Shadows broke from the walls and hovered across the room, across the bed, blocking out the light. They were in complete darkness.
His hands moved to her ass. He pulled her up as he slid in and out, never pulling his cock from her completely. In and out and in and out and-
Magic slipped from him. It was pure, almost unbearable, as it infiltrated her. Her skin was dirty now. Her body was his.
Mal repeated the ancient words to complete the spell once more, just as his whimper turned into a low grunt and he pumped inside her with force one last time, releasing every drop she had asked for.
Dark magic, lethal and unfamiliar, pierced into her blood like needles. She twisted beneath him with a scream. His hands shot to her face and held her against his chest.
It barreled through her body, scraping across every part of her. She pushed against Mal, desperate for the pain to ease. The darkness in the room swirled, creating a cyclone of shadow around them.
Maeve’s cries faded into silence. Her heartbeat disappeared. The room slowed.
Her face turned warm. Hot tears of panic and pain fell down her cheeks as he pinned her in place. She jolted under him, violently shaking.
The dark magic lifted only once she was drowning against its presence in her body. The vortex around them shifted into air. The candles on the side tables flickered back into flames.
Maeve gasped and heaved a cry, limp under Mal.
“I’ve got you,” he hummed in her ear, his voice velvety smooth. “It’s over.”
Her magic was wounded completely, pierced by that darkness. Mal rolled off of her and pulled her close. She didn’t shake or move. Her body was drained. He tucked his head atop hers, entangling their legs and draping his arm around her.
The third cost was complete. The Finder’s Stone appeared on the bedside table. Neither of them noticed. They were already asleep.
Maeve Sinclair would never be satisfied with just his lips again.
Chapter 44
The Finder’s Stone was fully repaired, and even when it was just in Mal’s pocket, it was leading him towards the Dread Crown deep in the Yatir Forest.
The length of their journey through the forest was unknown. Neither had any idea of how close or how far they were. They Obscured when they could see far enough ahead of them but mostly traveled on foot.
Ismail had left a note with the stone:
Beware of the moon in the forest, young travelers.
And so they covered ground by day and camped by night, throwing up plenty of protective enchantments while they slept. Ambrose had given them the most fantastic tent. It was about the size of a matchbox in Maeve’s pocket, but it appeared perfectly normal once expanded. Even more appealing to Maeve was the inside of the tent set itself. There was plenty of space, with two comfy beds, a stovetop with self serving tea and a table and chairs.
Mal marveled at it the first time he saw it. Maeve was jealous that he still got to experience magic for the first time. She would love to go back and feel those moments of awe again.
As they traveled mostly in silence, Maeve had plenty of time to reflect on the events of their final evening at Cobbler’s Cabin. Her stomach twisted every time the memory made its way into her head. The way his fingers crawled across her skin. The way she had driven him over the edge.
They slept separately in the tent at night. Though one night Maeve dozed off by the fire, and when she rolled over in the morning, she was in Mal’s bed, covered in extra blankets. He was already up.
On the seventh day, early in the morning, Mal stopped walking suddenly.
“Just ahead,” said Mal, “there’s a clearing. It’s in a tree there.”
An excited breath welled up in Maeve’s chest. They were so close.
After a little more than a week of traveling through a massive forest in a foreign country, she was finally about to put her hands on the long-lost Dread Crown. The crown that would be a top Mal’s head.
They entered the clearing.
“We found it,” said Mal.
“Where is it?” Asked Maeve.
