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He looked at the knife, silent for so long that my stomach got tangled up again and my eyes burned.
"This is yours," he said after a second that felt like eternity. "You had it in Iarlon."
"It's yours now." I dared to take a step forward; his shadows reached for me again, brushing my legs, creeping up to wrap around my thigh. "A reminder that you're not helpless, you're not a victim. And it kinda reminds me of that knife you had in Szivah, when you cut off that letch's balls."
He laughed abruptly, seeming surprised at the sound. "I'd forgotten that."
"I recall it fondly. It turns me on."
His expression warmed, his eyes rising to me. I yelped in surprise when his shadows wrenched me close, pressing me against his body as his arms came around me, knife angled away.
"I know it does. I remember how you rewarded me afterward."
I groaned, dropping my head onto his shoulder as heat flashed through me. He'd sat at the bottom of the bed, as close as he could get, his hand wrapped around his hard cock as he stared at the place my fingers plunged into my pussy, so wet I'd soaked the sheets under me. When he came it had splashed my skin, as close to touch as we ever got. It was hot as fuck.
"I came like … six times that night," I muttered. "I nearly passed out."
When I lifted my head, there was a very self-satisfied look on Wane's face, and I swallowed, my body hotter still.
He kissed me suddenly, hot and fast, his hand moulding to my cheek while his arm locked around me, keeping me trapped for him to kiss thoroughly senseless. The brush of the knife's hilt at my back only heightened everything. He only dragged his lips away when I was gasping, every part of me scalded, quivering, throbbing.
"I'm not mad about what you saw. I don't like that you witnessed it, but you already knew it had happened. Tell me if you need to talk about what you saw, okay?"
I nodded, panting, slowly piecing my wits back together. "Are they—still in that place?"
"I don't know." He kissed my cheek and stepped back, reaching for his glass to refill it. I caught his hand and wrapped it around his other, both curled around the knife's hilt. He sighed, but his gaze was warm, understanding my silent plea.
We both jumped when Kai exploded into the room, his eyes finding me like a heat-seeking missile. "Your five minutes are up."
I suspected he'd given us longer, but I didn't point that out. "We're coming," I said, and linked my arm with Wane's, tugging him through the living room like the bossy bitch I was.
He dropped another kiss on the top of my head as we walked, and I knew I was forgiven.
CHAPTER 11
WYNVAIL
It had to be here somewhere. I pushed another dusty wooden box aside on the high shelf and squinted, balancing precariously on a chair I stole from the dining room. I already had a smear of dust on the right leg of my grey sweatpants, and I was pissed about it.
"Come on, you elusive bastard," I muttered, propping the lid on the next box and shoving it away when it didn't contain the glass bottle I was looking for.
I knew it was in this room; I distinctly remembered putting it safely in a box when I purchased it. But it had been decades since, and the room was a mess of clutter.
This whole room was my secret weapon, my true armoury, but anyone would take one look at it and see a hoarder's paradise. Shelves overflowed magical objects, stretching all the way from floor to ceiling; cabinets full of delicate porcelain, ancient iron, and rarer materials strained at the glass doors; potion bottles fought for space on a worktable against the back wall; and the entire left wall was full of jars full of plants and herbs that promised to empower their user with a thousand different traits and strengths. Some of them glowed, others appeared dull and ordinary; others still swallowed all the light inside their bottles until the glass was as black as a void.
It was my favourite room, and no one had ever known about it. It really shouldn't have surprised me when the door creaked and Haley propped herself against the door frame, surveying the tall-ceilinged space. She was wearing someone's shirt; three sizes too big for her, it hit mid-thigh but left the rest of her curvy legs bare. She was barefoot with her long pink hair falling loose over her shoulders, all tanned, inked skin, the shirt a temptingly thin barrier. Fuck.
She let out a low whistle. "Starting an antiques business?"
"No," I muttered, grabbing the next box and propping the lid, "and the mere thought of selling any of this makes me want to kill someone."
"So it's your hoard," she mused. "Like a surly dragon."
"Like a made thing with a master who's invincible," I corrected, scanning the set of ancient spoons in the box before replacing the lid and reaching for the next one. "This is my life's work, although I've made a piss poor job of adding to it lately. The pin I stole from you was stolen from me before I could hide it here."
"That's ironic," she drawled.
"Come inside and shut the door," I instructed, spearing her with a commanding look. "No one else can know about this place, only us."
