Chapter 34 #2
My foolishness tastes rotten now.
“I loved who I was with her. University was a fresh start. I never fit in during high school, even after years living among mortals. Riley made ordinary things feel easy and magical.” I bite back a cringe. “But Nick didn’t buy it for a second.”
E chuckles quietly. “Brother bear saw right through her, did he?”
“My pathologically distrustful brother,” I correct, “who had already scared off a couple of harmless boyfriends, showed up unannounced before our final exams because he wanted to, quote, unquote, meet her first.”
“And?”
I shudder, the sting of it still too raw. “Nick has a knack for noticing small things. Tiny inconsistencies. A suspicious leaning question. A look that lasts too long. He told me Riley wasn’t who she claimed to be—that she’d gotten close to me on purpose.”
“But you didn’t believe him.”
Shame flushes my neck. “Unfortunately…no. I thought he was sabotaging the first real friendship I’d ever had because he hated the mortal world and hated that I wanted a place in it.”
“That must have been very hard to hear. And excuse me for saying so, but your brother isn’t the most tactful person.”
My lips quirk. “But then Riley became awfully curious. She asked him about foster care and remarked on how serendipitous it was that we had the same eyes.” I play with the end of my braid.
“Nick heard all of that and confronted her, pulling a dagger on her right then…” I wince.
“And she fled straight through her bedroom mirror.”
Silence stretches between us.
“I transferred schools within weeks and doubled down on my studies. Longer hours at the library, no more painting, and less magic.”
“Why less magic?”
“Because magic used to feel private.” I drag my thumb over the bloodmark on my arm back and forth. “After Riley, every spell felt like opening a door for her, or someone just like her who might be lurking beyond the mirror.”
E brings the underside of my wrist to his lips and places a slow, reverent kiss there. “Max, you don’t have to go looking for her tomorrow—or ever. I almost lost you today, little fox. I’m not ready to live through that again.”
He’s not wrong. Any Red Fae is Riley in my book, and some secret part of me longs for revenge. Even finding my mother’s murderer—tracking Lillivere—isn’t quite as appealing.
With Riley, it’s more personal.
“I still can’t believe you flew us over here,” I say, eager to switch to a less painful subject. “Are your wings here now? I mean, did you only just realize you had them when I pointed it out, or were they—I don’t know—dormant?”
I extend a hand toward his back, but find only the smooth expanse of skin, muscle, and shoulder blades.
“They weren’t there when we stepped through the passage, and they’re not here now, but I think I can summon them as needed.”
“Try it,” I say eagerly. “Try and summon them.”
“Alright.”
He stands and walks to the center of the small room.
The shift in the air is subtle at first. I don’t see them rise, but I hear them unfurl behind him in a soft, careful, almost reluctant manner.
I rise to my feet and search the air tentatively until I find them, my fingers trembling. My breath stutters as I slide my hand along the span of his right wing. The outer feathers are long and smooth, firm beneath my fingers. Closer in, they soften into a thicker, warmer layer.
My stomach flip-flops.
“They’re…beautiful.” I wet my lips, both of my hands now moving over his wings, slower now, learning the shape of them, mapping them out with a touch that isn’t as innocent as I pretend it is.
Jealousy and wonder mingle in my blood as I reach the place where the wings attach to his body. At the base, my fingertips sink into a dense layer of soft down feathers, and E lets out a low, unsteady groan.
I trace the narrow strip of skin running between his wings down his spine to the hem of his pants. The fabric is brittle beneath my touch, and I realize my fire burned through his clothes the same way it did mine.
I hook one finger in the hole right above his buttocks. “You let yourself burn for me.” The words come out shaky as hell. “Why?”
His wings vanish with a soft ruffling sound, and he spins around, his hands traveling up my arms.
“Fire can’t hurt me, Max. But I do burn for you.”
He dips down for a kiss, but I raise a hand to his torso.
“Wait.”
He stops an inch short of my mouth, his breath ghosting over my lips.
“What if you’re married?” I squeak.
“What if I’m not? What if I was meant to meet you all along?
What if you die tomorrow?” his thumb caresses my cheek.
“What-ifs are the single most dangerous mind-fuck there is, because you can twist them to fit any narrative. I’m here with you now, and I want you, and I think you want me.
If you don’t want us to kiss, then say it.
I will respect your choice, but don’t hide behind what-ifs, little fox. ”
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“So tell me the truth. Not the careful version. Not the reasonable one.” His voice drops to a husky drawl. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
I bite my bottom lip, standing on my tiptoes to bridge the distance between us. “Fuck, yes.”
He smiles against my mouth, and I’m smiling too, giddy and breathless and so full of him I could burst.
His kiss steals the air from my lungs, all pent-up hunger and relief. His large hands cradle my face before traveling up and down the length of my arms.
“Here. Let me.” He pulls on the hem of my shirt and passes it over my head.
After slipping one strap of my black satin bra down my shoulders to kiss the skin underneath, he claims my mouth again, and a thrill shoots through me.
“You don’t mess around, do you?” I breathe against his lips.
“I have spent too long as an incorporeal ghost. Don’t ask me to act like I’m not starving.”
His mouth dips to my neck, his warm kisses leaving delicious bruises in their wake, enough to make me shiver, and I tip my head back with a shaky sound.
“I would rather be the worst mistake you ever make than not know the taste of you, and while your gorgeous head doubts and pretends to put up a fight, I know you’re already soaking wet for me.”
He slips a hand down my stomach and under the elastic of my pants, gliding over the lace and growling with pride. “Here, see? Fucking glistening from just one kiss.”
My head spins.
“I want you bare and breathless, Max. And I won’t stop until I get what I want. Will you let me play with your beautiful body, little fox?”
“Yes.”
He unhooks my bra in one fluid motion and peels the fabric off me like I’m a present he couldn’t wait to unwrap, and I shudder all over.
Cold air hits my breasts, and my chest heaves, my fingers digging into the grooves and lines of his shoulders.
His arms are so big, his muscles so defined and bold, it’s hard to believe he couldn’t lift anything for decades.
Death somehow preserved him beyond the impossible, and I can’t see him, but I let my other senses guide me.
His skin tastes of salt, burnt cotton, and fallen leaves. Absolutely glorious. I kiss a fiery path down his pecs and abdominal wall, enjoying the rise and fall of his ragged breaths.
Then he finds the end of my braid and works it loose, unraveling it strand by strand until my red curls spill freely around my face.
“You’re a goddess, Max,” he murmurs.
Fae can’t lie, but it’s a gross exaggeration. Still, I feel like his goddess as he combs through my hair, maps the freckles scattered over my chest, and explores the hollow above my collarbone.
The touch of his hands is akin to warm honey being smeared across my skin, leaving behind nothing but the sweet sting of sunlight. He cups my breasts in turn, guiding them to his mouth, licking, sucking, and defiling them.
My lids flutter. “Oh, fuck.”
I shudder, the sensation overwhelming.
“Such beauty requires proper worship.” He squeezes them together, then apart, then together again until I’m panting.
The peaks harden past the point of pain as he tortures me with his mouth, the rough pads of his thumbs apparently made to bring a woman to her knees.
I wrap my arms around him and grab a fist of his hair to anchor myself, my heart pounding between my legs.
He walks me backward towards the bed, our half-parted mouths meeting again, melding, battling each other in search of a longer and deeper kiss.
I fall onto the mattress with a startled laugh that dies in my throat as he follows, bracing himself over me.
His tongue dips inside my belly button, his hands curling around the back of my underwear and pants before he peels them off. My mouth parts on a silent sigh as he works the stretchy fabric past the bend in my knees and around my calves, and throws the clothes on the ground.
A rumble of approval simmers at the back of his throat as I lie bare beneath him, my knees pointing at the ceiling and his strong hands rooting my hips to the mattress.
“Oh, you’re fucking perfect.” He rubs my thighs up and down. “Now spread your legs.”
He doesn’t wait for me to obey and parts my knees in a single motion that reeks of passion and impatience, and the heartbeat between my legs radiates outward. The hollow space inside me clenches, aching to be filled.
I feel crudely exposed but intoxicatingly warm, as though the sun itself is shining on the most intimate parts of me.
A dark, filthy sun.
My breaths are quick and heavy as E kisses my inner thigh, up, up, up until he reaches my maddeningly needy, pulsating core. He blows cold air over it and chuckles as I cry out, his playfulness and cruelty on full display.
“You’re mine, Max. And now you’re going to come so hard on my tongue and make such a mess for me because that’s what I want.
Because nothing else in this world will sate my thirst. I’m going to drink your sweet pussy in until you see stars,” he promises on a hushed breath. “Do you get what I’m saying?”
I nod, but he bites my inner thigh hard enough to leave a mark. “I want to hear the words, Max.”
“I’m yours.”
“And?”