I thrust my fingers deep between my legs now, curling and pressing against that most sensitive part of my core. My right hand was absolutely coated in the slickness that wept from my cunt, the same way it did for him every other night. Tonight, though, for whatever reason—he felt a little closer. I could practically feel his heated breath against my neck, could practically hear it hitch as I whined, grinding against my own hand.
And what I wouldn’tfuckinggive for that hand to be replaced by what I knew was a perfect cock, what I wouldn’t do just to have him shove me up against a wall, my mattress, any manner of surface so that he could fill me, fuck me better than I could ever possibly fuck myself. He would ruin me, that much I knew, and I would beg him to keep going. I would weep and grovel and plead for him to leave me in tatters by the end of the night, to cover my skin in pretty little bruises and bitemarks, to coat me in evidence of what he was capable of.
When I finally let myself imagine what it might feel like for those pretty white jaws to bite down against my throat, how blissful the ache of those fangs might feel if Kieran felt so inclined to grace my neck with such violent admiration, I was all too thankful that the wards of this apartment included sound-proofing spellwork.
Because it was Kieran’s name that I screamed into the night as I detonated, gasping and trembling against my ownfingertips when the tension snapped, waves of heat and pleasure overtaking my senses.
And it was Kieran’s name that I whispered against my pillow once my body, now entirely spent, finally succumbed to the sweet allure of my darkening dreams.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Kieran
Gods help me, Arken was in one Hel of a mood tonight.
Earlier in the week, she mentioned some passing plan about how she intended to go foraging for herbs in the Wyldwoods. Apparently, she was hoping to find some herbs and other medicinal plants similar to what she might have gathered back home, seeming to be convinced that they grew in our woods as well.
“It’s for tea,” she had explained to me over breakfast, before her lectures began. “I haven’t been able to find anything like what Amma used to make for sore muscles, and if I have to go through another godsdamned bleeding cycle without that blend, I’m going to commit crimes.Crimes, K.”
“That would be awfully ill-advised, considering I would then have to arrest you,” I had quipped back.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Even though I had tried my best to keep my tone casual when I offered to come along, she saw straight through me that morning, too—immediately giving me shit and very vehemently reminding me that she was capable of taking care ofher damn self.Nevermind the fact that she was still working on her physical training regimen, and hadn’t even re-tested for Physical Arcana yet.
“I’m well aware, Little Conduit,” I had replied, pinching the bridge of my nose. “But if you want darkmoss, that means foraging at night. If you’re going at night, please just take me with you.”
She’d rolled her eyes, but gave in without much fuss.
“Fine, suit yourself. Meet me at Mugwort’s around dusk on Friday—but it’ll be boring,” she warned.
I could probably watch paint dry with Arken and not get bored, but I wouldn’t dare tell her that. It’d go right to that pretty little head of hers.
But here we were now, standing in front of the old man’s shop. I noticed her slight winces as she approached me, and before I could even open my mouth, the woman snarled out a warning.
“Don’t you start with me, Vistarii. I’m fine. Can we go now?”
“Hello to you, too, Miss Asher. Lovely day we’re having. Lovely weather,” I replied, unphased.
I would keep an eye on those winces, though, and the way she nursed her side a bit as she walked. She had overdone it on strength training the other day—pulled a muscle. It was a minor injury, and she was tough, but if things got too bad, I would carry her ass out of the woods if need be. We’d see how much bravadothat short, bratty little thing could muster while thrown over my shoulder.
“Do you have all the supplies you need?” I asked before we made our way to the Eastern Gates.
She wiggled her small muslin-lined basket and flapped a pair of worn but supple looking brown leather gloves in my direction.
“I think I’m covered. Foraging isn’t a particularly complex task, Kier.”
Fair enough.
As we walked silently through the Wyldwoods, I cast my Shadow out to scout the area nearby, vigilant but unseen. Arken began to gather all the little leaves, petals and mushrooms she needed to make this so-called miracle tea. I kept my focus on our surroundings.
When I had first learned how to use arcana like this, the spell effects were visible—a sheer but inky, black mist that sort of defeated any purposes I had for it. So I had altered the magick myself, tweaking the focus so that as I extended my Shadows, they crept around for me where Shadow aether already existed, slinking around corners and crevices, expanding my senses. It was essentially like having eyes and ears everywhere at once, and though it was a draining practice, it was incredibly useful. For situations like this, in particular.
Somewhere, about fifty feet behind us, my arcane sentinel detected a sharp crack, followed by an unnatural flood of Earth aether.
“Arken. Stop. Listen to me,” I whispered urgently in her direction.
She turned to me sharply, hair whipping behind her in a wild halo like I’d somehow managed to irritate a lion… or a godsdamned manticore.