All at once, the world collapsed, like a camera capturing two overexposed images at once. She could feel a hand inching atop hers where it lay trapped between the fabric of her jeans and the center of her own pleasure. She felt fingers join hers to rub slow, teasing circles. She thought she might be dreaming, maybe hallucinating, but something in the crackling magic around her told her otherwise.
Hot breaths tickled her ear, soft, wet lips dragging against her neck. Jo tilted her head back, exposing herself for him, for his touch, for Snow, Snow,God, Snow I miss you, I need you, please—
“My love,”Snow’s voice moaned against the dip of her jaw, his voice echoey and disjointed, real but somehow not real enough. His touch felt the same, a constant pressure but somehow not there at all. Jo could almost cry at the realization, at knowing that, the moment she opened her eyes, that touch would be gone, Snow would begone. If he was even really there at all.
But her pleasure was mounting regardless, her body and her magic and the very essence of her being longing for release, for Snow to wring ecstasy from her body and soul the way only he knew how.
Don’t go.Even in silence, the words floating in the magical space between them, she could hear the heartache in them.Please don’t leave me again, Snow. Please.
“I’m sorry, my love.”
The words shivered in tandem with her body, a gasp escaping her throat.
At least let me know that you’re safe. Has she hurt you? Are you alright? Snow, please tell me you’re all right.
An arm wrapped tightly around her as long, familiar fingers dipped past her entrance with a deft curl.
Jo broke.
Please, Snow. Please I— I need— Are you— I can’t— Snow . . .!
Jo was too busy drowning in waves of pleasure to worry about it. And yet, she still felt unsatisfied, her body and mind already lamenting the dwindling connection they’d somehow managed to make. Jo clung to it, riding the aftershocks and pulling at the rope between them with every ounce of strength still left in her. It wasn’t enough.
I’ll find you, Snow. I’ll save you, I promise,she called into the remnants of their connection. If it had even, truly, existed.
Jo’s eyes snapped open, burning and rimmed in the beginnings of tears. She was back in their quarters, chest still heaving and body still twitching beneath the shock of such a powerful release. Jo pulled her hands away from where they’d been white-knuckling the armrests of her chair, startled to find she hadn’t even really been touching herself. She ran one of those shaking hands over her face.
Too quickly, the high faded, the desire to be held overshadowing any afterglow with a heavy ache, a desperate sadness. She wanted toactuallybe with Snow, not just in some liminal space their magic (or even her mind) might have created. She wanted to hold him, to know he was safe.
But the question of his safety was the one thing he hadn’t answered in their interaction, and the fact had Jo on edge until dawn.
Chapter 17
King’s Deal
Jo stood at the window, eyes closed, the morning sun breaking over the horizon and onto her face.
In her mind, she envisioned a book—the same book she’d been reading (or trying to) for the better part of the night. She’d known its every page and had her fingers on the parchment for hours.
Her brow knitted as she tried to recreate the book with exacting precision in her mind. Lines weaved together, forming the outline, then filled in with color as she tried to simulate an exact replica. She tried to ignore the feeling of the sunlight, the sensation of the breeze coming in salty and crisp off the ocean, and only pay attention to the book—without actually looking at it.
Inhaling through her nose, and out through her mouth, Jo imagined the first page tearing at the corner as if someone pulled on it too vigorously while flipping it. Not completely off, not the whole book, just the first page. She could almost hear the sounds of the fibrous paper pulling, stretching to the point of ripping. A bead of sweat rolled down her neck with the mental effort.
Doors opening behind her broke all concentration. Jo turned, looking not at the figure standing in the doorway, but down at the book on the table she’d turned her back to so that she’d avoid all temptation to peek. It was just as it had been. Hesitantly, Jo reached out, flipping open the cover to the first page.
It was pristine, unblemished, not a tear to be found.
Damn.
So perhaps her restriction was something she couldn’t “learn” her way around after all. Jo had been experimenting with her magic all night. After theinteractionwith Snow, she wanted to test the limits of what she could and couldn’t do—further hone the abilities she had as a demigod so that when the time came she’d be ready.
The man in the doorway cleared his throat and Jo’s eyes flicked upward. “Good morning,” she said when it became apparent that he was waiting on her to make the first move.
“His supreme highness, King Silvus the Third, has generously extended an invitation for you to break fast this dawn with him and Master Greentouch,” the man said, projecting his voice to a near shout.
“How generous,” Jo said, wincing at the noise as it shattered the morning’s quiet.
The door to the room the men were sharing opened and Wayne blearily poked out his nose, muttering, “Could you keep it down?”
