And without warning, his cock started jerking, and he held me tighter, groaning against my mark about his ‘perfect mate’ and her ‘perfect, tight cunt’. Somehow the filthy words were almost poetry in my ears.
Our orgasm lasted so long I almost passed out again, my vision blurry and my body sweltering hot.It wasperfect. I combed a hand through his hair and wrapped my arms around him, feeling his heavy breaths reverberating through me.
The sounds of his pleasure surrounded us, and an incessant wail that was... oh, that wasme.I stayed there, spasming, holding tight, for a long time. So long, I startled when he asked,
“Am I crushing you?” He was gasping for breath over me, my breasts flattened against his ribs, and he was still inside, still as hard as when we started. In fact, I squirmed for a minute, but there was a drip and then a splatter of cum that leaked down my thighs when I shimmied my hips.
“No,” I whisper, pressing kisses to his skin while he groaned above me. “Savla?”
He was too out of breath to reply, but he pressed a kiss of acknowledgment against the crown of my hair. He guided us onto the low couch—slightly crooked from Ribbon crushing us into it before—pulling me into his lap with a gentleness that made my heart quake. I curled into him instinctively, my head resting on his shoulder, his arms wrapping around me like he’d been waiting all morning to do just that.
We stayed like that. Quiet and warm as our bodies camedown from the aftershocks of what we’d just shared. We were breathing together with his hand stroking across my back slowly, rhythmically. My palm rested over his heart, feeling its steady beat under my fingertips.
The workshop went soft around us—muted light, faint scent of cedar and metal along with Ribbon’s soft snores from just outside the door. My eyelids drooped, lulled by the gentle sounds around us.
“Are you tired?” he whispered, brushing his thumb along my temple.
“A little,” I admitted, sinking deeper into his chest.
He pressed a kiss against the top of my head. It wasn’t heated anymore or urgent. It wastender. It undid anything that had still been tied up tight inside me.
“Sleep,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
The bond hummed a soft lullaby through my chest as his arms tightened around me. Ribbon’s snores increased in intensity and frequency.
And just like that—I drifted off in Savla’s arms, peaceful for the first time in days and Iswore that right as I slipped under, I heard him whisper, “I love you.”
Chapter 41
Hanna
I’d imagined facing them again a thousand different ways.
Sometimes I dreamed of screaming at them and sometimes I imagined myself calm and unmoved. But I never pictured this—standing before the High Circle Court, surrounded by ancient stone arches carved with runes older than recorded witchcraft, while my mother, father, and ex-fiancé were shackled by glowing restraint spells that prevented them from casting even a spark.
The courtroom wasn’t like human courtrooms. No judges behind benches, no lawyers and no pretense.
Just the Circle was present. Seven witches seated around a platform, their robes shimmering in silver and deep blue, the air humming with latent power.
The stone beneath my feet pulsed faintly with protective enchantments. Savla stood behind me—silent, steady, a wall of dark presence and unspoken strength. The coven flanked mysides, a sea of black robes and fierce expressions.
My mother looked bored, becauseof courseshe did.She examined her nails as if awaiting a dinner reservation rather than magickal sentencing. My father stood stiff beside her, face neutral, hands clasped behind his back as if this were a board meeting he intended to dominate with logic and contracts.
And Corwin… Corwin was shaking.Not visibly to most—but I saw it in the twitch of his jaw, the sheen of sweat at his temples. The bonds restraining him flickered with his panicked surges of magick.
Grand Mistress Rowan’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “Hanna Greyleaf. Step forward.”
My pulse skipped, but I did. Rowan’s eyes were sharp and kind all at once.
“You stand as the primary victim of the glamor binding, the abduction, and the attempted forced union. Are you prepared to give testimony?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice stronger than I felt.
My parents scoffed in unison and my mother flicked her hair back.
“Honestly. Glamor binding is hardly—”
“Silence.” Rowan didn’t raise her voice.
