Chapter 49
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
I rake my fingers through the soft curls of my hair, cursing myself for not putting on my new silver dress before I’d done my hair and makeup.
Light bounces off the full-length mirror, making me look like a model standing under a spotlight, promoting a new range of white underwear. I look the picture of calm, yet inside, my nerves are in overdrive.
It’s been a week since my brother was reunited with Annabel Lee and I was bonded to Valdemar. And in that week, we haven’t left each other’s side, taking the time to get used to our new-found bond. It didn’t take me long to work out how to block his thoughts, a much-needed skill when I returned to work, but it’s been a comfort knowing he’s there even when he isn’t with me.
We’ve talked about the future of the Raven Hands, where we see the group going, and what we would like to change, the first and foremost being the recognition and induction of all the women with gifts. We’ve arranged a formal dinner this evening at Corvus House for me and Valdemar to disclose our Blood Oath and the fact that we’ll be running the Raven Hands together as a team.
All week I’ve been telling him my worries about how everyone will react. What will they think about letting women become Raven Hands? Will there be anarchy, an uprising, a rebellion? Valdemar hasn’t belittled me by telling me not to worry about such things or that everything will be fine, because he knows as well as I do that things might not be fine, and that might be something we have to work through, but we’ll work through it together. There’s bound to be resistance from a group of men who’ve been together for years, some of whom cling to tradition, but there’ll also be those who welcome it, who’ve been waiting for change and will embrace it with open arms. Those are the people who will support us.
I can’t let myself think about their reaction to the fact that I’ve taken the Blood Oath with the man who they believe killed my brother. The discussion about sharing this little titbit with the rest of the Raven Hands was short-lived. Although Valdemar is unable to tell the truth about what happened that night, I am not. But he’s stressed how dangerous it would be to let that information roam free. He said it was bad enough that I know, but at least he knows he can keep me safe. He will not endanger any other Ravens or put them in harm’s way. Adolphe Fortunato has kept his distance for the past ten years knowing that Valdemar, Jupiter, and Jacinta have been unable to reveal the truth about what really happened the night Ed died, and Valdemar doesn’t want to give Fortunato any reason to aim his sights at the Raven Hands.
After putting on my heels, I reach for my dress hanging on the side of the mirror when his voice arrives.
“ Where are you, angel?”
“I’m still getting ready in the dressing room.”
Although I don’t officially live here, I’ve spent more time at Corvus House than I care to admit. I feel a pull to this place, and it’s not just to do with Valdemar; it’s more than that. It’s knowing my mother was here, that she fell in love here and made beautiful memories in this mansion. There’s so much history and emotion binding me to Corvus House that I find it hard to leave when it’s time to go back to my apartment. I’m not sure who I’m kidding when I tell Valdemar it’s too soon for us to be living together. He insists that the leader of the Raven Hands has always resided in Corvus House, and so my rightful place is here with him. And given that I want to be here more than I’ve wanted to be anywhere, I know he’ll get his wish soon enough.
My mother still visits me—and my father, Ellison Rue. They’ll appear in my apartment or occasionally at Corvus House, always together and always looking blissfully happy. But the visits aren’t as frequent as before I swore the Blood Oath to Valdemar. It’s almost as if my mother knows I’m happy, that I’ve found my way in the world of the living and have no need to be hiding amongst the dead.
“ Where are you?” I ask him.
“I’m in the Great Hall.” There’s a silent beat, and I sense the change in his voice before I even hear it. “ Tell me what you can see.”
My smile spreads as I stare at my reflection.
“I’m standing in front of the mirror.”
“And?”
“And my hair and make-up are done.” I glance at my freshly curled hair and smoky eyeliner.
“And?” he presses.
“My underwear is on.”
I hear him tut down the bond. “Shame.”
“I was just about to put my dress on,” I tell him.
“I’d rather you took your underwear off.” Even in my head, his voice is commanding, roguish, and unrelenting.
“But I’ve just put it on,” I argue.
“Don’t complain. It’ll be worth it. Now do as I say.”
I take the bra off first, my nipples already hard at the thought of where this is going. Then I pull my knickers down and kick them to the side.
“ Are you naked, angel?”
“Yes.”
“I’m so fucking annoyed that I can’t see you right now.”
I smirk, the thought of him squirming making me even more aroused.
“You’ll just have to use your imagination.”
“Oh, I am, angel. I’m imagining you right now, standing in front of that mirror, looking at your naked skin, running your hands over your breasts.”
“I’m not touching my breasts.” The thought alone embarrasses me.
“Don’t ruin my fun.”
Licking my lips, I imagine him in the Great Hall, directing the staff, setting up the stage, all the while picturing me naked.
“There’s a chair in the corner of the room,” he tells me.
I turn and see it, a low-backed chair covered in floral material that doesn’t go with the décor in the rest of the house.
“ Put the chair in front of the mirror.”
Excitement brews. This isn’t the first time he’s used our little Blood Oath bond to play games with me, and as much as I pretend I don’t like it, I fucking lap it up.
“ Okay, the chair is in front of the mirror,” I reply.
“Sit.”
There’s another beat of silence before he continues. “Are you sitting in the chair?”
“Yes,” I confirm.
“Good girl. Now spread your legs and place them over the arms of the chair.”
Gulping down his words, I hook my legs over the arms of the chair, leaving myself exposed.
“ Now, look in the mirror and tell me what you see.”
I’m sure I’m not the only woman who’s never looked at themselves at this angle before. Sure, I analyse my face, or I might check how my clothes fit me, but I’ve never studied my naked body for any length of time.
I’m met with a view that Valdemar has seen on numerous occasions and knows intimately, so he’ll know if I lie or don’t play along with his game.
“ Angel?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what you see.” His voice curls around the question.
“This is embarrassing.” Heat flames across my cheeks.
“Why?”
“Because it is.”
“It’s not embarrassing. It’s fucking sexy as hell, and if our roles were reversed, I would have no qualms about describing how my rock-hard cock was pulsing in my hand as I thought about you sitting there naked and splayed out for me in that chair. I would happily tell you how I stroked my balls before sliding my hand up my shaft ? —”
“Okay. I get it. Jesus.”
“Am I making you wet?” he asks.
“You know you are.”
“No, I don’t. You need to tell me.”
Biting my lip, I begin.
“I’m on the chair, naked, legs spread, waiting for you.” I swallow, trying to ignore the awkwardness of my inner voice and how I wish I sounded sexier. “My nipples are hard, and I’m playing with them and wishing it was your mouth.”
Desire sparks, and my eyelids flutter as I settle into the role.
“All of me is on display, just for you. My fingers are in my mouth now. I’m sucking hard and imagining they’re your cock. I’m sliding my hand down my stomach to my clit. It’s swollen and tender, and as I touch it, I think of your mouth and what your tongue would feel like if it was there.
“I move my fingers over my clit, and I’m sinking them inside me. I’m so wet. I can see how wet I am in the mirror, and my fingers slip in so easily. Three fingers now, and I’m thrusting them, wishing it was your hand, your fingers, your cock because that’s all I want, all I need. Fuck, my hand is soaked. This feels so fucking good, and I want more, need more as I think about your cock and how hard it must be and how you must be trying to concentrate on whatever you’re doing, but all you can think about is my fingers doing your job.”
I’m glued to the mirror, the image of me getting myself off far hotter than I ever thought it would be. My orgasm is rumbling low in my core, and I’m lost, Valdemar’s silence almost making me forget he can hear me.
And just as I feel myself peaking, the door busts open, and I hear his voice fill the room.
“Stop. Now.”
His face is primal, a warrior claiming his prize as he stalks into the room, his dress shirt already unbuttoned as he loosens his belt.
As he reaches me, he takes in my dishevelled state.
“Fuck.” He grabs my hand and slowly sucks at my fingers, closing his eyes and savouring the taste.
Some masochistic part of me wants to tell him that his little game has backfired, but I value my life, so instead, I flutter my eyes and hope to God he’s here to put right what he started.
“Put your hands behind the chair, and don’t fucking move them.” His gaze is predatory as I loop my arms behind the chair.
“Have I disappointed you?”
He grabs my throat and tips my head back.
“You could never disappoint me, angel. Never. I’m here to take over.” He kneels and then pushes on my inner thighs as his head dips, his tongue claiming me.
“Oh God.” There’s little work for him to do as his fingers curl inside me, his tongue caressing my clit.
“Fucking hell, Valdemar. Fuck.” I come, my body exploding to the crescendo of his name.
Breathing hard, I wilt, but before I have time to return to earth, he’s unzipped his trousers.
“Get on the floor on all fours,” he commands.
Almost sliding off the chair, I do as I’m told.
His cock eases into me as he goes to grab my hair.
“Not my hair,” I tell him. “It took me ages to curl.”
“Fine. But this is for teasing me.” He wraps his hand around my throat and pulls my head back.
“You started it,” I tell him.
“And I’m going to fucking finish it.”
He lets go of my throat, then grabs my waist and pounds into me, bringing tears to my eyes. He’s rough, he’s carnal, and I can’t get enough of him. I push back, grinding myself against him as his hand snakes between my legs and rubs my clit.
Pulling me up so my back is flush with his chest, he whispers in my ear. “Look in the mirror.”
There’s no embarrassment now, only raw sexual desire as I watch him take me from behind, one hand massaging me, his other squeezing my breast. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Just as I peak, he comes, hard and fast. I shudder against him, my climax tearing through me like a power surge. His hold is tight as my body descends from the high and sags from exhaustion.
“I’ll never get tired of this,” he tells me.
“Noted. But we have a dinner to attend in less than an hour.”
“Plenty of time.” Valdemar pulls out and tells me to stay put.
I can still feel the tremors of my orgasm, and it makes me want us to lock ourselves away in his bedroom and cancel the dinner.
When he returns, he’s armed with a warm washcloth, which he uses to clean me.
Sitting up, I try to fan out my curls.
“I bet my hair is a mess now,” I say.
He offers me his hand. I take it, and he pulls me up.
“It’s perfect, just like the rest of you.”
“Make yourself useful and pass me my dress,” I say, holding out my hand.
He takes the dress off the hanger, then helps me into the silver gown, zipping me up and smoothing down the long skirt.
We stare at our reflections in the mirror, Valdemar behind me, his hands on my shoulders.
“You look like the angel you are.”
“You’re biased.”
“Always.” He lifts my hair away from my face and plants a soft kiss on my neck, then my cheek. “Now, let’s go and show them who’s boss.”