10. Maven

SeeingSilas on his knees immediately does something to me. Something that heats my entire body.

"I"m not letting you go anywhere until you know how truly sorry I am that you ever had reason to doubt my motivation for being with you," he murmurs, gazing up at me. "I need you to forgive me, Maven."

It"s far too warm in here. I can"t seem to think straight as I stare down at the sharply dressed blood fae in front of me, whose intense, blood-red, pleading focus is all on me.

It"s…heady.

"You want my forgiveness?" I whisper. "Fine. Beg for it."

"Please—"

I drop the blanket and slide my lace-gloved hand over his mouth to muffle him, tingles spreading as I feel the warmth of his lips through the thin fabric. Something has come over me—I"m mad, but…I also need this. This power over him. I want it enough that I ignore the shiver down my spine at touching someone else, even through lace.

"No. Your mouth can do better than that. Beg me without words, Silas."

His red gaze flares with hunger, devouring my body and lingering on my toplessness before stopping at the apex of my thighs. A thrill spreads from my hand to my chest when he licks his lips slowly, his tongue brushing against the fabric on my palm. I remove my hand, feeling nearly lightheaded when Silas immediately presses me back until the backs of my knees hit the fainting couch—and then I"m seated, and he"s kneeling between my legs.

His eyes arrest mine as he places a lingering kiss against the skin on the side of my exposed knee, sending more goosebumps rippling.

"Are you all right with me touching you like this, sangfluir?"

"I will be if your apology is impressive enough," I murmur as a challenge, reaching out to tangle my fingers in his soft curls.

When I decide to fist his hair, twisting hard, Silas"s eyes slip shut, and he grunts softly. One of his hands pushes up my dress, but he pauses when he feels the strap around my thigh where two particularly fun daggers are sheathed.

When he sees them, his lips quirk up. His eyes meet mine, shining with dark pride.

"So vicious. Naen mahk."

In fae, that means good girl. I am most decidedly not a good girl.

Yet, for some reason, hearing Silas call me that in his husky, low voice makes heat curl down my spine.

His head disappears beneath the skirts before his hot tongue drags roughly in precisely the right spot. I gasp, and my eyes slam shut.

Gods.That feels so good.

But that sharp pleasure recedes as Silas takes his time exploring me with his mouth, gentle and methodical in the way he licks and sucks. It"s such a slow, thorough approach, and it turns me hot all over as I continue tugging at his hair, panting as I try to direct his head where I want it.

When I tug his hair more insistently, frustrated that his tongue keeps swirling teasingly close to the spot near my clit that drives me wild without ever touching it, he hums and gently nips at my clit with his lips. That drives another spike of pleasure through me, and I curse. I want to fall over that glorious edge that I"ve only experienced twice in my life, and at this rate, it will take too long for him to get me there.

"Do that again," I demand breathlessly.

And the asshole blood fae…doesn"t.

Instead, he returns to his languid pace, his tongue sliding ever so slightly into me before he kisses all around. Frustration and need course through me. But when I try to grind against his face, Silas pulls away just enough to deprive me of the friction I want.

This time, my swearing is more creative as that pleasure recedes again.

And I realize he"s teasing me. Taunting me. Showing me that he can give me what I want, but only when he chooses to. He"s in control. Abruptly, it makes all that hot need feel somehow…humiliating.

I hate it.

I"ve never felt sexually embarrassed before. Hell, I"ve never explored anything sexually before, but for reasons I can"t explain, I suddenly just want to get out of here and never talk to this asshole again.

I push at Silas"s head to try to get away from him.

"Never fucking mind," I huff angrily.

But his hand locks around my knee to keep me in place as he lifts his head from under my dress. His brow furrows deeply when he sees my stormy expression.

"Did I do something wrong?"

When I once again try to close my legs to get up and leave, Silas braces his hands on my thighs, a determined expression taking over his face.

"No running this time. Talk to me. Is it that you dislike edging?"

"That"s what that was?" I make a face. "Never do that again."

"If you"re thinking of again with me, I must have done something right. Tell me why you disliked it so I can do better."

My body is starting to hyperfocus on his hands on my bare thighs, and I squirm. Recognizing my discomfort, Silas removes his touch but waits expectantly.

I look away, trying to find the right words and choosing to keep them honest. "Pleasure is a luxury I haven"t had until recently. Now I"m curious about things I"ve missed out on, but...I want to experience them on my own terms, I suppose."

Silas"s expression softens, and he nods. "I think you dislike not being in control. We"re similar in that way. But right now, you call all the shots, sangfluir. So, if you"re frustrated, take it out on me. Tell me exactly what you want."

Take it out on me.

I debate for a moment, getting over the urge to leave and instead standing as my curiosity gets the best of me.

"Strip for me."

Silas stands, too, shrugging out of his suit and unbuttoning his shirt as he holds my gaze. He doesn"t question how much to take off, instead getting wholly naked and casting his clothes and shoes aside. For a moment, I feel a flush of pleasure seeing him completely nude like this. It"s almost mesmerizing the way the firelight highlights his beautiful, lean muscles and the subtle throb of his stiff, eager cock.

The cock that looks kind of too big for my mouth.

Only one way to find out.

I clear my throat. "I want to try something. Sit."

He obeys, his eyes tracking my every movement. "What do you want to?—"

He cuts off in a sharp groan when I kneel and drag my tongue against the tip of his cock. It"s warm and surprisingly…nice to feel in my mouth. When I pull away and see a bead of liquid well up, I wrap my lips around the tip, swirling my tongue to taste him.

Silas tries to muffle his next moan by biting his hand, his thighs flexing and his head falling back in pleasure. He slips into fae as he moans that it feels incredible.

I like that reaction far more than I expected.

Curious to see what else I can do to this man just by licking and teasing his glistening erection, I bob my head, humming at the strangely pleasant sensation as his hardness glides against my tongue. It"s not like anything I"ve ever experienced. It doesn"t set off any anxiety about his skin on mine because I have nothing to compare it to. As I take more of him into my mouth, I feel a steady throb between my own legs.

Mystery solved. I now understand why people suck cock.

"Sangfluir," he breathes raggedly after another minute of my content exploring. "I"m…I"m supposed to be the one begging for your forgiveness, but—godsdamn it, your perfect, filthy little fucking mouth…"

Sliding off with a soft pop, I stand. The needy ache between my thighs is now so strong that, for a moment, I"m tempted to straddle him, shove his cock inside me, and ride him until I come undone.

But I meant it earlier when I told him he wasn"t fucking me tonight.

And he"s right. This is about his apology.

"Scoot down to the floor."

Silas does as I say, sliding down the couch until he"s sitting on the floor, but his head is still on the seat. Perfect. I straddle his head, my knees on either side as I grip the back of the fainting couch.

"You can go back to apologizing now," I whisper breathlessly, grinding against his face slightly.

"Gods above, forgive me," he growls against my entrance.

And then he fucking feasts.

I cry out, my hips reflexively bucking away from the onslaught. But Silas grips my hips and pulls me back to continue mercilessly eating me out, licking and sucking and attacking that perfect spot. In between making me scream, he groans his apology again and again, both in English and in fae, groveling between my thighs as he slowly unravels me.

He"s so ravenous that for a few long minutes, my mind blanks out as all the delicious sensations wash over me. And then, out of nowhere, a powerful release slams into me.

I go breathless, squeezing my eyes shut in agonized pleasure as my insides clench and tingles sweep down to my toes. I lose track of time, of space—and of my mouth, since I"m pretty damn sure I"m swearing up a storm, but I can"t be sure since my head is floating.

"Fuck. Gods, stop, Silas—it"s too much," I whisper finally, my nerves sparking with every flick of his tongue in a way that I can"t handle anymore.

He kisses my clit one more time before letting me go. Immediately, I fall sideways onto the couch, trying to catch my breath. He sits up and licks my wetness from his lips, his scarlet eyes predatory as they drag over me.

"Gods above, how I crave you," he murmurs. "You have no idea."

I glance down at his still-leaking cock. "You"ll change your mind when I offer you no relief."

He smirks and stands, bracing one hand on the back of the couch behind me so I"m looking up at his face.

"Keep your eyes on me, sangfluir. That"s all I need."

And then he wraps his hand around himself and strokes roughly. My mouth parts as I watch him, the way he works his hard cock, his breathing increasing as pained bliss crosses his face. It"s so fucking erotic that I hold my breath, wanting to see him fall over the edge.

When he does, it"s with a shudder as he groans my name—and I gasp as his come paints my tits again and again while he continues pumping himself.

Gods. Why did I like that so much?

Finally sated, Silas surprises me by dropping back to his knees and pressing his lips to mine. The kiss is luxurious, and when he pulls back, we gaze at each other.

But my curiosity is building again, and without looking away from him, I swipe my index finger through his release and raise it to my lips for another taste.

Silas"s gaze turns searing, and he groans brokenly.

"You"ll be the death of me," he whispers in fae, closing in for another kiss.

That"s what I"m afraid of.

But our kiss is interrupted when someone knocks on the door, startling us both. Silas huffs and stands, grabbing a dark bathrobe from its spot on a hanger by the door to his bathroom.

I go from feeling dazed in an afterglow to battling amusement. Because of course, he has a bathrobe like any melodramatic fae on the brink of madness might. It somehow makes perfect sense for him.

Silas ties the front of it and throws the door open, snapping, "What is it?"

"Oh! Mr. Crane, I d—do apologize," Mr. Gibbons sputters.

I"m sure the bushy-browed legacy must be turning ten shades of red, realizing he"s interrupted Silas"s extracurricular activities.

Even though I know he can"t see me, I grab the blanket from the floor and wrap it back around myself. As I do, my attention moves back to the wetness still left between my thighs from Silas eating my soul out.

And touching me.

The events of the last half hour start to sink in, and my body breaks into a cold sweat as I shut my eyes.

Safe. That touch was safe. Don"t freak out.

My nervous system doesn"t get the memo, and now all I can think about are maggots. Those corpse-eating worms terrorized me when I was younger, and so they were incorporated into my conditioning—especially when it came to avoiding physical touch. I feel like their wriggling phantom bodies are all over me again, trying to burrow into my flesh.

My stomach clenches dangerously.

"What couldn"t have waited until the morning?" Silas seethes.

"W—well, it seems that no one in your quintet reported your chosen emphasis during the Matched Ball…and you see, at the end of the celebration, I was?—"

He starts rambling about how he searched for Silas during the dance to get our emphasis because he wants to ensure we"re put in classes with the best professors. But I"m not paying attention as I start swallowing repeatedly to try to keep bile from rising in my throat.

Damn it. I need something to distract me.

A shower. I need a shower.

I stagger to my feet. Silas is still standing with the door barely ajar so the interim headmaster can"t see inside, but he glances over his shoulder at me and immediately tenses.

"Combat," he snaps at Mr. Gibbons before slamming the door and rushing to my side.

"Damn me to hell. I forgot that you have…" He shakes his head, changing whatever he was about to say. "Tell me how to fix this."

Shaving my skin off would be a good start.

But since I doubt he"ll take me up on that, I sidestep him to hurry into his bathroom, locking the door. As soon as I"m alone, I strip and stumble into the shower, turning it on and breathing out a sigh of relief when the sharp cold of the spray eases my body out of the fight or flight mode that was crippling me a moment ago.

Several minutes later, I"m no longer nauseous. My eyes feel heavy as I wrap myself in a thick towel. When I emerge from the bathroom, I find Silas sitting on the edge of the fainting couch, a bottle of hard liquor in one hand as he glares into the fire. His bleeding crystal is clutched tightly in his other hand.

"Tell me why you can"t stand touch, sangfluir. I just need to know."

I change the topic without batting an eye because there is no way in hell I"m about to give him a post-coital sob story. That"s way too intimate, and already, I"m having a hard time not taking the bottle away from him to try and soothe his inner demons myself.

"Something happened during my episode," I surmise. "Something the three of you were eager to keep me from noticing. Tell me exactly what I missed."

Silas"s attention flicks down to the scar on my chest that"s just visible above the top of the towel before he looks away. Yet even that tiny movement makes me tense.

What does he know?

"If you"re not answering questions tonight, neither am I," he mutters. "But now that you"ve forgiven me, tell me what you wanted my help wi?—"

"I never officially forgave you," I point out because a little lighthearted torment never hurt anybody.

He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a swig before rubbing his face. "You are the most stubborn creature in existence."

"You have no idea."

My stubbornness is what made me what I am today. That, and my sense of focus, which is why I quickly get back to business.

"I need you to perform two tracking spells. One to find Kenzie and one to find the person who poisoned me. You can use their dried blood from the clothes I was wearing."

He examines me curiously. "You can"t cast the spell yourself?"

"Not at the moment."

To my relief, Silas doesn"t ask follow-up questions and instead nods. "I can track them. As long as I get to drain the life out of the one who poisoned you."

Intriguing. But as much as I"d like to see how Silas uses those surprise fangs, I give him a dark smile.

"No. But you can watch me kill them. Deal?"

The corner of his lips twitch. "Very well."

"I"ll go get the bloodied clothes," I tell him, turning toward the door.

"You want to do the spells tonight?"

He"s surprised. That"s understandable since it"s now well past midnight. But every minute that ticks by is another minute where that changeling could spill my secret. And even though I know Kenzie is alive, I don"t know what condition she"s in or where she is. I need answers, even if my limbs feel heavy and my stomach is starting to complain that I forgot to put anything in it today.

As if Silas sees how tired I am, he moves quickly to step in front of me when I reach for his door handle.

"We"ll do the spells first thing in the morning."

"I told you this was time-sensitive."

His crimson irises are unbearably tender. "It wasn"t a suggestion, Maven. You"re tired. That episode clearly took a toll on you. Rest so you"ll be better able to help Kenzie once we track her down."

He"s annoyingly logical.

"Fine," I grumble, reaching for the door handle again.

"Sleep here tonight," Silas blurts. When he sees me start to shake my head, he adds on quickly, "You"ll have the bed to yourself. I sleep on the couch most of the time, anyway. Besides, the Immortal Quintet made it clear that those violating the curfew will be caught and punished. And…"

"And?"

Vulnerability returns to his face. "I just…want you here. Please."

Godsdamn it, this cutthroat blood fae needs to stop showing me his soft side. It"s too endearing.

He has a point about the Immortal Quintet, though. I don"t like the idea of being brought to them in the middle of the night, half-naked in a ripped-up dress for interrogation if I"m caught.

The solution? I"ll simply not get caught.

Because there"s no way I can sleep here. I"m supposed to be platonic with them. No matter what Baelfire said, I can"t actually be their keeper and have the things they think they want with me.

I slip around Silas, open the door, and give him a genuinely apologetic half-smile over my shoulder before he can stop me.

"See you in the morning."

Kenzie isn"t at Everbound.

But the changeling is, somewhere.

That"s all we managed to get out of Silas"s efforts since, according to him, the changeling is utilizing an amulet that throws off any tracking spells. He still doesn"t know it was changeling blood he was casting with, but at least now I know that the monster I"m hunting is still trapped inside the castle. Which means I just need to hunt it down.

The trouble is finding the time to do that since classes have started.

We found our class schedule posted outside the dining hall earlier. Now Silas, Baelfire, and I are on our way to Fiend Studies 101, with Crypt trailing behind us in Limbo. The halls of Everbound are filled with the stares, whispers, and tension of legacies on edge. They stick to groups, both matched and unmatched, and size each other up at every chance. The air is thick with the possibility of death at any moment.

It"s positively sinister. I wish I could enjoy it more fully, but I"m drawing too much attention.

Dozens of pairs of eyes track my every move since I"m supposed to be the keeper of four of the most powerful legacies here. I"m a target for all the competitive monster spawn here, and it"s making Baelfire and Silas look like they want to stab someone.

Which reminds me.

"After class, I want Pierce," I mutter quietly enough that no other legacies will overhear.

Baelfire shoots me a sharp look already tinged with jealousy. "Pierce? Who the fuck is that? Is some other guy trying to?—"

"My dagger," I clarify.

Silas pauses, and I don"t miss their shared glance before he responds. "You had other daggers strapped to your thigh last night. Just use those."

I clench my jaw. Why would he keep my favorite weapon from me?

Meanwhile, Baelfire misses a step, his golden eyes darting between us. "Back the fuck up. Her thigh, last night? As in, after I left? Did you two…?"

I don"t bother acknowledging the question he was about to ask since my face already feels warm enough remembering a certain someone"s ridiculously talented tongue. Silas just looks smug as hell.

"You fucker. You could"ve at least invited me to watch," Bael huffs, pouting.

"I didn"t take you for a voyeur."

"Normally, no. But it"s Maven. You think I"d willingly miss all those sexy sounds she makes when she comes?"

"They were delectable," Silas smirks. "As was she. I now fully understand your desire to be smothered by Maven. If we hadn"t been interrupted, I would have kept my face between her thighs all night."

Holy fucking gods. Are they seriously having this conversation in broad daylight?

Baelfire swears harshly, shoving Silas"s shoulder. "You"re a godsdamned asshole."

"You"re both godsdamned assholes," I inform them, pretending like my neck and face aren"t currently on fire. "And we"re still platonic."

They both snort at that, which makes me sigh heavily. I don"t get it. They were furious with my antics at the Matched Ball. I came so close to telling them about the inconvenient little fact that they can"t get attached to my heart because it was ripped out of my chest years ago.

But then my episode happened, I woke up, and they were suddenly full steam ahead.

I glance tentatively up at Baelfire, who immediately winks and mouths, Tonight, it"s my turn.

They figured something out about me. I"m sure of it.

So why the fuck are they acting like this? Like they…want me? They can"t possibly, not if they know the truth.

Right?

I shake my head at myself. Even if they could get over what I am, where I came from, and my purpose, it doesn"t change the fact that being with me would be gambling everything about their futures. I can"t promise them anything because I have to look out for my own first.

And even if walking through the halls with them at my sides like this feels so right...they"re not mine. I can"t let them be.

We pass a roped-off corridor where faculty members use magic to lift blood out of the stones, a sign that other legacies have already started picking off their competition. Finally, we round a corner and enter the massive auditorium-style classroom with a vaulted ceiling where our first class as a quintet will be held.

Since our emphasis is combat, we have a very straightforward schedule. There are two classes in the mornings—Fiend Studies and Advanced Combat Theory. After that, it"s all physical combat training. Alternating at the end of every other week, we"ll have Field Testing, which, as I understand it, consists of tossing legacies into an inescapable maze deep in Everbound Forest, where we"ll be left to live or die at the mercy of some of the Divide"s most fearsome creatures.

It"s supposed to be brutal.

I can"t wait.

But my secret excitement fizzles, and I stop dead in my tracks when I spot the gorgeous ice elemental sitting in the upper left corner of the auditorium. His stark white-blond hair makes him impossible to miss as he sits in his typical, tasteful professor"s clothing, watching the snow fall outside the window.

I was just concerned. Don"t mistake it for caring.

Yet I can"t unsee how shattered he"d looked when he saw what his words did to me in that inn.

I don"t want to sit anywhere near him. But...I also do.

Ugh. This is why feelings should be locked away indefinitely.

Silas is giving a death stare to anyone who passes too close to us as they enter the classroom, but Baelfire catches my eye with a warm smile.

"We don"t have to sit with that ice-shitter if you don"t want to, baby."

Professor Crowley, my old Introduction to Runes professor, strolls through the door and makes a beeline for the whiteboard at the front of the room. Over his shoulder, he calls out, "Take your seats. All quintets must sit together. Quickly, now."

Bael makes a face. "Damn. Spoke too soon."

I keep my face blank as I start up the stairs toward where Everett is sitting. But my focus is on the wrong thing because as we pass another quintet"s row, a smirking legacy kicks out her leg to catch me in the back of the knee just as I take a step. I lurch forward and manage to catch myself on my hands, but not before my head smacks loudly off the corner of another desk.

Other legacies break out in gasps, laughter, and whispers.

The bump on my head hurts, but what hurts more is the fact that I was too focused on Everett to see that coming. What an amateur mistake. It"s a good thing that blunder just plays right into the quiet, weak wallflower reputation I"ve crafted for myself.

Only a second has passed, and I fully plan on getting up and walking it off without drawing more attention.

But Crypt abruptly materializes, grabs the girl by her ponytail, and vanishes with her.In the next second, she reappears—at the height of the very tall ceiling, screaming in abject terror before her body hits the stone floor at the front of the classroom with a loud crack.