Chapter 9
Evie
A girl could only take so much.
All the times she’d teased him. All the times she’d tried to destroy his carefully crafted composure.
When Evie’s composure was decidedly not carefully crafted.
It was haphazardly stuck together by a drunk person wearing a blindfold.
Only a few hours of effort from Trystan Maverine had her legs wrapped around his waist, her skirt ridden up, baring her thighs to the sun peeking through the tree branches.
She was moaning into his mouth like she’d perish the moment they separated, gripping the back of his head, pulling at strands of his hair.
A rough, growling sound came from his chest as he lowered them gently down until her back met the soft grass.
His large hands roamed up to grip her cheeks, angling her head as he kissed her deeper.
Then he pulled away, whispering through harsh, choppy breaths, “I can stop.” He breathed against her lips, his thumb brushing reverently over her cheek.
“If you’re not sure, we won’t do this,” he murmured, raining small kisses over her eyes, her nose, the corner of her mouth.
They absolutely should stop. There was no thinking clearly when he did this, no easy way to remember the pain or the hurt or the fear for the future. None of it mattered when his mouth was on hers.
A drop of water hit her cheek, and when she dared open her eyes, she spied gray clouds above and a light sprinkle of water dampening Trystan’s hair. His dark gaze was searching, settling on her mouth. Evie resolved to tell him to stop.
“I want to do this. Please.” The words tripped their way out of her mouth. She swallowed. “That is, if you want to do—”
She didn’t have the opportunity to finish before he was kissing her again with profound relief.
Every move became urgent as he tugged at the corset strings on the back of her dress until she felt them ripped off, exposing her shoulder. She found pure bliss when his lips met the side of her neck, his tongue darting out to taste her.
She moaned when he shoved the rest of her corset down and off, ripping at the fabric of the dress underneath, her breasts feeling the caress of the open air.
They were isolated, alone in the forest, miles from where any unsuspecting townsperson would dare wander with a villain on the loose, but still. This felt daring. It felt dangerous.
It made her feel powerful, desperate, alive.
Shoving at his shoulders, she flipped him on his back, tugging his shirt over his head and then rubbing her fingers over the cords of his biceps, the tensed muscles bunched at the top of his back.
Slowly, her hand continued to wander downward, touching him in a place that forced a hiss from his lips. The risk of it all made her bold.
Leaning down, she laid tiny kisses against his chest, peeking up to gauge his reaction.
He’d frozen, staring at her like she couldn’t possibly be real.
She continued, until he suddenly pulled her up and placed a rough kiss against her mouth before rolling back on top of her, removing the rest of her skirts and his trousers.
For a moment, she stopped, the urgency of what they were doing slowly turning to softness. What was left now was explorative and tender. Savoring each other, knowing this had to be the last time.
That bitter lie gave her the courage to run a hand down his corded biceps, over his chest, touching all the places she had already explored in her more lewd daydreams of the man.
When she brushed against the golden inked tattoo circling his biceps, he shivered beneath her touch, watching her carefully.
“I want you,” she whispered.
The statement ignited him like the firing of a cannon. Pulling her in with a fierce kiss, he stilled to follow the red blush that made its way down her body with his eyes, which now were mere pools of black when they came up to hers.
“I—” he started, looking at her like he had from the first. Like he couldn’t believe she existed.
He tilted his head, and she ran a hand over his cheek, feeling so much she might burst. “What?”
“I’ve never wanted anything,” Trystan rasped, kissing her in a slow show of affection, “more than I want you.”
It was the simple truth in the statement. No flowery words. Just his feelings, there for her view. And she couldn’t hold back any longer.
Her legs pulled him in until his hips were flush with hers, her chest heaving against his, the friction creating waves of sensitivity. “I cannot bear it,” Evie breathed, gasping against his mouth.
“You will,” he said darkly, reaching his fingers between them and touching her as he joined their bodies, capturing her cry in his mouth. Her guard fully lowered, she felt the magic responding to her plea to get him closer, pulling at his back, twirling about them like a wisp of smoke.
She flinched when he saw it. “I can’t control it, the magic—”
“Don’t. I can handle whatever you give me.
” He kissed her deeply, and a tear trailed down her cheek until it was stopped by his mouth.
And she had no choice but to hand over every burden, allowing them to move together until he wrung such pleasure from her that when she went over the edge, she ripped the very grass from the ground.
He groaned into her shoulder, finding his own bliss, catching his breath against her skin as the drizzling rain slowly soaked them.
“How is it possible that it was better the second time?” Trystan lifted his head, staring down at her in wonder.
It was. Damn him. Would it get better every time?
No, Evie. No. “Every time” implied other times.
By the gods, she’d been so lost she hadn’t even thought of preventing pregnancy. She’d been taking the gumdrop since she turned sixteen, because Lyssa was three and Evie knew another child would take her out completely—but she’d stopped after Rick. “We should’ve used protection—”
“I’m on the leaf,” he blurted, and her worries were knocked away so she could gape.
“As in…the plant that makes people eat a lot and giggle at nothing?”
His color was already heightened, but it deepened when he mumbled, “I was addressing your worry. There is a leaf I’ve been taking to prevent such instances, so you need not fret that you will be with child.”
Her chest squeezed. “When did you start taking it?”
He looked away, face impassive. “I’m not sure.”
“When?”
He broke. “After we kissed the second time…at your house.”
“So you knew this would happen?” she accused, pointing a finger at him as he draped his cloak around both of them.
The formidable terror that had plagued Rennedawn for ten years blushed to the tips of his ears.
“I did not. But you infected me with a touch of hope. And it was a bloody nightmare to shake. So, one day, I just gave in to the thought that it could, and— The point is I’d never take that choice from you. ”
It wasn’t the height of romance, knowing he cared for her choices. Her standards should be higher. But it was the earnest way he cared. His respect for her was a fact of his character, not a skill he needed to practice.
Pulling her close, he kissed the top of her head, and every tired muscle within her relaxed. She could sleep just like this. She could sleep just like this every day for the rest of her life.
But that could not be.
Because there would come a day when they could no longer ignore the tragedy of their association.
“I can hear you overthinking.”
“I’m not overthinking.” She frowned, picking up her head to look at him. “If anything, what we just did was underthinking.”
His lip curled, and her foolish heart stuttered at the sight. “I’ve always been fond of underthinking. It has such pleasant consequences.”
She batted at his shoulder. “Help me dress, kind sir.” She tried to put together her torn dress but couldn’t stop herself from laughing, slapping Trystan’s hand when he tried to uncover parts of her body the moment they disappeared beneath the fabric.
When they’d finally put together a semblance of her former clothing, a squeak of a sneeze came from her nose.
Trystan’s instinct was, of course, to panic. “We need to get you out of the rain before you catch your death.”
“From a cold?” she responded sardonically.
His cloak was thrown over her head before she could say more, blocking the water from her face and drenched curls.
“I wanted you to have a moment away. In a place where your magic was safe and you could feel secure. The way I did when I would come to quell my magic. We can return whenever you wish.”
She pulled the hood down so she could see his face and was overcome with emotion. He was trying, truly. Showing her all the parts of him he’d hidden away. It was all she’d ever wanted, and it was happening to her. Until it wasn’t, and when she turned her head…she knew why.
“Trystan…the flowers.”
He followed her gaze to the draping branches of the willow tree, once vibrant in stunning colorful flowers, containing her magic, keeping them safe.
But Evie didn’t need to be safe. Because she was the danger.
The tree’s leaves and flowers were lifeless. Stripped of color. Destroyed.
Oh gods.
“Did— Did I do this?” she asked him, fearing she already knew the answer.
She’d allowed herself to give in to her desires, to put herself first and live truly and freely. It was wonderful, perfect. There was no such rightness she’d ever feel again.
And it had destroyed something precious.
“Sage, the magic is new to you. I destroyed plenty when it was first awoken within me,” Trystan said, but his voice sounded so far away.
“This place? The same one that’s supposed to be safe for this magic?” she accused, knowing her ire was not at him. It was at the world, for forcing her into this.
He didn’t flinch, standing tall when he challenged her fears with calm. “No. But I was not as powerful as you. I hurt many with my magic, both on purpose and by accident. You never made me feel ashamed for it. Won’t you extend yourself the same courtesy?”
His words barely scraped the surface of her pain. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” he objected.
“Because I cannot seem to make myself believe that I deserve it!” Tears burned her eyes, a hollow feeling bottoming out in her stomach.
It was the first time she’d ever seen Trystan look so startled. Astonished. He shook his head. “Evie—”
The sound of wings flapping above stopped them, a gust of wind forcing their hands in front of their heads. And then Fluffy was landing before them, Blade and Becky atop the saddle on his back.
“You must come now! Quickly!” Becky called frantically, awakening fresh panic in Evie.
She did not hesitate. Merely pushed aside her despair, sprinted to Fluffy’s side, then gripped Blade’s hand without question as he hoisted her up. Trystan pulled himself up next to her, and they were in the skies before another word was spoken, moving at a furious pace.
“What’s happened? Is Lyssa all right?” Evie asked, the possibility almost too much to contemplate.
“She’s fine!” Becky assured, awkwardly patting her shoulder for comfort. “For now, at least, but none of us will be okay unless we find a solution to what is about to be a very big problem.”
“Speak plainly, Ms. Erring. Tell us everything,” Trystan ordered, commanding control like—
Well, like royalty.
Evie had no time to get lost in that invasive musing. Becky was already speaking. “I received a letter from my mother. The magical fading has reached the Fortis Family Fortress. Apparently, every enchantment in the house has vanished.”
“I do understand the import of your family home, Becky, but that is why we need to fulfill the prophecy.” Evie was gentle in her wording, not wanting to discredit her friend’s fears. “To stop and reverse the damage.”
“All enchantments, Evangelina,” Becky said, urging her to understand. “Including the enchantments on their magical locks—the ones the Fortises use to keep ancient beasts contained, which have been around since the creation of the magical continent.”
Evie didn’t ask what sort of creatures. She recalled the destiny monster well enough, how it had tested Trystan. Both of them, really. A prisoner of the Fortis Family for gods knew how long, it had made for a most bitter enemy. It had been a relief that the creature was locked away, far from them.
“The destiny monster?” Trystan echoed her thoughts.
“Escaped. And is rumored to be colluding with King Benedict,” Becky informed them as another gust of damp wind chilled Evie to her core. “I suppose my mother is extending a beanstalk branch by warning us.”
“For what purpose would the monster seek out Benedict?” Trystan’s brow furrowed as he rubbed at the scruff around his chin.
“Unclear,” Becky answered. “But that isn’t the worst of it.”
“Well, no, that would be inordinately too convenient.” Evie rubbed at her eyes, bracing herself for whatever came next.
“The magical locks at the fortress use the same enchantments as the ones in the dungeons of Massacre Manor.” Blade’s voice was filled with riotous emotion.
Trystan cursed harshly. “You’re saying our locks are all about to fail?”
Blade winced. “It’s not certain. But evidence would say they could.”
“If they fail, every prisoner I’ve ever secured in the dungeons will be let loose upon the manor.”
Evie grabbed his arm, squeezing, feeling frenzied. “Trystan. You’re the only one who can open the thorny grove. If the locks give out before we get there…” She sucked in a horrified breath.
There was a tick in Trystan’s clenched jaw. “My greatest enemies will be trapped in Massacre Manor…”
“Along with everyone else.”