Chapter 3
L’Appel
CLAIRE
Once he was gone, the room fell painfully still. I stayed where I was, staring at the door. Tears burned in the back of my throat. The old ache of feeling stupid and small and cast aside for my uselessness crept in, but I refused to give in to the sadness. It would do nothing for me now.
Instead, I paced back and forth, arms crossed, silently replaying the entire fight, until my attention landed on the large windows that ran along the farthest wall of the bedchamber.
Earlier, I’d sent a raven to Seraphina, my little sister, carrying a note and coin, along with my wish that she leave Prideaux Hill and join me here at Chateau Rose. I hoped she would open her eyes and see that the hate Mama had raised us on was a lie. Or, at best, not the entire story.
Beyond the glass, the snowy mountains rose jagged and dark against the fading twilight.
Cradling the demonic relic against my heart, I pressed one palm against the window and drew in a deep breath.
Holding the horn made me feel like anything was possible.
And when Bastien touched me while I was touching it, power coursed through me.
But my husband had decided he wouldn’t risk anything that might result in an heir.
I understood his fear, mirrored it with my own.
Having a real family was a dream I’d never dared let myself hold.
I was meant to grow old at Prideaux Hill, tending to the ravens and the graveyard ghosts.
But now, I had a husband. I had magick. And I wanted my own family.
I blew out a breath that fogged the glass.
If only he’d stop treating me like a breakable girl and listen to me.
A warm breeze rustled through my hair, and I had the strange sense that I was being watched.
But that was silly. I pushed it aside. Only…
the feeling persisted. Someone or something was standing behind me.
My heart racing, I turned, ready to confront my husband about his mulish behavior, but found the bedchamber just as empty as it had been moments ago.
Save for my two wolves, who were by the fire.
“Bastien?” I whispered, but no answer came.
I turned back around with a huff, facing the windows once more, determined to come up with some way to remove this necklace on my own and make my magick work, when the sheep’s horn began vibrating against my breastbone.
I nearly dropped it in surprise, but an unseen force ensured it stayed in my hands.
Pulses of demonic energy raced through my body.
Inhaling deeply, I closed my eyes and basked in the heat it produced. In the magick it was giving me.
I begged the demonic relic to fill me up with power that couldn’t be taken away. “Please, Damien,” I whispered, not knowing how to pray to the God of the Underworld. “Make me unbreakable.”
I didn’t get a response, not that I believed I would, but something in me softened. My limbs grew limp, and suddenly the horn felt too heavy to hold. My grip on it slackened, and it slid down my stomach, gliding through a line of fresh perspiration, halting just below my belly button.
My breath stuttered. Heat blossomed in my cheeks. My pulse pounded loud enough that it shook the bloodstone Bastien gifted me. It wasn’t just magick that was building inside of me, but pleasure.
Once again, I had the sense that I was being watched.
I spun around, pressing my back against the cold glass, ready to confront whoever was there, but no one was.
Save for my wolves. The white one was asleep, or pretending to be, and the brown one was standing guard, watching me intently.
I let out a nervous laugh. That was it. It was just the wolf. No one was here.
I told myself to put the horn away, but it continued to vibrate insistently, as if it knew exactly where it wanted to be.
I moved it a little lower. Then lower. Feeling equal parts embarrassed and reckless as I let it brush against me.
Just there. Right where I’d wanted Bastien to be.
And when I did, intense pleasure whirled through me, like I was melting and breaking apart at the same time.
Bastien’s lips and tongue had been world-changing, but this was something else entirely.
I pulled it away, knowing what I was doing was wrong.
This wasn’t what demonic relics were used for.
I had a husband. I had no business doing this.
And yet, I was intrigued. Bastien had stoked a desire that had nowhere to go.
Now the fire inside me had taken on a life of its own, demanding a conclusion.
Demanding release. And the horn had an answer.
I told myself I was only curious. That this was nothing more than testing the relic, exploring how its energy moved through me.
The lie was just enough to quiet my own judgments.
I glanced around the doorframe to ensure I was still alone, then tentatively brought it back, allowing the vibrating horn to touch me again.
The pleasure came stronger this time, rippling through me until my knees threatened to buckle.
The sheep’s horn was smooth on one side and ridged on the other.
I slid it back and forth, back and forth.
The more I teased myself, the wetter I became, until the horn was damp and slipped easily through, parting me until its vibrating tip brushed against the soft spot Bastien taught me about.
I sank to the floor, my back flush against the glass.
I didn’t know what kind of power this was, but if it could do this to me, I was enthralled.
My legs fell apart on a slow sigh, and I let myself explore the sensations.
I worked it in a circle, twisting it so the ridged side slid against me, which felt even better.
After only a few moments, I was ready to come apart.
I pulled it away, giving myself space to breathe, to savor the torment of being close without tipping over the edge.
Then, madness overtook me. A half-formed thought. With my eyes shut, I guided the tip toward my center, to the place Bastien had claimed. My hips shifted forward without permission, my body answering before my mind could object, and gently nudged it inside me.
Stars exploded behind my eyes. I sucked in a jagged breath.
I should stop. I knew that, but it felt too good.
It felt too right. I urged it deeper, letting it buzz against that warm spot inside me.
I surrendered to the wrongness of it, to the way my body opened without hesitation, welcoming the magick building inside me.
My free hand slid to my clit, fingers rubbing in tight little circles as everything else spun wildly out of control.
I thought of Bastien. Of the way his eyes blackened before he bit me. Of the way he slid into me. I wanted him right here. I wanted his hard thrusts. I wanted to watch his face as he unraveled with me. I wanted to feel him dripping out of me.
But… this wasn’t Bastien. It was ribbed and warm and by Diana… I was going to come. I worked it in and out until I was sighing and squirming on the floor. All the while, magick tingled beneath my skin.
It was working. It was working.
When I couldn’t take any more, I gave in. With a soft moan, my body released completely, the pleasure stretched and swelled until it spilled through me in a rush. Afterward, I sat there, chest rising and falling. The horn continued to hum in my grip, almost pleased with itself.
But the magick under my skin needed its own release. Proof, I thought hazily. I needed proof this wasn’t just my body fooling me.
Magick had betrayed me too many times in the past. It hadn’t worked when Hera held a knife to Bastien’s throat.
Nor when I was five, and I had stood trembling in the dark at Prideaux Hill, cradling my cheek after Mama struck me with the back of her hand, demanding I try the spell again.
I swallowed hard, remembering how small I’d felt afterward.
The disappointment. The certainty that I was broken.
I wasn’t that girl anymore. That girl was gone.
Raising my hand, I focused on one of the unlit candles on the nightstand and willed it to light.
“Come on,” I urged the magick. A frustrated beat of silence passed.
I clenched my jaw, breath hitching, sweat gathering at my hairline as the familiar panic crept back in.
Then, a burst of energy surged through my body, and the wick ignited.
A laugh broke free. “I did it!” I pressed a hand over my mouth, half afraid the sound would ruin the moment, and watched the candle burn with amazement.
The flame mirrored the warm light of hope flickering in my chest. Fragile and fierce all at once.
It burned alongside a quiet pride I’d never felt before.
I was right. This horn was the answer. And for whatever reason, it worked best when I was right on the edge, when my body was open and lit from the inside. The flame stretched higher, licking the air, and my heart lifted with it. Until… it flickered.
“No!” I shouted, scrambling to my feet. Rushing over to it, I held out my hands like I could catch it before it disappeared. “You have to stay lit!”
I had no idea how badly I needed this to work until it did. But despite my pleas, the candle extinguished, along with the light inside my chest. My shoulders sagged in defeat. “Why?” I whispered. “What happened?”
I stumbled back and stepped on something sharp. “By Diana!” I yelped, hopping away. When I looked down, I found a small seashell shaped like a tusk inches away from my foot. It hadn’t been there before. Had it?
A chill crept up my spine. Slowly, I lifted my gaze to where the horn rested on the floor. It was still vibrating. Warm and patient. Which didn’t make sense. If the power had faded, it should have stopped. If I had done something wrong, the magick would’ve drained away.
But it hadn’t. It was still humming under my skin.
Maybe the flame hadn’t gone out because the power was gone, but because I needed to go further.
Grabbing the horn, I whispered, “One more time.”