wanted to shove her face into the dirt or against my cock.
“Well, perhaps they enjoy the sense of community. Or maybe, just maybe, this is good for their economy,” I remarked. For my sarcastic jibe, she took her pointy little elbow and jabbed it into my hip. “Ow!”
“I hate you,” she hissed, speeding up her walk to nearly a jog. I kept up with an embarrassing amount of ease, my hands slipping into the pockets of my trousers to annoy her.
“Hate, love, who can tell the difference these days?” I teased.
Sadly, my taunting had the opposite effect of what I wanted. Genevieve stared forward, her golden curls fanning out around her and blocking her face from my view. What was once contempt became…nothing. And I realized in that moment that I would take her hating me over her not caring about me at all.
“Listen, Genevieve, I think we need to talk about—”
“Found it!” she shouted, breaking into a run. Just ahead of us sat a booth with a sign that read “Adams’ Pottery”. How original. I jogged, catching up with her just in time to watch the male pop out from inside with a stunning vase. It was long, wider on the top than it was on the bottom. The colors were a swirl of green and blue and teal, like the Sea of Akiva on a clear day.
Like the water near Haven.
We had not received word from Nicola since parting from the horrid pirate’s ship and being forced to leave Lian behind, so what exactly we were meant to do from here was beyond us. Still, Genevieve rushed forward, completely unphased by her potential downfall. How could she be a monarch and a trained warrior, yet be so reckless at the same time?
Speeding up, I cut her off with an arm in front of her, shoving her behind me as the male looked up and met our eyes. He looked to be a few hundred years old, his dark brown hair pulled back in two long braids and free of gray. His facial hair was full, cut so it stuck closely to his skin. He had eyes that matched the soft dirt below our feet and clothes that were the color of the tropical trees that stretched out above us.
There was nothing extraordinary about him other than the fact he seemed far too fit to just be sculpting clay all day. That, and he had tattoos that wrapped around his arms in swirling patterns.
The hood of my cloak, the one Genevieve had returned to me smelling suspiciously of the strawberry-scented soap she loved, covered my round ears, but I could still tell that he knew exactly what I was.
“You are earlier than I expected,” he said, fussing over the vase as he displayed it on the center of his counter, the plethora of pottery around it looking almost dull in comparison. “Meet me back here just after sunset and I will have your order ready.”
With that, he waved us off, picking up a thin red vase and walking over to a small group of browsing fae.
“Well, I guess that is our cue to leave,” I said. Genevieve grumbled incoherently at my side, her foot coming down in a soft stomp upon the ground. It was so wonderfully endearing watching her cross her arms and lift her chin. As if she was both annoyed and above the male’s actions. “Come on, we should find a place to go that will save us from this awful heat.”
Not bothering to look back, I wove through the crowds, hoping that I was right and Genevieve was far too unsettled around these immortals to stray far from my side. When I came to a particularly congested area, Genevieve’s small hand slipped beneath my cloak and gripped my elbow. Of all the things in the world that could bring me to my knees, I would have never thought it a simple and desperate touch. But there I was, prepared to beg her for a moment of her affection.
I spotted a tavern ahead, resting just beyond the market, as if it needed space from the chaos just like we did. I tugged Genevieve along, reaching over to wrap her arm around mine fully. She did not complain, but when I looked down at her I caught her eyes darting to where we linked.
I knew she loved me. She had to love me. There was no other reality that made sense. No other future that felt like it was worth breathing in. Why it was her that felt so right, I would never know.
There were times early on when I wondered why Bellamy had picked Asher out of all the males and females he had been with. She was not nicer, smarter, or even exceptionally more beautiful than any other. Asher was powerful, but she was not perfect. So why her? Why be so utterly obsessed with her? Sure he saw parts of their future together and that was what pushed him towards her, but what was it that made him stay?
Then I felt her magic. I basked in her aura. That was when I decided it had to have been whatever that pull was. Surely there was no other explanation for being so infatuated with someone that you would take their constant ire and the unending torment of knowing they are not yours over not having them near.
Genevieve made me realize I had been wrong. She did not feel like gravity in the way that Ash did. Asher was someone you could not help but love and want to follow. Genevieve though, was like the desert. She starved me of everything but her heat. Tortured me with the obsession of her endless reach. Nothing existed but her, and it hurt. I desperately wanted out of her grasp, and yet I found myself unable to escape. The mortal princess offered mirages in the form of her hurried affection or moans of pleasure, but when I got too close she stole it from me, proving that hope was futile.
As we approached the door to the tavern, I wished beyond anything that I could be free of her. More than that, I prayed to the gods that I never escaped her.
A bell rang above as I pushed the door open, Genevieve quickly letting go of me and walking forward. “We need a room, please.”
Was my jaw on the floor? Yes, it must have been.
Or maybe my ears were simply clogged with wax. Surely.
“Just one?” the fae behind the bar asked. Genevieve nodded in confirmation, reaching into my pocket and grabbing loose coins.
“Just for the night. We will also need drinks sent up. Something strong.” And then, without much care for how greatly she was overpaying, Genevieve tossed the gold at the male.
He stared at her in bafflement before nodding, grabbing the coin as quickly as he could and pocketing it. With no further words, he pulled a key off the wall behind him and handed it to her like she was a queen and it was his tithe payment.
Not another sound was uttered as she whipped her head around and began ascending the stairs. Gods above. I followed, saluting the still dumbstruck owner as I passed him.
Genevieve led us to the room that was marked with the same number as the key, unlocking it and nearly slamming the door in my face. Then, almost immediately, she turned and faced me with a menacing glare. What the fuck was happening?
“You will not touch me, breathe in my space, or even speak to me unless necessary. The only reason I got us a room was for my comfort and safety, understand?”
Throwing my hands up, I muttered, “Got it.”
A knock came not five minutes later, freeing me from my frozen state of horror. Genevieve had commandeered the bed, her body hidden beneath the blankets and her curls played out on the pillow. Opening the door, I was met with the same male from before. He held two exceptionally large bottles of who knew what, his smile large.
“The best whisky I have,” was all he offered me before shoving the bottles into my hand and practically prancing down the stairs. Oh, we overpaid by a lot.
“Your relief is here,” I said, closing the door with my shoulder and making my way to her. She did not pop out, so I took one of the bottles and pushed it beneath the blankets. Her sigh was outrageous, like someone who had lived so long they no longer saw the colors or vibrance of the world.
Ridiculous.
“Drink up, I would not want you to have to hide under there all day because you are too sober to enjoy my presence.” It was a low blow, a bitter one, but what was a male to do when the girl he loved acted like he was diseased?
“Oh please, you know that is not true,” she said, taking my bait. Glee filled me as she threw the blankets off of her. “Not even all the alcohol in the world could make me welcome your company.”
Her curls were a disaster atop her head, not even her fussing able to fix them. When she finally gave up with a curse and a huff, she popped the cork off the whisky and tipped it back. Greedily, I watched her throat bob as she took more and more of the drink. She did the same with me, took and took until she was full. I wished then that I could simply give it all to her.
“Why are you drinking so heavily?” I asked, walking over to the small wooden table. It did not even reach my hips, just barely high enough to graze my thighs. The chair was not much better, and I was forced to practically squat just to sit.
“Maybe I always drink this much. You do not know me, Henry, no matter how much you pretend you do.” Once more mumbling under her breath, she silenced her incoherent whispers with the bottle to her pink lips again.
Uncorking my own, I too drank. If she was going to be a drunk little priss then I would too. Back and forth we sipped, stealing glances at each other here and there. Until finally, I broke.
“What is it, Genevieve? Why are you so angry with me? How have I hurt you other than by simply fucking loving you?” There was a slight slur to my words, and I realized that there was no longer a bite or burn to the whisky as it sloshed into my mouth and down my throat.
“I do not want a lovesick puppy that sits in my lap and begs for attention only to yap and bite my ankles when I do not offer it!” she shouted, standing with a stumble. I wanted to rush to her—to steady her—and then shove her onto the bed and show her just how much of a dog I could be. Alas, I remained still. Trying to be good.
“You overestimate your allure, sweet princess.” There was a bite to my tone, proving her point. Groaning, I brought a hand to my face, rubbing at my skin and trying to remember why we were here in the first place.
“No, you overestimate my patience, idiot demon. I will never love you. There is no future in which we are together, no world in which I would ever stand by your side. So get over it!” Her accent was strong from the whiskey, that wicked tongue of hers sounding heavier and heavier as she swayed and yelled.
Rage and lust converged within me, twisting and turning and wreaking havoc in my mind. Standing as well, I pointed my finger towards her, taking quick and uneasy steps her way.
“You are a blight in my world. A stain on my life. Do you think I want to love you? That I dreamt of obsessing over some mortal girl? This is not what I wished for myself, Genevieve! Yet here I am, wanting you so desperately that I can think of nothing else! Every bit of this is your fault!”
“My fault? How could it possibly be my fault that you will not leave me alone? You are weak, pathetic!” Her arms flew up, her flowing white blouse lifting and exposing the creamy skin below her navel. Something within me snapped.
Growling, I grabbed her into my arms and threw her over my shoulder. Her fists beat into my back, her legs kicking and swinging. She screamed as I walked towards the table. When I brought her down and turned her, she yelped in surprise. But when I took her by the hair and shoved her torso down onto the table, she moaned in pleasure.
“Is this what you want, mortal? You want me to show you just how monstrous I can be?”
I kicked her legs apart, sliding my fingers into the waistband of her brown trousers and yanking them down with little care for how it might tug and pinch her skin. Pathetic? Maybe. Weak? No. I would show her which of us was the weak one.
Her ass slipped free first, then her thighs. They were full, thick enough to try and hold onto the trousers. But I pulled harder, forcing the fabric off her body. When I got to her shoes, I ripped them off, her soft cry of pain almost enough to make me stop.
When her lower half was completely bare to me, I grabbed her ass, watching as her skin turned red from my tight grasp.
“Of the two of us, it is you that should fear me leaving,” I rasped.
Then, I let my knees hit the ground and leaned forward. My tongue slid up her parted cheeks, slowly tasting her. Another moan of pleasure escaped her, sounding as if it had to fight its way free. Pushing her legs further apart, I lifted her higher until her feet no longer touched the floor and her hips hit the top of the table. My fingers parted her, grazing the blonde curls there and making just enough room for my mouth to surge forward and latch onto her clit.
Her responding gasp was everything and more. The answer to every question my soul had asked. A gift from the gods above.
“No one else can do this for you. There is no mortal alive that can love you like I can. No man or male that will devour you in the same way I will. I will drag you to the height of your pleasure and then force you higher. I will rip screams from your mouth and then fill it with my cock. For the rest of your life, you will know that it is I who fills this tight little pussy the best.”
No response. No scathing remark. Just acceptance as she let her forehead fall forward and pressed her soaked center further into me. So I consumed her. Bit and licked and sucked that love right out of her. Every shout of my name from her lips had my cock begging for release, but I ate and ate and forced myself to wait.
My fingers dug into her ass, one of my thumbs slipping inside of it slowly as my tongue pierced into her pussy. She writhed and jerked, her release pouring into my mouth like the nectar of life. And then she abruptly stilled.
Slowly I backed away, pushing myself to my feet without removing my thumb or wiping my face. She groaned, her nails scraping against the table. For only a moment, I wished Bellamy were here to paint the sight of her. Maybe Ash would let me show her so she could show him. A birthday gift perhaps.
“You want my big, fat cock in that dripping pussy, Genevieve?” I asked, letting my body fall onto hers, still pumping my thumb slowly in and out of her ass. She nodded violently. Desperately. “What about this tight ass of yours? Do you want it there? I bet no one has ever done that to you before.”
A groan rumbled up her chest, vibrating against my stomach. I needed these clothes off, but gods did I not want to take my thumb out.
“Answer me. Do you want that?”
“I—I do not know. I have never—no one has—”
“Do. You. Want. It?” I ordered this time, shoving my thumb further into her. Her back arched, my stomach sinking down and my cock rubbing against her thigh. Gods, it felt good. She felt good.
“Yes!” she screeched.
I got closer to her ear, letting my breath fan against it and relishing in the way she shivered beneath me. “Then admit you love me.”
Her body stilled, stiffening.
“Say it,” I demanded. “Tell me you love me. You know you do. Admit it, and I will do anything you want me to. I will make your wildest fantasies come true.”
“No.”
“Say it.”
“Never.”
I ripped out my thumb, backing away from her and tearing my clothes off in angry, frustrated pulls. She was really pissing me off today.
Freeing my length, I pumped myself, staring at her still-lifted ass. At the way she refused to move so that I might not see how desperate she was for me. But I knew. I knew she loved me, that she wanted me. I just needed to hear her say it.
“Come on, Genevieve. Three words and I am yours.” I rubbed the head of my cock against her ass, letting it part her once more before sinking lower and toying with the wetness at her center. She bucked and shook, eager for it. “How about this? Tell me you do not love me. Tell me you never will. I will still fuck you right here. I will tear you to shreds and make you ask for more. Then, I will leave you alone. Give me whichever is the truth.”
Betting had never been my thing. I believed in seizing life, not letting life seize me. Fate did not rule over me. Until now. This was it. She could make her choice, and I would listen.
Seconds passed, then minutes. It was agonizing, playing with both of her entrances but not diving into her. Preparing myself for rejection, for this to be the end, I used my free hand to leash her neck. With a gentle squeeze, I let my fingers roam, slowly creeping upwards. Right as I hit her chin, I gripped it and forced her head to tilt back until her brown eyes met my green.
“Come on. Tell me you love me or say that you never will. Put me out of my misery.”
A single tear slipped down her cheek as she closed her eyes, a breath leaving her like a burden.
“I love you, Henry. I fear I always will.”
Shock did not hold me long, because no more than a moment later I was back on my knees, licking her. Readying her.
“Gods above, firefly. Please, just fuck me already. I cannot take this anymore!” she shouted. Begged. I hoped to hear her do that for years to come.
I stood upright, once more twirling my thumb to tease her entrance before dipping it in with a moan. I pumped into her mercilessly, using my other arm to wrap around her breasts and tug her off the table.
“I am going to fuck your asshole so hard you forget what life is like without the damage of me. You were right about one thing, my sweet curse. You will never stop loving me. I simply will not allow it.”
When I let her go, I freed my thumb and shoved my cock into the wet heat of her center. She bucked, but I forced her back down, gripping her beautiful golden hair. My thrusts were quick and rough, but I needed to make sure I was as soaked in her as I possibly could be so this would not hurt.
“Okay, I am going to pull out of you and then align myself. What I need you to do is set the pace. You are going to fuck my cock with your ass, understand?”
She nodded, whimpering. I lifted her just slightly higher, wanting her to be comfortable despite how irksome she was. When I pulled out of her and lined my cock up between her perfect ass cheeks, Genevieve hummed and slowly pressed into me.
Her hiss of pain scorched my ears, burning with guilt and nerves. But I would not let her see that. Not let her know how absolutely terrified I actually was of breaking her.
She set a slow pace, thrusting back ever so slightly in time with my heartbeats. When she let me sink about halfway inside of her, she stopped, panting.
“Why did you stop?” I asked, grabbing both of her hips like a lifeline. I needed more. I needed all of her.
“I want you to finish. I want you to take this.” Her voice was breathy, full of lust and need.
“You have no idea how badly I wanted you to say that,” I muttered. Her hands lifted, gripping the side of the small table. I was cautious at first, sliding in and out of her with ease. Even so, she was a sweaty and dire mess below me. Her chants of “more” and “faster” were enough to have me fully dipping into her. Again and again I pumped, my pace growing reckless as my mind went hazy from the perfect tightness of her.
Leaning down once more, I reached up and grabbed onto her wrists, letting my mouth return to the spot by her ear. “I love you so fucking much. You are mine. Every inch of you. I will fill you so deeply that I will be a part of you. I will tie you down and refuse to let you leave. I will shatter you and use my fucking come to glue you back together. There is no escape from this—me—now.”
And then I lost all control. I stood, latching onto her sides and forcing her to meet each of my thrusts. Her cries of painful pleasure echoed off the walls of our room, mingling with the symphony of our bodies colliding. Our sweat had my grip slipping, but I needed to feel her squeeze around my cock. I needed to see my release dripping down her. I needed so much more than I thought she could possibly give but that I would take regardless.
Genevieve finished first, screaming so loudly I knew the entirety of the inn had to have heard. It was a piercing shout of my name, a simple yet otherworldly sound. One that sent me spilling into her, grunting before shouting her name right back.
For a blissful moment, there was only the two of us while we bathed in our shared pleasure as it slowly faded away.
When she caught her breath, I pulled out, watching with joy as my come did in fact drip out of her slowly. I caught some of it with my finger, tasting it before reaching around and shoving the rest into her mouth. She hesitated at first, but then she sucked.
“My good girl. How I love you.”
***
The booths were eerie at night–a strange aura about them. Genevieve was covered in goosebumps, not even my cloak heating her enough to fight off the terrifying chill of the market after dark. But when we finally reached Olivander’s booth, we found him smiling. He stood, still just wearing that vest, waiting.
“We are here for our order,” I said, wrapping my arm around Genevieve. She had not spoken much since we had sex earlier, likely processing everything that had happened. That, and thinking of excuses for what she had admitted. No matter, I knew the truth now.
“Ah yes, let me go get it for you.” He disappeared into his small booth, not a single sound coming from within it. We remained still, waiting impatiently as we were smothered by unease.
Finally, someone did emerge, but it was not Olivander.
No, this could only be one female.
“Hello, Henry Nash and Genevieve Windsor, it is so very nice to officially meet you both. I am Nicola Salvatore.”