Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
THE CABIN
S age emerged from the bedroom, squeezing out her wet hair with a towel. Bastian was hunched over the kitchen table, scanning the ancient scrolls Selene had left them. His hands were braced on the surface, the powerful muscles of his back visible through his damp shirt.
A rain shower had caught them unaware on their way back from the lake. Bastian heard Sage’s teeth chattering upon entering the cabin and insisted she take the first hot bath.
Sage glanced at her wet clothes by the fire, then down to her bare legs. She’d pilfered through every drawer in the bedroom before slipping into the blessed cast-iron tub. With the exception of the one oversized flannel shirt and a pair of socks, it seemed the sorceress had left with every article of clothing she owned.
Bastian would not be so lucky. “I’m afraid we’re rather limited on clothing that might fit you,” she said, draping the towel over the back of a chair. “You’ll have to go straight from the bath to the bed if you don’t want to freeze to death.”
“I’ll be fine.” He didn’t look up. “You take the bed.”
“Don’t be silly. We can share the bed. ”
He stilled, and Sage knew he was no longer reading the text. Not really.
Like an arrow striking a center target, every thought in her head narrowed to just one. They would be sharing a bed. For the first time. As mates. How in the gods’ names was she supposed to get any sleep?
She wouldn’t…
His fingers drummed once on the table and then curled into his palm. Sage followed the rolling tendon of his forearm as the muscles coiled there. Fuck, he was the sexiest thing she’d ever laid eyes on. And she had wanted him desperately since their first meeting.
But he’d been assaulted back in Windsong. There was no way he would be ready to engage in anything remotely sexual. Might not ever. Rightfully so .
She was being selfish. Wanting those strong arms to wrap around her. Feel the muscles of that powerful back under her hands, over her…
He asked, voice like gravel, “What are you thinking about?”
You! I’m thinking about making love to you. Tearing this cabin down to its studs in the process.
“Frostbite,” she lied. “I’m thinking you need to get in that tub and get warm, ASAP.”
“Frostbite, huh?” He glanced over his shoulder, eyes as dark as a storm at sea.
“I cannot be responsible for the Chosen One showing up without his toes.”
His gaze dropped to the hem of her shirt, then her bare legs. His eyes darkened further as he scanned the length of them, then his gaze lifted to the hem of the flannel. As if he could see she wore no panties beneath it.
Her thighs clamped together, her own body betraying her, under his studious perusal. In silence, his heated stare fixed on her face, pinning her in place, stealing all the oxygen from the room. That stare told her he read each and every thought in her head, sensed every ache in her body.
“We can’t have that now, can we?” His voice was almost a purr when he turned, a predator ready to pounce, and took a step toward her.
Sage held her ground, not retreating a step. “No, we really must get you warmed up.” She nearly whimpered. “Quickly.”
She didn’t need to say more. He prowled toward her, pupils flaring, his long legs eating up the distance in three strides. Then he was towering over her, head angled toward hers, gaze dropping to her mouth.
“How do you suggest we start warming me up?” he asked, backing her up against the wall. “Perhaps here?” He nuzzled her neck, tracing the column of her throat with his lips.
Sage could have sworn the ground shifted under her feet when his arms lifted on either side of her and his hands pressed into the wood. She managed to rasp, “That’s a start.”
He said thickly, “Good.” She could feel his grin against her skin. “I want to make sure I’m doing this right.”
His attention moved to her earlobe. Sage bit her lip when he sucked it into his mouth. Then he trailed nipping kisses to her chin, the corner of her mouth, the bow of her lips...
He hovered there, their breath mingling. “I think it’s working.” He brushed the words over her mouth. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Yes! Holy fuck, she agreed. But words …she wasn’t sure she could form them. Not with his body pressing against her–his warmth, his scent, the impact of his power–caging her in. She could only nod.
He kissed her softly, his tongue brushing hers in lazy, deft strokes–taunting her with exactly what his mouth was capable of elsewhere. His fingers slid to her jaw, tipped her face to thoroughly take her mouth, and he deepened the kiss until her knees threatened to buckle.
His hands moved down her body, over her ribcage, to her waist. Heat spread everywhere he touched–a trail of fire. Still, his tongue teased and worshiped her mouth. A test to see who would break first.
With a sharp intake of breath, he did. He gripped her hips and tugged her firmly against him, letting her feel his desire. Dear gods, he was huge.
Her hands went to his belt before her mind could keep up. She needed him. All of him.
He grasped her wrists, stilling her. His breath was feather-soft against her skin when he leaned in and whispered, “Not yet.”
He dropped down before her, same as he had done by the lake. But this time…this time he had other plans.
He smiled up at her, a portrait of wickedness. Any protest died as he pressed a kiss to her thigh. Then the other. He inhaled, his chest expanding from it, as he lifted the hem of her shirt. Higher, higher, until the fabric was held at her hipbone by one large hand.
When a chill replaced the heat from his mouth, Sage looked down. He was rocked back on his knees, devouring her with his heated stare. Marking her with his gaze. Memorizing every curve. Making plans…
“ Hmmm…” His murmur of appreciation sounded positively feral. The smile gracing his beautiful mouth was one of pure male bliss.
His hands moved on her again, thumbs slowly circling over the gooseflesh that rose to the surface of her skin. He leaned in and Sage nearly stopped breathing when he nudged her legs apart and tasted her.
Gently, with teeth-grinding lightness, his tongue swept the length of her–moist and hot like poured wax. Sage saw stars. Her head rolled back against the doorjamb. And then he hoisted one of her legs over his shoulder.
She fisted her hands in his hair. Great mothers above... If she didn’t get this male fully inside her, in one capacity or another, she was going to die. “Now. Yes.” She groaned.
His deep chuckle vibrated around her and through her, nearly taking her over the edge. But he obliged, sliding one finger into her, then another. In sync with his mouth, they worked her, rubbing, stroking, teasing, and with his free hand, he reached around and squeezed her ass.
If the realm spun, it faltered, if the seas raged, they quieted. Time ceased to exist, and in the same breath, transitioned a billion years. All under the skillful administrations of this male’s mouth.
Her eyes rolled back in her head as his fingers fucked her mercilessly. His mouth… like someone starved. She was close, so close. The release shimmered in her as she rotated her hips, riding his face.
“That’s it,” he purred against her clit, his fingers pumping deeper, curling. “Come for me.”
She did. With his name on her lips, Sage shattered into a million pieces around him. Wave after wave of pleasure surging through her. Until her body shook and her legs lost the ability to support her.
His arms took over, easing her to the floor as his own heavy breathing mimicked hers. The sound of their heartbeats drummed in her ears.
Then came the shattering of glass.
T hey were both moving, lurching to their feet, as a head collided with a wet thud against the opposite wall of the cabin and fell to the floor.
Lightning wreathed Bastian’s fingertips as the head rolled once. Twice. A third time–the cloying reek of rotting flesh stuffed itself up his nose–before coming to a rest. Sage gasped.
The prince of Windsong stared up at them, eyes wide, mouth agape.
“I wouldn’t do anything stupid if I were you.” A cold, vast power crackled from the other side of the cabin’s front door. The stranger added, “I’ve got more where that came from.”
Bastian’s gathering energy rumbled the floorboards beneath their feet. Sage just stared at the severed head, all the color draining from her face, so ashen that her freckles stood out like splattered blood.
“Starting with your cousin,” the stranger warned. “Sterling, I believe his name is.”
The blood, popping and sizzling in Bastian’s veins turned to ice. At his side, Sage had the opposite reaction. Like a struck match, her entire countenance shifted. Shock morphed into white-hot anger. “Gideon…” she seethed down their bond.
Bastian had never glimpsed this level of rage in her before. By the way her body trembled with barely contained restraint, he wondered if she even had. Or if this was the breaking point, after years of being under her cousin’s thumb.
“You have something of mine, LaGoryen,” Gideon called out. “I’m willing to make a trade.” In the pause, Bastian braced himself. “Sever the bond you share with my cousin. And I will return yours.”
Bastian didn’t get the chance to tell him to go to hell. An arrow ripped through his shoulder from behind.
He whirled, summoning his fire, and found Xavier holding the bow. The element halted, a dog ordered to heel, before Bastian could wield it. Blocked by whatever poison was on the arrowhead.
His archenemy smiled from the back doorway.
Then Xavier coughed, face contorting as a driving gust of wind shoved down his throat, choking him. The cabin windows burst open and the night air whipped through them, ripping shelves from the walls and shattering glass.
Xavier struggled to stand as the cyclone surged around him. Sage moved in his direction, hair swirling around her face like a murder of crows, as storms lit her eyes.
Bastian reached for a spinning fire poker, but his arms wouldn’t obey. It was a struggle to even keep the dark from edging into his vision. To his dread, he realized it wasn’t just the tornado of wind rotating around him, it was the ground itself.
He was going to blackout. Must be close .
The Princess of Windsong suddenly appeared behind Xavier, a large hand around her throat. Bastian strained to see past the enveloping haze, the blinding-hot pain searing his muscles. His knees hit the floor.
Gideon moved into the open back doorway. “If you don’t want the princess and your lover to end up like the prince,” he said, as he surveyed Sage with a starkness that raised Bastian’s hackles. “You’ll do as I say.”
No! Bastian tried and failed to say.
He didn’t hear Sage’s response. He twisted the metal band on his finger, then the dark climbed up and swallowed him whole.
Hornhall
K atarra shuffled the deck, cards crackling like snapping finger bones. A figurative sound she was close to making a reality. If the simpering slut behind her didn’t stop trying to read her hand.
The male across the table lifted his gaze to said slut, awaiting his cue.
“Lord Boldron,” Katarra drawled as she flexed and broke the cards again. “If you and Lady Frensworth are that enamored with each other, I would gladly watch a different type of game play out on this table.”
The whore behind Katarra gasped indignantly. Lord Boldron’s mate, in conversation a few feet away, snapped her head in their direction. The cheating bastard nearly choked on the olive from his martini.
The rest of the room broke into peals of laughter. Legion stole another poker chip from Lord Boldron’s pile as the idiot sputtered, “I have no idea what you are inferring, Champion Talon.”
Katarra grinned and dealt the hand. This was just buying time, anyway. Thankfully her soon-to-be husband had been called into a surprise meeting right after announcing their betrothal.
She’d done a good enough job falling back into their old flirtations Dagan felt comfortable leaving her alone. Sort of. If she didn’t count the wolves he had left behind.
She scanned the parlor again and fanned out her cards. Two of Dagan’s pack lingered by the doors leading to the lively ballroom, two stood by the bar, and one was seated at the table to her left.
Lady Erinned, pretending to care what some male was droning on about, caught her attention from across the room. The beauty smiled behind her lace demi-mask, lifting a flute of champagne to her sensuous mouth.
Katarra focused on her hand. Decent–she’d won with worse. Lord Boldron scooped up his cards, eyed them, and swore. The other two players looked at their own hands. A slight grin from the pack member. He’d be her competition.
The wolf’s gaze lifted. Katarra caught it, smiled, and licked her lips. His sights zeroed in on the action.
Good boy .
He would also be her target.
L egion half flew, half hopped onto a shelf when the pantry door banged shut behind them. As if he knew what was about to go down and wanted well away from it. Smart wyvern.
Katarra grinned coyly and backed up. “I thought you might help me find the paprika.”
The pack member’s smile was a slash of white in the dark. “Fuck the paprika,” he growled.
Not one of her more creative lovers, but okay. She grabbed him by the shirt, tugged him forward, and said, “I’d rather fuck you.”
He growled again, surprisingly similar to a real wolf. Then his hands were on her face, tongue down her throat, as he walked her up against a shelf. Spices clattered to the floor. Katarra nipped his lip and pulled back, stretching it. He groaned. She’d read him correctly. He liked this–the edge of agony.
She would get him well past the threshold. When Dagan discovered her scent all over him.
But the pack member’s lowered inhibitions made him beyond caring. Thanks to the black pill she had popped out of a cluster of crystals in Legion’s leash and dropped in his drink thirty minutes ago.
Fae males were loyal to a fault. Katarra suspected Dagan’s wolf pack was the epitome of that. So she’d taken no chances he would be able to resist her teasing innuendos; that she could indulge in one last romp before her morning nuptials.
Their departing excuse to the two wolves manning the door had been simple. The bride required a minor rest before her wedding. The male–currently lifting her dress, licking her neck, and kneading her ass–would escort Katarra to her chamber. It was almost too easy.
The fae before her fumbled with his zipper. “Oh, yes,” Katarra crooned into his ear. “Give me that big, thick…”
Thunk.
His forehead hit the shelf over her shoulder, his muscles turning to dead weight as he slumped onto her, pinning her against the spice rack. Legion hissed and spit a fireball at his head. Katarra patted it out, then eased out from under him. He slid into a heap at her feet.
“Sorry about the blue balls.” She stepped over the prone body and grabbed a set of keys from his belt. “Legion.” She straightened and held out an arm.
To her surprise, the flapping of leathery wings and a whoosh of air answered her. The wyvern landed gently on her shoulder.
“Well, look at you. Flying.” She smiled sidelong at the little dragon, chest puffed up with pride. “Now, let’s go have some real fun.”