“Do not fret, Kostya”—I’m fine with Sofiya’s nickname for him now—“the pile of dirt isn’t reindeer droppings.” Sofiya pulls a treat from her evening bag and holds it out to Mr. Jingles, who munches on it as though he hadn’t just eaten an hour ago. At the rate she’s feeding him, he won’t be able to fly soon.
I just start to contain my mirth when Ilya quips that his aunt has given new meaning to the threat of “eat dirt.”
I giggle again. I’m still skimming my lashes of tears when Konstantin and I reach the esplanade.
He sweeps my cheeks with his thumbs.Have I ever mentioned how much I love the sound of your laughter?
A boon, considering how often you’re subjected to it.
Blessed with it.
He bends low and fits his mouth over mine.
As flurries swirl around us, melting against my flushed cheeks, I murmur,I can’t wait for tomorrow.
And I can’t wait for the rest of our lives, Little Witch.
I don’t sleepthat night, my mind abuzz with excitement.
Today is the day we journey to Shabbe for the first leg of our nuptials—the blood-bind. The ceremony that will give Konstantin access to my blood-magic. Although I realize that spellcasting won’t make him impervious to iron and that he can already do tremendous things with his air-magic, I’m glad to provide his bow with one extra string.
Unlike Ilya, I don’t believe that a bow with too many strings is only useful to make music. I suspect he keeps the debate alive only because it ruffles my feathers and spurs me to challenge him in the training room. Ilya loves play-fighting and ruffling feathers.
Yuri, who was brought to the castle to convalesce, explained that it’s Ilya’s way of showing his affection. Although the governor had finally awakened, a part of me thinks he would’ve preferred not to.
He’s not coming today, too broken in heart and spirit to celebrate nuptials. Neither are Ilya and Aodhan, even thoughthe reason they’re staying behind is to ensure the safety of Glace while Konstantin is away.
As I lay in one of our two beds—Konstantin and I have kept separate rooms, but weneversleep apart—I watch snow collect on the skylight that I forgot to shield behind a curtain when I sunk into bed and Konstantin sunk into me.
Like the flakes above, Bisnonno’s words from many years ago gather behind my temples: “My Little Island, it’s a grave misconception to believe that the end of a war is concurrent with the beginning of peace. A chasm exists between the conclusion of one and the advent of the other. One filled by a succession of battles—some of body, some of mind. It isthosevictories that bridge the chasm, one stone at a time.”
I’d liked the imagery but hadn’t truly grasped its meaning until now.
Too restless to remain horizontal, I inch away from the male spooning my backside. I think I’ve succeeded not to wake him when his fingers spread on my stomach and drag me back into the warm crook of his body.
You should try to sleep some more,I murmur into the bond.
He so rarely has a full night’s rest these days.
His fingers travel south, cupping my sex, and then begin to stroke. Apparently, he has other ideas than restorative slumber. I go soft against him while he grows hard against me.
When he dips a finger inside of me, I move against his thickening erection. My thighs slicken with my anticipation while my ass dampens with his. Without turning around, I reach for him, then guide him into my slit. His chest rumbles as he sheathes himself in deep.
Skies, I love that sound. Love it almost as hard as the feel of our bodies fusing. Of our hearts syncing. Of our souls melding.
The arm that he propped under my neck in sleep, curls, and he caresses my breasts, all the while stroking my tingling bud and pumping his hips.
What else do you love?He kisses my neck.
You. Everything about—I swallow as heat gathers low in my belly—you.
I cry out as my orgasm rockets through me with the force of a thousand hailstones.
I burn, blaze, glitter. The embers of my climax bob through my bloodstream like votive candles as he continues to caress…to rock.
Soon, their wicks crackle and flare anew, their fire so bright it blanks my vision and sends me spiraling right back into that place made of blazing ice, wild wind, and fated love.
59
