“What do you think, boys?” I whisper playfully. “Was this his favorite?”
The shadows wiggle with delight, nestling closer to me.
How the hell can shadows be this cute?
When I turn around to say something snarky, I freeze. Ezra is already behind me. His breath ghosts over my throat, fingers digging into my hips. I feel his mouth curl into a devious grinagainst my skin, daring me to lose the last shred of restraint I’ve got left.
Ezra’s lips graze my neck while he speaks. Each kiss scorching my skin, threatening to burn me alive.
“Underborne dark romance is very … primal. I think you’ll enjoy them.”
I mean, just the thought of Ezra coming here, stroking his thick, tattooed cock while buried in a smutty novel sends a wave of hot chills through my slutty body.
And that self-satisfied smirk? It tells me my fantasy might just be a reality.
Jesus Christ, that’s so hot.
Fuck this delayed gratification bullshit. He’s getting off on watching me squirm.
But instead of giving him the satisfaction, I gently push him away and try not to whimper when he lets me.
He won’t give me anything until we’ve made progress with our research, and we both know it.
He chuckles, fully aware of the effect he has on me.
My body’s already scheming, and my mind might as well be waving a pennant that says, “Listen to your body, babe.” Images of my knees on his shoulders, my hands in his hair, riding his face until I’m sobbing and the shadows beg for mercy flash in front of my eyes.
I press my thighs together, which is fucking pointless.
My brain’s a fried circuit board, and Ezra’s just standing there looking like the monster under every good girl’s bed.
I need a distraction. A bucket of ice. Divine intervention. Anything to stop thinking about riding his face.
And then I sigh, fully surrendering to his little game. “Fine. Where do we start?”
Aurora
We’ve been digging through research for hours. Between Ezra’s books, Iain’s notes, and tomes of ancient folklore and fairytales, it’s all starting to blur together. Half the stories contradict each other. Some are outright myths. And none of them tell me what I actually need to know.
Most of what we find centers on the various powers of the Daughters. We’re considered queens among the underborne, which is hilarious because Ezra and Iain implied that almost none of them believe the Daughters are even real.
I’m just another in a long line of women given a little spark of Hell’s magic that’s supposed to awaken when I fuck the ancient shadow monster currently pretending not to stare at me when he’s supposed to be doing research.
His shadows are a dead giveaway that he’s not working.
One’s curled loosely around my wrist, lightly pulsing any time Ezra looks at me. Another drapes over my shoulder like aninky, undulating shawl. A third slinks across the floor, curling possessively around my foot.
These little guys are growing on me.
They’re like horrifying eldritch puppies that live to please.
I really need to figure out a name for them … preferably one that will drive Ezra crazy.
From what we gather, all Daughters can call on and manipulate hellfire, just like Louie. Apparently, it’s standard-issue magic for any child of Hell.
Another shared ability is the power to shift into some kind of goddess-like form engulfed in flames, small horns or antlers sprouting from their head, and a twisting crown of sweet briar.
The rest is a complete toss-up. Some could speak to the dead, which explains my mom’s unsettling little quirk. Others had visions. Some built golems from hellfire. A few whispered to animals, controlled the weather, or bullied plants into behaving.
