Chapter Six #2
She whimpered her displeasure. Didn’t he know how much she wanted this? How open and ready she was to give him whatever he was willing to take?
“Please,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his neck. “Just a little.”
“Just a little what, my love?”
“Just fuck me a little.”
Caspen let out a murmur of a laugh before driving his fingers deeper. “No.”
It was all he said, and Tem knew his decision was final. There was nothing left to do but give herself up to him—to this. His motions were purposeful now, drawing her toward release.
“Caspen,” she gasped. She was almost there.
But Caspen’s fingers were slowing.
Not only was Caspen not going to fuck her but he had no intention of letting her come at all.
It was the ultimate distraction—the only way to force her to focus on something other than what was about to happen.
Instead of worrying about Evelyn, she would worry about this: the incessant need that rendered her helpless.
Tem would spend the entire evening aching for it.
“Caspen,” she said, a reprimand this time. “Don’t you dare.”
In response, Caspen withdrew his fingers even more. Tem gasped with displeasure, pulling him back toward her. But he only retreated farther, raising his hand tauntingly between them, her wetness gleaming on his fingers.
“Patience,” he said again.
Tem pouted. She wanted him to keep touching her. It was all she wanted, even if she knew he wouldn’t do it. She’d been so good for him, so perfect, and this was her reward? It wasn’t fair at all. But there was nothing else she could do.
In the pause that followed, they watched each other, their minds entwined. Caspen’s eyes were black, the gold completely gone. Tem couldn’t believe they were about to go into the first of many Sunday dinners this disheveled and enamored.
Slowly, Caspen’s fingers returned to her.
But still, he didn’t let her come. Instead Tem felt a familiar sensation—one she’d felt many times before.
She moaned as a claw formed—this time from her own essence—sucking in a sharp breath as it grew into place.
The tip cradled her tightly, pressing against her tender clitoris.
A pulse came. Tem closed her eyes with a shudder.
It was nearly enough to come. But not quite.
On second thought, perhaps she would enjoy dinner.
Gently, Caspen removed his fingers, raising them to his lips and slowly licking them clean.
When he was finished, he slid the straps of her dress back up her shoulders, covering her once more.
Then he kissed her. Tem threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.
She needed him so badly. Naked, raw, over and over again.
The urge to mount him was so strong, she found herself pressing against him again, harder this time, willing him to give in. But this was Caspen. He never gave in.
Besides, they had arrived.
They exited the carriage together, hand in hand, Tem still thinking desperately about how a moment ago the fingers she was holding were inside her.
But as soon as they entered the castle, any thoughts of sex fell away.
Caspen stiffened immediately at the sight of all the gold.
It was everywhere—laced into the tiles of the foyer, painted into the wallpaper.
The first time Tem had come to the castle, she’d been impressed by such wealth after a lifetime on a chicken farm.
Now she found it horrible, knowing the wealth had been created by the blood of basilisks.
“Right this way,” the butler said. They followed him through the halls to the same dining room Tem had waited in before the Frisky Sixty.
Tem tried not to look at the door that led to the library, where all the girls had disrobed for Leo.
She tried not to remember the way he’d kissed her against the other side of that door—the way he’d waited to turn the hourglass until the very last second.
Will you keep me around?
For as long as you’ll let me.
“Tem.” Caspen’s voice broke her from her memories.
“What?”
“Would you like a drink?”
A butler was brandishing a tray of champagne at her.
“No,” she said, even though her throat was dry. “Not champagne.”
“She will have a whiskey,” Caspen said.
The butler nodded, then disappeared.
In the middle of the room was a round table surrounded by four chairs.
Tem stared at the seating arrangement, unsure how to proceed.
The shape of the table perplexed her: it implied equality, as if none of them were more important than the others.
She hoped dearly that that would remain the tone of the evening.
Rather than make an executive decision, Tem opted to remain standing.
Caspen seemed unconcerned with his surroundings, his gaze trained only on her, his expression calm.
You must relax, Tem.
But Tem couldn’t relax. It was the absolute last thing she could do. She was here—in the castle—and she was about to meet Evelyn. Nothing could have prepared her for this.
When she didn’t reply, Caspen squeezed her hand.
I am right here, Tem. Lean on me.
Gratitude rushed through her at his words. Caspen was right; that’s what he was here for. I will go for you, he’d said. Tem understood that meant he was here for her—to support her and to stand by her so she didn’t have to face this situation alone. She squeezed his hand in return.
When the butler returned with Tem’s whiskey, she downed it all in one gulp. A wave of fire was just hitting her sternum when she heard “Good evening.”
Tem didn’t need to turn to know the words were spoken by Leo. But she turned anyway to see him standing in the doorway, his long arms crossed. He looked closed off, as if he were protecting himself from something. Perhaps he was.
“Thank you for coming.” His gaze flicked to Caspen. “Both of you.”
Caspen didn’t respond, and Tem could only nod. Her lungs seemed to have stopped working properly; it was nearly impossible to draw air. Beside her, Caspen squeezed her hand again, but she hardly felt it. All she could focus on was the person who had just appeared behind Leo.
Dark-blond hair the color of honey. Round, pink cheeks.
Evelyn stepped forward slowly, resting her hand on Leo’s shoulder. Her white dress was conservative; not an inch of skin was showing. She looked, for lack of a better word, innocent. The polar opposite of Tem.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Evelyn said, extending her hand.
Tem stared down at it, unable to move.
Shake her hand, Tem.
But Tem couldn’t. To shake her hand would mean to accept the situation, and nothing could be more impossible. Shaking her hand meant succumbing to civility. Tem couldn’t fathom anything worse.
It was Caspen, finally, who stepped forward first.
His movements were smooth—no trace whatsoever of the avalanche of anxiety Tem herself was feeling.
He took Evelyn’s hand in his, shaking it once before dropping it.
Evelyn flinched as he did so. At the sight, a wave of satisfaction replaced Tem’s anxiety.
Of course Evelyn was scared of Caspen. She should be scared of him.
Caspen was probably the first basilisk she’d ever seen in person, much less actually touched.
And if Evelyn feared Caspen, it meant she feared Tem too. The thought gave her courage.
When Caspen dropped Evelyn’s hand, Tem stepped forward.
She inserted herself directly into Evelyn’s space, looking her straight in the eye as she extended her own hand.
Evelyn had the good grace to control her expression as she raised her hand and shook Tem’s.
The moment their skin touched, Tem fought the urge to recoil.
Evelyn’s hand was sickeningly cold, as if she were ill.
Her palm was clammy—like a fish—and Tem wanted to gag.
Instead she released her as quickly as possible, resisting the instinct to wipe her hand on her dress.
Not a word was spoken; Tem couldn’t have if she’d tried.
She knew what was coming next, knew Leo was about to approach her.
But she couldn’t bring herself to look at him—couldn’t even raise her gaze to meet his.
The last time she’d seen him was the annulment, when their hands had touched by the dungeon door.
Would they touch again? Would he try to shake her hand, as Evelyn just had?
Last time, Tem had felt something seismic within her—a shift of such gargantuan significance that she didn’t dare contemplate it now.
She could not experience such a sensation in front of Caspen.
He would see it all over her face. To her surprise, Leo didn’t reach for her.
Instead, he bowed his head and said, “Tem.”
Before she could decide how to respond, he straightened, extending his hand to Caspen.
“Caspen.”
Tem half expected Caspen to ignore him or possibly rip his head off.
Instead he shook Leo’s hand, his expression eerily calm.
His mind was closed off to her; Tem couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
If there were ever a time when she wished to know how he felt, it was now.
How could he possibly be this calm? The last time the three of them were together, Caspen had held Tem and Leo’s heads together so they could kiss as she crested him.
Their circumstances couldn’t be more different now.
So much had changed in such a short period of time.
The two men dropped their hands.
An awkward moment of silence followed, in which Tem and Leo stared at each other.
He looked the same as he had when she saw him just days ago: weary, as if he hadn’t been getting enough sleep.
Tem didn’t dare imagine what he was doing instead of sleeping.
Was he telling Evelyn to sit still on his cock, as he had once told Tem?
Was he gripping her hips with his hands, holding her in place so he could look at her? Was he—
“Shall we eat?” Evelyn broke the silence.
In reply, Caspen’s arm wrapped all the way around Tem.
She was used to him touching her, but this felt significant.
Almost as if he were protecting her—holding her together—ensuring that she did not break.
He steered her toward the table, pulling out a chair and waiting for her to sit before he sat too.
Tem was exactly opposite Leo, affording her a perfect view of him as he pressed his lips to Evelyn’s cheek.
Uninhibited rage surged through her mind.
It retreated an instant later when she reminded herself that she had chosen this. She had ordered Leo to do this.
Tem stared at Leo. He stared right back, his expression open and wanting.
A vein throbbed in his neck. How could he look at her like that while Evelyn sat right next to him?
Then again, Tem was looking too. But her situation was different; Caspen was different.
He knew she had chosen him. He knew that was all that mattered.
Leo’s finger was slowly tracing the stem of his wineglass.
Up, then down, then back up again. Tem watched the motion, imagining what it would feel like against her skin.
Was he doing it on purpose, to taunt her?
If he was, it was working. Evelyn didn’t even seem to notice.
She was carefully adjusting her sleeves, readying herself for the meal.
Just as the butler placed their dishes in front of them, the first pulse came.