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While I’d worried sharing her with Atticus would prove awkward and weird—hell, that any decade I might finally get a chance to touch a naked woman could go horribly sideways with my inexperience—him plotting and directing us like pawns on his imaginary game board had taken the pressure away and left only pleasure.
Until now when her spine beams brighter than the biggest television screens in her realm.
“What is it?” she mumbles in a post-orgasm haze that has my chest puffing with pride because I did that.
“Magic,” Atticus says with the same awestruck tone as he used earlier. “Mating magic.”
My breath catches. If he’s right, if we’re her mates…
As soon as hope fills me, causing my heart to pound with something more than passion and pure amazement, suspicion creeps in. She might be his mate. Not mine. We’d both brought her to climax, and magic is a funny thing. It could rise for no other reason than the Bridge recognizing its new queen before the trials begin.
“How do you know?” I ask.
“How could you doubt,” my brother answers in a question that’s not a question.
Rosemarie reaches to touch her spine. “I don’t feel any differently. Other than the…you know…orgasms.” She ducks her head as if I can’t still taste her on my lips, and she stretches her fingers, feeling along her back for the enchantment as though it’s tangible. Turning a searching gaze my direction, the earlier daze of desire clears into a much edgier emotion—fear.
If I’m confused, she must be completely baffled. I shove my feelings aside, concentrating on hers and not letting myself think on how I know she’s scared. Sure, I can read her body language from her wide eyes to the trembling in her probing fingers, but this is more.
It’s a knowing.
“Come here, love.” I pull her to me, folding her small hands in one of mine. “You’ve mastered two monsters who would pray to your sweet pussy, and you’re about to conquer a realm as its true queen. You’re a goddess. Beholding a simple miracle should be nothing for you.”
“Stop.” She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she holds me closer. “I’m just me.”
“You’re a divinity,” Atticus says, but he sweeps a hand over her cheek that speaks of tenderness instead of worship. Twisting his hair into a knot, he pulls on clothes. “I’ll go down to ask Rona to prepare a meal for us.”
“And to consult his books,” I whisper loud enough that he can hear.
Rosemarie sweeps a hand toward the paperbacks with the steamy scenes. I’m wondering if I should maybe take up reading when she asks, “If it’s more from his romances, then can he share?”
Atticus shoots a sly grin her way that almost makes me jealous when she blushes. Almost. “I’ll read the sexy parts to you later,” he promises. “But for now, I’ll check to see if there’s any record of runes lighting the way yours have. I’ll ask Rona too if you don’t mind.”
Rosemarie nods against my chest. “I probably should tell her I’m sorry for earlier. After what happened outside and with the translator gone, I couldn’t understand her, and I?—”
He presses a quick kiss to her lips, not seeming to care that she’s in my arms. “Rona put up with us for years. You’d have to work much harder to offend her than anything Jace has done.”
“Hey,” I rumble, but he’s right. I’d destroyed the tower a few times in our early years while learning to fight, and Rona had always cleaned up my messes.
“Shall we eat here or in the great hall?” Atticus asks Rosemarie. “She’ll want to know.”
Rosemarie glances at me. “Your choice,” I tell her. “Most things other than your safety will be your choice, love. It’s time you realize that.”
“Downstairs, then.” She tugs at the sheet pinned beneath my wings. “But I don’t have anything to wear. Not after I ruined the outfit the Spidress gave me.”
“Grab one of my shirts,” I offer, wanting her in my clothes.
Atticus opens the door. “Won’t be necessary.” He stoops to pick up a bundle and brings it inside. “Looks like Rona left you a change of clothes, and the Spidress will bring you more tomorrow.”
“How do you know it was Rona?” she asks, reaching for the colorful fabrics.
“Darok our orc friend has many talents,” Atticus says, “but guessing your size better not be one of them.”
He leaves with Rosemarie still staring after him. “Is Atticus always so intense? Or is it just with me?”
“My brother has had a lot of struggles heaped on him.” I don’t know why I feel the need to defend him, but I do. “It’s why he’s so serious.”
Rosemarie tangles her fingers in my hair, sliding her touch along my braid. “You’ve just as much to worry about.”
