Chapter 7
brIGID
We plunge into the pond together, the water hot enough to scald any other sort of witch, but I’m vibing in my element.
Maybe Matty was right when she said my heart led me here because I can’t believe my luck in this moment.
My magic is pumping through my veins, and the shimmering prospect of living amongst other fire witches lies ahead of me—a chance to build a real community.
And on top of all that, the Dragon Queen treats me like my gifts are something to be desired, not feared.
I’ve always known happiness to be a fleeting thing, so I grab onto this little slice of it before it can disappear. Digging into Matty’s back with my blunt witch nails, I press myself closer to her until we’re sealed together. We sink into the water up to our shoulders, a tangle of teeth and limbs.
This could be enough for me—the kissing, the heat, and the firm press of our bodies—but there’s an aching pressure building between my thighs, and she’s just the right person to release it.
For once, I let myself want more.
Who knows if anyone will ever make me feel this good again?
I pull back an inch, dragging my hands to the crease of Matty’s hips, exploring the lighter cornsilk scales covering her abdomen.
I take my time, feeling the ridges of her muscles before touching the slight swells of her small breasts.
Her topaz nipples are already as hard as gems when I swirl my thumbs over them.
Working my way up higher, I stroke my fingertips over one of her horns.
“Brigid,” she groans and tips her head back, her eyelids dropping into a gaze that turns my core molten.
Feeling emboldened, I wrap my hand around its base. “I could make a joke about being horny, but I’m sure that’s not very original around here.”
Her laugh is serrated. “That term came about for a reason. Touching our horns is an act of intimacy.”
Guilt twinges through me for accidentally pushing a potential boundary. I release my grip. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok.” She nudges her horn into my hand again. “I want you to.”
Taking my lower lip between my teeth, I curl my fingers and run my hand back to the tip before working into her scalp, gently unbraiding her golden strands until they fall around her shoulders.
Kissing Matty’s neck, I send my exploration south, my palm cautiously moving between her legs.
Her mound isn’t visible like mine is, but I can feel the temperature rising beneath her scales, and a hard bump about the size of a fingertip hidden beneath one of them.
The more I rub her, the more it swells, causing her scales to lift into ridges.
“Is this alright?” I ask, my fingers finding a slick opening.
She presses her hands against my shoulders, keeping her claws neatly extended away from my skin. “Yes.”
Pushing in up to my first knuckle, I discover her walls and the secret parts of her sex.
I observe her features, noting the way her jaw tightens to hold back a moan as I pull my fingers out to make quick, vertical strokes over the solid protrusion of her clit.
Getting a rush from the way she clamps her teeth together, I work my fingers even faster, making my strokes relentless.
“Brigid.” Her whimpering goes straight to my head.
Now I know why she wanted to hear me moan and squeak. Breaking the Dragon Queen’s walls down and making her call my name is so damn gratifying.
Her scales lift even further, and the nub of her clit pulses in my hand as liquid spills from her opening, too thick to be the water we’re swimming in.
She sprays a shower of embers through her nostrils, filling the air with my element.
I lean into her, my mouth open against the hollow of her throat. I’m brimming with magic and wanting.
Matty’s claws close around my hips, and she carries me to the melted snowbank where she lays me down and crawls on top of me. In one swift motion, she rolls onto her back, placing me on top.
Waves of warm water lap beneath her body, eddying around my shins and knees, but my upper body is freezing. She lifts her hands, running them over my tight nipples and pebbled skin.
“I know something that will warm us up,” she says as she throws her head back, breathing fire with a throaty laugh.
As enticed as I am by the orange flames, Matty is an anchor beneath me, keeping me tied to my surroundings. I have enough control now to stop and concentrate for a second. I think I understand what she’s suggesting.
Focusing on the fire, I bend the flames to alter their projection, sending them sparking along the ground. I press against the walls of my mind to push them outward in an arc around us. A warm bubble of heatwaves keeps the harsh wind out.
“That’s it,” Matty croons. “Keep them there. I know you can.”
The half circle shines brightly against the melting snow and the shadows in the woods as the sun sinks lower.
Magic vibrates steadily through me as Matty’s claws scrape over my hip, and she bends one knee, opening herself up.
I drop down into the space she’s created, rolling my hips to feel the smooth, hard bumps and ridges of her pussy.
She bucks her pelvis upward, and I ride her, finding the perfect amount of wet friction.
“Stay with me,” she whispers, bringing me back each time the fire bursts along with the tight sensation in my low belly. Her encouragement keeps me tingling, edging me to new heights with magic and pleasure.
I lose track of the time while we’re grinding, allowing Matty to support me through spells of slow circles until we’re both panting, sweaty, and riding on the edge of ecstasy.
“I’m going to—” I choke out, unable to hold myself back any longer.
“I know. I’ve got you. Come with me.”
She grips my hips as the rest of the world dissolves into darkness, leaving us in a ring of fire. In this space, there’s only Queen Matilda and me.
“I keep the ornaments in a box beneath the bed,” Matty says, stoking the fireplace. Magic crackles through me, but it’s a good feeling. “They’re not the pretty baubles they use in the castle, but feel free to go through them.”
I take another swig of the wine we’ve been drinking since we came back to her cabin to dry off earlier this evening. It’s been nice cuddling up in fluffy white robes and talking as we warm ourselves by the fire.
“Oh, I plan to.” I drop on all fours to look under her bed. Finding a weathered box, I blow the dust off the lid and open it up to find an assortment of sentimental ornaments.
“Aww,” I coo, lifting a clay circle indented with a clawprint and the words Matilda’s first Solstice. “I bet you were the cutest little hatchling.”
She sets her wineglass on the mantel and tightens the sash on her robe, striding over to me. “So my mother likes to tell me.”
Rummaging through her collection, I request a story for each ornament. I’m always weirdly curious about the so-called mundane milestones of other people’s lives, and I love that Matty shares all the details without looking at me like I’m being nosey.
“My niece and I made that one together last year during my Solstice visit,” she says as I hold up three lumpy clay balls that have been painted to look like a snowman. “Usually the whole family gets together on Solstice Eve to decorate the tree. It’s tradition.”
“Are you telling me you helped create this masterpiece?” I ask, swiping my thumb over the snowman’s crooked smile and thick carrot nose. “I didn’t know you had such talent.”
She flashes her fangs in a grin. “That’s one of my finer creations. Don’t let it fool you into thinking I’m a real artist.”
I place it back in the box and eye the naked miniature Solstice tree sitting in the corner. “How come you haven’t carried your tradition here?”
“I don’t know.” She rubs the back of her neck. “The holidays haven’t felt the same this year. I’m under a lot of pressure to pick the perfect partner, and I guess I’ve been worried about finding someone who’ll…” Her voice lowers to a soft murmur. “Love me. Maybe. Eventually.”
“Don’t they call you Matilda the Beloved around here?” I ask. “I’m pretty sure whoever you pick is going to love you, Matty.”
I wipe wine droplets from my lips and study the firelight casting highlights on her hair as she stares into the hearth. She really is one of those naturally easy-to-love people, isn’t she?
“I appreciate their love for me, but that love is really respect for my efforts to keep the peace in the Territory, as it should be,” she says. “That’s not the same as someone loving me for me.”
“Love can grow, though,” I comfort her. “I’ve never been in your shoes before, but I think if you’re compatible and make an effort to support each other, you can create something strong together over time.”
Her eyes bore into mine, and my throat thickens with longing as she concedes, “I hope you’re right about that.”
I have to look away. I cross the room, taking the box with me. “I probably am. Now let’s be merry and decorate your tree.” My toe stubs against the rolled edge of an argyle rug, and the box slips from my hands. “Oh shit.”
The ornaments fly out in slow motion, but I harness the energy from the fireplace and stop them as they’re about to hit the ground. They hover an inch above the surface, vibrating and waiting for me to direct them. I close my eyes and call them up around me.
When I open my eyes, Matty is standing in front of the tree, a veil of ornaments floating between us. “Good save.”
She plucks one from the air, and I loosen the breath I’ve been holding. We fall back into an easy conversation as we decorate the tree.
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” I say, positioning the last ornament on its branch.
“You’ve never decorated a tree before?” Matty asks as we take a step back to admire it.
“No.”
“Didn’t you have any traditions at the Academy?”
“Not really.” I shift on the balls of my feet. I remember the rush of taking off on my broom, my hair flowing in the wind. “Well, there was this one thing.”
“What was it?”
“We used to go flying during the week of the Solstice to celebrate the longest nights of the year. That’s where the coven had gone when your horde broke in.”
“I see.” She cradles her elbows. “That’s why you were there. You weren’t invited?”
“Right.”
“Why don’t we go flying tonight?” she suggests. “If you don’t mind me taking a few more hours of your time before we turn in.”
Truth be told, I don’t want this night to end. “I’m in.”
She opens a slim closet, pulling out a hand broom and a dust pan. “That won’t work,” she says, producing a swoofer instead. “But how about this?”
I grimace at the flimsy metal rods held together with screws. “Swoofers don’t clean as well as a mop, you know. They’re basically the equivalent of pushing a dirty wet rag around on a stick.”
She laughs. “Are you a cleaning supply snob?”
“Maybe I am.” I turn up my nose and peer down through my lashes. “There’s nothing like the real thing, but I suppose this will do for flying.”
I take it, practically dancing out the door, unable to contain my excitement.
“Are you ready?” Matty asks as we skip down the porch.
“I think so.” I straddle the swoofer and try to remember everything my flying teacher taught me all those years ago. It’s been so long since I’ve flown, but there’s no way I’m passing up this opportunity.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll be there to catch you if you fall.”
I close my eyes and turn into my mind, feeling past the walls of the cabin to focus on the fire inside. Using its force, I rise on my toes until I’m no longer on the ground.
My legs dangle above the cabin, and within a minute, I’m high above the snow-capped trees. Matty thrusts upward, flying next to me. “Let me show you around the Capital.”
We move away from the castle, soaring around a mountain peak and into a cozy city. Short stone buildings are lined up on each side of the cobblestone street, candles glowing in their colorful glazed windows. Snow dusts their rooftops like a layer of powdered sugar.
“It kind of looks like a gingerbread village from up here,” I say, doing circles over the street.
We end our tour a couple hours later and head back to the forest. Milky clouds swirl between the stars, a snowstorm moving in. Threads of moonlight shoot through the covering, glittering on a pure white sheet of snow in a clearing.
“Great cauldron spirits, it’s such a beautiful night,” I remark.
“It is,” Matty agrees, but she’s looking at me.
My heart gives a weird thump against my ribcage, and I take off before I start to yearn for something I can’t have.
“Try to catch me,” I call out, cackling with my arms stretched out. I don’t care that I sound like an immature witchling. The cold sky and the faint scent of distant bonfires have me giddy.
I’m happy and whole. This is enough for me. Or it should be, but Matty has spoiled me completely, and now I know I’m always going to want more nights like these.
I race forward, hearing her beating wings. The swoofer breaks at the joint, the bottom half hurdling to the ground. I grab on to the handle and press my thighs together, but it’s no use. The wind rips the metal from my hands.
I’m falling.
A roar sounds behind me, and there’s a rush of heat at my back. A solid form slinks beneath me, Matty’s long golden neck sliding between my legs.
She’s shifted.
I grasp the rubbery ridges of her neck and straddle her shoulders, easily finding my seat between her outstretched wings. The moon glows through the flaxen webbing between their goldenrod phalanges. I lean forward and hang on for dear life as she thrusts upward, carrying me back to safety.
She glides to the pond and stomps through the slush, waiting until we’ve reached the porch before she transforms into her humanoid form again.
“You caught me,” I say, surprised by the lack of terror I felt while I was falling.
She wraps her arms around me. “I told you I would.”
My witchy senses knew she was telling the truth. I bury my head into her chest, letting her hold me for awhile. I’m not sure who starts it, but somehow we’re kissing again as she spins me back into the cabin.
We ditch the robes, snuggling up for warmth beneath her flannel sheets after we’ve made each other come again. She strokes my hair as we talk, and it’s so cozy, it doesn’t take long for my eyelids to get droopy.
“Matty,” I murmur, fighting the heavy blanket of sleep falling over me. “Thank you for everything. You’ve succeeded in giving me the warm fuzzies.”
At some point, I think I hear Matty’s voice drifting into the liminal space between dreaming and awake. “You’re right, love. There’s nothing like the real thing.”