Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Zarya knew she had fucked up on the island. Arkon had reached right inside of her while baring himself to his very core. She should have been brave; instead, she had panicked. That kind of connection, of longing, the raw intensity of it... She didn’t know how to handle it or what to do to deserve it. There had been so much magic that she had been swamped by it.

Arkon had been hiding how much power he had, just like she had. Zarya understood the struggle to keep that power at bay and keep it concealed. If people knew the truth, they would hunt them down out of fear or try and worship them as gods.

No one wanted to know that there were two seventh children with enough magic to not only level a city, but also remake it in their image.

Zarya understood the depth of the hurt inside of Arkon, how he could never be his true self with anyone. How lonely he was and how battered his heart was. Zarya had seen it all and had pulled away from him.

Like a damn idiot. As soon as he’d left her the night before, she had collapsed on the couch with her head in her hands.

The magic and emotion had left her jittery, and then she’d felt something else. It was a rush of anger and pleasure and release. She didn’t know what was happening until it was over, and she was left gasping for air, her panties soaked.

Zarya had been on her feet in moments, but by the time she had knocked on his door, Arkon was gone.

Zarya had spent the next few hours going over the teleportation spell, again and again, just to touch the smoking embers of his power still lingering in the weave. She needed to find a way to make things right, to tell him how she felt, that she wasn’t afraid of him like everyone else was. The problem was, she was terrible at talking about her feelings.

Her sisters had often told Zarya that the gods had given her all the power and made sure she wouldn’t use it in a fit of passion by refusing to give her proper emotions.

They had only been half joking about it, and Zarya had believed it herself. She’d seen her sisters in fits of anger and wildly in love. Messy emotions over bruised egos and broken hearts. It had made her appreciate the ice inside of her that helped her keep her head cool. The recent fury and grief over Asa had been the most Zarya had ever felt in her life, right up until she kissed Arkon. His magic had burned through all the ice inside of her.

‘Opposites attract’ didn’t begin to describe how she felt. He was chaos to her calm. Apart they were caught in their own mayhem. Together they were balance—Zarya to cool his fire, Arkon to set her fire free.

When Zarya had finally felt him return to the palace, she had taken a shaky breath of relief. She had been tossing and turning in her bed, unable to sleep or stop berating herself.

Zarya’s thighs pressed together thinking about what she had felt through their link earlier. He had wanted her that badly after they had kissed that he’d fucked himself for relief. She had done that to him. Forced the man who thought magic was always going to be better than sex to jerk himself off over her. It was an intoxicating type of power.

Zarya had slid her hand into her panties and touched herself, needing to come in a way she hadn’t truly felt in years. She knew he could feel it, and when he had joined in... Gods, she had exploded from a few brief caresses. They were even, in a way that Zarya didn’t need words for. She had fallen asleep with a grin on her face.

Now, she thought she should have gone and used her words after all.

Zarya had waited for him at breakfast, mentally preparing herself for whatever he had to say. And then she had received a scribbled note on her breakfast tray saying that he would be busy all day and to get rested up for the night ahead of them. Disappointment had lashed at her insides, but Zarya had done her best to take it in stride.

When the costume had arrived, she knew she hadn’t only fucked up, but that Arkon knew it and was after revenge. Zarya had pulled it out of its box, her face getting hotter with each piece of clothing. Stas’s parties were nothing short of an autumnal Bacchanalia, so she expected to be wearing something to blend in. She knew Stas’s personal kink was sweet looking baby dolls. The outfit would make her complete bait. It was a brilliant idea and would lure the old pervert straight to her. She was struggling with the idea of wearing it in front of Arkon. This was his revenge for her cowardice. The asshole.

Zarya stared at the costume and took a deep breath. When her sisters used to try and embarrass her, Zarya would just own it, and it would ruin their fun. Arkon wanted her to be a slutty baby girl? She would do it and do it so well that his plan would backfire in his stupid handsome face.

They had agreedto meet at sundown to do any final adjustments to the teleportation spell. Zarya had poured over maps and visualizations to get Stas’s holiday house clear in her mind. She had only been there once for a brief meeting with Arkadi, but she was confident that she could make it happen.

Zarya was straightening the black ribbon that was tied in a bow around her neck when there was a knock on her door.

"You ready to go, lupa?" Arkon asked, coming in. His whole expression shifted as he looked at her black high heels, up her white knee-high stockings, to the black and pink tutu dress. His eyes darkened to something feral. He looked like damnation in a black-on-black suit, a black mask dangling from his fingertips.

"Well? Do I look the part?" Zarya asked, twisting one of her bouncy curled pig tails around one finger.

"You will make excellent bait. I’m surprised you can look so sweet and innocent," he said, clearing his throat.

"Maybe in a pornographic way," Zarya replied. She held out the black lace mask to him. "Would you help me with this? I don’t want to mess up my hair."

Arkon took the mask from her, carefully not looking her in the eye. "Turn for me."

Zarya’s lips twitched, and she stopped herself from biting them and ruining the bright pink lipstick on them. Arkon moved behind her, the heat of him brushing the bare skin of her back. The corset had been a bitch to tie, but she felt like it was worth it from the way Arkon froze.

"Problem, Grand Sorcerer? Or should I call you Daddy?" she asked.

"Fuck," Arkon muttered under his breath. He leaned around her and placed the lace mask over her face. He tied it firmly in place, and she turned.

"Is it straight?"

The dark gleam was back in Arkon’s eyes. She didn’t risk touching the bond between them. He had chosen this outfit for her so he could suffer the consequences.

"It’s straight, but I want to make one thing very clear—if you let anyone touch you tonight, I’m going to spank your ass," he said, making her smile slip a little. "And then I will break every bone in their body."

Zarya couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. "You have a spell for that?"

"What makes you think I’d use magic?" he replied, flames dancing in his eyes.

"Falling into character a little easily don’t you think, Daddy?" she tried to tease. Everything felt heightened, the tension between them building like a storm that was going to tear them apart.

"Character? Is that what you think? Fine. If we are going to play this game, then everyone is going to know that you’re mine. They can consider it a warning," Arkon said, gripping her chin before turning her head to the side. He smiled like the devil. "Hold still."

Zarya opened her mouth to ask what he was up to when he pressed his lips to the side of her neck. Her breath stuttered out of her, her eyes closing and fingers tightening on the soft fabric of his shirt.

Arkon’s kiss roughened into a suck of teeth and tongue, and her knees went weak. She whimpered as the ache spread through her to her clit and made it throb. His leg pressed between hers, and she ground down against it. Arkon licked her skin and pulled back.

"Good. That will work," he said, admiring whatever he had done to her neck. Zarya brushed her fingers over it, feeling the bruise already starting to form.

"We had better...hurry," she said and tried to fight the fog in her brain.

Arkon only smirked and put his own mask on. Zarya hooked her fingers around the threads of magic that always moved about her and pulled the teleportation ring into the air. She could still feel Arkon’s magic glimmering like hot sparks amongst the runes.

"Come here, baby girl," he instructed, and she wanted to punch him.

"You’re enjoying this way too much," Zarya huffed but stepped close so the ring of magic could enclose them.

Arkon leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I haven’t even begun to enjoy myself. Now be my good girl and thread the location into this spell. Tell me when you’re ready for me."

"Something tells me I’m never going to be," Zarya mumbled and grabbed hold of a thread in the weave.

"That’s the spirit," Arkon replied, and she realized she’d spoken out loud. She shut her eyes and focused on Stas’s mansion. When it was ready, she took Arkon’s hand.

"Do it now...Daddy," she said because she wasn’t going to let him have the upper hand.

"Anything for my girl." Arkon’s magic lit up the ring like wildfire. Zarya groaned, fighting not to let herself drown in it. Arkon pulled her tight to him, and the world dropped out from underneath their feet.