Chapter 27 – Billie #2
"Depends on the weapon, and the wielder," I answer carefully. "Blood binding is most common. The weapon is forged with the hunter's blood mixed into the metal, creating a resonance bond between wielder and blade. In the case of a bowhunter, both the bow and arrows are enchanted."
Professor Thorbridge nods, looking pleased, even though I know I'm not telling him anything new. "Excellent. And the limitations of such a process?"
"The weapon only works for the hunter who forged it." I think about my mother's silver bow and arrow, her prized possession, probably gathering dust somewhere in this very armory. "If they die, the enchantment dies with them."
"Precisely." He turns to the board, symbols appearing in flowing script. "Fae enchantment works differently. Rather than tying the magic to a specific wielder, we bind it to the weapon itself. This allows for transfer of ownership and maintains the enchantment indefinitely."
The lecture that follows is admittedly fascinating. He demonstrates various techniques, showing how different materials respond to different types of magic. Silver for lunar enchantments, gold for solar, iron for... nothing, because iron is antithetical to Fae magic.
Which is exactly why hunters use it.
I take notes frantically, filing away everything that might be useful. How to identify the signature of an enchantment. Weak points in magical defenses. The specific frequency needed to disrupt most Fae weapons.
All things that could help me kill a prince.
Corvinus sits beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touch. I can feel his attention on me even when he's supposedly watching the demonstration.
"Your pen," he murmurs, nodding toward my hand.
I look down to find ink leaking through my fingers.
The pen has cracked, but there's no way I was gripping it that hard.
I think back to when Caelyx used his ability to scatter my papers and wonder if Corvinus possesses a similar one, that son of a bitch.
Black ink stains my palm, dripping onto my notes.
"Shit."
"Here." He produces a handkerchief from nowhere, just like Tallon did. And it's fucking monogrammed. "Let me help."
"I can clean my own hands."
"I'm sure you can." But he's already taking my hand in his, wiping away the ink with gentle strokes that make my breath catch. "But I insist."
The ink is everywhere. My palm, between my fingers, under my nails, and a splash of it is already spreading across my shirt. It should be a simple cleanup job, but Corvinus takes his time, his touch lingering longer than necessary.
"This isn't working," he says finally. "Come with me."
"Where?" I ask warily. The look Tallon is giving us lends credibility to my theory this was no accident.
"To get you properly cleaned up." He stands, pulling me with him. "Professor Thorbridge, if you'll excuse us?"
The professor waves a hand dismissively, already moving on to the next demonstration. And just like that, we're in the hallway, Corvinus leading me toward the back of the building.
"I can wash my own hands," I protest, even as I let him guide me.
"The ink is enchanted." He pushes open a door marked with symbols I can't read. "It won't come off with regular water."
I look down at my hand, frowning. I don't feel any magic. Usually, Fae magic tingles or burns when I touch it, like a mild allergic reaction.
The bathroom is surprisingly nice for a building dedicated to weapons training. Clean stone, seemingly non-enchanted mirrors, and sinks carved from single pieces of marble.
Corvinus turns on the tap, and the water that comes out shimmers slightly. Fuck, I guess that's enchanted too.
"Give me your hand."
I extend it reluctantly, watching him work the ink out methodically, his fingers sliding between mine. When the water runs clean, I realize the scratches on my palms are gone. The ones on my arms, too.
Magic water, indeed.
And now, I'm alone with Prince Corvinus.
Caelyx is still radio silent, which means I need to start making moves regardless of his timeline. For all I know, he's just fucking with me, and my opportunity to get closer to the triad is slipping away.
I watch Corvinus at the sink, wintry eyes focused and careful as he works. The most powerful Fae prince alive, entirely focused on washing ink off my fingers.
He wants me to trust him.
Two can play that game.
"You fucked with my pen, didn't you," I say.
He doesn't answer, which is answer enough. His thumb moves slow across my palm, working out the last of the ink.
"Most people," he says, "aren't this direct with me."
"Can't imagine why." I shift my weight, closing the distance between us by half. "You're so good at taking no for an answer."
His eyes come up to mine and a smile tugs at his lips. "I can take no for an answer. You're just the first person who's ever given me that particular answer."
I indulge myself with an eye roll. No point in selling it too hard. "And if I felt like giving you a different answer, Your Majesty?"
I watch as the confusion in his eyes gives way to shock, but he settles on doubtful. Like there's no way he's hearing me right. "Just Corvinus," he breathes. "If you're going to taunt me, we might as well be on a first-name basis."
"I'm not taunting you," I say, reaching out to smooth my fingers down the red tie of his suit. "I'm…curious."
"Curious," he echoes slowly, like he's tasting the flavor of the words on his tongue. I pull him closer and he yields, his jaw going slack and his throat working. "About what, exactly?"
"What it feels like," I murmur, running my hand down over his chest. He's not quite as imposing as Professor Drakiss at first glance, but he's still plenty muscular underneath.
Still an alpha through and through, and I loathe my inner omega for purring like a cat at the contact.
That bitch can't be trusted even when she's loaded up on suppressants and far from heat. "To be with an alpha."
A strangled sound somewhere between a growl and a groan escapes from Corvinus's throat as I pull him between my legs and press my lips to his.
I want the kiss to taste bitter. For all these years of loathing him to come to the surface like bile in the back of my throat, but they don't. Instead, he tastes like mint. Like winter air, and my lips part much too easily.
I remind myself that this, too, is vengeance. Every desire I allow myself to indulge brings me closer to my goal, not further away from it.
Corvinus freezes as if he can't believe what's happening, and is afraid to let himself fall into the trap of wanting it.
If he had any fucking clue…
His logical instincts don't hold out very long against his baser ones, because in a matter of seconds, he's returning the kiss fiercely and his hands find my waist. He pushes my shirt up, untucking it from my skirt, and when his fingertips brush against my spine, the sound that escapes me is genuine enough.
I arch into him automatically, his skin against mine sending warm waves throughout my lower back, releasing muscles I didn't know were taut. This must be one of those "biological responses" they talked about in class so incessantly.
It's…potent. I'll give my inner omega that.
Like sinking into a warm bath at the end of a long day of training. The tension drains out of me wherever he touches and my body sinks against his, finding its center.
And he finds mine. His cock is already straining against his slacks as he presses against me and I realize at some point I hitched my thighs around his hips and pulled him closer.
Fuck.
All his hesitation from a moment ago fades, and he kisses me back with feral intensity. When his tongue sweeps across my lips, they part instinctively, and I somehow manage to resist the thought in the back of my brain to bite it off.
Impressive, really.
I sink back, but before my head can hit the mirror behind me, Corvinus's hand cradles it to soften the impact, which is… annoyingly thoughtful.
It's easier to hate him when I'm kissing him than when he's doing stupid shit like that. Or carrying my fucking books, as if I don't have arms.
I push the thought away and deepen the kiss, my tongue pushing back against his. He moans into my mouth and accepts the challenge, warring with me even as our bodies press together.
Corvinus's hands travel down from my waist, hitching up my skirt, and I moan involuntarily as they meet my bare thighs.
Fuck…
I've never actually gone this far with anyone. Made out, sure, but not anything like this. I'm hoping my inexperience isn't too obvious, even though I doubt that would be a drawback considering the fact that alphas treat omegas like we're pure, innocent flowers made of glass.
"You are so beautiful," Corvinus murmurs, breaking the kiss to gaze down at me as his hands travel up my thighs. The way he's looking at me is more unsettling than the words themselves.
I'm not used to being looked at like this.
Like I'm something to be treasured and soaked in.
I've had guys find me attractive, but that's not the same thing.
I don't think human men are even capable of looking at someone the way Corvinus is looking at me, and I can't even blame it all on this alpha-omega bullshit.
Not entirely.
"You're overthinking this," I manage, my voice coming out breathier than I'd like. "Less talking. More touching."
Corvinus pulls back, and his lust from a moment earlier is tempered by an emotion that looks annoyingly close to restraint.
His hands are still on my thighs, fingers stroking my skin in a rhythm that's making it really hard to think. But he's not moving them higher.
"Billie." His voice is rough. Wrecked, actually, like I've broken him just by kissing him. "We should probably talk about how far this is going to go."
"What, you're afraid deflowering me breaks some kind of royal protocol?"
His hands go completely still on my thighs, and those blue eyes widen by a fraction. Not much, but enough.