Chapter 39
Chapter thirty-nine
Archer
The whiskey glass sat before me, barely touched, as I listened to the debrief that should have been my sole concern.
It wasn’t.
No, all I could seem to focus on was the bond that sang in my chest, and the witch I could feel through it.
Her emotions surrounded me, pouring out of her in waves that threatened to overwhelm me completely.
She had no idea about the true nature of our connection now, and as such, no idea how to control it.
To stem the flow and hold back the riotous outpouring of feelings that she was currently throwing at me.
"It happened the second you vanished," Corson said, settling into one of the leather chairs that faced the massive stone fireplace. I blinked, attempting to actually hear what he was saying, and nodded for him to continue. "The shadows holding Storm-bringer just...disappeared. Poof. Gone."
That was annoying, but not surprising; my abrupt transition between realms had shocked me to my core.
It was no wonder I’d lost track of the shadows I’d had surrounding Furfures.
I’d barely grasped what had happened myself.
My lapse in control had afforded him the opportunity to disappear in the brief moments we had been in the Void—or what had seemed like brief moments to the people we’d left behind.
"He didn't waste time either," Vine added, sprawling across the couch with his usual lack of concern for proper posture. "By the time we realized what had happened, he'd already bolted. Mal tried to track him, but..."
Mal cawed softly from his perch on the mantle, a sound filled with frustration and what might have been embarrassment.
"It's not your fault," I assured him, though my mind felt strangely foggy. "Storm-bringer is a slippery bastard. Always has been."
I trailed off, my gaze unfocused as I tried to sort through all the information Delilah was sending from her end of the bond.
Confusion and mild distress.
That’s wouldn’t do. Straightening, I did my best to send gentle waves of calm through the bond. She likely hadn’t realized it existed yet, and the last thing I wanted was to invade her privacy before she learned to manage our connection.
I’d taken enough liberties for one day.
"Boss?" Corson leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concern. "You seem...distracted. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," I managed, though even I could hear how unconvincing I sounded. "Continue."
"There's not much more to tell," Vine said, eyeing me with growing suspicion.
"He was there, then he wasn't. We've lost our best lead on the Order, but at least you managed to get the first piece of the Fallen Key. That’s something. Uh, boss?” He blinked at me, his brow furrowed.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but…what the fuck is wrong with you? "
I opened my mouth to respond, to tell everything was fine.
To inform them about the Void and Astaroth and the deal I'd been forced to make, but instead found myself shifting uncomfortably as desire spread through my chest. For a moment, I had been confused, unsure of where that emotion had even come from.
No, not my desire. Hers.
In that moment, my cock had twitched traitorously in my pants, responding to sensations that weren't my own, but stirred my own yearning to be near her. To see if she smelled as incredible as she had back in Astaroth’s throne room.
Groaning, I took a sip of my drink, trying to let the sulfur-infused liquid clear some of the fog that was clouding my thoughts, but it was no use. I had only one thought in my mind: Delilah, and the feelings she was sending through the bond.
Confusion. Curiosity.
Lust.
“We’ll continue this later,” I barked, standing from my chair.
“Wait,” Corson called. “We need to talk about this. Archer, you are the first person to cross the realms since Lucifer disappeared. That isn’t something to be taken lightly. We should—”
“I’ll tell you everything,” I promised. “But for now, I need to…” I trailed off, my gaze lifting to the ceiling above us where I could sense Delilah on the second floor.
“Yeah.” Corson’s acceptance was grudging at best. “Fine. But Archer?” He paused until he could be sure my focus was on him. “Don’t loose sight of what really matters, alright?”
I didn’t tell him it might already be too late.
Ignoring the shocked and confused stares of my men, I drained my glass and immediately headed for the stairs, needing the privacy of my room.
The chalet was huge, a stunning structure nestled in a remote Swiss valley with an incredible view of the Matterhorn.
Each richly appointed bedroom had its own bathroom, as well as huge windows and a large balcony to make the most of the sweeping landscape that surrounded it.
Ignoring all of that luxury, I stormed through the room and toward the shower, discarding my clothes as I went.
My cock strained behind my pants, still angry that I had allowed it to go so unsatisfied earlier.
Desperate, I clawed at the fabric—literally, because my claws had appeared without my fucking permission.
Again.
I was losing all control, and I didn’t know how to stop it.
Finally naked, I turned on the shower, stepping beneath the icy cold spray and letting out a groan.
I was not going to do it. I was absolutely not going to think about her while I jerked off in the shower like an untrained youth.
Tipping my head back, I brought my hands to my face, which I immediately regretted because my fingers still smelled of her.
“Fuck.” The word was a hiss, my balls drawing up tight as the bond wreaked havoc on my body.
Forcing my lust—her lust? Our lust?—into submission, I hastily scrubbed my body, paying special attention to my fingers, before climbing out of the shower and heading to the closet, selecting a black t-shirt and matching lounge pants from the wardrobe I kept here.
Rubbing the towel over my wet hair as I stared at the starlit sky outside my window, I wondered what Delilah was doing inside the room she had locked herself in.
Was she lying in the bed, recounting the horrors of our time in the Void?
Or was she standing at the window, as I was, trying to make sense of our new connection that was probably more frightening and confusing than anything to her.
I could picture her, whispering her questions to her familiar as she got ready for bed.
Then, my traitorous, lust-addled brain began wondering if she slept naked or—
The thought drew me up short; what could she possibly wear? She didn’t have anything besides the borrowed dress that Persephone had callously loaned to her, trying to hurt my witch with a malicious gesture of feigned kindness.
There it was again. Those words.
My witch.
They were more true now than they had been just a day ago, and I couldn’t find a single part of me that regretted them.
A mate was not something I had ever imagined having. The idea of someone who belonged only to me, who had been put on this earth to be my perfect match had seemed so far-fetched after the endless millennia of my existence, that I had discarded it completely.
But now that I had experienced it, the undeniable draw that led me to claiming the woman meant solely for me, I knew that nothing had ever felt more right.
And yet, here I was, trying to ignore my throbbing fucking cock while she hid away in the other room, probably plotting my murder and getting more and more creative with every passing second.
Within me, the bond pulsed, seeming to have a mind of its own. Every fiber of my body was humming, screaming at me to go to her.
To touch her. Taste her.
To claim her.
But while the bond and my magic were of the same mind, my brain understood that Delilah was stubborn. If I burst into her room, demanding her submission, she’d fight me every step of the way.
And while that did hold a certain appeal, I knew that I needed to play the long game with her.
I knew my witch well enough by now to understand that forcing a direct confrontation would only make her dig her heels in more.
She was proud and stubborn, but also logical when given space to think.
If I stormed in making demands, she would fight me purely on principle.
But if I approached her with respect, with honesty about what was happening between us, surely she would see reason.
She had shown me trust in the Void, had placed her safety in my hands when every instinct probably screamed at her to run. That trust was precious, fragile, and I would not repay it with games or manipulation.
No, if I wanted Delilah to accept our bond—to accept me—I would have to earn it properly. With patience, with explanation, and with the kind of careful consideration I had never shown another being in my endless existence.
And that meant going with a peace offering.
Nodding at my own brilliance, I opened my Rip and retrieved her bags, then strode across the hall and knocked on her door.
I had been prepared to face her, the rumpled, smudged version of the witch I had come to know. I imagined I would offer up her things and she would be ever so grateful, thanking me profusely.
With her mouth, perhaps?
What I was not prepared for was to find her nearly naked, her pale skin damp and flushed from the bath and a towel held tightly over her perky breasts.
The sight of water trailing lazily down her neck had my breath catching and my cock thickening in my pants.
As I watched, the crystal droplet rolled over her pulse point and then snaked across the mating mark I had left on her neck, and I swore I could feel that drop as though it were on my own skin.
Slow, I reminded myself, offering her the bags and taking a seat while she went to change.
I had wanted to talk, to ease her into the discussion and find a way forward, together.
But I fucked it all up, letting my concern for her conflicting emotions escape, and when she flung open the door, I knew the time to talk had long past.
Because my witch was pissed, and I was ready to show her I could handle all her rage and then some.