Chapter 39

The deep rumbles of victory drums possess my body, the music gripping my hips and dancing behind me as if we are one. I throw my head back and cherish the rhythm moving through me with each beat of the war instruments. Each strike of the drums a body that fell at my feet, the memory of their anguished cries singing in my blood like colorful songbirds. My pulse quickens and slows in sync with the tempo. I don't remember a single time in my life I have felt this good. Limitless. Like my body belongs to me and me alone.

It must be the wee hours of morning by now, but none of us have slept since returning to the castle. Bonfires have erupted across the grounds, men dancing and drinking merrily around them, laughing as they pound their wooden cups together in celebration. Some of the maids and servants even find themselves amongst the crowd, cheering with the others and swaying to the music.

I dance through it all. High on luscious chaos, the remnants of blood magic guide my hips in slow, rhythmic circles, and I dance, and I dance, and I dance. Sin doesn't hide his staring. Maybe it's his own soaring caster's high that grants him the confidence to not shield his watchful gaze for once. He mingles through the courtyard—playing their games and sharing their drinks—more carefree than I've ever seen him. But his eyes never drift far from me. And when his soldiers take turns dancing beside me, behind me, his glowing irises darken with indignation, sending a jolt of heat between my thighs every time. I wave the men towards me, one after the other, just to glimpse that fury in his eyes and relish in the pleasure each tic of his jaw sends through me as his need to possess my body like his beating war drums deepens.

Maybe he's keeping tabs on me to make sure I don't suddenly snap with the swell of blood magic and decide to take out half his army before they can blink. Or maybe he just likes the clothes I changed into when we returned—a deep purple dress with twin straps that tie behind my neck, the neckline plunging between my breasts. The hem is longer in the back; the front short enough to glimpse the cuffs of the thin stockings fitted around my thighs underneath. And judging from the Black Art's wandering eyes, I'm betting on the dress.

I wonder if he's thinking about how deeply I kissed him, surrounded by his enemy's limp corpses, and how rebellion blood tasted on my mouth. Our eyes lock across the courtyard again, and I tilt my head back and slowly, slowly, drag my tongue across the fronts of my teeth, reminding him how just hours ago, it was my tongue on his teeth.

Caressing my hand across the bare skin between my breasts, I hold his stare for a beat longer, then turn and head for the castle. Come and get me, Blackheart. I open the door to his study with magic, mine now able to overpower the locking spell he used, and leave it ajar as I hop onto his desk. Facing the threshold, I spread my legs, the skirt of my dress bunching at my waist, and slip my hand between my thighs.

I smell him when he's on the stairs, his cedar and peppercorn scent alone enough to dampen me under my fingertips. It takes all I have not to moan at the sight of him when he steps through the door, his eyes instantly glued to where I touch myself. I lean back and spread my legs wider, my cunt crying at the sight of the pulse thrumming in his neck. Pushing off the desk, my wrist flicks to the side, and the door slams shut behind him. Sealing him in here with me. Sealing our fate. Because something tells me we're not walking out of this room the same as we entered it. And eyeing the bulge straining against Sin's pants, I'm not certain I'll be doing much walking at all anymore.

I trace my tongue across my upper lip, thinking of all the places I want to taste him under his clean black shirt, and all the spots I need him to taste me. His chest rises and falls in rapid succession, his feet still planted on the ground, but his eyes glazing over with lust. Ever the strategist… the warlord of Aegidale knows if we give in tonight, it changes the game forever. I may not be familiar with battle tactics, but I'm quite certain fucking the enemy on your work desk isn't recommended. I raise one eyebrow at him as I swirl a finger in my wetness, daring him to make his choice.

The action breaks him.

Sin rushes me, grabs my waist with both his hands, and pushes me back until my ass presses against the desk. My fingers curl in the loose fabric of his shirt, and his mouth crashes into mine with hunger, like he can't get enough of me fast enough.

More—I need more.Desperate to feel his skin against mine, I unfasten the buttons of his shirt and rip it down over his muscular arms. Something feral breaks free in me as I behold the sight of his bare, sculpted chest, his obliques like chiseled stone from a lifetime of swordsmanship. Sin's not just beautiful.

He's devastating.

His hands find the laces along the back of my dress and without care, he drags a now lengthened claw down them, and the bodice busts free. I untie the straps behind my neck, and he yanks the top of the dress down, baring my full, swollen breasts to him. Sin slides a callused hand down the side of my stomach, the tips of his shifted claws digging into my skin, and he cups my breast with the other. He devours me with his mouth, kissing everywhere he can put his lips—my neck, collarbone, chest—and I bury my hands in his unbound hair. Need burns through me like a raging fever, his mouth a soothing balm to the inferno scorching within me.

I cry out as he flicks his tongue over my nipple, and moan deeply when he takes it into his mouth and bites down. Not hard, but enough to send my toes curling inside my shoes. And then he grabs me under my thighs and lifts me onto the desk, the balls of my feet curling over the sides. He steps between my spread legs and presses his lips to the shell of my ear as he strokes a finger across my slit.

A growl of approval rattles from deep in his chest. "So wet for me, little witch."

He retracts his claws, then plunges a finger inside me, both of us unleashing rhapsodic sighs as he begins to pump in and out of me. My hands tangle in his hair, and when he hooks a second finger inside, my head falls back as waves of pleasure wash through me.

"Sin…" I pant, unable to finish my sentence as he presses his palm against my clit, sending a tidal wave rippling through my core.

I rock against his hand, completely at his mercy as he curls his fingers up to hit the spot I need him to and… and… Goddess above. No. Not yet.

"Sin—stop!" I call out.

He stops immediately, and I almost whimper when he slides his fingers out of me, leaving me painfully empty. His breathing is labored when he presses his forehead to mine. "Did I mistake your intentions, love?"

I shake my head against his. "No, it's not that. There's just something I need to do first."

I force myself to pry my hands from his hair and place them on either side of his face, tilting his head down to look at me.

"I am not here with you right now because of any spell. I'm here because I want to be. Something about you sets my soul on fire, Singard, and I'm ready to burn."

He leans in and captures my mouth with his again, but gentler this time. Softer. Letting his lips and tongue say what his heart isn't ready to.

My hands trail down the cut planes of his chest, tracing arcane lines into his skin. I pause with one hand pressed to his stomach and the other on mine. He knows what's coming and watches carefully but makes no move to try to stop me. Sin promised my freedom, and I don't doubt he would have released me himself before we left this room, but I am done being freed at the will of others.

I grab onto the phantom rope linking us and shred at it with mental talons. It buckles beneath me, trying to resist my will, but I grip it harder, willing all my intention to its extinction.

My lips skim across his chest and up the column of his neck as the tether begins to split and fracture. I drag my tongue along the underside of his jaw before leaning up on my toes and planting my mouth at the base of his ear. "I release us from this bond."

His arms snake around my waist and pull me against him, my mouth drying as I inhale his peppery scent, my tongue yearning to lap at his essence like cream.

The tether snaps between us.

I inhale deeply as my lungs swell with newfound autonomy, the last of the Black Art's control bleeding from my body.

Leaving me unbound.

Feral.

Starving.

Slamming my palms against his hard chest, I shove Sin away from me. He stumbles backwards, just far enough for me to slip around him and push him against the desk. My fucking turn.

I leave no part of him untouched, starting with soft bites along his neck, nibbling his collarbone, licking his chest. When I finish swirling my tongue across his abdominals, my fingers move to unfasten the buttons of his trousers. His hands clamp down on top of mine, and he tilts my chin up with one finger, forcing me to meet his eyes, their irises still a smoldering yellow-green.

"You're high, love," he murmurs.

"So are you," I whisper back, ripping my hands out from beneath his.

He groans in frustrated delight and dips his head to gently tug the crown of my ear between his teeth. "Which is exactly why I can only restrain myself long enough to ask you this once," he says, nibbling my lobe again. "Are you sure?"

Not tearing my eyes from his, I sink to my knees before him. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about what your cock tastes like."

How's that for an answer, Your Grace?

A growl rips from his chest, and I yank his trousers down. His cock springs free, and I feel my eyes widen to the size of small dinner plates.

It's the most mouthwatering thing I've ever seen.

And definitely the Black Art's deadliest weapon.

If the magic high wasn't fueling my confidence, I may have hesitated at the sheer size of him. But instead, I lick my lips and wrap my mouth around his swollen cock, staring up at him as I do. He swears under his breath as I take him farther into my mouth, but only half of him fits before he's hitting the back of my throat and I gag around him.

Sin stares down at me like the sight of my hollowed cheeks sliding up and down his dick is the most beautiful piece of art he's ever laid eyes on. He reaches for my head and twists his fingers in my hair as I swirl my tongue over his length and devour him as if I was a starved woman. Grunts of pure masculine pleasure tear from his chest, and I suck him faster, letting his cock touch the back of mouth again and again. His other hand finds the back of my neck and grips me around the nape—wanting me, needing me—as his nails lengthen into claws again and pierce my skin. The smell of my own blood on his fingers sends pleasure rocking through me harder, and I drag my tongue up the underside of his shaft, watching as he fights to keep himself from shifting.

With a frustrated growl, he pulls himself out from between my lips and lifts me off my feet, setting me back down on the desk and ripping my knees apart so I'm bare before him. He leans forward, the ends of his hair brushing over my nipples, and he kisses the underside of my jaw. His cock throbs against my thigh, wetness already beading at the tip. I arch my back, desperate to feel him against me, against my pussy now sobbing for him.

Sin raises his lips to mine and murmurs against them. "I'm going to fuck you now, love. Is that okay?"

Goddess, yes.

I nod, inching forward to grind against him.

A low snarl in my ear. "Use your words, little witch. Tell me you want it."

"I want it. Please fuck me, Your Grace. Now…"

His breath so hot on my neck, his hands digging into my thighs splayed open around him… I've never wanted anything more in my life than to feel him fill me to capacity.

I cry out as he slides himself inside of me. Sin moves slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size, to stretch around him. He swallows my moan with his mouth, entwining his tongue with mine as he pulls out of me.

The Black Art isn't gentle the second time.

He thrusts back into me, this time seating himself all the way to the hilt, his cock hard and thick inside of me. A strangled scream rasps from my throat, and he moans at the sound. His hands tighten around my ass as he pumps in and out of me, his cock stretching me around him easier as I grow wetter with each deep-seated plunge.

My head falls behind my shoulders as he fucks me, and I grind my hips against his, sheathing him in my warmth. I feel no embarrassment as I call out his name, moans falling from my lips as the sound of his sex slaps against mine. And when he leans forward and takes my nipple between his teeth, chaos explodes inside me, and I fall over the edge, unable to stifle the screams that follow. Sin buries his face against my neck as he finds his own release, and if it's possible for me to get any wetter, I do as his cock pulses inside me, and he spills his seed deep in my cunt.

My back collapses to the desk, and I pull him against my chest, his nose in the hollow of my collarbone. I comb my fingers through his hair as we lie here, holding each other, our breath slowly returning to normal.

Sin props himself up and presses his lips to mine once more, this time much gentler, sweeter. When he stands, he pulls me with him so I'm sitting upright, and he tucks my hair behind my ear. "You are so beautiful," he whispers, his voice more raw than I've ever heard it.

He leans forward and kisses the spot on my hip where his black heart once adorned. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't going to miss seeing my mark on you. But I've found more enjoyable ways to claim you," he says, his eyes taking in his seed now running down my thighs.

"I take the tonic," I say. The concoction of herbs that prevent pregnancy. "I packed it in my bag when we visited my family."

"I know," he responds smugly.

I raise an eyebrow at him, and he grins.

"I saw it on your table when I visited your chambers last night. Certainly planted images in my head. And if I dare say, you live up to your namesake. You sing so pretty, little Wren."

I smile with mock sweetness and tie the straps of my dress behind my neck while he steps back into his trousers and pulls his shirt back on. He motions for me to turn around so he can lace my dress again.

"No need. I'm heading to my chambers. I'm officially wiped out."

He frowns, and then murmurs, "Stay with me tonight."

"Not done with me yet, Your Grace? I'm already going to be thinking of you every time I try to walk tomorrow."

He laughs softly, but it doesn't touch his eyes. "Sleep in my chambers tonight. There are about a thousand men out there wondering where you slipped away to right now, and I don't want them tracking you down." His tone is lighthearted but weighted with genuine concern. Concern that I have no doubt would turn into something much… messier, should anyone actually try anything.

"What kind of woman do you take me for?" I jest.

He leans forward and whispers against my lips, "A very… very desirable one."

"Then it's a very good thing I'm quite capable of looking after myself."

He chuckles. "You have made that abundantly clear."

I step away from him and dip my knees in a mock curtsy. "Goodnight, Your Grace."

When I turn into my room, I lock the door with the bolt only, knowing he will come by later and spell it closed. And for some reason I don't fully understand, I want him to be the one to seal the others out.