by CY Jones
The clear blue sky ripples like water, and I can no longer feel its heat. Coldness sinks deep into my bones, and my chest aches from the lack of air. I cannot breathe. I cannot use my magic. But even so, I’m still lost to the melody of a summer’s day. Even with the eerie aftertones signaling my death, I still don’t snap out of it. Madness is my nature, and I smile as I sink, even afterwards when my back lands on cold tile. Bubbles float out of my mouth and I blink once, twice before closing my eyes for good.
The sweet sounds of the summer’s melody was the only sound I could hear. Once heard, it took over all my senses, even my sense of survival. Fight or flight quickly switched to wait and die. A death so calm like a cool balm to my life of ache. But then, like a missile hell bent on making its destination, the song of a flute pierces through the melody and wakes me up.
Opening my eyes wide open, I see the rippling light of the ceiling from under the water and then red and black. A pair of strong arms pull me to a warm body, before I’m being pulled out of the water.
Coughing up, I don’t know how much water, I stare at my savior. My body shivers from the cold, and it’s possible I’m close to going into shock, but despite my stupor, I can still make out Zion’s features, and boy, is he angry.
“I’m not even going to ask what you were thinking,” he growls before pulling me to my feet. “Come on,” he says, not giving me the choice to defend myself when he pulls me after him. Not that I have much of an excuse. I must not be moving fast enough because midway, he stops and lifts me in his arms bridal style and carries me.
Trying to clear my mind, I piece together what happened little by little. I came to the pool to be alone, and I got drunk off fairy wine. In my drunken stupor, I somehow spelled myself, creating a field of fantasy that was never there. What I climbed was not an apple tree but the ladder to the diving board and when I reached over thinking I was grabbing an apple, I fell, long and hard into the water. I guess it’s lucky I did not fall off the other end and splat on the concrete, but I could have sworn I drowned. Actually, I did drown. After the bubbles left my mouth, I was suddenly blind, unable to see anything until hearing the piercing sound of a flute. Flute? No, that can’t be right. Zion was the one who saved me. I must have been hearing things. Lost to the delusion. No way in hell would Ruelle do anything to save me. He’s Morganstein’s minion after all.
Looking up, I gaze at said savior’s stern face through my wet lashes. He’s furious with me, so much so that he doesn’t even bother to put up his mask of indifference. Even though we’re both quite the sight, him carrying me in such a way, soaking wet in formal clothes, everyone we pass jumps out of his path, probable scared stupid by the waves of his anger rippling off him.
I’ve really done it now. Is he carrying me away to kill me? Almost dying once today is quite enough.
Instead of taking me back to his room, he carries me through the woods all the way to my cabin. Once we’re safely inside, he kicks open the door to one of the spare bedrooms and throws me onto the bed. I bounce once, twice before his surprisingly warm, but still wet body covers me. His legs maneuver in between mine, and with a grip of steel, he gathers my hands together above my head and holds them there. Literal flames dance in his irises, and I get lost in all the different shades of reds and oranges. A few I’ve never seen before until now.
“Let me go,” I order, but, of course, the psycho does the exact opposite and holds onto me tighter.
“No,” he growls.
“Look, I don’t need a lecture. Getting drunk off fairy wine in the pool area was incredibly stupid. Next time, I'll…”
“Next time?” he rumbles, sounding like some animal. “There will be no next time. From now on, you’re forbidden to drink. In fact, once I get my hands on that asshole of a king, I’ll kill off your supplier.”
“Don’t bring Oberon in this. It was I who drank the wine. It’s not like he forced me to. He even warned me not to drink more than half a bottle.”
“Yet, he still gave you two bottles full and sent you on your merry way. And he is to blame. Through all your past recklessness, he has been the common denominator, aiding and abetting your foolishness. If it weren’t for Archer coming to get me, you would have died. Is that what you want? Is being mated to me so bad that you’d ask for death?” His voice cracks at the end, and I hate myself for making him feel this way, but too proud to beg for forgiveness.
I’m still mad. It’s not logical, I know. I hate being in the dark. I hate having my life decided for me. If I knew Zion better, then my mind would not have wandered down this path filled with suspicion and doubt. As much as I want to believe he has a reason for keeping the secret of our mating from me, I’m not sure. How can he expect me to hand over my trust away just like that? But even as I think these things, I find it hard to resist him. My body still craves him. Craves to be closer, so instead of arguing about all the different reasons of why I can’t trust him, I close the distance between our lips and kiss him long and hard.
He’s not shocked. Instead, he takes what I did in stride and kisses me back just as fiercely. There’s a new battle going on. One raging with lips, teeth, and tongue between two generals who don’t know the meaning of surrender. I gasp when he expertly rolls my tongue and sucks, and in retaliation, I bite down on his plump bottom lip until I can taste blood.
“You stubborn, reckless, pigheaded fool,” he murmurs against my lips. For some reason, I don’t think he’s talking about me biting him. Maybe those words apply to me in general.
“You do know all those things mean the same thing?” I comment.
“Yes and each word perfectly describes you.” Pressing his forehead to mine, he brings those gorgeous eyes closer and my gaze reacts to his. I’m lost. So very lost, but the anger is still there. Why does this boy have such an affect on me? What is it about him that has me bewitched? A good looking face is like a dime a dozen in the mage community. We barely even get along. Most of the conversations consist of insults or plain old-fashioned arguing. The only tenderness I’ve seen from him thus far is after he saved my life, making me wonder if the cause of such an emotion is just left over adrenaline. These aren’t true feelings to rely on but a reaction.
Staring into each other’s eyes like lovers is too real. I don’t want real, but the response. At least with the response, thinking is not needed. The only emotion that’s allowed between us is anger. Anger is the only fuel I need, so I cling onto that and attack his lips once more, pushing my tongue inside his mouth. If he knows what I’m doing, he doesn’t stop me, complying to my wishes and pushes me further into the mattress. His hold hurts, but it’s an ache that feels so damn good. I don’t want anything tender from him. Neither of us deserve gentle.
With one hand, he undoes his slacks, pushing the fabric down while simultaneously kissing me and keeping me in his hold. His tight briefs are next, and once he lifts the wet fabric of my skirt, he says only two words. “Stop me.” He looks at me with eyes almost pleading. Silly boy. We’ve gotten this far, and we’re both too worked up to turn back now. Stopping would be the logical thing to do. Who knows how we’ll feel about this in the morning, but just like he’s been saying since he pulled my heart out in the open and exposed it, I’m stupid and reckless.
When I open my mouth, it’s not to tell him to stop. My two words in reply are simple, direct, with no need of an explanation. “Fuck me.”
With an animalistic growl that would scare any creature in the woods surrounding us, he grabs my asscheek, squeezing the tender flesh and with the head of his cock aimed at my honey spot, sure of its destination, he surges inside me in one full stroke, all the way to the hilt. Shocked, my mouth opens wide to scream, but no sound comes out of my wordless cry as I’m struck dumb in fantasy land somewhere seeing stars. Giving me no time to recover, he starts to move with each stroke just as sure of himself and brutal.
Fuck, he’s big and thick. His reach is so deep, exploring places I never knew existed. I want to cry o
ut, but refrain for my own pride’s sake, because if I do speak, I’ll scream out something I’ll never live down, like his name. Not that it matters. Zion is just too good in everything. I’m convinced he’s no mage, but some kind of god sent here to torment me, pleasure me, and bend me to his will. Like he has a roadmap, he knows exactly what he’s doing and where to hit, making everything feel so much more pleasurable. Like a savage, he bites my neck, leaving behind Goddess knows how many marks, but through it all, he never loses his grip on my arms, giving me no leeway. He wants to make sure I understand that it’s him who’s in charge.
With one arm holding me down, the other holding his own weight, he angles himself so deep inside me, I can no longer hold back and a loud moan escapes, causing me to bite my own lip, drawing blood. Licking the blood away, he kisses away the hurt as he pounds in and out of me like a man possessed. Like a jackhammer, he’s proficient, sure enough in his own technique as he’s focused on giving me pleasure, but I refuse to go down without a fight. Wrapping my legs around him in a killer hold, I rock my body against him, using his own hold to my advantage. Twisting my hips, I’m able to turn the tables, or maybe he lets me, and I land on top of him so that I can ride him like a bucking bronco.
Our rutting is wild and explosive, just like I always imagined it would be. Each moan is well earned, each of our names swallowed whole. We’re both stubborn too, neither of us giving the other an inch. He already had the unfair advantage with his size, but I’m no quitter. Wild off my own obsession to fuck him on my own terms, I pull out every trick in the book. We’re both dripping in sweat, bodies slapping against each other in this twisted dance between the sheets. His body has always been on the warm side, but right now, it feels like we’re being cooked alive in a furnace.
With me on his lap, pressed close together as far as we can go, something inside me explodes like a bird's cry and then this tingling sensation like lightening ripples throughout my body and I cum all over his shaft while he’s still deep inside me. “Fuck,” he growls through clenched teeth, smothering his face in the crook of my neck. When he bites down on my collar bone, I cry out, cursing him to the pits of Hell.
Positioning me on the middle of the bed, he bends my legs and hovers over me, and once he’s satisfied, he then continues his assault on my pussy. Since I’ve come once already, I’m more sensitive and his strokes elicit an outcry of expletives from me. l’ll give him this, his restraint is admirable. Holding in his own release, I can see a vein bulging on his forehead, but in this new position and the fierceness of his strokes, it doesn’t take long before he’s closing his eyes, roaring his release to the world. His seed is hot like lava, and I can feel it filling me, which only makes me moan with him.
Fuck, that was epic, but it doesn’t slow him down when he takes me again. Throughout the night, we switch places from top to bottom, fucking in every way possible. It’s hard to say who won the battle of wills since we both basically passed out at the same time. All I know is that this will forever be engraved on my mind, a night I’ll always remember, no matter how many bottles of fairy wine I drink, which will make the morning so much more awkward. But right now, I don’t have to worry about that as I fall into a deep slumber.
Chapter 18
Angelica
When I wake, I’m in my own room in my own bed and not the guest bedroom. Who knows when Zion woke last night and moved me in here. Just like I thought, last night was unforgettable, not only for my mind but my body too. I have aches and pains in places I never thought possible and tiny bite marks all over my body. My poor abused clit is red and swollen and there’s smears of white between my thighs and down my legs. Just remembering Zion’s lava-like seed makes me want to curse since I can’t recall if either of us said the protection spell. If we didn’t, we’re both fucked. Male mages in their prime are more potentant. Hopefully, Zion was more responsible and didn’t give in to the heat of the moment like me.
“Archer,” I call out loud and my Champion appears before me. If he’s still disappointed in me, he doesn’t show it, but I still need to apologize. “I’m sorry. What I did last night was wrong. It’s your job to protect me, and I ordered you not to in the worst of ways.”
He doesn’t tell me it’s fine because we both know it’s not. Instead, he sternly says, “Never do that again,” and I nod in understanding. I almost died last night. If I hadn't sent Archer away, all that happened would have been prevented.
“Did Zion inform you of what happened?” I question.
“He did.”
“Oh,” is all I mutter, because what else is there to say?
“Where is the overbearing bastard? I expected him to be in my face first thing in the morning.”
“He was called on by his father. He had reservations about leaving you, but thought it best not to keep his father waiting.”
“I wonder what that asshat wants. Wasn’t he done with his son when he tried to kill him? Now that we’re mated, he’s all about seeing him again.” Or maybe they’re discussing more things they’re keeping from me? No. Stop that. I can’t quickly turn to the negative. At least, I got to avoid the awkward next morning chat. We’re going to have to talk about it, I’m just glad for the brief reprieve.
“You’ve slept in late and already missed a couple of your classes,” Archer warns.
“Crap,” I mumble, quickly jumping off the bed. I’ve gotten comfortable with Archer around, so I don’t even blink an eye when I strip off my wrinkled, cum stained dress, and run butt naked into the shower.
Because of the chlorine from the pool, I had to take the extra time out to wash and condition my hair. Changing into the first matching outfit I find, I run out of the cottage with a piece of buttered toast in my mouth, Archer toasted for me, and haul ass to my defense class. But sadly, I don’t make it before the bell rings, and as soon as I walk through the door, Sensei blasts me with a shot of freezing water. I don’t react in time to shield and take the full blast of the hit.
“You’re late,” he growls.
“Fuck man. A warning would have been nice. You could have even written me up. Did you really have to shoot me with water?”
“Watch your mouth, Miss Morganstein. I don’t tolerate tardiness. Unlike where you grew up, rules are expected to be followed here. Now, go take your seat.”
Still grumbling I do as I’m told, ignoring the snickers and laughing eyes of my classmates. Zion is here on time, but if he had any reaction to my embarrassing display, he doesn’t show it since his mask of emotionless indifference is firmly in place. I would like to ask him what his father wanted, but since he’s seated in the same spot as before next to Bloody Mary, I don’t bother to sit next to him. What an asshole. He can fuck me to oblivion one night and still sit next to her the next day. Damn him and damn this stupid feeling in the pit of my heart.
My soaking wet clothes are uncomfortable and do nothing to temper my jealousy, but I refuse to play nice. Chin up, head held high, I pass them both without a single glance, but as I do, a wave of warmth covers me, leaving me completely dry, and I can’t help meeting his fiery gaze and smug smile. With a roll of my eyes for a thank you, I take a seat next to a smiling Kirito.
“Hello, kitten. That was quite the entrance.”
“Is that all you have to say? Making fun of me? Where the hell have you been, Kirito?”
Rubbing the back of his head, he gives me a half smile. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve had some shit I needed to work out before facing you.”
“What shit? What was so bad that you’d avoid me?” I’m hurt, and it bleeds through my words, making him wince.
“I want to talk to you about it, but this is not the right place or time.”
I don’t want to hear that. I want to drag him out of here. I don’t care if we’ll have to face off with Sensei to leave out the door, but I relent, conceding to his logic. “Fine, but after class, you’re going to explain everything to me. Got it?” No need to go into any details. He knows he
doesn’t have a choice.
“Yeah, I got it.”
Sensei is still doing evaluations, and I watch a couple of matches before Kirito starts to grow bored. Since I got dressed without paying particular attention to what I picked out to wear, the sweater I’m wearing is low cut and just so happens to show off my neck and all the marks I would have hidden if my head was screwed on straight this morning. When two light fingertips walk a pathway across my skin, caressing each and every mark, I shiver before slapping Kirito’s hand away.
Leaning in closer, he whispers in my ear, “My my, what a naughty kitten. Now I know why you were late, but how is it that the perfect phoenix mage made it to class on time, and you were late? Did he not wake you before leaving the bed? How inconsiderate. I thought Zion was at least a gentleman behind closed doors. If it were me, I would have woken you with my tongue, right between here,” he says, stealthy moving his hand between my thighs and up to my hotspot.
Reacting to his touch, my body warms. All the aches and pains from this morning disappear, ready to start a new round with a new player. Shutting that shit down quickly, I move his hand away and bite his earlobe.
“Ouch,” he yelps, jumping up, holding his ear.
“Choi, since you’re standing, you might as well go next,” Sensei says, calling him out, and I smother my laughter with my hand.
Bending over, he whispers so low that only I can hear him, “I’m not Milo, lovely. I prefer to be licked, not bitten.”
Successfully rousing me, I smile wide watching as he saunters off, down the bleachers, and stands in front of a guy who looks like the star player on the school’s basketball team. He’s so freakin tall it’s unreal. At least seven feet tall with arms like two skinny poles. Red hair, pale skin with a dusting of freckles on his nose, he’s cute in a boy next door kind of way. Maybe he’s actually that naive and innocent, because as soon as he sees who his opponent is going to be, his already pale complexion turns as white as a ghost.