Chapter 29 #2
She realizes Hiram’s Sensitivity should make it easier to feel magic’s slow ascent, to smell the precise moment she needs to begin. Maybe that’s why she needs him. More than a sous-chef, he’s a partner.
“Do you want to take the lead?”
He pauses while cutting the fresh ivy, a stabilizing agent. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll walk you through it, but I need you to cast while I add the ingredients.”
“You trust me?”
Veda hesitates only because the truth is so willing to break free. “I do.”
When he casts the first spell, his amulet ring flashes blue. In perfect tune, the cauldron hums. They follow the potion book step-by-step. He casts as she adds each ingredient, maintaining the rhythm while watching him for any sign of strain.
“What’s it like to smell magic?” Veda asks after watching his reaction to the ingredients blending.
“Hard to say. I don’t know anything else.”
She hums quietly, then it’s time to brew in earnest. No stops.
No pauses. Hiram’s ring glows with each turning point as he recites the incantation.
Everything flows. The work is almost silent, broken only by his recitation and bits of quiet conversation that dwindle as their concentration deepens.
By the time they finish, it’s nearly four in the morning.
Veda uses a dropper to sample the clear liquid, smiling before sealing it into the vial.
“Is that good?” Hiram asks.
“Tentatively, yes. But the next two days will confirm.”
He leaves first while Veda stays to stir the potion until it cools. When she joins him in the solarium, only dim solar lights glow in the room. The sun will be rising soon, but the world is still cloaked in darkness. He hands her the glass of water on the table.
“How did you know I’d want water?”
“I pay attention.” Hiram looks at her. The softness provided by the dim light shifts, casting part of his face in shadow. “I’m observant of everything in my line of sight.” He says it so easily, and it should ease the tension, but it does the opposite.
“Is that so?”
“I’m not complicated. I’m just particular about where I invest my time and energy. I prefer quality over quantity, and I won’t entertain anything that isn’t real.”
Tonight, his words hold more depth. Fascinated, Veda rises to her feet. Her voice is soft but pointed. “You think this is real.”
“I know it is.” His eyes don’t leave hers. “I told you before. I’ve figured out what you don’t think you can say, which is why I’m patient. You’ll come to me in your own time.”
“Like some obedient animal—”
“No. Like someone who knows what they want, which you do.” Hiram steps back. “But I’m not going to chase you or trick you. As if I even could. I said I’d show you who I am, and I have. Everything else is up to you.”
She stares at him, voice low. “Why bother? I’m cursed and difficult, and—”
“I haven’t changed my mind.” There’s no sarcasm, only sincerity. “I won’t. We’re walking through hell, remember?”
Veda forces herself to look away. That certain feeling rises again. She feels it most of the time, but nothing like right now. It’s the space between close and too close. Never enough. “You’re free to walk away at any point if this gets too hard.”
“I’ll remember that.” He sounds playful, but his voice is much too low. Personal. “And you’re free to tell me what’s got you feeling like this tonight.”
“Nothing.”
“Lies. You’ve been in survival mode since I met you. Possibly longer. It sounds exhausting.”
He’s too close to the truth. It feels like dragging a boulder through a marathon she didn’t choose, constantly pushing herself to a finish line she’ll never reach.
Veda folds her arms across her chest. Hiram isn’t a threat to her, only the life she’s grown used to.
She wants to give in. It’s hard to ignore what he’s offering, harder not to want the sanctuary he’s been building for her.
“The cracks are there. Something is bound to get through.” The truth slips out with her next breath. “Like you did.”
Hiram’s steady eyes are an invitation. He’s waiting for her. He’s been waiting.
Veda looks him up and down before lowering her guard a fraction, moving into his space. There are a thousand reasons not to do this, and only a few reasons why she should.
“Take off your shirt.” She leans in.
Hiram’s brow rises. “Now?”
“Yeah.” Veda’s lips brush against his. “I’m tired of only allowing myself the bare minimum when I want so much more.”
“We can start there.” He steals a kiss. Then another. “We’ll figure out the rest.”
When his mouth meets hers fully, the thrill shocks Veda to life before it sinks into her skin, invades her bones, and bleeds into every nerve.
Hiram is right there chasing her lips, drawing her closer, framing her face.
The pressure of his kiss expresses everything he’s been saying.
He fills her awareness to the brim with him—only him.
When he pulls away, she’s momentarily adrift until Hiram takes her hand and leads her toward her bedroom.
The short walk is torture, air thick with unspoken desire, brushing hands, tension cresting in a thunderclap of motion as soon as they pass through the doorway.
Frenetic kisses and moans, whispered directions and touches, untucked and unbuttoned clothes.
They speed along until a lone discussion point stops Hiram.
“I didn’t bring anything.”
“I’m cursed. I can’t—”
Hiram swallows the rest of her words with a kiss, only breaking to murmur directions as he takes his time undressing her.
Veda remembers what lies beneath too late. “I—”
“I know.”
He kisses the black streaks on her shoulder.
Each reverent press leaves currents of heat that shift as he moves.
His lips skim every scar. He mouths every ugly vein and whispers homage to every wound.
Murmured words slide against her skin like a promise Veda lets him keep with a sigh as she closes her eyes, letting go.
“I don’t see anything wrong,” he murmurs, lifting her gently onto the bed.
Veda is intoxicated, high on him, a greedy, shaking mess as his hands worship her while his mouth pours praise across her skin like water.
She wants more. Molten heat pools between her legs as Hiram spreads her thighs and kneels between them.
It’s instinct, the way Veda opens for him.
There’s purpose in the tilt of her hips.
Her sharp inhale is loud in the silence as Hiram slips a finger inside her wet cunt, his kisses closing in on her core.
Nerves spike, then flee in an instant, as sure fingers spread her lips and his tongue slides against her aching sex.
A gasping breath escapes as she tangles her fingers in his hair.
Hiram takes his time, familiarizing himself with her body. The low timbre of his moan vibrates against her, sending a shock of arousal straight to her core. When she begins to quake, he slips a second finger inside, stretching and curling them in all the right ways to make her clench.
“Hiram.”
He freezes for the span of a breath before doubling his efforts, his eyes on her—watching, learning, feeling. Arching against his mouth, she is frantic as he holds her shaking legs apart and urges, demands, commands her to—
She falls apart. Both trembling in the aftermath, they come together in quiet reverence.
Her bed is smaller than his, but that makes little difference when Hiram slips into it facing her. He kisses her deeply, draws her leg over his hip, and finds the right angle to slowly sink into her with a shaky gasp. He stretches her open until it almost hurts, overwhelming yet still not enough.
Sex isn’t new to Veda, not even like this: lying on their sides with nothing to stop the sighs slipping between them. But Hiram is silent now that he’s inside her. He touches her like she’s something precious, reverently breathing her in, basking in the moment.
Then he shifts, cradling her as he rolls onto his back and brings her on top.
“Use me,” he says.
Hands pressed to his chest, she begins to move, rising and falling on him. It’s deeper like this, toe curling.
“Take what you need,” he whispers.
She doesn’t need to be told twice. Her control incinerates with a single roll of her hips.
Long suppressed, her desire ignites, movements becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy that make Veda want more.
Desire consumes them. Hiram’s body, lean and strong, matches her rhythm stroke for stroke.
Everything burns in the best way. Broken moans and bitten-off words mark Hiram’s command in each dip of her hips.
Frantic. Desperate. Messy. Neither is quiet.
Pain and pleasure blur the edges of her vision.
She leans forward, flush against him, sliding her hands in his hair, burying her face in his neck.
She lets him take over. Lets him hold her too tightly.
Lets him give her exactly what she’s never asked for but always needed.
Hiram is right there with her, coming with her name on his lips. Their hearts pound wildly, out of sync, until stillness finds them—side by side, face-to-face. He rubs slow circles on her back.
“How do you feel?” The whispered question is followed by a kiss on her shoulder.
Veda falls asleep to the first fingers of light crawling across the sky before she can answer.