by Eva Chase
As I sat up to meet him, he turned me at the waist and pulled my back flush against his chest. One of his skilled hands molded to my breast and the other slipped between my legs. He teased his teeth against the top of my shoulder, each press of his fingers above and below sending me soaring.
He pinched my clit lightly to earn himself another moan and tested my opening with a careful touch. I shifted my legs farther apart automatically at the graze of his erection. He slid into me from behind so fast and sure that I lost my breath.
With that one thrust, he hit the perfect spot inside me. His hands worked over my clit and my breast as he plunged into me again, and that was all it took to tip me over into a rush of ecstasy.
Malcolm didn’t stop with my orgasm. He didn’t even slow his pace. Again and again, he filled me to the brim, propelling the pleasure already flooding me to even greater heights. His fingertips kept circling my clit and my breast.
I reached back to grasp at his head where it bowed over my shoulder, and he nipped me harder. A sound that was more whine of need than anything else escaped me. He was making me feel so fucking good already, and somehow I craved even more.
“Tell me what you want, Rory,” Malcolm said around broken breaths. “All you have to do is say the word.”
I leaned into him, and his cock penetrated me at an even more perfect angle. My body trembled with another building surge of bliss. “Faster,” I managed to say. “Give me everything.”
He bucked into me even faster and deeper than before. I felt ready to split in two, but only in the best possible way. The brilliant burn seared up through my chest, and stars spun behind my eyes as I clenched around him all over again.
Malcolm’s arms tightened in an embrace made slick by the sweat that had formed between our bodies. He eased in and out of me, letting me ride out the aftershock of my second release, not yet having found his own. He really was determined to give me everything, wasn’t he? Every bit of pleasure he could coax from my body, before he took as much for himself.
A much more tender sensation filled me. I twisted to bring my mouth close to his. “I want to be with you, face to face.”
Malcolm hummed low in his throat and lowered me to the bed. I almost cried out in protest when he pulled out of me, but it was only for the time it took him to help me roll onto my back. He bowed over me, I lifted my knees to cross my legs behind him, and he plunged back into me as if there was no place in the world it made more sense for him to be.
I gripped his shoulder, his side, gazing up at him. His golden hair had dampened along his forehead and his face had flushed, but his eyes were as alert as ever, focused completely on me. The divine devil I’d met half a year ago looked at me with such reverence that I’d have melted if I hadn’t already been nearly boneless with pleasure.
I touched his cheek, longing to tell him how much I treasured the fact that we’d found allies and so much more in each other despite the odds, too absorbed in that same moment to form words. All that slipped out, more a sigh than anything else, was his name. “Malcolm.”
“Fuck,” Malcolm said hoarsely with a tightening of his features. Whatever control he’d been holding onto must have snapped. His hips jerked against mine, but the feeling of him losing himself to the moment tipped me right back over the edge alongside him. We came together, my cry mingling with his groan. Right then, it was a miracle I even remembered my own name.
When we’d rocked to a stop, Malcolm stayed braced over me, still inside me. He brushed a few strands of hair back from my damp forehead with his thumb. While he didn’t speak, the reverence had only intensified in his expression. An ache formed around my heart.
He’d said in so many ways what I’d come to mean to him—that he adored me, that as far as he was concerned I was perfect… I could offer this one thing first. The truth of it pealed through me from head to toe.
“I love you,” I said.
Malcolm blinked, looking so startled that for a few painful seconds I thought I’d misjudged, that he hadn’t even been interested in sentiments like that. Then he ducked his head and kissed me, hard and deep with his tongue tangling around mine. I hugged him to me, echoing what I’d said in the squeeze of my arms and the returning press of my lips.
“I love you too,” he said a moment later against my cheek. “God, Rory. So fucking much, sometimes I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“I’m sure I could make a few suggestions,” I said.
He chuckled and kissed me again. “No doubt. I’ll let you know when I need your guidance, Glinda.”
There was nothing but affection in that nickname now. He rolled onto his side, still holding me to him. I snuggled against him, lingering in the love I had that would surely be powerful enough to bring back the love I’d lost, even if we hadn’t quite gotten there tonight.
Chapter Nineteen
Declan
I arrived at the Fortress of the Pentacle early with the intention of getting a read on my colleagues one by one as they arrived for our meeting. It appeared they’d anticipated that move—or they’d all been particularly eager to get talking this morning. I recognized the cars belonging to the Barons Nightwood, Stormhurst, and Killbrook in the parking lot, along with a gleaming gold Lexus styled similar enough to the family car Rory had inherited for me to assume it belonged to her mother.
Wonderful. I got to face them all at once, already united against me. I dragged the damp autumn air into my lungs and set off for the building.
The air inside wasn’t much drier, with a cool edge that the ancient heating system could never quite touch once the weather started to turn. As I climbed the stairs, I straightened the sweater I’d thrown on over my dress shirt. Looking as professional as possible wouldn’t make that much of a difference, but I had to make use of every tool at my disposal.
My first glance into the meeting room confirmed my assumptions. The four older barons were already sitting at the table. A couple of candles lit in the middle added a warmer glow and a thin waxy smell to the otherwise dim space—and made the planes of their faces shift eerily. All four of those faces turned toward me as I stepped inside.
There’d been times in the past when I’d wondered what it would be like to have a full pentacle of barons. I probably should have expected it’d be like this. Instead of that vacancy at the Bloodstone point providing additional awkwardness, now I was the only odd one out. I was met with what felt like a united front of wariness and unstated disapproval.
“Ashgrave,” Baron Nightwood said in that smooth tone Malcolm had picked up a long time ago, “so good of you to join us.” As if I were late instead of the rest of them being incredibly early.
Baron Stormhurst let out a guttural chuckle that sounded too loud for her sinewy frame. “Especially seeing as you’re the one who demanded this meeting.”
Demanded might have been overstating the case, but they wouldn’t have shown up at all if I hadn’t been firm about it. “I appreciate you all coming on relatively short notice,” I said as I took my seat, grateful that at least the second chair Aunt Ambrosia had so often occupied was currently empty. Now that I was nearly of age, the barons preferred to deal with me without her grasping presence. Small mercies.
Baron Killbrook said nothing, his mouth set at a sour angle in his sharp-edged face. How did he feel about the new arrival in our midst, who’d immediately usurped any extra authority the Killbrooks could have claimed before?
Technically, the Bloodstones had always been considered the greatest presence in the pentacle and the Ashgraves the weakest, with the other three shifting in power depending on their family’s current situation, although the Nightwoods tended to lord it over the others. This Killbrook had never been able to stand up to Stormhurst when the chips were down, though. Now he’d been bumped even farther down the ladder of consideration. The current Baron Stormhurst had overthrown her brother and claimed that position in the pentacle years after Rory’s mother had been taken, but from the ra
pport they’d already developed, the reinstated Baron Bloodstone clearly recognized certain types of strength when she saw them.
She watched us now with dark blue eyes that would have reminded me of Rory’s if not for their piercing quality. She was leaning back in her chair in a causal pose that looked studied, and I didn’t think her gaze missed much. She was cataloguing our dynamics and our missteps for her future use, no doubt. And possibly trying to determine how much of a thorn in her and the others’ side I was going to be.
They had to know what this meeting was about. Even if they couldn’t have been sure before, Rory’s talk with her mother yesterday would have tipped them off that their secret was out. I still had to be careful in how I broached the subject without undermining my own authority.
“I understand that the Pentacle has given staff at Bloodstone University permission to retract the longtime policy about keeping our magic completely secret from Naries,” I said. “A decision that momentous should have required a consensus between all of us. I’m hoping you can explain why you moved forward without consulting me.”
None of them looked bothered by the question. Killbrook even produced a thin smile. Nightwood cocked his head with an expression I suspected was meant to be slightly pitying, to imply it was sad that I was even concerning myself with this.
“Of course you should have been,” he said. “We made every effort to include you in the discussion. Unfortunately, we had a limited window where it would be convenient to have more Nary students brought into the university to study the effects in full, and when we reached out to you, we got no answer.”
“We did have an Ashgrave weigh in on the matter,” Stormhurst put in with a flinty gleam in her eyes. “Your aunt Ambrosia was able to fill in in your absence.”
So, this once having her around had been convenient for them. Of course she’d have gone along with anything they suggested to try to curry their favor. I was supposed to get precedence, though. I opened my mouth, about to protest that there hadn’t been any time in the weeks before the change that I’d have been unreachable, and a thought struck me with a sudden chill.
“When exactly did you have this discussion?” I asked instead.
“It was an afternoon last week,” Nightwood said carelessly. “I’m sure you could find the date in the records.” He nodded to Bloodstone. “We convened at the blacksuits’ headquarters so we could include every member, since one of our number was in recovery at the time.”
“My first day back and already hard at work.” Rory’s mother sounded amused.
My heart sank. I remembered the day Rory had first gone to visit her mother—the first day Baron Bloodstone had been awake after her ordeal. That afternoon we’d met to discuss how to handle Connar’s situation, and I’d been called away to rescue my brother off in the woods. To rescue him from a prank that coincidentally had required I go underground where my phone had lost all reception and no one else could have reached me.
Except it hadn’t been a coincidence, had it? I could hardly accuse them of some elaborate conspiracy without a shred of proof, but I’d be willing to stake my life that the barons had guided Noah’s classmates in their prank, instructed them on where to trap him and when to call for my help. They’d known I’d never have agreed to the torture they were subjecting the Nary students to.
How long had they been planning this move behind my back, only delaying because they couldn’t count on Rory’s compliance and had no other options on the Bloodstone side? The instant they’d been able to turn to her mother, they’d charged ahead.
She hadn’t hesitated at all either. Because she’d been foggy from the medical treatment still, because she didn’t give a damn about Naries… or because this plan went all the way back to her past time as baron, in one form or another?
My first impulse was to demand we reopen the discussion, but I knew before I even thought that through that it wouldn’t get me anywhere. I wasn’t officially Baron Ashgrave until I graduated and completed the ceremony. My aunt, as regent baron, had just as much authority as I did to approve a policy change if I wasn’t available. My word wouldn’t be enough to overturn hers on this for another few months. I could argue about it and have them shoot me down, but then I’d just look ineffectual. Damn it.
“I trust I’ll be included in any discussions about continuing developments with this new approach,” I said. And I’d have to be extra cautious about any sudden emergencies that called me off campus. Now I wished twice as much that Noah had stayed in Paris, both for his sake and mine.
Nightwood’s smile bordered on a smirk. “Naturally. We were planning on bringing you up to speed at our next expected meeting as it is. We were simply waiting for more data to fuel that discussion.”
“I can certainly contribute a needed perspective, considering I’m on campus to observe the outcomes. What was your reasoning for making this move?”
The barons exchanged a discreet glance. “The Naries offer a particularly potent source of magical power,” Stormhurst said. “They’re so unaware, it doesn’t take much to frighten them compared to setting the students against each other. That resource has barely been tapped. We shouldn’t be the ones living in fear of them. They’re allowed at the university for the regular students’ benefit, not their own.”
That explanation fit with what Rory had reported that her mother had said. I resisted the urge to clench my jaw. “And if we see problems arising, we’ll rethink that position? More power isn’t always to the benefit of the entire community.” It all depended on who was wielding it and whether they could be trusted.
“The staff involved are reporting on their students’ reactions and any shifts in the atmosphere on campus,” Bloodstone said. “We intend to watch their progress closely. I’m sure any observations you can contribute would also be welcome, Mr. Ashgrave.”
She gave the “Mr.” a slight emphasis, not so overt I could have been justified in bristling at it, but clearly reminding me that I wasn’t quite a baron yet. She’d barely been back a week, and she already felt comfortable holding my lesser authority over my head, when I’d spent nearly the entire time she’d been gone preparing for this role while she’d had no idea what was happening in fearmancer society.
Why should I have expected any different?
“Well,” Nightwood said, getting up, “since this meeting did come at the last minute, I have other responsibilities to get to. Unless you had some other concern you needed addressed, Ashgrave?”
Not that I thought I could get anywhere with. I dipped my head. “No. Thank you again for coming.”
Killbrook had stayed awfully quiet during the entire discussion. The other three fell into hushed conversation as they headed out, leaving him to trail behind them. As I followed, a tenuous idea formed in my mind.
If I was going to last as baron and not see my family torn apart or be forced to agree to policies I hated, I needed at least one ally in the pentacle. Whatever was going on between him and Jude, Killbrook was obviously the weakest link. If I could find the right point of leverage to sway him into going against the others on at least a few subjects, that could make the difference between this new dynamic becoming an outright catastrophe.
I picked up my pace so I was nearly close enough to tap his shoulder. The other three barons went out the main entrance ahead of us. As soon as the door shut and before Killbrook could reach for it, I cleared my throat.
“They shut you out fast, didn’t they?”
The pale man whirled, his face turning even more pinched as he frowned at me. “I’m not sure what you’re insinuating,” he said with forced haughtiness.
I tipped my head toward the door. “Nightwood and Stormhurst needed you when they weren’t sure what they’d be contending with on the Bloodstone side. Now that Althea is here, they don’t have to play friendly at all. Do you really think they’ll back you up if you need something that doesn’t fit with their interests?”
Killbrook glowered at me. �
�I don’t think I’m interested in taking advice from a boy who’s not even old enough to become full baron yet.” But he didn’t move to leave. He wanted to hear what else I’d say.
I slung my hands in my pockets, affecting as much confidence as I could summon. “You should be. Neither of us has a whole lot of footing on our own, and they know that. If we stay open to supporting each other as need be, it could benefit us both.”
“And what is it you’re looking for ‘support’ with, Ashgrave?”
I knew better than to present any specific propositions on ground this shaky. I shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I’m sure occasions will arise, as they will for you too. I just wanted to extend the offer for you to consider. It’s not as if they won’t get even more standoffish when they realize just how uncertain your line of inheritance has become.”
Killbrook’s eyes flashed with a frantic vehemence that made me flinch inwardly. He stepped toward me, all unexpected menace, and jabbed a finger at my chest hard enough to bruise. “What the hell stories has that idiot been telling you all? He’s never cared about anyone other than himself, you know. He’s not content with what I’ve given him, so he’s perfectly happy to tear it all down. You can’t listen to a thing he says.”
I stared at the baron as I fumbled for my words. He was obviously talking about Jude, but with an intensity that didn’t fit what I knew about the situation. “All Jude said was that things got tense enough that he’s moved out, which I already pretty much knew from the talk at our recent meeting, and I gathered that you’re at least considering making his unborn sibling heir in his place. If that isn’t true, you should probably talk to him about it.”
My words didn’t appear to register with Baron Killbrook at all. “Don’t play games with me,” he sputtered. “I know the kinds of stories he’d tell. You’d better keep them to yourself, or you’ll have the embarrassment of repeating a lie.”