I can’t form words. The only thing I can think about is him moving inside of me. His pace quickens. He huffs in my ear, his moans growing louder and matching my own.
The wave crests, and every muscle in my body tightens around him, every sense focused on him pounding into me as I ride the wave of my orgasm. I arch my back and let out a gasp as it peaks and peaks and peaks. I dig my nails into his forearm, his hand still around my throat.
“Fuck,” he barks as he explodes inside of me.
I can’t breathe I’m on fire I’m in heaven I’m in love I’m floating I’m burning burning burning
“Shit,” he hisses. He pulls out of me, his seed dripping from me and spilling onto the floor. I ache to have him back inside of me.
I twist. The flames—my flames—are now licking at the ceiling. Asmo summons sand and begins to smother them. I shake my head, post-coital bliss now over as the realization that I could burn this place to the ground replaces it. I wrench my magic back to me and the flames die.
Asmo turns to me, his length still hard and glistening. My mouth dries and my mind turns hazy at the sight of him. “We should talk about this,” he says as he tosses me my clothes.
I nod. Yes, we should. We have so much to talk about—what this means, what happens next, what the hell we’re doing. First, I need to figure out what hellI’mdoing. Every instinct in my body is screaming at me to just be with him, but that one part of my brain is holding me back.
We get dressed and head back toward the residential wing. My mind races, my heart and my brain playing tug-of-war again.
“Your Highness!” someone calls behind me. I turn. Rain is racingdown the hallway, her black, wavy hair flowing behind her as she runs. She looks like a different version of herself now, such a contrast to the shell of herself we pulled from the dungeon. Her eyes are wide, frantic.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She comes to a stop before us, and her breathing is labored from the exertion. “The witches are attacking the citizens in the square.”
Horror drags its nails down my spine. How is Koa allowing this to happen?
“Where is everyone else?” I ask.
“Etta is preparing a group to portal there and fight. Having you both there would be helpful,” she says, then adds, “Please.”
“Take us there,” Asmo demands.
She leads us to the main training room, where a dozen hybrids and two towering Fae males are strapping all manners of weapons to their person: daggers, swords, and small axes. One female straps a bow and arrow to her back.
Etta is locked in conversation with a Fae male who looks like he might eat me for breakfast. She turns as the door thuds shut behind us. “Oh, great, Rain found you. Suit up,” she says, tossing me a dagger. I slow its path with my wind and snatch it from the air.
“What do you know?” Asmo asks Etta as he stalks toward the wall of weapons.
“One of our scouts returned from a patrol early. Apparently, a group of citizens thought it would be a good idea to chain themselves to the gallows in protest of the executions. The witches caught wind of it and decided to execute them there. Citizens and shopkeepers decided to fight back this time. It’s a bloodbath,” she answers, helping a yellow-eyed female secure a massive sword to her back.
Asmo grabs his belt of daggers and secures them around his waist. “How many witches?”
“Ten. Black-leather,” the yellow-eyed female answers. “Their pets are also on the loose.”
Great.
“Has anyone killed a witch before?” I ask as I glance skeptically around the room.
“That’s why we need you two,” Etta says. “You have to burn them.Fire is the only thing I know that works. Some of our hybrids can summon fire, but not with the range or intensity that I’ve seen you two demonstrate.”
My heart drops into my stomach as I process what she says. Asmo and I are going into a real battle. Because we are the only ones capable of defeating the witches. Ten of them.
Asmo must catch the expression on my face, because he grabs my hand and squeezes it once before letting it go. He stands tall and clears his throat, crossing his hands behind his back as he lifts his chin and puffs his chest out.
A leader.
I mimic him, trying to summon the kind of confidence he emanates. He’s had a lifetime of building it. I’ve had months.
“Listen up,” Asmo booms. “There are black-leather witches and the Cursed. Mae and I will keep our eyes and ears open, ready to assist you in any way we can. The best way to handle this will be if you all distract the witches long enough for us to sneak up behind them and torch them alive. But I’m open to any other ideas.”
