Chapter 28 #3
“It’s something that I struggle with,” is all I can say.
“No. Why didn’t they heal? Your Fae blood should have healed them.”
“I don’t like to talk about it.”
“Tell me,” he orders, his fingertips digging into the backs of my thighs in a plea.
I hesitate, searching for the right way to say this. “Willa walked in on me and saw what I was doing. She…” I stumble, trying to figure out a way to explain this without making Willa seem like an absolute monster.
“Just tell me,” he says, staring up at me.
“She forced me to keep them open so they’d scar,” I whisper.
If this is something you’re going to do, you need to remember the toll it takes on your body. If you’re going to do something so terrible to yourself, you should never forget it.
I was fifteen. After she found me, she made me a drink a tonic that slowed my magic, and thus my body’s ability to heal itself.
It took days for the skin to knit together.
Every time I forgot about the wounds and moved too quickly, they’d rip back open.
It was painful, but it was effective. I didn’t cut again for a long time.
Every time I was tempted to, I’d remember that moment.
Asmo is silent for several moments before saying, “I’m sorry you felt the need to do that to yourself. I’m sorry that she forced that on you. Thank you for telling me.”
I begin to pull my dress down, but he stops me.
“No, it’s okay,” he says.
“They don’t bother you?” I hate myself for the question, for the doubt that creeps into my voice.
He cocks his head and furrows his brow. “Why would they bother me? I have scars, too.”
“But—”
He looks up at me, his gaze intense. “No, Mae. Let me show you exactly how little your scars bother me.”
He places a kiss on each scar, soft lips barely grazing each one. I stare at him, unable to move as he kisses each blemish, emotion threatening to overcome me.
Of all the males I’ve been with, nobody has ever reacted in this way. Most have ignored my scars or didn’t even notice them. One even looked disgusted when he first saw them. But no one has ever kissed them.
His kisses trail from my upper thighs to just above my center.
His hands wrap around my backside again, but lower this time as if his fingers are going to enter me from behind.
His fingers tease my entrance, feeling the slickness already gathered there.
He moans as soon as he feels the pool waiting for him.
Suddenly, he turns me around so my backside is in his face, his hands holding me in place.
Sharp teeth land on my backside, biting softly.
My back arches, and I let out a gasp before I feel his tongue replacing where his teeth just were.
He repeats the motion again, this time running a finger along my center.
“Asmo…” I’m so close to begging him to give me what I want.
“Yes, Mae?” his voice drawls from behind me.
I try to turn around, desperate to kiss him. But he holds me in place, facing away from him.
“Bend over,” he says roughly.
I glance back at him and say, “Wha—"
He forces me to bend over with a single hand, and I throb at the display of dominance, backside now sticking up in the air, right in front of his face. Mother help me.
His tongue returns to teasing me, licking around my center but never touching it, leaving me crying out, “Asmo, please!”
I’m rewarded with the feeling of his tongue entering me from behind, moving and tasting me from the inside. The feeling sends my head spinning, wanting more, more, more.
He removes his tongue, replacing it with a finger, gently moving in and out. He’s only making me more desperate for him. His tongue licks its way to my backside, kissing and biting all over while he pumps his finger.
“So pretty,” he murmurs from behind me. “I didn’t get to see how beautiful you are last night. It’s even better than I imagined.”
Suddenly, he removes his finger and then turns me back around before quickly picking me up and roughly setting me on the table, knocking plates and glasses to the floor. I lay back on the table, and he spreads my legs to stare at my soaking wet center.
“Mae…” he grinds out, his voice guttural. “You are…”
I reach up and grab his shirt, pulling him down to me, crashing my lips into his. I moan the moment I feel his tongue on mine. His kisses are feverish, desperate. His finger returns, pumping into me faster now.
My hands reach for him, desperate to feel what his body’s like, what it feels like under my skin. He stops me, taking both of my hands in his free hand and holding them above my head. His mouth pulls away from me.
“Az—”
He cuts me off before I can protest the loss of his mouth and not being able to touch him.
“No,” is all he says before making his way down my body, his finger still pumping.
His tongue licks my apex once, and my hips buck, drawing a cry from my mouth.
My hips arch, my body aching for the feeling of his tongue.
“Say it,” he says, his mouth hovering over me as he looks up at me. I lift my hips to him, but he moves his head away, raising an eyebrow. “Say it,” he repeats.
“What?” I ask. Because honestly, I have no clue what he wants me to say.
“Please.”
“Please,” I whimper.
He growls at me and says, “Please, what?” He bites my inner thigh softly, and I can’t fucking think. I can’t form the words. All I can think about is the pleasure coursing through my body and how I need more.
“Please, Asmo.”
“Please, what?” he repeats, looking at me expectantly.
Please make me come? Please don’t stop, don’t ever stop, please never, never, ever stop?
“Please, Asmo. Please make me come,” I cry.
In response, his mouth covers my apex, his tongue lapping back and forth, stroking the sensitive bundle. He adds a second finger and pumps harder in rhythm with the movements of his tongue.
My body is on fire, the pressure building, and I reach to hold onto something, anything.
My legs squeeze together, and I grab onto the edges of the table as the wave comes, as I come, as pleasure rolls through me, Asmo’s head still in between my legs, fingers still pumping until I can’t take it anymore.
I cry out as the final wave peaks and then recedes.
My body relaxes on the wooden table, and he slowly kisses my inner thighs, then up my stomach, and finally up to my face. I can smell myself on him, and it’s intoxicating knowing that he was just between my legs.
He’s looking at me, a soft smile adorning his handsome face. The green rimming his pupil seems wider than before, and I stare into his eyes. A moment passes between us, sweet and rare. My heart lurches. This moment feels like…not love, but affection. Intimacy.
His eyes are still on me as I reach up and try to smooth his hair out, trying to arrange it in the way he had it when I first saw him today. He picks me up from the table and carries me to the hammock, rocking in between two giant trees.
We lay there in silence for a while, him holding me and me soaking up every moment of laying against his chest. We rock together, holding each other while the rain pours around us, him stroking my hair.
He’s right. This does feel good when we’re not yelling at each other or ready to bite the other’s head off.
But that’s not enough for me. That’s not enough to rule a kingdom together.
I fall asleep swiftly to the sound of the pouring rain and the feeling of a dark, tortured prince holding me, my own heart feeling tortured and confused.
The sound of thunder startles me awake. Asmo and I are still lying in the hammock, but the rain has grown heavier, now falling in thick sheets. Lightning cracks overhead as thunder follows close behind. But it doesn’t touch us. Asmo’s barrier stays strong against the relentless pounding.
Behind me, Asmo is still, but the rhythmic movement of chest rising and falling tells me he’s asleep.
As the rain pours around us, I wonder how I could have ever lived without magic like this. Imagining a life without magic makes me feel hollow inside. Before, it just felt like something I could do. Now, it feels like a living extension of me. Like another limb.
As I reach for my magic, it comes easily and swiftly. I have to tamp down the rush of power that comes. It grows stronger every day, and sometimes, it just wants to be let out.
I force it down, only letting out a small amount. The forest has grown dark around us, so I create small orbs of light to float around the space. At first, I only make a few, content to watch them lazily float around.
Then I grow bolder and make them larger. As I release the largest orb, it drifts toward the edge of the translucent barrier, and I think I see a figure in the woods.
I jump. Asmo startles beneath me. His arms immediately grip me, and he tries to sit up before remembering where we fell asleep. The hammock beneath us wavers unsteadily before he realizes and stills.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice commanding.
I glance back to the dark forest, but I don’t see anything anymore. “I—I thought I saw something in the woods, but I think I just imagined it.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t one of the guards?” he asks, his tone back to relaxed.
“Maybe…” I say, but I’m unsure.
He gently guides me off him, lifting me with ease. “I’ll go check. Stay here.” I shoot him a panicked look, and he says, “Mae, I’ll be fine. Do not leave the barrier. I’m not going to go far. I’m just going to check and make sure the guards are still present.”
I nod hesitantly and create a few more orbs, sending them to the edges of the barrier. It lights up the surrounding area considerably, and I watch Asmo as he walks about ten feet. My magic flares as he leaves my sight, and the orbs grow even brighter.
Squinting, I can see Asmo talking to two figures. He pats one on the back and turns back to our little bubble of heaven, eyes lighting up as he sees the light I created. I swear his pearly white teeth glimmer in the light of the orbs, and I want to roll my eyes at how perfect he is.
“Just the guards. Neat trick, though,” he says once he’s back in the barrier, pointing to the orbs. I visibly exhale, and he asks, “Want to come back?” He motions to the hammock.
I dim the light from the orbs and nod. I’m surprised to find there’s nothing more that I want to do right now.
He scoops me into his arms and lays down in the hammock, settling us back to our previous positions.
We’re both silent for a while, content to listen to the soothing sounds of the rain and the thunder.
His thumb strokes my arm lazily, and I think about how this can feel so right, but every other interaction with him feels so… messy, toxic even.
He startles me from my jumbled thoughts. “Can I ask you something?” His voice is soft and tentative like he might scare me off with whatever he’s about to ask me.
“Of course.”
He exhales and tenses beneath me. “Do you want to talk about what happened the other night?” I turn to him, about to ask him what he’s talking about.
When I look at him, the question dies on the tip of my tongue.
His eyes are soft, and the image of it jars me.
I’ve never seen him look like this. He says, “After I was an ass to you at the coronation dinner. You hurt yourself.”
My walls slam down around my heart as I remember who I am and who I’m with.
If I don’t end up with Asmo, and there’s a strong chance that I don’t, I’m not able to hand him the power of knowing that what he said contributed to me self-harming.
He’s going to be the Serpent King. He is not just some random male I’ve been getting to know.
He quickly says, “We don’t have to, Mae. I’m sorry, regardless. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
I don’t respond. Instead, I dim the orbs until they’re gone. I stare at the darkness, wishing it would consume me.