So far, West is the only one experiencing actual headaches, but the other effects are common to all who’ve handled it, starting with the first moment Drae plucked it off Lennon Forsythe’s shelf.
What I’m hoping to determine now is whether those same observable behaviors—or any others, for that matter—occur at random, when no one’s causing any external physical stimulus.
Queuing up the camera feed on my tablet, I settle into a chair by the crackling fire, prop my feet up on the ottoman, and hit the play button on the recording from last night.
I watch for a few minutes, then kick up the playback speed, confirming my initial assumptions—no observable visual or aural phenomenon.
But a couple of hours into the recording, things finally start to get interesting.
West shows up.
After another failed attempt to open the Codex—including the expected electrical jolt and ensuing adorable yelp—she gives the thing the middle finger and settles into her chair with a book on gargoyle lore. I don’t speed through this part—I love watching her read, her eyes shining with curiosity, a tiny wrinkle of concentration between her eyebrows. She’s humming softly, too—I’m not even sure she realizes she’s doing it.
I’m still not sure why fate brought her into our lives, butfuck… Watching her in the library, her feet tucked under her, that soft tune floating on the air… I can’t help but feel like she’s always been part of us. Our fifth, even without the wings and tail. We waited fifteen hundred years before she crashed onto the scene, but after just a couple of short weeks, I can’t imagine our lives without her.
No matter how many years—or how few—we’ve got left.
I hear the door open on the recording, and then she’s glancing at the entryway, her face lighting up as Auggie crosses the room.
“I see we’re still in hiding,” he says with a smirk, taking a seat on the couch across from her. “It won’t help, you know. He can scent you. All of us can.”
“Thanks for the hot tip,” she says with her patented eye roll. “Anyway. If byheyou’re referring to the grump formerly known as Daddy Drae, then yes. I’m hiding from him.”
While the two of them chat a bit about Draegan and the Codex, and get in a good deal of flirting while they’re at it, I head into the kitchen to clean my glasses and whip up a latte, leaving the tablet on the countertop beside me.
It takes me two tries to get the foam right, and the final product isn’t anywhere near as good as Stella’s or even Auggie’s, but hey. It’s hot and sweet and just the pick-me-up I need.
By the time I put on my glasses and grab the tablet again, it’s clear I missed a whole lot. Last I knew, they were talking about the Codex and the curse, but the scene has most definitely…progressed.
Now, it’s not the Codex causing an electrical jolt.
It’s Auggie. And West. And…hot damn.
I barely manage to set down the latte without dropping it.
West is in his lap, writhing against his hand as he fingers her with deep, slow thrusts…
“Fuck,” Auggie hisses, very quickly losing himself. “You’re already so wet for me, witchling. So eager.”
I stare at the screen, my drink all but forgotten as she strokes his horns, her soft little moans encouraging him to bring her right to the edge, closer and closer, and then…
Fuck…
Suddenly she’s on her knees for him, reaching under his loincloth to stroke him with both hands, her fingers small and delicate as they struggle to hold that massive gray cock…
No. I shouldn’t be watching this. I need to shut it down, delete the evidence, pretend I never saw it, and get back to work on the Codex, but…
Holy shit. I amdefinitelygoing to hell. There’s no hope for me. Not a fucking chance. Because now she’s licking him, sucking him, taking him into that hot little mouth while Auggie fists her hair and fucks her, just the way he wants her.
“You’re… you’re killing me, witchling,” he growls. “Fuckingkillingme.”
This is wrong. Wrong, wrong,wrongbut it’s too late. I’m already zooming in on the footage, my free hand snaking beneath my loincloth and fisting my cock, my eyes glued to the screen as I stroke myself to the soundtrack of her sweet little moans and Auggie’s deep, rich commands, her kisses growing more fevered and sloppy, his control unraveling…
“Westlyn,fuck…” he grinds out. “That’s it. Right there.Rightfucking—”
“Auggie? That you?” comes the melodic call, and no, it’s not from the feed.
I drop the tablet and knock over the latte, glancing up just in time to catch West bouncing into the kitchen, her smile bright, Lucinda and Huxley plodding along behind her.
