Reluctant to abandon the sweet taste of her, Daman continued his ministrations for a few moments more, committing the flavor of her to memory. Slowly, he slid up her body, letting her weight press against him as he lowered her to her feet. She whimpered and writhed as his scales dragged against her over sensitized flesh, each bump of the vertical ridge down his chest kissing the swollen bundle of nerves still throbbing between her legs.
Maribel groped at his shoulders, her movements sluggish as if she were having a hard time making her body do what she wanted it to. He grinned wickedly, careful to support her as he pulled his lower body between her legs and then started to push against the floor to straighten himself into a standing position.
As his coil left her body, lowering to the floor, Maribel abruptly closed her legs, trapping him there. Daman faltered, scrabbling to redistribute his weight farther down his tail to keep his back from hitting the floor.
Shock shot through his system as Maribel grabbed a handful of his hair. She flexed her legs and shimmied down until his coil was once again pressed against the wet heat at the apex of her thighs.
“No,” she ground out, still breathing heavily. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Daman inhaled sharply, desire spiking so strong inside him it was a wonder it didn’t draw blood.
“Maribel,” he rasped. “Are you sure?”
Maribel surged forward, the suddenness of the motion catching Daman off guard. He grunted as he fell back, his tail flexing to keep them both from hitting the floor. Maribel slid her legs more firmly around his body. With one hand clutching his hair and the other holding his shoulder, she dove toward him, pressing her mouth against his neck. There was a sharp pain on his skin, the sense of her teeth digging into his flesh in a lover’s bite.
It was the last straw.
Daman hissed as the hot heated length of his cock swelled, pressing up through the slit in the scales of his lower body. A groan wrenched itself from the depths of his being as he thrust against Maribel, sliding between her legs. Maribel cried out against his neck, her hips thrusting instinctively, trying to impale herself on his shaft. Heat filled Daman’s head in a rush, melting coherent thought, leaving only instinct, raw want. He growled and grasped her hips, claws grazing her skin as he held her still.
He didn’t have the sense to doubt anymore, too lost to the desire eating him alive from the inside out. He thrust into her with savage intensity, the vice-like grip of her body an achingly sweet agony. Maribel screamed, riding him as he eased them back onto the floor.
Pleasure rose like a wild desert storm, lashing through Daman and twisting his body in wild ripples. He surged beneath Maribel, thrusting deeper and deeper, driven mad with the need to get closer. Every stroke stole more of his breath, every clench of Maribel’s muscles robbed him of more control. He thrashed underneath her, surging up higher and higher, trying to bury himself as deep inside her as any man could. Her breasts swayed above him as she held on to his chest, her eyes closed as she chased her own pleasure. He wanted to touch her breasts, wanted to raise himself up to take them in his mouth, but it was all he could do to hold on to her hips while the desire whipped him into a frenzy.
His climax hit him with all the force of a gale wind, twisting his body into a tight mass of knotted muscle. He roared as he came, his grip tightening to bruising force on her hips. Maribel screamed a moment later, her delicate body fluttering against him. A shine came from somewhere inside her, light dancing over her skin like sunbeams playing with new spring leaves. Daman blinked, but the effect was gone before his addled brain could make sense of it.
As the last ripple faded, Maribel collapsed against his chest. Her tangled hair fell over him and the floor, a beautiful puddle of warm chocolate. He stroked her naked shoulder with the backs of his claws, floating peacefully on the warm waves of pleasure still washing over him in gentle laps. In that moment, he was truly present, here and nowhere else. The past didn’t matter, the future didn’t matter. He was here, Maribel was here.
It was enough.
Chapter Fifteen
Corrine stared into the mirror as the images she’d conjured faded away. As the last vestiges of her spell wore off, she slowly became aware of her own reflection again. Her brown eyes were glassy, blank. For a moment, she swore she could still see Daman’s silver eyes flashing, glowing with passion as he…
Her stomach rumbled, twisting itself into a painful knot. It seemed that she would have to go searching for food on her own. Maribel was…occupied.
Energy fluttered inside her like wild butterflies, her skin buzzing with the sensation of marching ants. The bond between her and Maribel had been renewed now that they were so close, and the amount of energy pouring through that link was more potent than any potion Mother Briar could manage. Corrine stumbled as she rose from the vanity, having to lean heavily on the furniture while she waited for her head to stop spinning. She was energized in a way she could scarcely remember ever feeling. She should be happy.
“If you help me get my daughter back, I will teach you magic stronger than any you have ever dreamed of… You will have the land, the money, and the power to support yourself—forever.”
“You love him.”
“Oh, Corrine. I know you’re not bad.”
“I love you, Maribel.”
“I love you too.”
“Get him to tell you where she is, and I’ll do everything in my power to undo the damage I did.”
Corrine crossed her arms, hugging herself as the voices danced around in her head, each one tearing up her emotions, throwing them around like so much confetti. Everything had been so clear yesterday, the plan had sounded so easy.
“She’s in love.”
She said the words out loud, tasting them, testing them. Bittersweet.
Using her bond with Maribel to cast the spell that allowed her to see things through her sister’s eyes had been one of the most painful experiences she’d ever been through in her life—and the most educating. It had hurt more than she wanted to admit to see Maribel…giving herself to a man who’d no more than an hour ago threatened to kill Corrine. See her coupling with him, lost in the moment, when she’d supposedly been so concerned about Corrine, so willing to fetch food from the kitchen for her to keep up her strength.
“It took so little time for her to forget about me.”
The anger that should have rushed to warm her at the sound of those words wouldn’t come. The resentment that she had a right to, the indignation…none of it would comfort her now as it had in the past. Not when the happiness in her sister’s voice was so blinding, even in memory. Maribel was in love. True love.
“Oh, I was so close,” Corrine continued, talking to herself despite the way her dull, lifeless tone fell like stones into the room. “I had him. I had him exactly where I wanted him, where I needed him. She was going to ask him—no, not ask him, make him tell her where Jeanne was.” She pressed her hands flat to her skirt, increasing the pressure, pushing them harder and harder against her thighs as she fought the tremble beginning in her shoulders and threatening to flow down to her fingertips. “He probably would have forgiven her. They could have still lived happily ever after. And then I would have my mentor, have the help I needed to be strong on my own.”
She stared down at the small clay bowl on the dresser in front of the mirror. The herbs she’d used in the spell still smoked gently, filling the room with the scent of burning rosemary and sage. She picked up the pestle and half-heartedly ground the herbs to dust until the smoke faded and the ashes cooled. A trail of fading smoke followed her as she strode over to the window and dumped the remainders over the windowsill. They floated away on the breeze, carrying her dreams with them, leaving her alone and bereft…again.
A muffled squeaking erupted from inside her bag. Her mind still muddled with conflicting thoughts, Corrine stumbled over to her bag in a daze. The squeaking grew louder as she opened the laces and fished out the small cage.
/> “About time!” grumbled the pixie. She glared at Corrine, but the expression was somewhat ruined by the fact that the honey she’d so willingly covered herself in had dried into a glue-like consistency. Her wings were stuck together and her hair was twisted into hard clumps. The eyelashes of one eye were stuck to her eyelid, and her dress was bunched into a hard knot of amber-hued glue plastered to her body.
Corrine stared at the fairy, but her mind was still in that other room. With her sister. Watching her forget about Corrine as she built a new future with Daman. Get angry, Corrine. Use the fury. You can still salvage this, still get the information you need. New love is such a delicate thing… Her anger was a phantom scent on the wind, there, but gone before she could follow it. She blinked at the fairy without seeing her.
“I need a bath,” the fairy said slowly, careful to enunciate each syllable.
Corrine strode over to the small table holding the tea tray that had been waiting in her room on her arrival. She poured the hot water that had been meant for tea into the empty teacup and then cooled it with some water from her washing pitcher. Mechanically, she opened the cage door and set the teacup inside. The pixie struggled to stand, hissing as she pried her sticky arms from her legs and she limped over to her bath.
“I don’t know what to do now.” The words went out into the air like orphans, meek and pathetic, searching for help in mewling tones.
The pixie sighed happily as she sank up to her chin in the warm water. Blue eyes blinked lazily as she gazed up at Corrine through the faint cloud of steam. “Eh?”
“I can’t do it. I mean, I didn’t want to do it. I did it anyway, at least I tried. It didn’t work though. He wouldn’t tell her, and she wouldn’t press him. They just…” Corrine trailed off. “They’re in love,” she said simply. “What right do I have to take that from her?”
The pixie splashed gently in the water, shifting around as though trying to let the water get at as much of the sticky honey as possible. “Her? Maribel? Is that the sister you’ve been draining?”
A hot retort lit on Corrine’s lips, but snuffed itself out with her next breath. She rubbed her temples in small, soothing circles. “I’m so tired.”
“You shouldn’t be. This close to Maribel you should feel like a barrel of honey.”
The familiar burning sensation of tears made Corrine close her eyes all the way. She sank down on the side of the bed.
“I never wanted to hurt Maribel. Never. I don’t care if she’s my blood or not, she’s my sister and I love her, no matter what anyone else thinks. I just…” She opened her eyes, holding her breath until she was sure she could speak without losing her words to a sob. “I’m scared.”
The fairy dunked her face into the water again, vigorously scrubbing before popping back out. Water sloshed over the side of the cup, landing in wet splats against the floor of the cage. She tried to blink, scrunching up her face as she pried her eyelashes from her eyelid, face contorting as she did so. One eye rolled in Corrine’s direction. “Why do you think you’re so sick anyway?”
Corrine traced the velvet pattern worked into the silk stretched across her lap. The material caressed the pad of her finger, calming her nerves. “You’re fey. What would you know about feeling weak?”
“Nothing,” the fairy agreed. “I’m very strong.”
“Well, I’m not.” Corrine shifted, pulled the gold braided cord knotted about her waist out from under her where she’d sat on it. The braid was slick and supple in her hands as she twined it around her fingers. “Sometimes I think I was meant to die as a child. Father said I came close. Not many children who are taken by the Evil Fire survive.”
Memories flooded back to her, the early days when the episodes had been new. The pain. The convulsions. The horrible images that would frighten her until she screamed, and not even her mother could comfort her. They were terrifying enough now that she was older. As a child, they had nearly destroyed her.
“The Evil Fire,” the fairy mused. “I’ve heard of that. Had convulsions did you?”
Corrine shuddered. “I nearly bit my tongue off during one of them. I still get them now and again.”
“Saw frightening things if you closed your eyes?”
“I didn’t even have to close my eyes,” she breathed. An eerie shiver slithered down her spine and she instinctively fixed her gaze more solidly on her lap, avoiding the windows and shadows. If you don’t look, you can’t see them.
Silence dragged on. Encouraged by the stroll down memory lane, the nightmares from the past paraded across her mind’s eye, as horrible and terrifying as they had ever been. Shadows moving when they shouldn’t, long spindly fingers reaching out for her. Faces peering at her from outside her window that was far too high for any human to peer through.
Gradually she became aware of a rasping sound. Her heart leapt into her throat, her skin tightening to the point of pain. It took several seconds to register that she was scratching her skirts, the rasping sound just her fingernail rapidly clawing at the velvet. She stilled her hand and tried to slow her breathing.
Corrine caught the fairy staring out of her peripheral vision and angled herself to face the pixie more fully. Something about the expression on the fey’s face gave Corrine chills. That serious, soul-penetrating gaze didn’t belong on that insolent little countenance, surrounded by hair still sticking up in stiffened clumps on top of her head.
“You’ve been studying magic with Mother Briar, yes?”
“Yes.” The answer slipped out before Corrine could think and she pressed her lips into a tight line. You know better than that, Corrine. This is exactly the mistake others so often make, the reason the tiny folk always know everything. So tiny, so nonthreatening. No one ever gives a second thought to answering their questions, speaking in front of them. To speak in front of a pixie is to risk your words traveling abroad without your knowledge, being shared with who knew what or who. You are smarter than that!
“And how exactly did this apprenticeship come about?” the pixie prodded.
“I’m not her apprentice,” Corrine corrected automatically. “I’m not really a witch, at least not a powerful one. I’m just a human with a little skill for spells.”
The fairy arched an eyebrow. It stuck to a glob of honey under her hairline and stayed there in an expression of perpetual amusement. “Mother Briar told you that?”
Corrine nodded. Then she kicked herself for answering so easily even after remembering the risk.
“Did she also tell you that you wouldn’t be able to work magic without her help?”
Corrine bit the inside of her cheek, holding her answer in. She fought not to raise her hand to touch the amulet resting between her breasts.
“I am perfectly capable of casting spells without help,” Corrine corrected the pixie stiffly. “I told you, I have some natural talent for it.”
The fairy disappeared under the water. A long second dragged by. Curiosity ate at her and Corrine peered down into the teacup. The fairy blinked up at her through the honey-clouded water, blue eyes piercing even through the ripples. She blew a stream of bubbles that rustled the surface of the water and completely blocked her from Corrine’s view. Corrine rolled her eyes.
“Corrine?”
Corrine tripped over her skirt as she lunged off the bed. She managed to keep her feet, but just barely as she stumbled into the table the tea set was resting on. The china clinked together and rattled against the tabletop. The pixie’s makeshift bath tilted wildly to the side. The fey popped her head out of the water with a yelp and Corrine hissed and plucked her out of the cup with a muttered “Shush.”
The pixie glared at her, but didn’t say anything as Corrine dropped her into the cage and fastened it closed before shutting it away in her bag once again.
“Corrine, are you awake? It’s me. I want to talk.”
Corrine quickly dumped the honeyed water out the window and half-flew to the washing basin, rinsing out the cup and drying it quic
kly before rushing to replace it on the tray. She searched for any signs she may have missed, evidence of her spellwork, or her fey guest. No need for Maribel to know what she’d been up to. It didn’t matter now anyway.
She stood there for a moment, smoothing down her hair and dress, trying to regain control of her breathing. Finally, she straightened her spine and walked with slow, measured steps to answer the door.
Maribel stood there, her cheeks flushed with the evidence of what she’d been doing, making the wild tumble of her hair and the wrinkles in her gown all the more damning. Her eyes were still bright, her lips fuller, slightly swollen. Every detail pierced Corrine like the blade of a dagger, stabbing at her, torturing her with the double-edged sword of her sister’s happiness. It didn’t help that every physical sign was paired with the memory of it happening, the curse of the spell she’d used.
You cold-hearted heathen, be happy for her! When was the last time you saw her smile like that?
“How are you feeling?” Maribel asked.
Corrine twisted her mouth into her best attempt at a smile. “I’m feeling better. I was about to have some tea. I don’t suppose you have time to join me?”
Maribel’s face crumpled and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Corrine. Your dinner. I forgot.”
“It’s all right, really.” Corrine focused her full attention on the teapot. She had no idea what expression was on her face right now, but whatever it was, she wanted it to remain private. Maribel deserved this happiness, and she would not ruin it for her. It was time to get out of her sister’s way.
“No, it’s—”
“I’m not going to stay the night.”
Maribel snapped her mouth closed and half-fell onto the bed. “Oh, Corrine, please.”
“I think it’s for the best,” Corrine said firmly, her voice thick with the cursed tears trying to come back. She poured a cup of tea for Maribel and slid the saucer closer to her side of the small table. Then she poured a cup for herself.
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