It sent me over the edge. My orgasm rocketed through my cock like a teenager, and I spilled in my pants, completely rung out and spent.
Despite this, I kept licking her. I swallowed her cum and her sweat, and when she could handle no more, she pushed my head away and opened her legs so I could lower her trapped legs to my back. The most depraved part of me wanted to yank my jeans down, pull out my rapidly deflating cock, and spear her with it to see how narrow she could make my refractory period.
But a quick movement by the door caught my attention, and when I glanced up, I saw Atlas standing in the hallway, his cheeks flushed, his eyes focused on us, his lips wet and parted. He had a beer in one hand and the other firmly wrapped around the bulge in his jeans, grabbing the tip seemingly to alleviate the pressure.
The sight smacked me back to reality, one where we shared this house with him, one where we were preparing for a “blood-joining” ritual tomorrow, one where the tension between Marta and him was almost as tangible as it was between him and me. He had every right to storm in here and deck me, or maybe explode in a rage of jealousy fury.
Instead, he canted his hips, adjusted his cock, turned, and walked away.
“Fuck,” I murmured, disentangling myself from the trap of Marta’s legs and jeans. I ran my hands through my hair and started to go after him, but Marta grabbed my arm to stop me.
“Hey,” she said.
I paused to look at her while she pulled her pants up, fixed her hair, and smiled. Then she pressed up onto her toes and kissed me, melting the panicked part of my soul that had thought to react first and respond second. I leaned into the touch, and when she broke away, she nodded back toward the supplies.
“Let’s finish this, okay? Then we’ll explain.”
Explain what, I didn’t know. It had all happened so fast, too fast for me to understand where it went wrong or why it happened in the first place. Yes, Marta was attractive, and yes, I had feelings for her that were complicated and difficult to put into words. I felt the same way about the bond with her as I did with Atlas. I didn’t like it when it happened, but now, its absence ached like a void in my chest.
Together, we were unique and complete. And now…now I didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with me, but I needed to fix it.
At dinner that night, Atlas didn’t say anything about what he saw, just carried on like nothing had happened. I made food, and we sat at the breakfast table to eat the same way we’d done in the weeks prior.
“So everything’s ready?” Atlas asked, digging into his chicken parmesan.
Marta nodded. “I plan on cleansing the space tonight and praying to the ancestors for their blessing. We’ll need to bathe tomorrow before the ritual.” She went through the steps, including the specific oils we would need to use and the amount of time we would have to spend in the water for it to take effect. Cleansing the body would ensure we didn’t accidentally invite something wicked to come this way. “The wards around the estate should protect us, but I’ll cast protection spells and anoint us all in protective ointments before we go.”
“And what do we expect to happen?” Atlas asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “Once the ritual starts?”
She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Some of the texts describe a trancelike, almost euphoric state of consciousness. Blood magic is powerful, but almost always overwhelming. I don’t expect it to be more cumbersome than our original binding, but…again, that was a full coven. This is just us.”
“Have you done blood magic before?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as clinical as possible. “On your own?”
“Not like this,” she said. “But blood creates sacrifice, and sacrifice is always an energy exchange.”
Atlas shifted his weight, and I straightened my shoulders, meeting my brother’s gaze for half a second before he quickly looked away.
“I don’t think it will alter our consciousness to the point where we don’t know what’s going on,” Marta said. “But there could be some after effects. Euphoria. Giddiness. A magical rush. I’ll act as the connection point between the three of us.”
“And you’re used to that, huh?” Atlas murmured under his breath, barely audible, but both Marta and I picked up on it.
I sighed, anticipating the argument between them, and she grabbed Atlas’s wrist to stop him from biting into another piece of food.
“If you’ve got something to say, out with it.” She tightened her features, perhaps preparing for the attack.
I readied myself for the fight. He’d seen what we’d done. He’d watched us from the doorway and said nothing. He didn’t stop it. He didn’t even condemn us after it happened.
Atlas glared at Marta and ran his tongue over his teeth before glancing at me.
“Did she tell you about the training room?” he asked.
I raised my eyebrows, a sinking realization hitting me in the gut.
I wasn’t first.
Of course, I wasn’t first. Why would she pick me over him? Why would I think I’d ever come before Atlas? I was nothing compared to him.
“What?”
