“God, I’m—” My back arched off the tree, allowing Grey to sink even deeper. I felt like I was being ripped apart.
“No god can save you from this type of damnation.”
A stinging pain exploded from my hip as his claws dug in deeper. “Each time we fuck, the closer you are to belonging to me. You might only be offering your body now, but you’ll eventually offer your soul as well.”
His thrusts became short and erratic.
“I want to feel you come all over my cock while I fill your sweet little cunt with my cum.” He gripped my hips tightly. “Can you come for me?”
His words pushed me over the edge. I tightened around his cock, dragging him with me.
The world around me was still fuzzy from the fireworks that exploded through my entire body. Grey’s cum dripped down my legs when he pulled out, and I went limp in his arms, exhausted and bloody from our little game.
“Such a good little witch.” Grey peppered kisses to my temple before sweeping me into his arms.
My eyes fluttered shut, too exhausted to keep them open any longer.
CHAPTER 29
LYRA
The clatter of plates made me flinch. I rubbed the pressure points on my temple and closed one eye and then the other, but nothing helped. My headache still persisted because the spirits wouldn’t shut up.
“Do you have any Advil?” I asked Emory as she wiped pancake batter off her hands onto the front of her apron and rummaged through her purse.
“Yeah, here.” She tossed me the bottle. “Headache?”
“Yeah,” I said, wincing from the fresh scratches on my back from last night as I caught the bottle. I popped two brown oval pills into my mouth and swallowed. The headache was bordering migraine territory, but I had more important things to worry about.
Sacrifices. Spirits. Demons. You name it, Twisted Spires had it. And I was wasting my night, working this stupid campaign event. The whole town had shown up to the pancake social.
Small towns gotta love them.
I rubbed my neck and shoulders trying to ease the tension.
“How many more pancakes do you think we need to make?” Emory huffed. “My hand is starting to cramp.”
“Quit your whining and stir, Emory,” Cal said, bringing back another empty plate.
“I’m convinced you’re eating them all yourself.” Emory laughed as she took a break from mixing the batter to stare at Cal.
“Real subtle.” I nudged her in the ribs. She took the hint and went back to mixing with a limp wrist.
Dried batter crusted on my forearms, pulling the little hairs each time I flipped a pancake on the griddle. And I had flipped at least a hundred at this point.
Cal quickly depleted the stack I’d spent the last fifteen minutes making. His bulky frame squeezed between the closely packed tables, serving pancakes to everyone.
“Are you okay?” Emory leaned over to ask, careful not to dip the ends of her hair into the bowl of batter.
“Yeah.” I kept my focus on the griddle, watching the pancakes as they slowly took on the texture of the moon, its surface dotted with craters before flipping it.
“You’ve been acting weird.” A hint of worry echoed in her tone. “You know I’m here for you. No matter what.”
Her words were like a punch to the gut. I’d kept so many secrets. I wouldn’t even know where to start if I wanted to tell her what was happening.
“I think we deserve a break,” Kenna said, pulling up a chair. She hadn’t worn a drop of makeup. Not that she needed any, but it was rare to see her with a bare face.
“I think people are finally slowing down,” Cal said, grabbing a plate of his own, stacking five large pancakes on top of one another, and drowning them in a pool of syrup. The rest of us followed Cal’s lead and helped ourselves to whatever was left.
