“Of course I am,” he whispers. “If I had come forward as the heir sooner, Roman wouldn’t have?—”
“You can’t think that way.” I sit forward and spin so that my body faces him. My legs wrap around his waist as I scoot forwardand sit in his lap. His breath hitches as our bodies become flush with one another. “We’re here now and that’s all that matters.”
His eyes train on my mouth and my breaths remain stuck in my lungs. His fingers dig into my sides, that electrifying touch I’ve been desperate for the past few weeks buzzes against my bare skin.
He won’t kiss me first, I know that. Not with the damage done to my body. But the bruises will fade. The memories, perhaps not as quickly, but I pay that no mind at this moment. I shift my weight again so I’m more firmly planted in his lap. Sorin’s eyes close at the contact. Tracing my fingers up his chest, I watch as tiny droplets of water tickle along our skin.
“Elora…”
I grab his face, our lips meet not with a tenderness, but with a fierce longing. With familiarity and passion. Sparks of lightning, as Sorin once described it, ignite over my skin, and the more he kisses me, the more I crave it. I moan against his mouth as he pulls me tighter into him. Our kiss grows frenzied. Sorin’s hands are in my hair, his teeth and tongue against my neck. Water sloshes out of the tub, hitting the marble floors.
Breaking away, I cradle his face between my hands again. We’re both breathless as we stare at each other. He kisses me once more, gently on the lips. My body aches to be closer. But the voices begin to rise in my head, and I know it won’t be long before I can’t ignore them.
He must sense my change because his breathing begins to even out. His grip, a little lighter around my waist.
“Later?” I ask, adding to our long to do list.
He smiles. Bright and beaming, and I unabashedly place a kiss right on his dimple.
“Later,” he promises back.
Twenty-Five
Sorin
The two Enchantressesthat escaped with Elora sit side by side around a dark marble table in the Onyx meeting room. Pitchers of water and kettles of tea line the center of the table along with a few plates of dried meat and assorted nuts that no one seems to care for.
Elora’s nails tap against her teacup, her eyes darting between the two women before us.
“We cannot stay here long.” The dark-haired Enchantress speaks first, her skin pale and eyes a stormy blue. She cups her mug of tea between her hands. “Hunters will sense any magick we have?—”
“Only if you use it,” Elora says. Both of the Enchantress' eyes fall to her. She tugs her earlobe but straightens herself. “If you don’t use your magick, the hunters can’t sense you. I lived for years that way?—”
“Must have been lovely,” the other Enchantress adds. She has deep, red hair that billows down to her shoulders. Despite the chill of the mountains, her sleeves are pushed up, revealing scars around her wrists, bubbled and pink against her darkskin. “Living a life in peace while the rest of us were mutilated. Murdered.”
Elora flinches, her shoulders sagging.
“That isn’t necessary,” I say, my hand finding Elora’s leg under the table. “While Elora and a few others managed to escape Valebridge, I assure you their lives were anything but easy.”
I have you.
The Enchantress with the shorter hair glances at me. Her eyes narrow further, and a chill runs down my spine.
“And you are the heir of Valebridge correct?” She smiles when my body goes rigid. “Rumors travel quickly through Valebridge, heir. Even in the dungeons.” She pours herself another cup of tea. The steam muddies her features a moment before it settles and her eyes are on me again. “So gracious of you to finally step up and help.”
“Enough of this.” Lord Calix enters the room with a sea of handmaids and guards behind him. Each one dressed in all black. Calix’s fur lined cloak is laced tightly, a faint crest of mountains stitched across the front. Calix glances quickly at Elora and even quicker away. “We’re happy to have you stay as long as you’re comfortable, Enchantresses.”
He redirects his attention to me. “Sorin, as well as all of us, have made mistakes and bear many regrets these last five years. But know this, we will stop at nothing until there is justice and peace for the Enchantresses. You have my word.”
The Enchantress looks to the woman next to her and when she nods, she focuses back on Calix. “Whatever we can do to help,” she says. “Please let it be known.”
“Let's start with your names.” Calix gestures toward the Enchantress while taking a long sip of tea with his other hand.
The women share a glance with each other.
“You’re guests in this house,” Calix says. “So please, your names?”
The redhead Enchantress pushes her hair behind her shoulders. “I’m Brigid.”
