Page 90 of The Witch Queen

The room is dark when we enter, and I quickly light the sconces and candles, then throw her one of my tunics and a pair of leggings to change into. They swallow her, and the sight sends my blood racing. As soon as she’s clothed in the dry tunic, Genevieve sits at the table and starts eating directly from the serving dishes, not wasting time making a plate. I chuckle.

“I’m starving,” she explains with a grin. I only pick up a spoon and dip it directly into the bowl of spiced rice, then groan when it reaches my mouth.

“I’m starving too,” I say with my own grin.

We finish dinner that way, eating with no propriety. Genevieve seems to enjoy the spectacle greatly, and I realize it must be because, to her, this is a great rebellion for a female raised by the Velmaran nobility. To egg her on, I dip a finger into the pudding and lick it off, and she squeals in delight before dipping her own finger in the bowl. We scrape it clean.

“Thank you for tonight,” I say softly. “It’s nice to take a break from all the books. Even if I had to literally jump off a cliff to get away from them.” I give her a smile that she returns with her own sly grin.

“It was my pleasure.” She bites her lip, tantalizing me. I swear she was leaning in to kiss me in the water, but I don’t know for sure. And this isdangeroushere. We stare at one another, the tension in the room coiling around us, thick as mist. “Kiss me,” she finally says, breathless, eyes wide, and the small amount of control I had disappears.

I walk slowly to her side of the table, then angle my body behind her and gently sweep her black curly hair off her shoulder. Leaning down, I place the gentlest kiss to her neck, just below her ear, and she shudders. I kiss my way across her collarbone and up her jaw, delighting in the way she reacts to every one. When I reach her lips, I don’t kiss them. Instead, I take her hand and tug her from the chair, then sit down and guide her to straddle my lap.

“Is this what you want?” I ask, my voice low. “Are you sure?” I have to give her another chance to say no, to walk away from something that might get her fired from the archives, or worse. But there’s no hesitation in her expression, only heat and need gathered in those amber eyes.

“Yes,” she whispers out, eyes darkening with desire.

I lean in and kiss her soft lips gently, and she moans. When I cup her breast through the tunic, she lets out a breathy sigh, and that seems to unlock something in her. She takes control, grinding her hips into me, kissing me with a demanding intensity that I match. My own hips arch up to meet hers, and I bring my hands down to cup her backside.

She removes my tunic, lifting it quickly above my head and throwing it across the room. With feral delight in her eyes, she undoes the clasp holding up the bandeau covering my breasts, then stares down at my chest as she continues to grind on my hips. There’s a hunger in her eyes, like she’s been waiting for this her whole life. I let out a moan, removing her own tunic and bandeau so that we’re both topless. She leans in for another kiss, and the soft brush of our naked breasts has me clenching my thighs in desire.I need more of her.

I lift Genevieve from the chair and carry her to the bed, slowly removing her leggings so I can take in the sight of her. She blushes under my gaze, her confidence from earlier gone now that she’s so exposed. But something tells me she doesn’t want me to coddle her, doesn’t want me to proceed carefully and gently.

“Touch yourself,” I command, and her heated expression tells me my hunch was right. She does as she’s told, bringing her fingers to the apex of her thighs, wet with desire. As she circles her center, she keeps her gaze locked on me, my boldness unlocking her own.

“Take your leggings off,” she orders, and I’m happy to comply. Even as she touches herself, her eyes stay focused on me. When she lets out a delicate whimper, I can keep my hands off her no longer. Lowering my body to cage hers, we lose ourselves in the passion of kissing and limbs and darkness.

Mazus

Myeyesscantheground far below, my vision excellent in this form. My armies—fae and human alike—train in their hidden camp in the northern mountains of Velmara, oblivious their King flies hundreds of feet above them.

Consume.Devour. Take.

The urge to swoop down and feast on their bodies, on the aether-force of the fae and the flesh of the humans, rips through me. For a brief moment, I almost give in, almost lose control… Grinding my teeth, I bank hard and turn back towards Arnia.

Landing in a clearing just outside the city, I fight with my frame, forcing the transition to fae.It’s getting harder and harder. Brushing the thought aside, I aerstep to my suite in the Velmaran castle. The cold white tile on my bare feet cools the blood pulsing through my veins, and I drop to the ground and press my face against the floor.

After a few moments, I channel aether into a gentle and cooling breeze, allowing its magic to stabilize my pulsing skin. With a deep breath, I finally feel more fae than beast. I take one more inhale before standing and stalking to my study. A new letter sits in the basket reserved for incoming correspondence. Recognizing the seal, I open it swiftly, eyes hungrily taking in the update from my Thayarian contact.

Your Majesty,

Things are still progressing according to your plans here in Thayaria, though slower than we had both hoped. Laurel and Thorne have finally discovered the mating bond; however, based on their scents, one or both have not yet accepted it. I also don’t believe they have beenjoined, and the research you provided me explained this conjugal step is critical in strengthening the bond and subsequent magical alterations. They have not announced the mate bond broadly, though whispers run wild through the Council of Advisors about how close they have become.

I know you have been hesitant to loop me into your plans with the Thayarian rebels, but I fear they will become a hindrance soon. I urge you to inform me of your intentions so that I can properly guide their strategy and direct the Council in ways that will help them, and you, achieve the right ends.

I will write again as soon as I have significant updates to share, as you know as well as I that these letters are dangerous and challenging to get out of Thayaria and into your hands alone.

Sincerely,

Your Faithful Ally

Rage rises within me, risking losing control of my fae form again. I crumple up the paper in my fury and toss it into the fireplace.That stupid boy can’t even get his own mate to accept him.What an imbecile.

But I’ve been patient, waiting centuries to enact my plans. I can wait another few months.

Sitting at my desk, I read through the remaining correspondence. An update from the Head Librarian of the archives tells me Nemesia has taken the bait. I pen a letter to her, an invitation to another dinner, loathe as I am to spend more time with the churlish female. I need to make sure she’s finding what I want her to find in those books, and nothing more. The Head Librarian also mentioned a budding romance between Nemesia and one of the younger librarians that could prove useful.

With my correspondence read and responded to, I aerstep to my research room below the castle, though very few of my experiments live here anymore. Most are housed deep in the northern mountains now, supported by my supply of thayar and closer to the leylines running through Velmara.

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