by Alana Serra
“That’s why you came here,” Rhia said softly, realization making itself apparent in her voice. “To tell me you know what it feels like to have someone you love look at you as if you’re…”
“A monster? Yes,” he answered, his breath rushing out in a defeated gust.
“But you had no real options. There’s every chance any other path you took would’ve led to the same result, or worse.”
“Just like your choice with Desmond. You couldn’t let him die, so you did what you had to do.”
“I suppose you’re going to say that makes up for it? The knowledge that at least they’re alive and safe?” There was a plea in her voice, a quivering note that made it clear that was what she wanted to hear.
But Wesley couldn’t tell her that. It would be the greatest lie he could ever tell her.
“I think you know it doesn’t,” he answered softly. “It doesn’t make it hurt any less. Doesn’t make it any harder to go to sleep at night without the memory of their face, of what they saw when they looked at you. It hurts. It cuts so deeply it’s impossible to even breathe sometimes. But you will, Rhia. Do you understand?”
He turned his upper body so he could face her, both of his hands coming up to cup her face.
“You’re strong, but that strength doesn’t mean ignoring how much it hurts. It means continuing on, doing what you know is right. You’ve done that, against all odds, and I know you’ll keep doing it.”
“But I don’t know what’s right,” she said, eyes shining. “I thought I did. Before Esrinas was sacked, before I made that deal with Aeredus, I had a clear picture of what was right and what was wrong. Good and evil. And now everything’s…”
“Muddled?” he asked with a small smile. When she nodded, he continued. “They taught us the same at the academy. I think all humans are taught that non-humans are evil and dark magic is bad and that’s just the way things are, but it’s even more pervasive in the academies.”
“But you avoided being pulled under by it. You’ve seen the benefit in using such magic.”
“I have,” Wesley admitted, “but I’m not sure I would call myself a good person, Rhia.”
It wasn’t so much a self-deprecating remark as it was the truth. He’d opened his mind to the possibilities of otherworldly, shadow-born magic because he’d wanted enough power to improve his situation. He liked the way it made him feel. It was addicting, for someone who’d grown up never having enough.
“You traded your life away for your sister, even knowing she might hate you for it,” Rhia said softly. “If that’s not good, then the bar is truly set too high for the rest of us.”
Wesley let out a strained laugh, the sound catching in his throat when she lifted a hand to his face in turn, the pads of her fingers brushing over his stubble. “Why do you want so badly to pact with me?”
The question caught him off guard, and some part of him was prepared to shore up; shut down and refuse to answer. But he’d been honest with her thus far, and she knew enough now that it wouldn’t make much of a difference either way.
“After I killed Baron Tremont, I lost track of Emma. I’ve been trying to find her for years, but as it stands now, my magic isn’t strong enough to do it. Pacting with a Dark Lady shares magic between her and her guardian. You are given some of our abilities to amplify your own, and the same is true in reverse.”
“So you think if I pacted with you, you’d be able to find your sister.”
He nodded, his gaze leaving hers for a moment before he looked into her eyes again. “Yes. But I don’t know it for sure, and I didn’t intend… I’d hoped it would happen organically, as you came to trust me. When I asked you last time, I was desperate. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just wanted… everything. All at once.”
A flush rose in his cheeks, the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since he was a boy.
“I’m not sure either of us were thinking all that clearly,” she said, her lips quirking in a playful way.
Again Wesley’s laugh was strained. “No, I suppose not.”
“Is that… how the pact is achieved, then?” She drew in a breath, and he swore he could hear her heart hammering away. Or perhaps that was just his own. “Do we have to…?”
Wesley’s blush deepened, but he forced himself to hold her gaze. “No. Most Dark Ladies do indulge, and it forms a bond between them and their guardians. But there’s… a ritual. A way for trust to be given between both parties. Though I suppose, ah.” He faltered for a moment, unable to look at her. “I suppose there’s a great deal of trust involved either way.”
She looked at him for a long moment, and Wesley swore he could see an eternity burning in her dark blue eyes. It called to him in a way that had nothing to do with Aeredus’ machinations. So potent, so powerful that he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.
And he absolutely didn’t want to.
“I trust you, Wesley,” she said in no more than a whisper.
For several seconds—or several hours, he wasn’t sure—Wesley couldn’t breathe. His mouth was held agape, his eyes wide as he looked at her, certain she meant something other than what his heart and body insisted she meant. But there was no mistaking it when her hand slid from his face to the back of his neck and she drew him in for a kiss.
Chapter 20
Her lips were soft and warm and everything Wesley needed in that moment. They welcomed him, beckoned him, and he responded eagerly, pressing his own more fully against hers. Rhia’s arms wrapped around his neck, tightening there, the hint of her nails against the nape, and he let out a soft groan against her mouth. He hadn’t intended to spur things onward, but her response to that—the way she situated herself so that she could press more firmly against him with her body as much as her mouth—made Wesley lose any good sense he might have had.
He kissed her hard, his tongue begging entrance to her mouth. She readily gave it, opening to him so eagerly that he couldn’t mistake her interest in the least. Wesley turned his own body, his hands moving down to her back, pulling her into him. Needing her closer, skin to skin. He wanted it so desperately, but there was still one nagging reservation in the back of his mind.
Was she truly doing this because she wanted him, or was it something else? Dark Ladies weren’t forced to be intimate with their guardians, but most were. Wesley had no doubt there was a pull there that heightened the attraction, just as it’d done for him. In Rhia’s case, though, she was relenting to help ease his pain. And she was hurting, cut deeply by someone she cared for. There was every possibility he was a replacement for Desmond, and her desperation was making her do this.
But he wasn’t sure he cared, because this went beyond the pact for him. He wanted her. Needed her. That softness, the warmth, the compassion, all of it reminded him of the humanity he thought he’d discarded long ago. She told him he was worth something, and he needed to believe it. Needed to find solace in her arms, to feel wanted as someone who was worthy of desire, at least, if not love.
So he didn’t feel any shame in kissing her with such abandon, his tongue plunging into her mouth, stroking hers, his hands gliding down her back and then coming around front to fuss with the ties of her dressing gown. And Rhia certainly didn’t seem to have any reservations. She straddled his thighs, resting atop him as he sat at the edge of the bed, his cock responding to the feeling of her body pressed against his.
“Rhia,” he breathed against her mouth.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, the words confirming what he’d suspected.
She needed this, but so did he. And if there was one benefit to embracing morals that were far more gray than anything else, it was the fact that he wasn’t beholden to the rules of a gentleman. He didn’t have to refuse her to spare her honor. Not when he’d much rather honor her wishes and give her what they both wanted.
His fingers glided over the silk of the sash as he slipped it free, then slid his hand between the two sides of the gown. Smooth skin met his fing
ers, warm and begging to be touched. The muscles of her abdomen jumped slightly, then relaxed, and he trailed his fingers upward, expecting to brush against soft fabric. But there was nothing binding her breasts, and Wesley let out a sound of muffled surprise as he instead swept across the curve of her breast.
She pressed more firmly against him, a gasp meeting his lips, and Wesley was hardly going to deny her at that point. His hand moved with purpose, an eager caress over her breast, the supple flesh yielding to his touch. She wasn’t especially well-endowed, but she didn’t need to be. Especially when every brush of his fingers seemed to register with her, making her gasp and whimper against him. The effect was even more pronounced when his thumb brushed over one taut nipple. She moaned, a sound Wesley relished, the notes of it seeming to spread through his consciousness, heating his blood and taking a direct route to his cock.
He stroked his thumb over her nipple, took it between two fingers and rolled it gently, even gave the slightest pinch to test the waters. Rhia responded to it all, squirming against him, moaning even as she tried to keep up with the kiss, to press back harder and more insistently. Wesley raised the stakes again, bringing his other hand up to attend to the other breast as his lips skimmed down her jaw to her throat, marking a clear path downward. Her chest was rising and falling so rapidly by the time he got there that he couldn’t imagine her response when he did what he was planning to do.
He was eager for it, and while he wanted to be the type of man who took his time with things, he’d always wanted swift gratification. Sudden and powerful and satisfying in its own right, giving in to the moment when it was at its peak. He followed that line of thinking now, dropping his head to her breast. She sucked in a breath when his stubbled cheek scraped against sensitive flesh, but held it entirely when his lips closed around one tightened nipple. When she finally seemed to regain the ability to react, it was with a high, keening moan that made Wesley’s body burn with need. She arched against him, encouraging him to be exactly where she wanted him, and wound her slender fingers through his hair, gripping tight.
Wesley obliged, of course, his tongue swirling around her nipple before he applied the slightest pressure of his lips, strengthening it over time. He licked and sucked with abandon, lost in her reactions as her body shuddered above him, her hips rocking unbidden. A groan was muffled against her skin when she managed to grind against his cock in such a way that he couldn’t avoid reacting.
Rather than act like some innocent who was completely unaware of what she was doing, Rhia’s eyes opened and she looked down at him with a slow smile that would have left him weak in the knees were he standing. There was something seductive about it, so devastatingly alluring that he lost himself for a moment. Then she very slowly, very purposefully rocked against him and Wesley’s eyes closed, a moan falling from his lips as he was pulled away from his task. She did it again, until she was grinding against him in a deliberate way, her face flushed, lips parted as she discovered her own pleasure in doing so.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Wesley murmured, looking up at her in wonder. “I’d love to see you do that while neither of us are wearing a stitch of clothing.”
“That can be arranged,” she breathed, her eyes darkening with desire.
Her hands moved to the ties of his waistcoat, and Wesley pushed the fabric of the dressing gown off her shoulders, kissing the skin that was revealed. Silk pooled around her waist, baring her to him nearly completely, save for her smallclothes. She, meanwhile, had a long way to go to undress him, and Wesley chuckled.
“Don’t laugh at me,” she said, amusement underpinning the need in her voice. “You have so many damned ties and fastenings on this thing.”
“I could start wearing robes like a proper warlock,” he teased.
“You could. Then you’d only need to undo one strip of fabric to fuck me.”
Her words were so surprisingly direct that he lost the ability to speak or even think for several moments. He’d never been one for robes. Those were the domain of graying wizards and their ilk. He was a serious scholar and a serious user of magic, so of course he dressed the part. But he was rethinking that position now, visions of ease flitting through his mind. Encountering her in a darkened corridor and being able to pin her against the wall, tug at a few fastenings, and bury his cock inside of her before either of them had a chance to grow impatient.
He was certainly growing impatient now, having to bite down on a groan. His hands went to the ties of his own clothing and he helped her undo them, shrugging out of his waistcoat then letting her push his shirt off his shoulders. The breeches might be more of a problem, but Rhia seemed inclined only to undo his belt, then unbutton the fastenings beneath. As she tugged at the pants where they clung to his hips, he lifted up to oblige, grateful they seemed to be of one mind when it came to getting what they both needed.
His pants were down far enough—if not all the way off—that he was left only in his smalls, just as Rhia. She moved to rid herself of her dressing gown completely, and Wesley looked up at her in appreciation. Light skin contrasted so sharply by the loose curls of her raven black hair. Dark blue eyes that were filled with heat and desire, all of it for him. Small but pert breasts that he lifted his hands to cup, loving the way she arched to meet him as she settled atop his lap once more.
Her fingers buried in his hair, she brought her mouth crashing down to his and moved her hips to find the right angle that would satisfy them both. He could feel the heat of her through the thin cloth, and his own smalls certainly left nothing to the imagination. His cock strained against the one remaining fastening, and it took Wesley the briefest moment to slip his hand down and undo it, letting his arousal spring free. Rhia rubbed herself against him, moaning at the friction she helped create, and pleasure rippled through Wesley so keenly that he might have been close to spilling like some untested youth if he didn’t get ahold of himself.
He focused on kissing her, devouring her mouth as she did to him, the hunger in it building to heights he’d never experienced before. His hand still between them, he turned his wrist so that he could press against her mound, his thumb rubbing over her clothed slit, feeling the wetness there that was soaked through the fabric. She gasped against his mouth, having to break the kiss as a moan overtook her.
Panting, Wesley moved his hand so that it pressed against her thigh. He slid it upward, beneath her smallclothes, and touched her properly.
“You’re so wet,” he murmured, his head dropping down to her neck. “Has anyone ever touched you like this?”
He moved his hand inward as she clung to him, her whole body tensing while his fingers ran over her silky folds. Once again, he wasn’t subtle or especially nuanced. He sought out her clit, found it was swollen and firm, begging for his attention. Rhia’s voice broke in a cry and she bucked against him. He spread his legs so that when she did so, her lovely pussy slid over the shaft of his cock, her lips parting around him. Wesley groaned, having to stop himself from lifting his hips.
Even with her smallclothes still on, it wouldn’t take much to pull them aside and thrust into her. There was no denying that was what she wanted, not when she was panting above him and grinding against his hand, begging him for more. But he wanted her to be good and ready. So wet that he could slide into her with ease. So just this once, he did delay that particular gratification they both sought and rubbed two fingers against her clit in a consistent, hard, swift rhythm only knocked off course when the rocking of her hips became too much for him to anticipate her movements.
“That’s it,” he managed, looking up at her, marveling in how devastatingly gorgeous she looked with her face flushed, hair tousled, lips parted on a moan. “Surrender to it.”
She broke against his hand, her whole body going taut, her breath catching for a long moment before a low moan left her throat, washing over Wesley with an intensity that ratcheted up his own desire tenfold. His cock throbbed insistently, painfully, everything in him demanding
that he bury himself inside of her so he could feel the walls of her pussy squeezing around his cock.
But he also wanted to watch her, to indulge in this moment and the male pride he felt in bringing her to this ecstasy. Her fingers dug into her shoulders as she clutched at him, her head lowered as she tried to regain control of her breathing. And when she did look at him again, her expression wasn’t dampened by having reached climax. If anything, he could see even more need in her eyes, a torrent of lust there that had his hands going to her hips.
“Rhia,” he said, his voice strained.
His whole body burned for her. Everything in him wanted this, and when she lifted up and off of him, he felt such a strong sense of loss that it almost left him reeling. But she simply stood before him, lowering her smallclothes. Wesley took in the sight of her, his hand moving to his cock, desperate to relieve some of the tension. He stroked slowly, squeezed hard to ease that buildup of desire, and felt a deep satisfaction as she watched him, her gaze hungry as it lingered.
His own gaze moved down her body, the curve of her hips, the breadth of her thighs, the soft thatch of dark hair between them. Her pussy glistened such an inviting pink, her lips swollen, and he bit back a groan, his fingers squeezing hard around his cock again. She bent, her hair obscuring her breasts from view as she tugged his breeches the rest of the way off, having to work his boots off at the same time.
Once he was free of the garment, Wesley scooted back on the bed, wanting to give them both more room. She began to climb over him once more, prowling toward him like some sleek jungle cat. Good God, she was everything. Mesmerizing. Enrapturing. He wanted nothing more than to bask in that look she was giving him, to be the sole object of her desire for as long as she would have him.