Chapter Thirty-Five

As promised, Camden gets me a glass of white wine before seating himself beside me on the couch in front of the fireplace and flipping open the file. His eyes scan the pages quickly, and as he does so, I can feel his demeanor shift from interested to wary to closed-off entirely. His body language progressively stiffens, and his eyes shutter with distaste the further he reads.

Once he’s done, Camden gives me a look that could have a lesser woman six feet under. “You want me to parlay with a coven of witches?” he asks, his tone biting. “Did my younger brother neglect to mention that they’re fucking insane?”

I give him a censuring look. “Careful how you say that, Cam. You’re talking to a witch.”

“You don’t count!” he growls.

Looks like we’re skipping the pleasantries and getting straight to business.

I give a cold laugh, setting my glass on the table in front of us. “In what world? I’m a witch more than I’m anything else, including human and especially shifter. We already know that I share some of their qualities; I’ve had to ask the castle servants to cover up the gemstones on display so I don’t get sidetracked when I walk by them. Other than some odd quirks, I don’t think I’d call myself insane.”

Camden holds the folder in front of my face and snaps, “This proposal shows you are! You intend to dangle yourself as bait to get them to negotiate? Really, Sierra? Do I need to point out the many times in human history where diplomacy went disastrously wrong?”

“Only if you want me to hit you with each time it went fantastically right, saving millions of lives in the process!” My volume continues to rise. “Your elitist closed-off mindset will be the death of your kind. A month ago, that wouldn’t have bothered me—in fact, I’d have cheered the vampires and dark faye on. Thanks to you, my sister has already been put in the line of fire in the course of your conflicts, which means this is now my fucking problem! Since it’s been made my problem, you cannot pretend to be surprised that I’m taking action, especially when nobody else seems to.”

“I am taking action!” he explodes. “Our military has been training and preparing overtime! I’ve mobilized packs worldwide for when the time for battle comes! Do you know how difficult it is to keep dozens of warrior packs in line? Especially when I won’t leave you to go speak with them in person? Coordinating our military, defensive and offensive options, takes up the vast majority of my time.”

“Your military won’t mean shit if there’s magic on the other side!” I shout back.

Done with this argument and needing to show Camden the reality of the situation in terms that cannot be misunderstood, I push off the couch, walk over to the dining table, and call to my fire. My entire body warms for a moment before heat breaks out over my hand, bringing with it a black flame that bursts to life on my palm. I raise my flame covered hand in Camden’s direction, assuring it has his attention before using my index finger to tap the wood of one of the dining chairs. My fire instantly transfers to it, eating through the wood at a blurring speed until the chair is entirely gone, leaving behind only the faintest dusting of black ash on the carpet.

Camden watches me do so with an expression that’s half-wary, half-angry from our argument.

I enunciate every syllable as I say, “That is a fraction of magic, in the hands of a witch with no training. What do you think the entire faction of dark faye could do if they side with the vampires?” Before he can respond, I add, “Granted, I’ve been told black fire is an exceedingly rare power, but magic is magic, and I’m sure Claude can tell you shifters don’t stand a fucking chance against it in war unless they also have magic on their side.”

Camden inhales several deep breaths and then says through gritted teeth, “I see your point, but I do not like the idea of working with witches. They’re only out for themselves.”

“From everything I’ve read and heard, they are extremely protective of their own. I am one of their own, a witch living in a castle of shifters,” I counter. “Don’t you think that protectiveness would innately extend to me?”

Camden falls silent before standing to pace across the room. He appears to be in a battle with himself—the insular nature of shifters warring with the fact that he must know I’m right. We cannot win the war with vampires alone, and the war will brew over into battles any day now. I killed a member of their royal family, and I suspect the vampire royals had a hand in the death of Camden’s mother. I imagine that’s more than enough instigation for their conflicts to finally reach a fever pitch and turn into swift, decisive, and deadly action on both parts.

After a while of pacing a hole into the floor, Camden stops abruptly and turns to me, his eyes having taken on a strange gleam that makes me nervous. He gestures for me to sit on the couch before walking over and seating himself on it. I do so hesitantly, unsure of what his decision on the proposal will be but willing to fight for his agreement.

In a carefully measured voice, Camden tells me, “I will agree to your proposal, as long as you agree to my conditions.”

Figures.I should know by now that nothing in this castle will come free; there’s always a catch when working with wolves. They’re cunning that way.

Camden reaches out to finger a piece of my hair, rubbing the long strands between his fingers with a contemplative expression. “Tomorrow night, you share my bed. If you agree, I’ll send a liaison to reach out to the nearest coven with the proposal first thing in the morning.”

“And if I don’t?” I ask warily.

Camden gives me a wolfish smile, dropping my hair. “I take my chances with just my packs as defense and offense.”

He’s being ridiculous; at this point, especially after my demonstration, he must realize that I’m working in his and his kingdom’s best interests, but being a crafty wolf he won’t give any concession without also receiving concessions. I don’t love the idea of sleeping in the same bed as him, but I have to admit…our most recent interactions haven’t been disastrous. He’s hot-headed, sure, but I’m learning how to navigate his moods.

If sharing his bed for a night is all I need to do to ensure training and protection for my sister and me, as well as a better likelihood of victory for shifter kind in the upcoming war, then that is what I’ll do.

Still, I ask, “Exactly what will sleeping in your bed entail?”

He gives me a sultry smile. “The pleasure of having you near me, of course. We won’t do anything you don’t want to do. If that means we just sleep, then we just sleep. I give you my word, I won’t touch you without your verbal consent.”

The problem with that is…my verbal consent seems to be pulled out of me every time we’re alone together recently, whether or not my brain actually consents. The bond between us is getting frighteningly strong, to the point where I have very little control over myself when it comes to Camden. Just sitting here with him now, the heat of his stare is already prompting a response from me. My nipples hardened the moment I entered the room, and since then, even during our argument, I’ve felt myself growing more and more aroused. There’s no way Camden doesn’t know—he has the scent of a wolf—but he also doesn’t comment or push for anything, which makes me a little bit more comfortable at the prospect of sharing a bed tomorrow. Not excited but I think I can get through it.

On a sigh I concede. “Fine.”

Camden says, “One more thing, a condition I’ll collect on tonight.”

“The condition being?” I ask warily.

Camden’s smile is so seductive, so heated, my arousal multiplies tenfold and I feel my panties grow uncomfortably damp, to the point where I fear I might leave a wet spot on the couch.

“I get to make you come again,” he purrs.

While my body kicks into overdrive, priming itself for him, I force myself to actually think rather than feel. Getting an orgasm from him strengthens our bond—I know that perfectly well at this point. I also know that…well, this’ll happen eventually. I knew it last night when I held him at bay; putting him off is only a temporary solution. Eventually, he’ll mark me and we’ll consummate the bond entirely.

In some ways, I should probably be grateful that he’s not insisting on that being a condition. I know he wants to; it’s a primal instinct for him. Instead, he’s taking baby steps with me, holding himself on a leash. That, I can work with. Besides, I already know he’s capable of delivering mind-blowing pleasure, and as much as I don’t want to want it, I do.

I swallow down what feels like a handful of gravel, my nerves making my throat tighten. Camden watches my indecision with a sharp predatory gaze, lying silently in wait for my answer. If it were my body talking, it would have screamed oh the fuck yes the moment he laid his eyes, heated with carnal desire, on me. My brain, however, has a few more reservations. Ultimately, though, my own desire and the need to see my proposal through wins out.

I give Camden a single anxious nod, and that’s all it takes. Before I can blink or even comprehend his speed, he has me laid flat on the couch, hovering above me with a predatory, deeply excited glimmer in his eyes. My breathing speeds up, then stutters as he sits me up long enough to pull my shirt over my head. My bra is unclipped with a single, smooth flick of his hands, and they run down my spine as he leans forward to kiss me. Well, perhaps kiss is the wrong word—he dominates my mouth, thrusting his tongue inside, learning every crevice, groaning with satisfaction when I don’t fight him.

I might not be totally on board with this, but the heat of his body over mine combined with his delicious taste and skilled hands roaming my flesh toss my inhibitions out of the window. I kiss him back with just as much passion and vigor, though try as I might, I’m unable to match his intensity.

He pulls his mouth away from mine, and I’m embarrassed at the whimper that’s drawn from my lips, as if regretting the loss. His lips tick up into a smug smirk, and he leans back for just enough time to unbutton and unzip my pants, hooking his fingers under the waistband of my panties to peel both them and my pants off my legs at the same time. He tosses the clothing articles over his shoulders before sitting back on his haunches and simply staring at me for what feels like an eternity. Uncomfortable being naked while he’s fully clothed, I demand, “Take off your shirt.”

His smirk turns into a full-blown smile. “Little witch, did you like touching me last night as much as I love touching you?”

I did like having the opportunity to learn his body without the hovering threat of sexual acts looming over my head, but I won’t admit out loud just how attractive I find him. He already has a big enough ego, there’s no need for me to inflate it more.

Instead of responding, I sit up and finger the hem of his shirt, tugging it up to expose his hard taut stomach. He lifts his arms to let me pull it off entirely, then watches as I splay my hands on his six-pack appreciatively. The strength and power in his form just on its own is an aphrodisiac to me.

Camden only lets my hands roam his upper body for a few seconds before pushing me flat on the couch again. He fills his hands with my breasts, squeezing the mounds with an appreciative groan and running his fingers over my nipples, back and forth, before pinching them between two fingers, drawing a whine from me. Just his hands on my breasts and fingers on my nipples are causing molten heat to pool in my core, driving me wild with need. He leans down to kiss me again, tongues twining and teeth clashing before kissing a wet path across my jaw, down the column of my neck to my breasts. He takes one of my nipples into his mouth, applying a delicious suction that makes me afraid I’ll leave a wet spot on the couch. At the same time, the hand that isn’t plumping my other breast travels further south, settling between my legs. He runs his fingers up and down my slit, leisurely, groaning when he finds how wet I already am.

He pulls his mouth away from my breast to tell me, “You drive me fucking insane, Sierra. I can’t get enough of you.”

The verbal praise only adds to the heat between my thighs, and one of his big fingers slides into me, drawing a moan from deep in my throat. Another finger joins the first in my channel, and they curve upwards, hitting a spot that forces another longer moan from me. His thumb moves upward to cover my clit as he takes my other nipple in his mouth, and the overload of pleasure and stimulation becomes almost too much to bear. That thumb rubs smooth, gliding circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves, finding a spot right under my clit that makes my toes curl. I clutch his shoulders for purchase, digging my nails into his skin so hard the moisture of his blood wells up.

He kisses his way back up until his mouth is hovering by my ear, while his fingers continue their work down below, winding me tighter and tighter until I can’t stand it anymore.

Cam growls in my ear, “Come for your mate.”

That’s all it takes to push me off the edge of a cliff and send me freefalling into a powerful orgasm that culminates in an embarrassingly loud scream. My pussy convulses around his fingers as my head falls back on the couch and my back arches. Camden continues rubbing those precise circles until I’m writhing underneath him, telling him I can’t take anymore. Only once he’s wrung the last drops of pleasure from my body does he ease up, taking his hand between my thighs only to pop the two fingers that were just inside me into his mouth. I watch through hooded lids, feeling arousal stir once more as his eyes blaze with satisfaction,

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first moment I saw you,” he rumbles.

Trying to catch my breath, I manage to pant, “Mission accomplished.”

His lips curl into a smile of satisfaction as he gathers me into his arms and sits up, cradling me against his chest like I’m a child. I don’t protest or try to wriggle away, too spent and tired from my orgasm. I let him hold me, feeling strangely treasured and cherished as his hands rub soothing circles over my skin.

After a while, my scattered thoughts start to reform. Despite the fact that my mind is fogged up with pleasure, I mumble lethargically, “I held my end of the deal, so you better hold up yours, wolf.”

“You held up the first part of our deal,” he responds. “The second part extends to tomorrow night. Still, since everything I know about you tells me you’re a woman of your word, I’ll coordinate reaching out to the witches first thing in the morning.”

Another point to the earth witch, underscored by an orgasm. Perhaps being fated to him won’t be so terrible, after all—if his conditions for working with me continue being along these lines, I don’t think I’ll mind them at all.