“Can I touch you?” Ramona asked, moving to lie beside Zara, kissing her once more.
“I think I might combust if you don’t,” Zara said with a laugh against her mouth.
Ramona took a deep breath, her eyes focused on Zara’s face as she slid her hand between Zara’s thighs.
Zara was burning. Between her legs, she was a wet, scorching inferno. Ramona watched Zara’s brows furrow in pleasure as she circled her clit.
“More,” Zara breathed.
Ramona pushed two fingers inside, and the heat was so intense it was almost painful, a delicious, searing tightness. Zara buckled, her internal muscles clenching around Ramona’s fingers like a vise.
“You’re so hot,” Ramona whispered, leaning down to bite the sensitive skin of Zara’s shoulder. “You feel so good.”
Zara gasped, her shadow-tail curling around Ramona’s calf like it was holding her in place.
“You want it?” Ramona teased, mimicking Zara’s earlier confidence, her fingers driving into the demon’s heat with a steady, punishing rhythm.
Zara was a symphony of desperate sounds, her usual composure shattered into a thousand pieces. She was writhing, her hips chasing Ramona’s hand with a ravenous hunger. Ramona didn’t let up. She stayed focused, her thumb rubbing the searing point of Zara’s clitoris until the demon finally exploded.
It was a violent, beautiful surrender. Zara’s body clenched and spasmed around Ramona’s fingers, a long, low cry wrenched from deep within her chest. Her tail went rigid, the spade point glowing a faint, ethereal violet before finally going limp.
Ramona didn’t pull away. She stayed there, her fingers deep inside the pulsing, wet heat of the demon, feeling the tremors gradually subside into a heavy, rhythmic thrum.
“Zara,” Ramona whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to her mouth. “You’re incredible.”
Zara didn’t answer with words. She just reached, her hand finding Ramona’s neck and pulling her in, her fingers tangling inRamona’s hair as they shared a slow, deep kiss that tasted of salt, magic, and something that felt dangerously intimate.
Ramona felt the weight of Zara’s gaze as they pulled apart, the demon’s eyes now gentle and clouded with a strange softness.
Ramona smiled, her hand tracing the curve of Zara’s jaw. “Maybe we should fail more rituals.”
Zara laughed — a real, genuine laugh that echoed in the quiet room. “I think I could be persuaded.”
Ramona pressed up onto her elbow. “Can I do that again?”
Zara grinned, reaching to pull Ramona on top of her. “I do believe it’smyturn, Mortal. Now, grab onto this headboard so I can taste you again.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The early morninglight was just starting to creep through the gap in the Bluebell Suite’s aggressively floral curtains when Ramona woke. Gray and thin, the kind of pre-dawn light that made everything look washed out and unreal.
She was warm. Unreasonably warm.
Zara was still asleep beside her, one arm draped across Ramona’s waist, her face pressed into the pillow. Her hair was a complete disaster, which Ramona found unexpectedly satisfying, given how precisely styled it usually was. The shadow-tail was gone, dissolved back into whatever ethereal plane it lived in when Zara wasn’t actively falling apart.
How gorgeous and strange and perfect this creature was. She’d never been so taken care of in bed before. Her past lovers, Simone and even before, had been fun, but something about Zara felt different. Deeper, like Zara knew exactly what she needed even before she did. Could that have been an effect of the tether?
Ramona watched the demon for a moment, then carefully extracted herself from the tangle of limbs and sheets. The cold air hit her skin immediately, making her shiver. She grabbedZara’s discarded shirt from the floor — still warm, because of course it was — and pulled it over her head while making her way to the bathroom.
She paused at the window on her way back to bed. The view was less romantic than she’d expected. The parking lot. A dumpster. A family of raccoons engaged in what looked like a territorial dispute near the trash bins. No fox, though. She didn’t know why the realization felt disappointing — they were two hours outside of Fernwick. How in the world would the fox be able to travel that far and find her?
“Ramona.”
She turned. Zara was awake, propped up on one elbow, watching her with an expression that was softer than usual. Sleep rumpled. Human-looking, almost.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Ramona said.
“You didn’t.” Zara sat up, the duvet pooling around her waist. She didn’t bother covering herself, which was… distracting, to say the least. “Can’t sleep?”
