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A hard length presses against my side, and I have to fight down the urge to reach for it, run my fingers over it, stroke him until he’s awake so we can have a replay of last night.
My brain doesn’t need the distraction now. Not that a distraction was all it was. It wasn’t by a long shot. No, I’ve wanted Kohaku almost since the first moment he appeared. And now I have him,reallyhave him.
The way he’d looked at me while he thrust inside me? Yeah, there is no chance at all that he’s not fully into this, into us. He wants this as much as I do.
I shift, just enough to slide my hand up his muscled back, over the scars that line it. I noticed them last night, noticed the crisscrossing marks that remind me of Jamie’s back fromOutlander.Even though I was curious, I didn’t ask about them. I’m not sure we’re at that point yet, where we can just ask about painful memories from our past. But I am curious.
Still, I don’t linger on them, on that raised flesh. Instead, I move up his shoulder and neck and into his silky hair. It’s criminal how soft it is, and I don’t think it’s a matter of whatever shampoo he uses. I think it’s just him.
He shifts against me, letting out a rumble in his chest and trails kisses up and down my neck, under my jaw and then up to my lips, where he languidly nibbles, like I’m his favorite breakfast.
When he pulls back and gazes at me with owlish eyes and sleep rumpled hair, I think my heart just about explodes in my chest with all kinds of warm emotion. Kohaku smiles down at me. “I think we should wake up like this every day.”
“I agree,” I murmur, leaning up to kiss him again before looking around the room. Sunlight is streaming through the closed windows, brighter than early morning light, so it must at least be mid morning.
My stomach clenches. Just a few more hours and I’ll hopefully have some answers, some idea of what exactly is happening to me.
I’m not sure if Kohaku noticed the change in my demeanor, the sudden dousing of my languid early morning smile, but he goes back to laying small kisses along my skin, down my neck to the scars on my chest. He takes his time there, caressing each one with his lips. “I wish I could tell you what these mean,” he sighs against me. “Then you wouldn’t have to see him.”
My fingers tighten in his hair as he nuzzles the tip of his nose against my nipple. “I would want to see him anyway,” I say, thoughtfully, even though my voice comes out kind of breathy. “Even if we knew the spell, I still want more answers. Like who he is exactly. If he knows who his biological parents are. What his affinity is. What he was hoping to accomplish by doing this. Was he scared about someone finding me? Or was this a mad grab for more power?” That’s what I’m most afraid of finding out. That the spell he carved into me wasn’t a protection spell or a spell to enhance my abilities, but that it helped him. To make me a sacrifice so that he could do some evil casting.
My gut tells me that’s not the case. My father loved me and Desi. He loved my mother. He loved our family. No matter how bad it looks, he wouldn’t have been trying to kill me in order to get more magic. But my brain tells me that my gut has been wrong in the past, and it wants to save my heart from any further agony. It’s preparing me for the worst.
Kohaku hums thoughtfully, the vibrations rumble through my breast. “I can understand that.” Then he sets about distracting me again, his tongue darting out to taste my skin.
I groan and slide my hands out of his hair to cup his cheeks and keep him from continuing on. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” I need to know. I feel like it’s late, and I want to be at the facility right as visiting hours start so I can have as long as I possibly can with my dad.
My umbra demon gives me a soft smile. “How much time do you need to get ready, little warrior?”
I lift a shoulder. Honestly, I didn’t bring all that much with me, and if I really need to, I can use an illusion to make myself look better, but I want to shower again. Going to see my dad with post sex sweat dried on my skin feels wrong. “Maybe thirty minutes?”
He nods and bends to kiss me. “Then we have enough time for me to lick your cunt and make you come before I drive my cock so far inside you, you’ll be feeling it for hours.” My nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders, while his claws carefully scrape along my ribs, drawing a delightful shiver from my body. “Sound alright, little warrior?”
I swallow thickly and then nod, spreading my thighs wide. “Sounds fucking perfect.”
Kohaku hadn’t been entirely honest about the time. When we finished and I was still in the languid after bliss of three orgasms, he informed me I had thirty minutes to get ready. Like an actual thirty minutes.
I scowl at him as I scramble out of bed and into the shower, while he calls out that he’ll go find food for me for breakfast.
I’m honestly not sure that I would want to eat anything, my stomach too tied in knots at what the day will bring. But I also know that I will only hurt myself if I don’t get something in me, I mean something beyond Kohaku’s enormous dick. I don’t want to get lightheaded and pass out while in the middle of getting answers.
My kitsune still hadn’t returned by the time I’ve washed, dressed, braided my hair in two dutch braids and smacked on some concealer, mascara and lip balm. No need to go all out when I’m just going to see my father that nearly killed me.
I linger on the bed, fidgeting, waiting for him to come back. My packed bag is waiting at my feet. I consider calling Desi, but I’m not sure I’m ready to have an entire conversation about what I’m doing today. I’ll call her when all of this is over, when I have answers.
I leap up as soon as the door opens, only to plop back down at the grim face that greets me.
It’s not Kohaku. Well, it’s notonlyKohaku.
He’s there at the back of the group of five pissed off witches, holding a pink bakery box and a cup of coffee. I scowl at him, ignoring everyone else. “You told them?”
He scoffs. “I did not. They were already here when I returned from the bakery and I thought it best to have this reunion in the relative privacy of this room. Was that incorrect?”
He’s back to being all formal and weird, but he’s not wrong. “A warning would have been nice,” I grumble. I look at the five witches as they stand in a semicircle around the end of the bed—around me—like they think that will keep me from leaving.
I wait.
I’ll be damned if I’m going to break the silence. They hunted me down. They can be the ones to talk first.
