Mal moved his hand slowly back and forth over her ribs, the silvery spell penetrating her skin. Each stroke was like a refreshing gulp of water. She was certain her cheeks were flushed red from his touch.
“I promised your father a safe journey,” said Mal.
“Well, that was foolish of him to ask for, knowing the kinds of creatures that lurk in those caves.”
“I wasn’t aware those things grew so large,” said Mal.
“Nor was I,” said Maeve, playing with the carpet beneath her.
His hands traveled down her to her leg, cupping her knee in his grip. She peeked down at him. He studied each circular bruise carefully.
He moved tauntingly slow, his smooth fingers gliding across her skin. His fingers wrapped around her calf, grazing the back bend of her knee.
Her hips involuntarily pushed upward.
Mal bent her leg, positioning her knee close to his face. He pressed a slow kiss into her leg, along each bruise. The ache that lingered in each one lifted with every touch of his lips. Maeve was certain he could feel every sensual wave that crashed over her.
She pushed up on her elbows, straining less at the pain in her ribs. Mal gently placed her leg back on the plush carpet.
“Thank you,” said Maeve quietly.
“Get some rest,” he said. “We still have a long journey.”
Chapter 42
They waited four days for the mysterious woman who could repair broken magic to present herself. Ambrose wasn’t even sure if she was alive when he proposed their plan B option.
Mal had begun to doubt her existence, but Maeve assured him her father did not entertain fantasy.
They sat at a dusty table on the bottom floor of the Cabin, drinking what Maeve considered a disgrace to the good name of tea after their dinner.
The Innkeeper set down a fourth cup of tea before her, with a hopeful look as he gestured for Maeve to try it. Maeve pretended it was perfect. After The Innkeeper shuffled back to the kitchen happily, she pushed it away.
“Just tell him you don’t like it,” said Mal, not looking up from his book.
“I did,” she said incredulously, gesturing around them. “Three times.”
The door to the Inn creaked open slowly, and a tall woman with long black hair stepped through the threshold. She was covered in dark tattoos and colorful piercings. Well-dressed, with lavish jewelry hanging from her neck and running along her fingers.
The woman made her way straight to Maeve and Mal and took a seat at the table. Hey eyes were rimmed with dark makeup.
“I am Ismail, young travelers,” she spoke with a sensually thick, regional accent, like the Innkeeper. “You travel with something broken that was once strong. Are you in need of mending it?”
Maeve was so surprised, so enthralled by her ability to know such a secret, she didn’t see Mal’s face turn cold.
“How did you find us?” Asked Mal, suspicion dripping from his voice.
“Don’t fret, young wizard,” said Ismail with a smile. “I am drawn to the broken magic in your pocket.”
“That’s amazing,” said Maeve.
Ismail gave her a smile and a nod.
Mal was still not entirely convinced. He didn’t take his cold eyes off Ismail.
“Are you in need of my services?” Asked Ismail, looking directly at Mal.
He contemplated for a moment.
