17. Chapter 17

Chapter seventeen

I spread my legs apart and ran my hands down my stomach, stopping at my pussy. I dipped my fingers in between my slit, and brought my fingers up to my face. I watched how our cum intermingled between my fingers and brought it down to my lips. Tasting us.

“Tell me, Callum, what do I taste like to you?”

I turned to find Callum staring at me and what I just did.

He focused back on me after being transfixed by my mouth and replied, “I would drink your cum for sustenance if I could. It is the most exquisite taste.”

I pondered that.

“I have never tasted your cum before. You taste rather salty.”

He looked worried.

“If the taste is not to your liking—”

I lifted my hand, stopping him. “I didn’t say that. Just stating a fact.”

We laid next to each other in silence. I rarely allowed him to stay, but I didn’t mind it at the moment.

Desperate for any contact? I thought you were the big, bad beast who needed no one.

Mind your business, Circe, I replied to her silently.

I heard her scoff in the distance of my mind.

I focused back on Callum. On the here and now. But my mind wandered to Soren.

“I wonder what I taste like to the brothers.”

I grew irritated at the look on Callum’s face, unable to decipher its meaning.

“Have they tasted you?”

I nodded.

“Does that bother you?”

He took time to think about my question before sighing.

“Honestly, I would be lying if I said that I didn’t feel slightly jealous.” He sat up and looked down at me. Why was he getting serious all of a sudden? I sat up as he continued, “I meant it when I said that you could have many lovers and it wouldn’t diminish my devotion and love for you.”

Love. There was that word again.

I looked away from him, suddenly uncomfortable with the way this conversation had gone. He could tell where my thoughts had headed, but before he could say anything more we heard a crash somewhere in the castle.

Now what? I hung my head; I had planned on taking a nice long bath.

Callum jumped up, throwing his night pants on as he rushed from the room to assess the situation. Though I knew who was behind that crash and the next and next. I could hear raised voices and knew that Callum was arguing with Bastian.

What could have been the cause of this outburst?

I lazily got out of bed, threw on the nearest robe, and tied it around my naked body. I ventured into the hallway to determine the source of the sound.

I followed it out of the South Wing, down the stairs, through the halls, up the steps of the East Wing, and right into Bastian’s room.

Emilia was against the wall on the other side of the hall, staring at what was going on inside. I didn’t spare her another glance as I entered and found Bastian’s room torn apart. His furniture was shattered, the curtains were shredded, and his bedpost splintered.

“There she is! The whore of the hour.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and cocked my head to the side.

“What is your problem, brother?” Soren asked, exasperated.

“Brother? Is that what we are?” Bastian's eyes were wild as he couldn’t steady his breathing.

“What else would we be?”

Bastian turned and punched the wall, bones crunching against the stone, and I knew that his hand was broken.

“Stop it!” Soren rushed forward and tried to subdue him, but Bastian was too fueled by his rage and threw him off.

“You tasted her!” Bastian yelled.

The room went silent and I could see Soren blush.

Ah. Everything became clear. He overheard what Callum and I were talking about. Though why he was making a big deal out of it was beyond my comprehension.

“What does it matter?” He threw his hands up. “Callum fucks her every single day and you haven’t had any issue with that.”

“How does it feel not being a pathetic virgin anymore?”

I could see that his words stung Soren. I was tired of Bastian’s hateful words that were directed at the wrong person.

Soren seemed to be over his brother's antics because he walked right up to him and punched him. Bastian fell over and landed on his broken hand and screamed in pain.

“You fucking asshole. We haven’t even fucked yet.” Yet. I didn’t miss that part. “And even if we did, why do you care?”

“Soren, leave him to wallow in his self-pity.”

This was my first time using Soren’s name aloud in front of them, and Bastian caught it. Even in this state, he was alert and paid attention to every detail. Maybe he and his brother weren’t so different after all.

Bastian looked away and made a show of slowly standing up to face us. The three of us were next to each other, with him on the outside. But he was only like that because he wouldn’t pull his head out of his ass and give in. Let go of his hatred of me and live a little.

“I don’t care.”

There was hurt in his eyes, which was the only reason I walked up to him. He tensed as he watched me, not moving.

“I should let this heal on its own,” I stared up at him, “but I wouldn’t want it to heal wrong and you need this hand if you are going to jerk yourself off at night when you’re listening to me being the whore you say I am.”

He growled at me as I used my shadows on him, freezing him in place. I sliced my palm open knowing that he would need more blood than normal to heal his shattered hand. He fought me as hard as he could. I could feel my shadows working harder to keep him under control as I forced him to drink a few mouthfuls of my blood. I saw the bones mending and snapping back into place.

I leaned in and whispered, “We could be having so much fun if you stopped being so stubborn.” I leaned back and could see that he still wasn’t ready. Though if he kept up this attitude, then I would have to do something about him soon.

Lightning lit up the room, and the hair on my skin rose, anticipating what was to follow. Thunder.

I hurried out of the room as I called over my shoulder, “No one is to bother me tonight.”

I loathed the rain.

Not so much the rain, but the thunder that came with it. I hated to admit my shortcomings, but this was something that I couldn’t push through. I couldn’t sit there and pretend that the noise didn’t scare the shit out of me. So when it rained I would instruct everyone to not come near the library.

It had been that way ever since I was a small child. I had been playing outside with one of my father’s guards when the sky grew lighter. I marveled at the way the lightning lit up the night sky until I heard the most earth-shattering noise that shook me to my bones. The ground shook and I stood there thinking that the ground would break apart and swallow me whole.

I screamed and screamed while the guard was trying to calm me down, but it was like I couldn’t hear him. Not until I was lifted into strong warm arms that wrapped me in a tight embrace.

Father.

The scent of musk and cigar smoke cradled me and I swung my arms around his neck, squeezing my eyes shut, continuing to cry hysterically. I remembered how he slowly stroked my back, waiting for me to stop crying as he brought me back inside. Ever since that moment, I hated storms because no matter how docile the rain seemed to be, the thunder would rear its ugly head. Reminding me of my place in the world.

Before Emilia, I didn’t care about destroying the castle when the storms rolled in. I would ravage parts of it, not caring if it finally did me a favor and caved in, crushing me underneath. Emilia’s arrival changed everything because with her around, I could no longer be reckless.

Instead, I would go into the library and close myself off until the storm passed, even if it lasted days. I knew it wasn’t the smartest choice to stay in a room with wall-to-wall windows, but it was where I felt the safest. The one place I was still able to enter that held precious memories without feeling fully debilitated by them.

I wasted no time barricading myself in the library. I shut the door and took a few deep breaths trying to ground myself into the here and now. Deep breath in. One. Two. Three. Deep breath out. One. Two. Three. It no longer held the same musky scent that encompassed my father or the sound of little Annabelle learning to read with Mother.

I shook my head of the memory, not wanting to relive it, and pulled out the blanket Annabelle always used while she read. And as I went to head toward the corner that I always sat in, shaking until the storm passed, I heard a piercing laugh ring throughout the room.

No. It couldn’t be.

I looked up to see another memory playing itself out in front of me.

The fireplace was ablaze as if it had been lit for hours, and a woman said, “Belle! Where do you think you are going?”

My mother was tickling Belle as she screamed and laughed at the top of her lungs, squirming around.

This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Not so soon. I didn’t want to watch. Didn’t want to see them all. It hurt too much.

“Mother! Stop!” Though I knew she never wanted it to stop. She loved Mother with all of her heart.

They were so alike. Gentle. Kind. Good.

I loved Mother, as well, but I was more like my father and would do anything to be just like him. I was standing over by the bookshelf nearest Father’s desk, trying to glimpse the parchment. I was determined to help him in any way that I could.

I could see myself jump and go right back to pretending to read when Father walked in. He headed over to my little sister, who had escaped Mother’s arms and ran into his. He picked her up and kissed the top of her head, then walked over to Mother. He bent down to capture her lips in a long and vomit-inducing kiss.

I looked over to see myself pretending to throw up at their blatant display of affection to make Belle laugh.

We were all giggling when Mother asked Father, “How was the hunt? Did you catch anything?

Father gave Belle back to her before approaching me and kissing the top of my head. He replied in a huff once he sat down. ,

“Nothing to boast about. I am hoping for something better tomorrow.”

I ran up to him and leaned over the desk to watch him work. I loved it. He looked so serious when going over documents, and the veins in his forehead always twitched.

He laughed heartily and glanced at me. “Yes, my sweet girl?”

“I want to go hunting with you! I can be of some help.”

He cut me off before I could finish my pre-written speech.

“You are just nine years old; besides that, you are a girl. Girls are not meant to hunt.”

He saw that I was clearly disappointed so he sighed and said, “I love you so much that if anything were to happen to you, I don’t know what I would do with myself.”

Not wanting to cause him any further stress, I decided to placate him and replied, “Of course, Father.”

I kissed his cheek and returned to pretending to read the same page I had been reading for over an hour, watching him work.

I knew I was crying from how wet my face felt, but I couldn’t stop. His voice was so deep—commanding, yet so soft when he wished.

“I am so sorry that I did this to you.”

I knelt down next to his chair to watch the scene, taking it all in the younger me had sat down in the chair next to the desk, both of which were beside one of the large, stained windows. A huge grumble interrupted the painful memory by shaking the room.I squeezed my eyes shut, gasping, knowing what I just did. I opened my eyes again, and my fears were recognized; they were gone. As my chest constricted tightly, I grabbed the blanket and leaned against a sidewall that wasn’t in view of one of the windows.

I curled into a ball and wrapped my hands around my legs, my head resting on my bent knees, wishing for the storm to pass quickly. I wasn’t sure how long I stayed like that until I felt someone grab my shoulder. I reached for their hand and threw them against the wall where I was seated, knocking the air out of their lungs. I straddled them, lifted my hand, made a shadow blade, and held it to their throat. All in a matter of seconds.

The figure was shrouded in darkness, and tears blurred my vision further.

We were both panting when his voice finally registered, his hands raised in surrender as he said, “Your grace, it’s me… Soren.”

I blinked, wiping the tears away, finally seeing him when I shuddered out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding. The blade disappeared into thin air, and I slammed my fist against the wall next to his head. He didn’t move an inch. I rested my head against the crook of his neck, needing a moment to calm my erratic heart.

“What are you doing here?” I commanded.

What did he hear? What did he see? I was paranoid to say the least. Our faces were mere inches away from each other. I could smell him, like fresh soap and rosemary. It was oddly refreshing.

“I always went into our library when there was a storm. My library at home was the best place to hear it. Always calmed my nerves, especially since my mother died.”

“That is no longer your home.” His words struck something inside me that I didn’t like.

He didn't say anything. I was tired of the conversation anyway, and made my way off him when a loud crack of thunder sounded. I instinctively reached my arms around his neck, pulling my legs up around his waist, and squeezed like my life depended on it. Like he was my anchor to this world.

The thunder cracked for longer than normal, which made the windows rattle so hard that I thought they would surely break. I didn’t realize I was shaking until I heard Soren whispering a soothing lullaby, one hand behind my head and the other on my back holding me tightly.

I flew my magic out, pinning his hands above his head, and gritted out, “Do not touch me.”

He was panting, concern marred his beautiful face, and said, “You were scared, and I—”

“I was not scared!”

Of course, the thunder had to choose that moment to come back louder than ever. The magic disappeared, and it took a moment before I felt hands on me again. He continued the song as if I hadn’t interrupted him.

I wanted to scold him for disobeying a direct order, but another clap of thunder exploded and it went on and on and on. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, Soren’s presence helped me not to be as scared of the thunder as before.

I would never admit this to him, but his embrace was comforting. It felt so good. We stayed like that for the entire night, not saying a word, besides Soren’s soft voice singing to me.

His voice was so soothing that I hadn’t realized I had fallen asleep. I felt sturdy arms carrying me for a while before I was placed gently on a fluffy cloud, my tense body melting into it.

I heard him whisper, “You are a complicated creature,” and felt pressure on my forehead.

Then, complete darkness.

I jerked awake, feeling like my body was on fire. Burning. Circe rushed into the room, the sound of my screams still bouncing off the walls. She tightened the maroon robe around her body and sat on the bed beside me, reaching for my face.

“Wake, child, it’s only a dream.”

I leaned into her hands, breathless, soothed. I still felt like my skin was burning.

“The same one again?”

I nodded faintly.

“Tell me about it.”

I hesitated a moment, but found comfort in her face—so warm, eager to help me.

“I’m burning,” I finally told her. “I’m burning at the stake.”

She surveyed my face, and looked deep into my eyes. “Have you seen one of the burnings?”

I nodded meekly.

“Your father took you?”

“No, he didn’t know I was watching. I was too curious. It was horrifying.” My chest hurt thinking about it. “And I’ve read some of his books, the crimes that he’s burning those women for. He told me he just knows magic when he sees it, but how can that be true?” I knew I was speaking too freely of her, that my words were treasonous. “I’m sorry, please don’t tell anyone I said that. It’s just the dream getting to me.”

Circe gathered my hands. “You need not hide your feelings from me. I am at your service, Princess. I, too, have had my reservations about the burnings. The king is much too fast to cry, witch.”

Her words felt so wrong to hear, and yet, so comforting.

“Sometimes I think he’d burn anyone he suspected, even if he loved them.”

Warning bells rang inside my head—I was talking too much, letting myself speak too freely.

“He will not burn you, dear girl,” she assured me. “Your dreams are not always warnings, but fears. You think if he finds out your secret, he will—”

“Don’t say it,” I cut her off.

“You are ashamed, but you shouldn’t be.”

“I live in shame!” I cried to her. “I have something inside me that my father hates. How do you live with it?”

“My family loved me,” she said warmly. “My magic did not scare them.”

I couldn’t fathom it, but was envious at the thought. “What happened to them?”

A moment of silence passed between us, where I wished I could read her mind. “Most died and the rest… They left, ran far away. They were too scared to stay.”

“But you stayed?”

“I am good at hiding who I am, and there’s only so long we can run. At some point, we just have to learn to live amongst the rest—to pretend. Over time, your magic will understand that it must pretend, too. It will feel less chaotic, and eventually, you will have trouble using it. It will bury itself. You just need to give it time.”

I wanted to believe her; needed to believe her.

“But you must learn not to fear it,” she advised. “Fear is only going to make it stronger…more unpredictable. If you start to trust it, it will start to trust you.”

I snapped my eyes open, it was just a dream, only a dream. More like a memory. I looked up and found someone directly above me, pressing something cold against my neck.

Bastian.

I tried to move my hand, but he pressed the cold metal further into my throat.

“Ah ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I will kill you before you have a chance to move your hands.”

I took a deep breath.

“What is this going to accomplish? You kill me, and then what?”

He loosened his grip on the blade for a split second before securing it back and spat out, “You are a vile creature and I would be doing the world a favor in killing you.”

“Oh?”

“You’ll never be able to harm another person again.”

“And who is it that you think I am hurting?”

“Where to begin? Innocent lives. Anyone who steps foot onto your land.”

“Your brother?” I teased, knowing that would get a reaction out of him.

He ground his teeth together. “For starters.”

“Want to know exactly what he did to me? How he had me screaming his name?”

I squirmed under him and would have been able to move around more if he wasn’t pinning me down, his thick thighs holding me securely in place… Now all I could think about were those thighs and the damage they could do to my body if he chose to squeeze tighter. I wanted to continue teasing him just to feel the muscles of his thighs constrict more.

“Enough. Leave him alone.”

“Let me ask you something instead. In your drunken stupor, you decided to break into my chambers and try to threaten me with a mortal blade. I suggest you go back to bed before you force me to punish you.”

“Shut up.”

“What? Are you afraid of your desires?”

He hesitated again, and I took the opportunity to my advantage, used some of my power to flip us, straddled him, and pinned his hands down.

“Get off of me.”

I looked down into his eyes, hooded and heavy with lust. He wanted me. No matter how much he tried to deny it, he wanted me.

“I don’t know how much longer we can keep up this charade of ours.”

Once I had him under me and sleep had officially faded away, I could finally get a good look at him. He was shirtless with just a pair of trousers on. His breath reeked of alcohol, but he looked as though he would be sober in an hour or so. As if he drank just enough to gain some liquid courage to attempt murder. I couldn’t help but stare at his rippling pectorals moving as he struggled to get out of my grasp.

I leaned down, unable to stop myself, and licked from his stomach up to his breast, lingering on one of his nipples, biting it roughly. He hissed, and I could tell that he was aroused by the bulge that began to form. I couldn’t help but grind on him.

With nothing but my thin silk chemise on, there wasn’t anything in the way of making both of our desires come to life. Something we could both pretend we didn’t want, but definitely did.

He caught me off guard as he flipped us back over, legs straddling my stomach once more. He flew his hand out until it was securely wrapped around my throat. I waited, curious to see what he would do next as he dragged the blade down my body, goosebumps rising along my skin as his eyes stayed on mine. I held still and my breath grew more rapid as I thought that this was finally happening.

He lifted the knife and stabbed it into the pillow next to my head, close enough that I felt a little prick at my ear. He released my neck and ran his hand down my chest, gripped the edge of my nightgown, and ripped it open to free my breasts.

I could see his throat bob as he hungrily eyed my hardened nipples. Without wasting another moment, he bent down and took them between his teeth. I threw my head back at the sensation and arched my back into his chest.

He licked and nipped and when he felt satisfied, he moved on to the other. His hand slipped underneath my silk chemise and rubbed my clit in slow circles, just like that first time in the forest.

He sat back on his heels, bunched up the fabric, and pressed his thumb even further onto my clit. He used his other hand to release his throbbing cock and then rub himself up and down. He roved his eyes down to my pulsing pussy and spit on it. I curled my toes and squirmed beneath him, almost begging him to take me and put both of us out of our misery.

He leaned forward and slapped my pussy with his dick. “You want my cock, don’t you?”

I gasped. Words escaped me, and before I could try to find them, he slapped my pussy again.

“Be a good girl and use your words.”

I closed my eyes and lost myself to him, ready to let go and feel him entering me when I felt him rubbing his tip through our juices that had seeped out.

I waited and waited, but nothing. He had stilled, his tip at my entrance. If I moved even an inch down, he would be inside of me. I looked down to find him staring at my pussy hungrily. He didn’t move. He seemed to be warring with himself.

I didn’t know what made me say it, other than almost being at my breaking point.

“Bastian…” He snapped his eyes to mine, having said his name for the first time. “Tell me to stop.”

“What?” The fog in his eyes seemed to be clearing. He was coming back to his senses and he tensed on top of me.

“If you don’t tell me to stop right now then I will fuck you, and I won’t care how you feel about it in the morning.”

“I—I—”

I knew with everything in me that he wanted this—wanted me—but he would hate himself. He truly believed that giving in to his desires made him less than.

I stilled. I didn’t want to take him like this. Not when he was half drunk and especially not when he wouldn't admit that he wanted this.

I pushed off of him and started walking to the bathroom as he called out, “What are you doing?”

“You hesitated.” I barely turned my head, not fully wanting to look at him. “Go to bed, hunter.”

He left a few moments later and I soaked in the tub, watching the bleak sunrise.