One of Secora’s legs is over my shoulder and the other is bent at my side. She wasn’t sure about the position, but she looks anything but uncertain now. Her eyes keep fluttering shut, and her mouth is tilted in a blissful, lazy smile. Every time I thrust into her, she moans and digs her fingers harder against my shoulders. She’s close to drawing blood, and I fuck her harder, hoping she will.
When she rocks her hips to meet mine, I almost lose the last of my self-control. It’s steadily disappeared since we woke up twenty minutes ago and her soft lips tickled my collarbone. I had grand plans to fuck her until her clan meeting, but now I’m clenching to keep from exploding inside her.
“One more, honey,” I say. “Give me one more.”
She lets out an incoherent string of curse words, her eyes closed and that smile still in place. She looks like an angel. A beautiful, deadly angel, so pure she’s painful to look at. And yet, I’m desperate for those dark eyes to be on mine.
“Look at me, Secora,” I say. My words are punctuated by the sharp slap of my hips against her thighs. When Secora does asI’ve asked, when those pretty eyes meet mine, I brush my thumb against her clit, rubbing in tight circles. “Come for me.”
“I can’t,” she whines, but she can. She’s close. We’ve only been having sex for a couple months, but I already know her tells as well as my own. The way her hips lose rhythm the closer she gets. The way her breaths turn into louder and louder moans. The way her cunt tightens over my cock, taking me deeper with each stroke.
“One more,” I say, and it sounds exactly as desperate as I feel. “You can do one more, can’t you?”
When her eyes start to roll back, I capture her mouth with mine, kissing her until she’s moaning too hard to kiss me back. Her entire body arches as she comes around my cock.
She hasn’t finished coming down when my orgasm rips through me. I grunt against her neck, fucking her harder and harder, until I’m collapsed against her, my cum dripping down the inside of her thigh.
Once we’re cleaned up and back in her bed, naked and sated, she sighs. “It’s almost time.”
I trail my palm over her curves, cupping between her legs. We cleaned up, and yet, she’s already ready for me. Soft and wet and warm, beaconing me to thrust inside her and never leave.
“For me to fuck you again?” I ask, teasing.
“We can tell them whatever you want,” she says, ignoring me. “And we don’t have to promise any sort of timeline.”
“I’m ready,” I tell her. “We’ll tell them today.”
She kisses my bare shoulder, and I tug her closer. It really is almost time to go, but I allow myself another minute of bliss, pretending she and I are the only people who exist.
Sebastian Vulcestill does not like me. If killing his greatest enemy—my own mama—doesn’t win his favor, I imagine nothing will. Even with Grace at his side, he sits rigid at the stone table, openly glaring at me. The others at the table no longer seem bothered. Amelia and Grace both greet me, and Beatrice pretends I don’t exist, which seems to be the greatest compliment she can offer.
“Sorry, the trolley was late,” Milas announces as he strides into the courtyard. There’s a severed ear in his shirt pocket, and I can only hope it’s the same one I’ve seen previously. For all I know, he gets a freshly severed body part every morning as part of some macabre routine.
My heart picks up as Milas takes his seat at the stone table. They’re all here now. Beatrice sits opposite Grace and Sebastian, tapping her sharp nails against the table. She, more than any of the others, looks ravenous. Not for Milas’s news, like I am. Like Secora is, and Sebastian too.
She’s desperate for the update Secora and I will give. The one we’ve kept putting off due to failed experiments. Today, finally, will be different.
Across from Milas, Amelia slouches against the ivy-covered stone wall. She uses a knife to clean underneath her nails. She looks bored, resigned, as if this meeting were any other.
I stare at Milas as he settles into the spot beside Amelia. My pulse strums faster and faster, until I’m certain it will give out.
“Well?” I demand.
If no one else is going to ask, I will. Ihaveto.
“The Gazette announced her official cause of death. Heart attack,” he says.
He leans forward, propping onto his elbows. He’s looking at me, rather than the others, and it makes my throat tight. I swallow roughly, determined not to cry for Mama. It feels wrong to mourn a death I caused, even if it wasn’t a death I wanted.
With his eyes still on me, Milas continues. “My sources have heard nothing different. No mention of a killer or even a morning visitor. It seems your friend cleaned up well.”
“He’s talented with spells,” I say. I’m not sure why. Perhaps to say something at all, to move this conversation from the topic of my mama and onto anything else.
“Yes, well, he’s prevented a war,” Milas says. He thumbs the ear in his pocket. “There are whispers of a new council leader, but nothing official. I imagine it will be another month before we hear.”
“And Elliot?” Secora asks. Her voice is raspy, strained. When I look at her, she’s absently touching the scar on her forehead, right above her left eyebrow. Mama had done far more than throw her that day in her office. She’d shattered her skull, and even with vampire blood and every healing spell I knew, I wasn’t sure she’d wake up.
I never would have forgiven myself.
