“I thought it might,” he said, barely above a whisper.
She pushed onto her toes and he met her halfway, bending down to press his lips into hers. He held her waist firmly as she tipped backwards, his tongue quickly finding its way into her mouth.
She let out a soft moan as his tongue played with hers. The sound turned him hard against her. Maeve smiled into their kiss, knowing how quickly she excited him. He pushed them backwards until she hit the writing desk. He nipped at her bottom lip and pulled away from her. Maeve’s breathing was fast, the heat between her legs growing intense.
His hands moved to the dirty pearl buttons of her pajama top, working from the bottom up. When the fabric fell loose. His expression softened into a dull look of hunger.
Maeve gripped the desk on either side of her hips. Her body was hot. Too hot. Her cheeks were burning from the intense vulnerability she was trapped in under his gaze.
Mal’s eyes traced over every inch of her chest. His long, slender fingers reached out and caressed the side of her breast.
A slow breath rose up through her. His fingers were icy and smooth. She was stuck. Paralyzed from his touch.
“I thought about you ceaselessly,” he said. “I don’t think I quite understood the meaning of your presence until I was forced to endure your absence.”
His hand moved down her stomach, slowly, sending ice across her skin. She gripped the desk harder and willed herself to stay still and not push every inch of herself towards him.
“I wondered if he was hurting you. . .touching you.”
Maeve gasped as his hand slipped between her skin and the top of her pants. His fingers danced along the band, teasing her.
“I only hate that I didn’t see you end him,” said Maeve.
Mal took a deep breath. “I will end each and every one of them that tries to take what is mine.”
“The Dread Lands?” She asked as his hand pulled out from between her stomach and her pants.
A darkness formed on Mal’s face. “You.” His eyes bore into hers with a lethal rage so calm it should have been unsettling. “You are mine.”
Maeve couldn’t hold herself still any longer. She pushed off the desk and stepped towards him hastily, eager for more of his taste, his bite. His hand caught her throat, gently squeezing and keeping her back.
“Bathe, Sinclair.” He grinned in satisfaction. “You are positively filthy.”
Chapter 38
It was difficult to listen to The Disintis ramble on endlessly, when Maeve’s thoughts continuously drifted back to the way Mal’s hands felt across her chest. Especially when Mal seemed equally bored and kept sending little wafts of magic winding up her legs. Each one growing higher and higher.
No one objected to their being there. Everyone knew what Mal had done, and soon they’d know who he was.
The Disintis was a Magical. Each of the realms in attendance had rolled a die in order to see who orchestrated the meeting and held the title of Grand Disintis for the duration of the meeting. The Magicals won the roll. And so Orator Moon’s Press Secretary stepped forward.
Maeve learned that The Orator and her father had an agreement: as soon as the humans dropped those bombs, they stopped all communication between the legal and militant sides of the government. Reeve had been right. Kietel and his rebels were watching and attacking the fires and Portals. It was better that Moon and her father were in the dark of one another’s moves.
The Queen of the Elven Realm was in attendance. She brought with her an audience, as did Reeve. Their inner circles and courts and high ranking officials all came.
Ambrose portaled Mal and Maeve personally to The Dark Planet, where Shadow Magic once flourished and thrived. It was now an unoccupied realm, completely deserted.
Neutral ground.
They gathered in what once was an amphitheater, with open air and stacked seating. The sky above was in a perpetual state of twilight. The Dark Planet’s star system was nothing like Earth’s. Multiple moons and foreign star systems.
Finally Reeve interrupted Moon’s secretary.
“Grand Disintis,” said Reeve in a bored tone. “Do you have a point?”
He looked at Reeve incredulously. “I think the point is that we cannot afford to compromise our forces any further.”
Two men sat on either side of Reeve. One Maeve recognized from the Summer Solstice Party. He was part Elven. His long white hair lay flat down his back. His tipped ears were covered with piercings that looped through one another. He watched the room with careful caution. His hands crossed in his lap. His sword a grab away.
