“No,” I bit out. “Now can you please get on with your fucking so I can enjoy my evening?”
Confusion flickered across his face, but then he shrugged it off and rose. “As you wish, my love.”
I made a rude gesture while I reached for another roll, dismissing him. Bastian lingered for a few seconds before swaggering off towards the stairs. Elizabeth passed him what looked like a bottle of whiskey before making her way to me.
“Here you go, dear.” She set a second bowl of stew and a wine bottle in front of me. “Oh, and we got some new books in a few weeks ago. I seem to remember you reading last time. Feel free to take whatever you like back up to your room. It’s the last door on the right when you get up the stairs. Only one with a private washroom.” Her eyes flicked to the ceiling. “I suspect the communal one will be busy for some time.”
“I never say this, but I think I love you.” I grinned.
Elizabeth cracked a smile. “Away you go. Things tend to get rowdy around here once everyone makes it back inside.”
Not needing to be told twice. I got up, tucking the bottle of wine under my arm and grabbing the stew. I made a beeline for the bookcase and quickly scanned the titles. Poetry. Collections of letters. Techniques for drying animal hides. More poetry. Oh! I snatched a plain, leather-bound book and hightailed it upstairs.
Ten minutes later, I’d made use of the wonderfully hot shower in the washroom and wore a loose-fitting shirt that I’d grabbed from the shelf. I’d wolfed down the stew before getting clean, so now I could enjoy my book and wine in bed.
Perfect.
I slid in between the worn but clean sheets and flipped the book open. My eyes immediately went to the name scribbled on the bottom of the first page. Samara Harker. I grinned.
All first-year students at Drudonia were assigned translation duties. It was a way for us to practice while we learned, but the scholars didn’t want to risk us mistranslating important texts while we were still fine-tuning our skills, so they had us practice on a genre they deemed unimportant. Samara lovingly referred to it as “smut.”
When the Fae hadn’t been writing poetry or transcribing their notes, they’d loved to tell grand and angsty love stories, and some of those love stories . . . got rather explicit.
Naturally, Samara had become obsessed with them, and even beyond her first year, spent time translating stories during her free time. Not only was she quick, but I was convinced she occasionally took liberties and made the stories even angstier.
This would be a perfect way to forget about how fucked up my life was for a few hours.
I reached for the bottle, took a long drink of the tart, fruity wine and then settled in. Several chapters later, just when things were starting to get really juicy, I became faintly aware of a door opening and closing next to mine . . . followed by the unmistakable sound of someone moaning.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” Bastian’s unmistakable voice filtered through the wall.
I bolted straight up, nearly knocking the wine over, and scrambled off the bed to the door, where a silencing glyph had been carved in. A small bowl of shiny sapphire gems rested on the dresser, and I plucked one from it. My fingers hovered over the indent in the center of the glyph. These glyphs had been modified so they would automatically activate once a gem was inserted, but they didn’t last long, which was why I hadn’t used it when I’d first gotten to the room. It was rude to be wasteful and use the glyphs for no reason.
My bed was directly against a shared wall.
A throaty moan practically vibrated through the walls, and I pressed my thighs together. Thanks to that damn book, lust had already been riding me and I’d been minutes from slipping my hand between my legs.
“More,” Asad’s deep voice commanded.
Something, I assumed their bed, slammed against the wall.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathed out, my hand still hovering over the glyph. The pale glow of the Fae lanterns reflected off the sapphire as I gripped it between my fingers and my other hand clenched the thin fabric of my shirt. “Activate the fucking glyph, Rynn,” I hissed at myself.
Róise let out a scream, and the bed slammed harder.
“That’s it,” Bastian crooned. “Be a good girl and come on my cock.”
My breathing quickened. I shouldn’t be listening to this, and I absolutely shouldn’t be getting turned on by it.
“Open up that pretty mouth for me.” Asad chuckled.
I didn’t know if he was talking to Bastian or Róise, and I didn’t really care. Just thinking about either of them swallowing down Asad’s hard length had me rubbing my thighs together in a desperate need to relieve the dull ache between them.
Fuck it.
The sapphire gem clinked in the bowl as I dropped it on my way back to the bed. I didn’t know if Bastian knew I was in our room, but he could have activated the silencing glyph in Asad and Róise’s room. Either they’d all forgotten, or the three of them liked knowing others could hear them.
Based on what I knew of Bastian and my brief interaction with the other two, my money was on the latter.
