Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
The truth killed my husband. A heart attack—in more ways than one. I shouldn’t have told him. How will I tell Winter? Perhaps … I won’t.
—Lorinne Leroux’s private journal.
Winter awoke on the stone floor, wrapped so tight in West’s embrace that she was about to suffocate.
She lifted his heavy arm off and inhaled deep.
Blood, cum, and eucalyptus permeated the bathing chamber.
Glancing between her legs revealed layers of love, lust, and everything in between. How long had they been sleeping?
Shit.
It suddenly hit her how she ended up here. The queen was dead, right? That hadn’t been some sick nightmare? Winter jolted upright, pushing West awake. “Is she really dead? We actually killed her?”
He grunted, rubbing his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“The queen. Is she—”
“More than dead, Winter. What’s going on?”
“It’s just, this is—what are we still doing here? What’s happening with her court? Emrys?”
“I think we should go back to sleep.”
“No.”
He heaved himself into a sitting position. “You know, the moment we step outside those doors nothing will ever be the same.”
“Exactly, West. Aren’t you freaking out?”
“Not anymore.” He slid to the edge of the pool and hopped in. “You coming in?”
She stared at her soiled skin and shuffled into the warm water.
Fine—it was just what her battered body needed.
The salt would help with inflammation and of course, her stress.
She sunk below the surface to find a six-five white-haired siren lulling her towards him.
The song was fucking enticing. Small bubbles burst from his lips as he grinned, curling a finger.
She swam over and squeezed his hard waist. He held her chin, dragging her lips to his. The brush of his tongue against hers was like striking a match and tossing it into her ribcage. Her chest became so hot, she was certain her heart was encased in flames.
They broke the surface in a gasp.
He swept hair away from her eye, tucking it behind her ear. “I love you, Winter Lily.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered. “And I’ll never stop.”
He went in for another kiss—this time so gentle and pure her breath hitched.
“Are you sure you’re ready to leave?” he asked, lips hovering over hers.
The truth was, she’d stay here forever, but that was selfish—something she’d been working on. “I am.”
Strong arms wrapped around her as he swam them towards the submerged bench. “Stay here …” He glanced down at her naked body, his pupils blooming. “I’m going to find you some armor.”
Armor?
He was already walking up the steps, water trickling down his bronzed skin. Every groove gave way to glistening streams, like he was some magnificent mountain. One she’d climb over and over again. Waiting at the bottom with her mouth open to collect the runoff would work as well.
Her pussy pulsed as he strode away, and not in a good way. It was so sore. She was scared to inspect the damage, but propped her feet on the bench anyway.
Holy Hell and Tartarus.
The skin was purple, swollen, and definitely torn. She gently pressed at the edges of a large split, watching blood ooze from the wound. Shit. She didn’t have her wand for suturing. And there was also this ache—one so deep she was rubbing her pelvis for relief.
She glanced up as West popped his head out of the massive iron door. He was talking to someone—multiple someones. Had people been waiting out there the whole time? She’d been screaming ungodly things, and this cavern was an echo chamber.
Oh, no, no.
Suddenly, she didn’t want to leave this room. Not ever. The embarrassment took hold as he shut the door and returned to the pool. “Emrys will be back soon. The armory is close by.”
“Did everyone know what we were doing in here?”
He quirked a brow, stepping closer. “If they didn’t, they’ll soon smell it. At least, the wolves will. And probably the vampires too. But either way, Winter, you are fucking intoxicating and everyone in this palace knows it.”
Heat flooded her cheeks and pussy at the same exact time. “Thanks.”
He grinned, offering her a hand to stand. Stepping out of the water was harder than she’d expected. She hadn’t been on her feet in hours. Leaning her weight into West felt nice.
There was a knock on the door followed by Emrys’ cheerful shouting. “Sir. Winter’s armor!”
She shot West a disapproving look. “He’s not a servant anymore.”
“Winter, he begged to tend to you. On his knees.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He’s an omega. It’s in his nature to serve. If you want me to tell him to stop, I—”
“No,” she sighed. “As long as he knows he’s free.”
“They’re all free.”
She smiled, pleased to hear it.
“Don’t do that.” He reached his arm around to squeeze her ass.
“What?”
“Those fangs make me hard.”
His dick grew inches before her eyes. Her smile turned mischievous. “Come in, Emrys!”
West gave her backside a small swat. “Witch.”
She glanced up, noticing his cheeks were flushed. “Better do something with that.”
Emrys swung the door open, and she scurried towards him. He was wearing clothes. There were even pants. “You look ravishing in black!”
He beamed, holding a bundle of leather and chainmail. “Thank you, thank you. These are for you, my queen.”
“Please, don’t call me—” The words died on her tongue as a wave of excruciating pain stole her excitement. She collapsed, her body curling. Grabbing her pelvis brought on no relief. Crumpled on the floor, she cried, “Help.”
West was already there, brushing the hair away from her eyes. “Winter.”
Emrys bent down. “She’s bleeding, sir.”
West cursed and scooped her up. “Fastest way to the infirmary. Now.”
At that point, everything came through fuzzy. Her eyelids fluttered, revealing flashes of him. Her white knight. They were running. “I love you,” she slurred. The world grew darker around the edges as she slipped into another deep sleep.
Winter was in a dreary daze when voices roused her. She didn’t have the strength to open her eyes, speak, or move yet. They’d put her down on a bed full of feathers and covered her with a giant rose petal. At least, it felt that way. Until the memory of a silk-ridden palace jolted her upright.
She screamed, clutching the shiny black sheets.
Her hand was quickly encased by a warm one with rough skin and triangular ink marks. Her eyes followed it to its owner, kneeling at her bedside with worry creasing his brows.
“What happened?” she asked.
West looked over his shoulder then back. “The healer said you lost too much blood. That it’s likely you’d been bleeding for hours while we slept.” He bowed his head. “I am so terribly sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. I had no right to—”
She pushed his hand off, silencing him. “But I don’t feel … I mean, other than passing out ...” She eyed her pelvis and took a deep breath. “It’s just sore, I’ll heal.”
An elder witch stepped into view. Her silver hair was twisted into the shape of a coronet.
She waved green-tipped fingers, showing off her botanical magic.
“Thanks to me.” She stepped forward and set a sturdy hand on Winter’s shoulder.
“I’m Aera. Would you prefer it if we speak privately? ” She cast a pointed look at West.
“No.” Winter glanced around the room to confirm there was no one else there. “It’s okay.”
The healer’s face grew stern. “Your body has been through a lot. Your cervix and vaginal walls are torn in multiple places. That’s where all the bleeding came from. Yes, you will be okay, but the damage was severe. Had I not sealed the—”
“Severe?” Winter echoed.
“You have the anatomy of a mage.” She turned her sage-green eyes to West. “What were you thinking being that aggressive?”
West’s claws shot out, skewering the mattress. “What do you mean the anatomy of a mage? She’s a wolf.”
“By blood and bone, yes. But she’s also a mage. Her organs don’t appear to mirror her wolf form—she’s something of an anomaly. I’m a midwife, I would know. You couldn’t tell the difference, alpha?”
West was up, huffing and puffing.
“This is my fault,” Winter said. “I didn’t want you to stop.”
He turned around and banged his fist into the wall. He did it so many times the room began to rattle.
“West, please,” she cried, watching his blood drip.
Aera addressed Winter with a concerned look. “He could’ve killed you.”
At that, the walls shook once more. The vibrations made the ever-present citrus smell stronger.
If there’d been any artwork hanging on the obsidian walls, it would’ve fallen to the floor.
Now that she thought about it, this room didn’t look like an infirmary.
It looked familiar. Particularly the oblong mirror and gilded headboard.
Winter gasped as she realized where she was. “Why am I in here?”
“The queen’s chamber is private, secluded, and highly secure,” the healer said. “Besides, the infirmary beds are full. There’s been a lot of bloodshed lately.”
Winter groaned, too tired to argue. “Fine. Thank you for at least changing the sheets.” There wasn’t a trace of the queen’s scent on them.
But it was in the walls—in each and every disgusting pore of that marble.
“Where’d all her art go?” Winter recalled portraits of apex predators painted with dotted brushstrokes, the snake especially.
Aera jerked her chin towards West. “He ordered all the rooms stripped and everything burned.” She pointed a bony finger towards the mirror. “Except that won’t come off, it’s under a strong charm.”
Winter remembered the way the glass had rippled when it was spoken to, or maybe all the torture had made her imagine it.
However, the queen had mentioned something in the throne room about the mirror revealing she’d been with Kaden.
It made no sense, really. Curiosity prevailed. “What kind of mirror is it?”
“They say it’s a truth-teller. Ask a question and it shows you an answer.” Aera shrugged. “But I wouldn’t know because I don’t fiddle with the queen’s things.”
Winter had never spoken with any of the mages in the palace before now. “And how do you feel about her death?”
“Rather pleased. I’ve been trapped down here much like everyone else.” She paused, examining Winter. “While I’m forever grateful for your help, I’m still very concerned about the way he treated you.”
“I promise, it wasn’t anything I didn’t want.”
Aera exhaled, looking over her shoulder to West. “That doesn’t mean I’m fixing your hand.” She turned back. “Miss Leroux, in all seriousness, if you ever start bleeding during sex, you must stop. Or better yet, see a healer. These scars are very tender so you’ll need to rest.”
“I will.”
“And you must be careful next time. Do you understand?”
Winter nodded nervously. “Yes. We were celebrating.”
“Hmm—you weren’t the only ones. Oh, one last thing before I go.”
“What?” Westley snapped, rushing over with panic in his eyes.
“Her ears.” Aera pushed Winter’s hair back and handed over a small mirror. “What’s this?”
Something caught her eye, like that time she’d looked at her reflection in the window before the hierarchy battle. It was gold and twinkling, hard like metal, but it wasn’t an earring. This was flush with her skin. She looked to West, touching it. “What is this?”
His lips parted, the words stuttering out. “I—I. I have no idea.” He blinked a few times, as if to be sure.
Winter checked the other ear.
Same thing.
She dropped the mirror and growled. Prophecies. Curses. Gold. What else? “I’m done with this anomaly bullshit.” She glared at Aera. “Skin is an organ. I thought you said my body doesn’t mirror my wolf form?” These looked an awful lot like gold-tipped ears.
She shrugged. “Perhaps your cartilage is confused. Or it has nothing to do with either your wolf or mage form.”
Winter saw red—the bright and fiery kind. “Aren’t there any celestial mages in this palace?” She needed some foresight, now.
“No. But you’re welcome to ask the mirror your questions.”
She smacked the bedsheets. “Mother-fuck.” Of course, anyone with a lick of premonition power would know to stay the hell away from this marble coffin.
Aera placed a hand over her chest. “I beg your pardon?”
“Leave us.” West’s tone left no room for compromise.
A small tsk escaped the healer before she spun in her squeaky shoes and stomped away. “If she doesn’t rest for at least two weeks, don’t call for me again.” The remark was thrown over her shoulder before she slammed the door shut.
Winter flung the bedsheets off her legs. “We have to get out of here.” West sat on the edge of her bed, restraining her ankles. “Rest, please. Not all the rooms are secure yet.”
“Secure?”
“Not everyone who needs to be dead is dead yet. Some like to hop and hide.”
“And we spent how long fucking and sleeping?” She was no better than the late monarch, reaping the benefits of her position while the court suffered on.
“Wolves are patrolling corridors, armored and prepared for vampire attacks. Mages who wanted to leave, left. Those who wanted to fight, died. We’re almost there.”
“But what about the elementals? They have fire.”
“The wind is blowing any elemental magic back, making it a waste of their energy. We blasted the access points open long before you and I—”
“So why didn’t the wind help during the hierarchy battle? We could’ve avoided all of this.”
“It’s not allowed to.”
Winter rubbed her temples, unable to comprehend.
“Listen, Winter, can we talk about what happened?” He looked down at her pelvis with guilt written on his face.
“Sure.”
“Shifters—our bodies. They're resilient. Pliable. We break, bend, remold. I know you’re a mage too, but all of your traits are wolf.” His throat bobbed.
“Still, I shouldn’t have assumed your body was like ours.
It did feel different. It felt amazing. I thought it was because you’re my mate, not—” He shook his head.
“I promise I would’ve been gentle. I never want to hurt you. ”
“You didn’t hurt me.”
“Winter.”
“I don’t regret it, West, so stop. Please. And this isn’t resting.” She scooted to the side and tapped the bed. “Get in here and cuddle if you want to be gentle.”
And the wicked wolf leapt, tumbling into bed and wrapping his arms around her.