“Hey,” I mutter under my breath. “Arcanaeum? You got a pen and another copy of that contract?”
The book in front of me snaps shut, and three sheets of paper unfold atop the cover. I skim the first page, double-checking what she’s said about exclusivity, protection, and habitation, scribble out the ‘Sexual Conduct’ table, then add my own line at the top.
‘Baby girl, my only kink is eating you out until your cum is dripping down my chin, and my only limit is the number of times I can satisfy us both before one of us passes out.’
I skim the termination conditions, glancing back at Leo as I do so. He’s still reading—probably dreaming up extra clauses and paying closer attention to the list on page two than I did. Not that it matters. Being into ropes and chains doesn’t guarantee our girl will wake up in the morning without regrets.
So, with a swagger I hope Kyrith won’t crush beneath her heel, I sign the final page and hand the whole thing to her with a casual flourish on her return.
Her huge eyes widen at the first line, then narrow again as she collapses to perch on the edge of her seat, pinning me to the spot with a glare. I lean back, raising one brow.
The ball is in her court.
Kyrith wants to make everything neat and tidy with this contract, but she’s forgetting something.
Sex, romance, and life are messy by nature. Consent isn’t aonetime thing to be ticked off a list. It’s an ongoing process. So, while her piece of paper might help her guess at what she can expect and whether she’ll have chemistry with us, it can’t guarantee that she won’t change her mind.
That’s what communication is for.
I’m so caught up in thoughts of us that I almost miss the moment she reaches my little addendum, and heat suffuses her expression.
“Any time, baby girl,” I promise. “I don’t care if the others sign it or not. You’ve missed out, and I’m happy to help you rectify that.”
A single tangerine rose appears in my lap, identical to the ones outside. I smirk and hand it to her. Her cheeks flush all over again.
I think the Arcanaeum might be just as invested in our Librarian’s sex life as I am.
Nineteen
Kyrith
Two arcanists linger when the others leave for the evening. I sigh, trying to decide whether to tackle the blond prince pretending to read the spines of the books to my left or the dark giant leaning against a pillar around the corner with his arms crossed.
Pierce, of course, takes the decision out of my hands.
“I thought you’d at least thank me. It wasn’t easy disguising the magical signature of that pendant.”
My spine stiffens at his temerity. “You can have only two motivations for what you showed me,” I reply. “One would be to blackmail or frighten me, in which case, you’ve failed. The other would be to warn me, but I’ll admit, I’m at a loss as to why. House Carlton has made no secret of its contempt for both my office and the Arcanaeum in recent years.”
Pierce studies me but doesn’t move any closer. “Mathias is alive. Is that not more concerning to you than my motives?”
“Mathias is a lich,” I correct. “He is beyond life or death, and his plans are undoubtedly already in motion. However,your motivations will determine whether you’re my enemy or my ally. A crucial distinction, would you not say?”
He tips his head in acknowledgement. “Are you willing to meet with my grandfather now?”
I tug at my sleeve as I consider it. My memories of Benny as a student are few, and his recent actions—giving me a book which allowed me to heal Jasper and helping Pierce crack me—give me no clue as to where he stands either. I wanted to meet with him, but am I being backed into a corner of Pierce’s making?
Only one way to find out. “Yes. At his earliest convenience.”
Pierce doesn’t gloat about having gotten his way, and I’m grateful. My shoulders drop several inches as he nods and knocks on the nearest door, murmuring his destination quietly enough that I don’t hear where he’s going. The empty hall he steps into offers few clues either.
Is there anything as frustrating as being in the dark when the stakes are so high? If this meeting with Benny provides more questions than answers—no. It can’t. I’ll take steps to ensure that doesn’t happen.
I turn and slam face first into Dakari’s chest with a small oof that makes him snort.
“He’s giving you a headache,” the larger man grumbles, his hands automatically falling to my shoulders.
If the way his hands have scrambled my ability to think is any indication, I am becoming ridiculously weak to casual touch. Without meaning to, I lean into him, pressing us together as my eyes flutter shut.
