Chapter Twenty-Six
Blackened water splashed over the sides as I tugged Wilde into the tub with me. He gasped and sputtered, floundering in the water until one hand grabbed my shoulder and the other grabbed the edge of the tub. Indignation flared in his eyes as he said, “If you didn’t reciprocate, you could have—”
I sealed my mouth against his, catching his protests with my tongue. His hand tightened on my shoulder and his hips settled flush against mine with an obvious bulge beneath his soaked clothes.
The shock from my actions gave me a few blissful seconds of control where I could guide the kiss and savor the taste of him.
It wasn’t long before he recovered and threaded his fingers through my wet hair.
His grip was gentle at first, then more forceful as he maneuvered my head to better plunge his tongue into my mouth.
Wilde kissed like his name. Tongue seeking, teeth sharp and punishing, unrestrained in his pursuit of pleasure. His hips rocked against me eagerly, creating heat and friction, though it wasn’t enough to satisfy either of us.
If he wanted ‘everything’ from me, I’d give it to him.
I grasped his hips and arched up against him, sending another wave through the water. His hands tightened on me, and he ripped his mouth away. “Watch yourself, Treasure.” Desire roughened his voice into a delicious growl.
“How can I?” I murmured, focusing on unbuttoning his waistcoat and sliding my hands under his shirt.
The wet fabric peeled away from his pale skin to reveal pink, perky nipples.
“I’m too busy watching you.” I locked eyes with him as I took one pert nipple into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the peak.
“Don’t be too impertinent,” he warned even as his body trembled.
“You wanted everything.” I trailed kisses along his chest until I reached his other nipple, this time lighting scraping my teeth over the tender morsel. “That includes my disobedience.”
While I focused on teasing him, his grip changed.
He released my shoulder and trailed his fingers down my back instead, the touch so light it sent a shudder through me.
“You would enjoy yourself if you obeyed me,” he whispered, his hot breath tickling my ear.
“You could let your thoughts drift away into bliss while I controlled everything.”
The sound of my laugh was too strained for even me to believe it. I grabbed his ass, cupping and kneading the firm muscle. “I’d rather fuck you until you forget how to give orders.”
“The only way you’re fucking me”—his hand slid to the front and grasped my straining cock—“is if I tell you exactly how to do it.”
Panting roughly, I leaned my head against his shoulder.
He moved his hand, circling his thumb around the tip before gliding down the whole length. Need flushed through me and squeezed my lungs. His hand increased its pace, drawing ragged, desperate breaths from me. “Do you want to come?”
I could barely breathe, let alone speak. Every part of me wound tight enough to snap. Finally, I managed a shaky nod.
His hand stopped.
I groaned. Did he want me to say it out loud? Licking my lips, I croaked, “Yes, I want to come.”
“Do you deserve it?”
I growled his name, ready to strangle him if he didn’t finish what he started.
“I’ll make an exception for tonight, but you’ll have to work harder for it in the future.”
Before I could answer, he kissed me again, capturing every gasp, every moan, and fed it back to me with an eager tongue.
His hand started moving again, firmly sliding from base to tip, hot and slick through the water.
Expectation tightened my whole body, yet I was somehow taken by surprise when Wilde’s skilled tongue and hands shoved me over the edge.
The climax left me breathless and disoriented, floating in a hazy world of bliss.
Wilde caught me as I drifted back to earth, wrapping his arms in a tight, grounding embrace.
His tongue withdrew and he pressed his lips against the corner of my mouth, then my cheek, slowing down from passionate to sweet.
I should have been concerned about the dirty bathwater, Wilde’s soaked clothes, everything still unspoken between us. I just wanted to linger in this moment as long as possible; to stay close to him and pretend we were the only things that existed in the world.
Somewhere below, a door banged open. “Trey?” Delilah’s voice called up the stairs.
A disbelieving, raspy laugh escaped me as I hid my head against Wilde’s shoulders. “Gods, can you imagine if she’d been ten seconds sooner …”
“It could have been interesting,” he mused, his words pressed against my cheek.
“It would have been torture,” I grumbled.
Footsteps soon followed Delilah’s voice as several people stomped up the stairs.
The thought of them finding us clinging to each other in the bath spurred me into motion. “I’m washing up!” I slammed a flat palm against the water to emphasize the message.
With as much dignity as he could, Wilde stood up and offered his hand so I could do the same. Water dripped from his pale hair onto his drenched clothes. The wet fabric clung to every inch of him, hinting at the beauty underneath.
“Give us a minute,” he said, his voice calmer than mine.
“I told you Will would be in there with him.” Even though we could hear her clearly, Delilah raised her voice to shout, “We’ll be downstairs when you’re ready!” Then she fussed at the others until three pairs of footsteps stomped back the way they’d come.
Wilde grabbed my chin and traced my swollen lips with a thumb. “Disappointed?”
I nipped his finger. “Very.”
“Good. Perhaps next time you’ll listen to me, and we won’t have so many delays.”
The others gathered in the inn’s front room, chairs pulled up around a cozy fire. The moment Delilah spotted us, she leapt from her chair and bounded over. “Did you make this place?” she asked Wilde. “It’s amazing!”
“I cleaned it up,” Wilde confirmed, lips quirked in amusement as he downplayed the magic involved.
“As long as there aren’t any ghosts,” Fitz said with a shudder.
Maximus’ eyes raked over Wilde, taking in the emerald waistcoat, the overlong sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, and the fabric overflowing from his boots because the pants tucked inside them were too long. It was obvious whose clothes he wore.
An awkward silence stretched between us like hot, sticky taffy. None of them seemed to know if they wanted to stare at us or never wanted to see us again. Delilah was the one to finally break it, turning to address Wilde. “We’re all very sorry for how we spoke to you.”
“Speak for yourself,” Maximus muttered. “I still don’t trust him.”
“Trust him or not, we need his help,” Fitz said.
“Usually, you wouldn’t admit you want to use someone to their face,” I replied.
Wilde laid a hand on my arm. “It’s alright. What did you need help with?”
Fitz pulled a journal out of his pack. Cramped, rushed handwriting filled every visible page.
“The librarian might have been a ghost intent on feeding stray scholars to her books, but she did help me find the information we needed on how to break a curse. Since she wouldn’t let me take any of the books, I had to write down what I could remember. ”
He’d gotten real information from that nightmare?
If we can break the curse … It would save the city, but it wouldn’t save the Desolated Lands.
I dropped down into one of the chairs and Wilde sat on the arm, leaning against my shoulder. I absentmindedly wound my arm around his waist, resting my hand on his hip. “What did you learn?”
“Curses need an anchor,” Fitz recited. “An object or a person to latch onto and stabilize around. Once you find the anchor, you can either dispel the curse or destroy it. Destroying is the easier option, but …”
“Not if the anchor is the whole city,” I finished.
“Exactly.”
“It’s not the city,” Wilde said.
Maximus narrowed his eyes. “How do you know?”
“It’s true that the target for the curse can also be the anchor, however, the whole city wasn’t cursed at the same time. Once established, anchors don’t change in size or appearance. Any changes would destabilize them, defeating the purpose.”
“You know a lot about curses.”
“I know a lot about magic,” Wilde corrected, calm despite Maximus’ accusatory tone. “Most enchantments require an anchor of some kind. Delilah’s collar for example, serves as the anchor for the enchantment that gives her feline features. Curses are simply malicious enchantments.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this before?” Maximus demanded.
More importantly, why was he telling us now? This information would help us break the curse, which the old man wouldn’t want. The Lord of Grimnight needed a namesake to rule over.
Wilde shrugged. “I assumed it was information you already knew, since you’d embarked on a quest to break a curse.”
“I thought we would defeat the Lord of Grimnight to break the curse,” Fitz replied, taking back the conversational reins.
“If he’s the anchor, that’s still true. If he’s not, then the curse won’t break until we find whatever is.
” He flipped to the beginning of his notes.
“I’ve compiled a list of common anchors—”
Maximus placed his hand over Fitz’s, halting his search. “What do you want, Will?” He emphasized the fake name, reminding me of my slip-up in front of the librarian.
Wilde arched an eyebrow. “I want Treasure’s mission to succeed.”
My mission, not my quest. Was he trying to hint that I needed to find the anchor before the others and protect it from them?
A muscle flickered in Maximus’ clenched jaw. “Trey. He prefers to be called Trey. If you were a good boyfriend, you would know that.”
My brow furrowed at Maximus’ reaction. Since I’d met him, he’d been quiet, polite, and helpful. Yet he’d treated Wilde with hostility from the beginning. Maybe he had good instincts and had sniffed out the hints of evil in Wilde’s calm, cool demeanor. “He can call me Treasure, it’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. Names are important and he’s not respecting yours.”
Fitz raised his book, eyes wide and plaintive. “Can you let him answer my questions before you chase him off again?”
Maximus crossed his arms and slumped in the chair.
“Thank you.” Fitz turned back to Wilde and asked, “How do we identify the anchor?”
Wilde answered easily, like he hadn’t just been subjected to Maximus’ criticism. “Look where the curse first began.”
“City hall?”
Wilde nodded.
I couldn’t tell if this was the honest answer, or if he was once again guiding us toward his master’s trap.
“Alright,” Fitz said, snapping his book shut. “In the morning we’ll enter city hall, find the anchor, and destroy it.”
It sounded so easy when the list only consisted of three steps.