Page 117 of Realm of Nightmares
Tucking it under her arm, Maeve headed back down the staircase, then stopped short when she heard Rowan’s voice. It was scarcely a whisper in her ears, but it was accompanied by that of a female.A sultry, tempting female.
Maeve peeked over the railing, eyes widening at the sight she witnessed.
Rowan glared up at Laurel, his brow drawn. He’d abandoned his book, though by the looks of things, it seemed far more likely that Laurel plucked it out of his hands and tossed it onto the empty sofa behind them. Jaw clenched, he muttered something, but the words were too hushed and indistinguishable for Maeve to understand.
Laurel, however, didn’t seem to care. She tossed her long hair flippantly over one shoulder, so it rained down her back like strands of sparkling amethyst. Black lace crawled all over her, clinging to every curve, hugging her lithe body. A slit ran up the right side of the gorgeous fabric, almost all the way to her hip. She jabbed one pointed purple nail into Rowan’s chest, and he snatched her wrist, yanking her toward him.
Maeve opened her mouth to admonish him, but then the unthinkable happened.
Instead of slapping him across the face or stabbing him in the chest with a blade, Laurel straddled Rowan’s lap.
Maeve blinked. They hated each other.
Before she could scamper back up the stairs, she watched in surprise as their mouths fused together. They devoured one another like it was a fight to the death. There was nothing passionate about it. Instead, it seemed born out of fury, like they were punishing one another.
Laurel’s fingers tangled in Rowan’s hair, dragging him closer as he palmed her breasts, gripping and squeezing. Maeve was certain Laurel would have bruises by the time he was done. They broke their angry kiss almost as quickly as they’d started. Maeve expelled the breath she’d been holding.
Laurel’s head fell back, and Rowan went in for the kill.
His tongue slid up the column of Laurel’s exposed neck, greedily licking and sucking at her flesh. One arm wrapped around her back, locking her in place. The other, however, groped her thigh before disappearing completely beneath the fine lace of the gown.
Maeve squeezed her eyes shut and heat flamed her cheeks.
She shouldn’t be watching this display of intimacy, she shouldn’t intrude upon their moment of privacy. In spite of it, she squeezed her thighs together, trying to focus on anything but the fact that the scent of Rowan and Laurel’s sexual appetite mingled together, permeating the library. The last thing she wanted was for them to catch her watching and yet…
Her eyes flew open as Laurel’s breathy moans filled the air. Peeking down once more, Maeve bit her lip to keep from gasping. Rowan worked Laurel hard and fast, his arm bunching, flexing with every thrust as she ground herself against his hand. But it wasn’t the carnal act that drew her attention. No, it was something else entirely, something teetering on the edge of the erotic.
Rowan’s shadows had emerged, and he used them to gag Laurel. To silence her. Swaths of darkness slid over and between her lips, coiling down around her throat. The female writhed in his lap, her dagger-like nails digging into his shoulders, pulling at his hair. Arching back, she thrashed, and every time she opened her mouth to pant, gasp, or possibly to utter some plea for more, the shadow tightened its grip.
Either Rowan was going to kill Laurel, or she was going to explode all over his fingers.
She bucked once. Twice. Until finally her body convulsed, shuddering as she sagged against him. Her reprieve was short-lived, and Maeve’s mouth fell open. Already Laurel was sliding down Rowan, falling onto her knees before him. She tore at his belt, where his erection strained against the confines of his pants.
Maeve shrank back into her tingling skin. Her mouth was dry, parched, as though she’d gone a hundred years without water. She didn’t mind that Rowan wanted Laurel, or that Laurel seemed ready to have him take her right there in the library. But damn if she would sit here, hiding on the staircase while they pleasured one another. Anywhere else was better than here.
Blowing out a soft breath, Maeve stood and headed down the stairs, ensuring the sound of her boots against the gleaming stone echoed loudly enough for anyone to hear. By the time she made it to the main level, Rowan was relaxed in his chair, cup of tea in hand, his book splayed open in his lap to disguise his still-hard shaft. Laurel was seated in the chair next to him, one leg crossed over the other, a look of mild irritation painting her features. Were it not for the flush of color staining her prominent cheekbones, Maeve might have thought Laurel was just pissed about her very existence, and not the fact that she’d interrupted their playtime.
Maeve scoopedVow of the Guardianoff the table and unceremoniously tossed it in Laurel’s direction.
Laurel snatched it out of the air with one hand. “Ah, you found it.”
The skin on Maeve’s forearm warmed, then cooled, the Strand binding them dissolving as though it had never been there in the first place.
“Actually, Rowan found it. Turns out, the book wasn’t in Diamarvh after all. It was here.” Maeve shifted around the coffee table, narrowly avoiding Rowan’s outstretched legs, and seated herself on the sofa. “So, you should thank him.”
Grabbing her lukewarm coffee, she took a slow sip and met Laurel’s provoking gaze. “Unless, of course, you already have.”
Rowan started, slamming his book shut and nearly spilling tea all over the front of his shirt.
But Laurel’s lips curved. Feminine and feral. “I knew it was here.”
“Then why did you send me to Diamarvh for it?” Maeve gripped the handle of her cup so tightly she swore the porcelain would crack.
“You were going anyway, and nothing I said would’ve changed your mind. But I couldn't live with myself if I allowed you to go without any kind of preparation.” The absolute disdain dripping from Laurel’s voice was enough to make Maeve want to throw her coffee cup at the blasted female’s face. “I’m not one to give up information freely. So naturally, I had to think of something you could give to me in return.”
“And a book that you could fetch on your own was the best you could come up with?” Maeve retorted.
“It was either that, or your first-born child.” Laurel’s glittering eyes turned cold, and the mocking smirk faded from her face, revealing the breadth of her nature. A cold-hearted, ruthless creature. “Be grateful it was not the latter.”
