I mean—I'm not having sex.
Obviously.
But it's been the only thing I've thought about ever since the others gave me unsolicited advice and insisted it may keep Maven safe from my curse.
To make things a hundred times worse, I walked in on Maven sitting on Baelfire's face in bed this morning. She was completely naked, leaning forward to tease his cock while his muffled moaning made him sound like a very happily dying man.
Now, I can't stop fantasizing about being in his place.
Last night, she was with Silas—and Crypt didsomethingwith her in the shower this morning. I know because I overheard her pretty little gasps as she came.
They all keep wringing those fuckingperfectsounds out of her.
It's like listening to a heaven just out of reach.
I don’t mind listening. Or watching. In fact, I can't seem to get enough of seeing my keeper come undone if I happen to be in the same room—which keeps happening because these assholes are intentional about when and where they pounce on her. They're trying to drive home their point that I should be trying to bond with her.
All day, I've been flushed and distracted.
Gods above, I'm barely holding it together through how much I want her.
What if the others are right, and the best way to protect her is by trying to bond with her as soon as fucking possible?
But wait. What if I finally get to worship Maven, and that finally triggers my curse?
Or—shit, what if there is literallynothingI can do to protect my keeper? What if I'm still risking everything I've ever wanted just being here with her?
My head hurts.
"Careful, Frosty. I hear that if snowmen stand by the fireplace too long, they melt," Baelfire snarks, picking another holiday song on his playlist.
I blink, realizing I've been frozen with anxiety for way too long just inside the door of the cabin. My attention drifts to the closed bedroom door. There aren't any sex sounds coming from inside. I'm both relieved and bitterly disappointed.
And stillreallyfucking horny.
"What's in the bags?" Bael asks.
"Gifts for Maven," I mutter, rubbing my face.
"Better include a sex toy you plan to use on her to finally fucking test the theory," he says chipperly, mixing something in a baking bowl.
All the shit in this cozy little cabin was either bought by me yesterday in Tall Pine's little marketplace, or it was stolen from gods-know-where by Crypt. It was left empty and lightly furnished when we found it—probably someone's summer cabin.
"This is hard enough without you opening your fat mouth," I grit out.
"Pretty sure you meanyou'rehard enough, Professor Blue Balls."
"Shut up. Is Silas still keeping Maven distracted?"
The plan was to set up a miniature Starfall Eve to surprise her. Even though we're considered public enemies and we're only here until we have a lead on etherium, we decided this was an important first for our keeper. After all, we're all pretty damn sure she never celebrated the holiday in the Nether.
Starfall started as the celebration of the day the gods first cursed monsterkind. It's said that when the humans' prayers were answered, lights like stars rained down from the sky—the wrath of the gods visible to the naked eye. All monsters in the mortal realm suffered vicious curses that humbled and subdued them once they learned they needed to find their quintets. That led to armistices, treaties, intermingling with humans, and eventually legacies.
Hundreds of years later, that day is still the biggest celebration of the year, even if it is too commercialized for most elementals' liking.
Baelfire opens his mouth to answer my question, but Crypt blurs into existence right in front of me, making both of us swear.
"They're having a bath together," he drawls, trying to peek into the paper bags. I hold them away from him. "I offered to join, but an awful lot of that telepathic rubbish was going on. Also, Crane very dramatically insisted that he would rather castrate himself than climb into a bath with me."
