Page 8 of Witch’s Ruin

“It’s all right,” he said at last, turning towards me. He stood frozen in the center of the room as I entered. I felt his gaze. Gone was the rigid assuredness of his posture, replaced with uncertainty. Vulnerability.

My pulse increased to a rapid staccato. I strode across the room, unsure where to look first, captivated by the opulence. My feet made the decision for me, stopping before a large desk, nearly four feet long. I glanced over the old parchment, yellowed with time. Some of it was arranged neatly in stacks, while other sheets were scattered and disorganized. Inkwells, some still containing ink and others empty, littered the surface. Several quills—a couple broken—and charcoal pencils completed the mess. All of it had been sitting, waiting for his return as if he’d only just left.

I schooled my features, careful not to laugh. He’d always struck me as organized. Certainly, the rest of his suite appeared tidy. But this, the beating heart of the space? This was chaos. I wasn’t sure how he’d managed to accomplish a single thing, sitting here in this mess.

I lifted a hand, caressing one of the feathered quills sitting upright in a holder. A sheet of his notes caught my gaze, probably from his lessons as a boy. It was extremely beautiful penmanship, with elegant, slanted lines and perfect loops. I stared at it. I’d never seen his handwriting before. The kind I’d expect from a court pansy, certainly, but not a gruff warrior, so at odds with the state of disarray the desk was in.

I stepped away, absorbing more of the large room. My chest expanded. I’d been given so little of his life before the Citadel. So little. It had only made me want more. Now I devoured it like a starved creature.

A giant armoire stood closed. I opened it. Neatly arranged by color, I found an entire wardrobe of royal clothing, lost in time. I grazed my hand over a velvet tunic, tugging it out, then chuckled. This would have fit twelve-year-old Rixon, certainly not the thirty year old male now dominating the room.

Another cabinet revealed weapons, smaller than those he used now. Some were obviously for training. There were other trinkets too, for mathematics, astronomy, and the like—tools for learning. Near the cabinet was a set of bookshelves. My gaze flicked over it, over the hundreds of books arranged within. He’d been a reader, even in his younger years. A small smile pulled at the corner of my mouth.

A vision swam before my eyes. I could see him here as a young boy, nestled on the sofa, book in hand. The frown that sometimes drew a line between his brows, out in full force.

I moved on, studying everything else. Sitting room furniture had been covered over with white sheets to keep the dust at bay. I began uncovering everything, peeling back the skin to review the thing beneath. Rich, plush sofas and chaise lounges upholstered with dusty blue and gold fabric, accented with end tables and vases, all centered around a large, white and gray marble fireplace. Atop the mantle were animal figurines made of solid gold.

A dining table of rich brown wood sat in its own alcove near the large, floor to ceiling windows. It seated six. When I peered through the glass, I found a private torchlit garden below, glowing in the darkness. There were paths winding through it, and a tall wall surrounding it.

It was utterly enchanting! My insides warmed. I wanted to go down to it, to explore it. Instead, my gaze lingered a beat longer before I turned away. Opposite the sitting room, through a set of sliding wooden doors, was the sleeping area, with a matching bed and canopy, set up on a platform. I pulled the coverings off the bedspread, revealing fabric that matched the furniture.

Through a side door, I found a bathing room and toilet, with a sunken tub nearly the size of a pool. Gods! He’d been a spoiled brat, hadn’t he?! But I loved him despite it. I was already desperate to draw water and collapse into it. My gaze swallowed up the elaborate tile, also pale blue, with gold filigree worked in, before emerging and shutting the door behind me.

The entire suite was as large as the home I’d grown up in.

A sight on the bedside table caught my eye. I strode over to it. A stuffed bear missing one of its button eyes. The poor thing looked as if I touched it, it might fall apart. I caressed the old teddy with the point of my index finger. It was a childhood item, well loved. He’d been in his adolescent years when he’d run away—too old for such things by then. Had it sat here even after he’d outgrown it?

The thought of my wielder, tall and opposing—a man who could swipe the head off a demon in seconds—keeping a teddy on his bedside table, was enough to undo me. “I never took you for the stuffed bear type,” I cooed, hiding my warm affection behind teasing words.

Rixon simply stood there, muscles tense, watching with wary eyes. “Are you quite done, Lady Witch?” A slight flush crept up his neck, but his exasperated tone only spurred me on.

“And all those books on your shelves, I can only imagine how you’d hide away reading. That explains your silent nature, I suppose. We’ll have to throw out all the clothes in the wardrobe, since they won’t fit you anymore.” I fought off a smile threatening to break free. “And by the way, your desk is deplorable. But at least your penmanship is adequate.”

Adequate. It was so far beyond that. Still, I said it knowing full well it was the most beautiful penmanship I’d ever seen.

He made a noise in the back of his throat, stalking across the room, grabbing me by the waist and burying his face in my neck, scratching his stubble over my skin as he began nipping. Laughter broke free of my chest. “Insufferable, insufferable female,” he growled.

My laughter grew louder, but died immediately as he shoved his fingers into my hair, taking hold of me, pulling my head back and claiming my mouth. Mirth was replaced with heat. This. This was the Rixon I was familiar with. Passionate, worshipful, loving.

He hardened against my stomach, his erection growing. Sensation curled deep in my core, making my body ache. I was too ready for him.

He kissed me harder, his wet tongue roving against mine, exploring. A tiny noise rose from the depths of my throat. All my earlier worries disappeared. I wasn’t thinking about the demons within city walls. I wasn’t thinking about how commanding Rixon had been towards everyone here, or how easy he’d stepped back into the role. I wasn’t ruminating over his closed offness, unwilling to share his past. I wasn’t thinking about much of anything, really, besides the growing ache between my legs, the wetness of his mouth, the liquid pooling at my apex.

In this moment, there was only the cage of his body around mine.

He groaned, deep, low, and I knew that sound, recognized it. His control was slipping. He deepened our kiss until we were clawing at each other, our breaths heavy and mingled, me trying to find purchase as I grasped his muscled shoulders, his neck, his face, his hair. Him as he pulled against my waist, my hips, pressing our groins together, grinding his length against me, melding my chest to his. My nipples hardened against him—

A throat cleared.

I froze, my body turning rigid. Rixon didn’t bother pulling back. I tried to push away but his grip was iron. He simply slowed his efforts, then sweetly ended our kiss, nipping at my lower lip, his breath hot against my skin. Blood rushed to my cheeks. We’d left the door wide open. Now the entire palace would know just how entangled we were.

Rixon didn’t bother releasing me. He wouldn’t, not now, not with his cock tenting in his pants. He simply angled his head towards the entryway, glaring. A servant stood, bearing a tray laden with food, his mouth gaping, eyes darting between us.

“Put it on the table,” Rixon commanded, his voice firm but lacking any bite. Another servant scuttled in behind, carrying a pitcher and cups. My wielder straightened slightly and said, “What are your names?”

The one with the tray set it down, rushing to attention. “Ansel, Your…Your Highness. And—”

“Florian, Your Highness,” said the other, setting down the pitcher, fumbling with his fingers until he tucked his hands behind his back.