There’s no teasing tonight. No watching through the camera. No dirty talk, no toys. No sharing.
Just us and the fire between us and the taste of her kiss as she moans into my mouth.
She grips my horns, holding on tight as I rail her against the fucking wall, hard and fast, pouring everything I feel into each deep thrust, as if I need the reminder that she’s here, that I’m here, that we fucking survived.
“Rook!” she cries out, and her body tightens around me, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to my balls. I slam into her one more time as her orgasm fully takes hold, shaking her to the core, and I come with a growl that chases off the ravens and every last lingering fear in my heart.
“Absolutely everything,” I whisper, burying my face in her neck and breathing in the scent of her as we slowly come back to earth. “I love you, my wild girl.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
AUGUSTINE
The rich scents of espresso, almonds, and chocolate fill the kitchen as the cappuccino machine whirs to life at my expert touch, and my heart warms with indescribable cheer.
Real time aside, we were only gone for a few days by our reckoning. Yet now, two nights after our triumphant return home, it feels like a lifetime has passed since I last enjoyed the simple pleasure of making my woman an almond joy latte in our kitchen.
I revel in every second of it.
“Is that what I think it is?” My witchling yawns adorably as she enters the kitchen with her ravens, all of them padding across the floor on silent footsteps.
Before I even turn around to respond, she’s got her arms around me from behind, her cheek resting against my back.
I cover her hands with mine and hold them to my chest, reveling in the warmth of her touch, the feel of her breath between my wings, the solid reminder that we survived. That we earned another day with her. Another minute.
All too soon, she’s pulling out of my grasp and ducking under a wing for a closer look at the cappuccino machine. “Soooo, about that latte I smelled from all the way upstairs…”
“What about it, curious little kitten?”
“Any chance it’s for me?” She gives me her best puppy-dog eyes, bouncing excitedly. I take a second to scan her from head to toe, from the adorable frizz of her bun, to the too-big red flannel shirt buttoned crookedly down her chest, to thoseoh-so-sexy knee socks skimming the tops of her thighs.
“As if I could ever say no to you, witchling.” I lean down and kiss her forehead, then hand over the goods. “I figured you could use a pick-me-up.”
With an enthusiastic nod, she takes the offered mug and inhales the almond-scented steam. “Augustine Lamont, you are a god among monsters.”
I laugh. “Pretty surenoone has ever accused me of that before.”
“Well, they’re obviously not paying attention, because it’s true.” She takes the first sip, her eyes sparkling. A sweet moan escapes her lips—a sound whose only purpose in life is to make me instantly hard, and goddamndoes it ever do the job.
Ignoring the aching throb in my balls, I step closer and tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear, fresh worry gnawing at my gut.
I know she hasn’t slept much, and she’s clearly exhausted. Still… As much as I want to put her into a real bed and insist she get some rest, I can’t blame her for wanting to stay by our sides. Hell, if we weren’t cursed to turn to stone every morning, the boys and I would stay awake too, never letting her out of our sight.
However much time we’ve got left together before the curse makes its final claim on our souls, we don’t want to miss a single minute of it.
West finally lowers the mug and glances up at me, her big blue-green eyes glazed.
White froth coats her upper lip, and I laugh again. Why the fuck is she so damned cute?
“Hold still. You’ve got a bit of…” I cup her face with my big hand and swipe a thumb across her milk-foam mustache, but stop when I spot a fresh tear rolling down her cheek. “Oh, no. Is the coffee bad? I know I’m a little rusty, but I thought—”
“It’s not the coffee, Auggie. The coffee is perfect.You’reperfect. Everything about this moment is so damn perfect, I wish… I wish I could just live in it forever.”
“Then why are you so sad, witchling?”
Her eyes flutter closed, warm breath ghosting across my fingertips. In a broken whisper, she says, “Because from now on, every single moment that passes between us might be the last. The last almond joy latte. The last touch. The last kiss. The last—”
“Westlyn.” I thread a hand into her hair and pull her against my chest, my other arm winding around her back, holding her close. “It was always that way—even when we were humans, long before Verrick cursed us. Nothing has changed. That’s part of what makes this life so bittersweet.Nooneknows which moment will be their last. All we can do is make the absolute most of the ones we get—whether it’s a thousand, or a million, or just a handful of them.Youtaught me that.”
