Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
She is going to get punished for this. I don’t know what’s worse – this or her wearing those gym clothes.
This.
Definitely this.
Especially because her hair that’s swept up high and falling in silky strands down her back accentuates every feature.
Smokey eyes that make her pale pink color pop and lips redder than my blood that are naturally plump.
Her long legs extended with ridiculously high heels I’m amazed she can perfectly walk in.
And that dress.
Her entire back is exposed and I can catch glimpses of the side of her perky little tits when she twists and turns.
The hem of the so-called dress doesn’t even touch mid-thigh.
It ends right under her ass and I swear if she bends down I am going to kill every single person who’s eyes land on her ass.
Fucking unholy gods. She’s breathtaking as she and her friends enter the club.
When she said she was going out with her friends I was so close to telling her no.
Not because she couldn’t handle herself – she’s proved that well enough these last few months – and not even because I’m a jealous fucking bastard and don’t want anyone but me to see her like this. It’s because Alexandros wants her.
Two weeks ago was supposed to be his big coming down. Exposing the Mage Board for their lies as he destroyed the Willow of Lore that was the key, lock, and door for the veil shielding the gods from us. The reason they have not been seen or heard from in over five thousand years.
Alexandros told us that destroying the tree was how we unlocked the veil and we needed that unlocked in order to fulfill the prophecy regarding the Forgotten God of Blood Moons. We needed to know his name in order to make him remembered.
Mavyn has been tight-lipped about it. She spoke so freely about everything before, and Alexandros had to ruin it by taking Varian and attacking.
She hasn’t even been coming back to any of our rooms to sleep with us. Hasn’t spoken to Castiel or Callahan, and Darian has been avoidant just as much.
We all heard her within Varian’s mind when she was speaking to Alexandros. She was not bluffing when she said she could – and would – kill all those people. Alexandros could hear it. What none of us did hear was the why.
She said he was not going to destroy the willow today. Insinuating that it would be destroyed later.
She’s still keeping secrets.
I tried confronting her last week. After her first class with Varian – except these last two weeks it’s been Percius teaching the classes, unbeknownst to anyone – I dragged her away from her friends and into a courtyard to ask.
Nearly begged because she should have told us everything and yet we still know nothing.
She simply stared at me with those pink eyes of hers that look so dull compared to her bloodred ones. I feel like she was trying to tell me something with her eyes. Or maybe I was trying to see something that would never be there.
She was silent when she left me standing there and I have not spoken to her since. I feel like we’re running circles with getting close only for her to back off.
She takes a vile of something out of her purse and drinks it in one gulp as her friends make for the bar and start ordering drinks. A shiver runs through her body as she swallows and I wonder what it is.
Jullia downs a few shots before clamping a bare hand on Mavyn’s exposed arm and drags her to the dance floor.
I internally wince for my fated, but she doesn’t even blink.
Either her lessons have come through exceptionally – which I know they haven’t because I’m constantly watching her spar with Kyno – or she’s drunk.
The girls make for the middle of the dance floor and they don’t wait for the next song to start before they begin moving their bodies.
I’m captivated.
The flickering and strobing lights not deterring me from watching every twitch and shake and movement from her. That little black dress that is practically a second skin leaving nothing to the imagination and I see it as both a gift and a curse.
Both of them are jammed with bodies surrounding them, but Mavyn doesn’t seem to notice all the skin touching her. She also doesn’t notice the looks. Both from girls glaring at her body and her scars, and the men lusting after her.
There’s no question she’s beautiful – especially without the makeup and outfit.
Not even her scars ruin it like they do with others.
And her scars are not beautiful. To say that would be a lie because pain inflicted on a child is the exact opposite, but she never lets them bother her.
I’ve seen that. She only covers up because of the weakness they provide – that being when someone touches her she feels pain and not because people will know she’s been tortured.
I wish she would talk to me. I wish I had more than whatever bullshit Alexandros keeps sprouting and Varian keeps trying to console.
He hasn’t spoken to Mavyn either, even though he’s said he could.
She’s left the cemented bond between them open which would allow for them to speak to each other mentally.
He said it will be easier if we were face to face. We all have to wait for when we’re face to face.
When will that be. . . ? None of us have any idea.
Percius has only said that Alexandros won’t lead us astray, but he isn’t leading us anywhere at this point. He and Mavyn need to speak, but there’s no way for us to do that unless he sneaks into the school or does so through Varian’s mind.
Why he hasn’t tried doing that yet. . . ? I also have no idea. Well. . . I would think it has something to do with the fact that Mavyn not only dominated the demigod, but she also demanded he heed.
Alexandros has always been a headstrong man, but he can admit when he’s wrong.
However, to be forced to back down when your opponent didn’t even move from her position was a sight.
Not only that, but she spoke to him with such a dismissive tone and yet it sounded closer to her speaking facts than anything else. As if she was writing a fate.
Her power is something I will never be able to comprehend.
It’s made even more right now when she is like this. Her aura nonexistent and her eyes that rosy color. She feels as powerful as a vampire would and that is nothing. Nothing. She feels closer to nothing and yet holds a magic no one being has ever been able to before.
At least, a being who was not a primordial.
She’s said she’s not a god. She also can’t be a blood witch because she has blue flame. She’s a descendent of Sanivin, and Syngenia the Blood Witch, and Esmirra seems to think she’s Syngenia reincarnated. She’s not a vampyr, that’s for sure.
Maybe she is like Desmityros. A type of being who is also a primordial. But she would have to be a celestial, and I can’t see her being a devil, angel, demigod, or demon. There’s too much of her and her magic. No being I could name would be able to contain it.
I grab my drink I had forgotten about when she walked through the doors and sip it. I had heard Asher and Jullia talking about this. The rest of the horde coming in to drink before heading out to collect Mavyn.
A last night of release before the studying begins tomorrow and exams take place the week after.
She and her group will be presenting their Magic History presentation to the Mage Board next Monday.
It’s something I’m looking forward to watching.
Something even Callahan has been keeping his mouth shut about.
Bodies move and music changes but my eyes never leave her. Her eyes closed, her hands moving up and down her body as she dances to the beat. It’s obviously not just classical or ballroom dancing that she enjoys. As long as there’s good music, I’m assuming, since she’s constantly listening to it.
I’ll be joining her in a minute, I’ve decided. I need to feel her. I need her body on mine. I need her warmth and her sweet scent and her. I constantly need her.
She is a drug that I am addicted to. Take her away and I’ll die. There is no cold turkey – as the humans say. I’m too dependent, too enraptured, too consumed. She is everything and if only she could see that.
I down the rest of my drink and finally get up to go over there. Too many hands have touched her that do not belong to me or her fated.
Another thing in the long list that revolves around her.
The worship people seem to have for her.
A forgotten goddess, and yet no one knows what that really would mean.
I don’t think she is that, though. She’s said she’s not a god.
And even with her clever word-weaving, she’s been adamant about that. About her being nothing.
No one else matters as I work my way through the crowd. Most of her friends have joined in the dance floor. Ruleten is with his girlfriend and the rest of them paired up. All that’s left is my Mavyn. The troublesome poison drop with her fox-tongue words and damning eyes.
I’m not even close to drunk, but she clearly is. Those vials of hers must be some sort of strong dosed drink or elixir or poison. I look forward to tasting it from her lips.
She isn’t deterred when I slide my hands up her waist and press my body to hers. Her back to my front. My hard, aching cock nestled just above her ass.
I need to fuck her again. I need to be inside her. I need her.
I bend my neck down until my lips are able to meet her shoulder. Moving my hips to her beat and to keep us locked together.
She tilts her head to give me access to her neck. My fangs ache with a need to bite and drink. I want to taste her so badly. I want to mark her. Litter her body with my fang imprints.
“Are you still mad at me?” I whisper into her skin. Sliding my hands up to beneath her breasts and all the way down to the hem of her little dress.
She hums and then her hands come up and her fingers thread through my hair. Her nails scraping against my scale and I reward her by tracing my fangs against her neck.
Her pulse even and slow with her blood steadily flowing through her veins. Even though it should be rushing and I can tell whatever she’s been drinking is some sort of poison. Not the spirits many call poisons due to their strength, what she’s been drinking is actual poison.
I hum into her skin and concentrate on keeping control and not rushing her to the healers like I want to. I know she’s fine because I know she knows her poisons and elixirs. She knows what she’s doing.
She always knows what she’s doing.
I think that’s the problem.
I think that’s something we all need to start anticipating better. We really don’t know anything. And she does.
Brushing my lips against her pulse, I trace my fangs again and she moans and tips her head back to give me better access.
I wonder if she would let me bite her now.
I contemplate asking. I wouldn’t let my mark stay. I’d even help heal it so it’ll by gone by the morning. I just want to taste her. I want my mouth on her in a more connected way. I want her pulse to spike as I drink her limitless blood.
Her head twists and her lips brush against my ear. “I am mad that you hurt yourselves. Only I should hurt. Only I burn.”
My hands tighten on her skin as my body tightens. Her words slightly slur from her drunken state, but her meaning is there.
“I already told you,” I whisper to her. “I will burn with you for the rest of eternity so long as I’m with you.”
She clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and her fingernails scrape against my scalp. “That’s the problem, my demon. Only I am allowed to burn.”
“No,” I growl this time. “You are not alone. Not anymore.”
She sighs and relaxes her body into me. “I wasn’t alone before. I remember you. Mine, who loved me always. Your souls. . . I saw them when we weren’t connected and you were always mine.”
I hum though I have no idea what she’s talking about. But she smiles softly as she continues swaying to the beat. Everyone else a world away as we move together.
“I hope after you’ll come back to me. I think you will. You have always before. But it’ll be different this time. I promise. This time it will be me who burns instead of you.”
“I’ve never burned before, Poison. And I’ll always come back to you. In every lifetime.”
“Every lifetime,” she muses. She blinks up at me and when she opens her eyes they’re no longer their light rosy pink. Beautiful, powerful dark red irises, though this time there’s a ring of black with a ring of softy glowing silver around her iris. “Thank you.”
My brows twitch down as I ask, “For what?”
“For being mine. For not saying I am yours.” She straightens and steps away from me, but the contact isn’t lost for long as she turns and then wraps her arms around my neck as she buries her nose into my chest. “I’m glad you are who you are.”
I wrap my arms fully around her waist and keep her against my chest as we continue swaying. I doubt our tempo is matching the music vibrating against the floor, but I don’t care.
Not as my fated is here with me.
Not as she’s finding comfort in me.
Not as she’s relaxing in my arms.
Nothing else matters but right here, right now. Even if she wishes to do just this for the rest of the night.
“Forever,” I whisper against her temple. “Every lifetime.”
“Forever,” she promises. “I’ll make sure we get a true lifetime.”