“Ridiculous.”
Willan laughs, his head dropping back and his ponytail swinging. He turns to face me, fiddling with one of my candles.
“Well, that was informative.” Even with his laughter there is still that authoritative edge to his voice that makes my heart thump extra hard.
“Yeah, well. It’s the best word for him. He’s this mega rich vamp with absolutely no connection to reality. The sweetest guy, but just delusional in the best way. And generous. And kind. He lives in Hedrana usually, but when I met him he was travellingthrough the Overlands. I’d hooked up with some beings there, was partying too much and just continuing all the same fucking shit that fucked me over before. He found me passed out on the beach one night after drinking and partying all day. My ‘friends’ had ditched me. He insisted on taking care of me while I sobered up. We talked all night. It was wild, he had this canopied area reserved on a private part of the beach attached to his villa. I’d never seen anything like it. I ended up spending the day sleeping it off in the villa and then kind of never left. We travelled around together, right around the world really.”
“He has this troupe of ‘wayward birds’ as he calls them, beings he picks up along the way. Some stay for longer than others. I stayed with him for a little under four years, then the year after I turned. He never asks for anything; in fact, he’s too generous. He’s always sending money and shit. The only deal is putting effort into doing better, you know? You can’t keep up the old habits.”
“Did—were—” Willan stops and starts, forcibly closing his mouth. “Wereyousleepingwithhim?” It comes out in all one word and I can’t help but laugh.
“No. Definitely not. That’s not part of the deal. He does usually have a companion or two, but his generosity doesn’t require sleeping with him or anyone elseorturning.”
“So why did you?” There are about sixteen-hundred layers of meaning to his question that I don’t have the brain capacity to answer with how hard I still am for him. Somehow, talking to him only makes memorehorny for him.
“Seemed like the thing to do at the time. It felt right.”
Willan chews on his lip, deep in thought at my answer. Worried that despite my own thrumming need, this night is getting rapidly off track, I decide to get it back on the rails.
“Know what else feels like the thing to do?”
My question pulls Willan out of whatever maze his brain just delved into. “What’s that?”
“A shower. I’m all disgusting from work and don’t want to sit down like this.”
The worry disappears from his face, melting into white hot lust. His eyes drag over me, making my knees tremble.
“Ah, yeah. You should?—”
“Wanna join me?” I ask before he can finish his sentence.
His eyes flare and I can feel the shimmer of his need in the air.
“Fuck yes. Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Well, then. Let’s go.”
WILLAN
With a wicked gleamin his eye and a teasing sway in his hips, Nikolo leads me to the bathroom. Hypnotised by the way the skirt of his toga bounces with the movement of his ass, flashing me the tattoos dancing high on his thighs, my brain can only manage one single thought.
I’m finally going to see Nikolo naked.
I’ve seen parts of him. Between his penchant for tiny, cut away clothes and our fooling around, I’ve seen all the pieces of him. But never as a whole. Never in the light. Like a secret completely revealed to me.
Nikolo grips my hand so tightly my fingertips begin to tingle. I can barely register it, though, with the way my whole body is buzzing. The short walk down the hallway feels exactly like the ball of magic Nikolo held in his hand—wild, chaotic and full of barely restrained potential.
The moment the door shuts, trapping us in the bathroom together, that restraint snaps. Using his grip on my hand as leverage, I swing him around to trap him against the door. My mouth lands on his and Nikolo melts, going so completely boneless I have to pin him in place with my body. When my tongue strokes against his, savouring the sweet coppery taste ofhim, he whimpers, managing to find the strength to raise his arms and lock his fingers on the nape of my neck to pull me even closer. I thread my leg between his, slotting us together. Even with what feels like an impossible forcefield of fabric between us I can feel how hard he is against my hip.
Meeting his needy thrusts against the thigh I’ve threaded between his legs, I grind harder and harder, desperate to feel the hard length of him through our clothing. There are too many damned clothes. Too much separating me from him.
Frustration coils through me. I bury my hand in his hair and tug—hard enough to make his eyes flare and his swollen lips to part in shock—and dive back in to maul the expanse of neck I’ve exposed until I reach the edge of his toga.
“Need. Naked.” I manage to grunt out, tugging at the offending material.
With a loud groan, I feel Nikolo gather his strength before he pushes me away from him. I let him push me away, staggering backwards.
Splayed against the door, I’m mesmerised by the sight of him. Fangs sharp and dangerous, Nikolo’s tongue darts out to lick at his slick, swollen lips and I want to fall to my knees and worship at the altar of him. His hands shake as he fumbles at his clothes.
