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“The blood oath is nearly complete. Now they will place their still bleeding hands on the parchment to seal the oath. Nothing will be able to break it once they both lay their hands upon it, until the terms of the oath are complete,” he said against her neck, making more gooseflesh rise across her. His hand was so close to her center, and he could feel her moving ever so slightly as if seeking him out to relieve the need he could see burning behind her eyes.
As soon as Kes and Anin lifted their bloody hands, Ciaran pulled his hand away and sat up from Etain. He gave her one of his most wicked grins and was pleased to hear the frustrated noises she was trying to stifle.
Etain shifted in her seat looking for relief, which made him chuckle under his breath. Etain glared at him, only making his grin grow wider.
Ciaran clapped his hands together once, breaking the tension in the room, and declared, “And that is how a blood oath is done, little witch. Did you find it as tantalizing as I did?”
Etain glared at him while she continued to shift in her seat, making him chuckle. He just found his new favorite game.
Twenty Three
Etain’sskinwasonfire. She felt like she was burning from the inside out with need. Ciaran had played her body like a stringed instrument, with her strings tuned too tightly. They had returned to Ciaran’s bedchambers to rest before preparing for the Lunar Ball. Now they were alone; Etain found herself flustered and unable to center her thoughts. Her nerves were already frazzled in anticipation of the night to come and now her body was equally on edge. He was shameless. A big blue bat of a shameless male.
Ciaran had told her he had a surprise for her he had almost forgotten about entirely. Etain was ecstatic and nearly cried when he presented her satchel. She had thought it was gone forever in the woods near her home in the Human Realm. She had thrown her arms around his waist in unfettered joy and thanked him numerously for his forethought to bring her bag along with her.
She opened it and pulled out her family’s grimoire. She told him it was the single most important possession she owned and how it held the history of her family; it connected her to her ancestors. She had not realized how deeply she had been mourning its loss.
Ciaran had watched her with a soft expression as she reverently stroked the book that meant everything to her.
“You know little witch, you should never have to be without the things which are most important to you. I can spell your book so you’ll be able to retrieve it from anywhere, in any realm, and at any time.”
Etain looked up in amazement. “Magic can do that?” she asked with no small amount of amazement.
“Magic or power can do anything. Sometimes there is a price to pay if you use either in such a way to disrupt the balance, but this is a simple trick I can teach you in mere moments.”
He opened a drawer closest to them and found another dagger that had been shoved into a random spot. “Here – I will show you how to do it on this dagger, and then you can do it on your book.”
He proceeded to tell her she needed to imagine the book as if it were a part of her, which was easy enough since she already imagined it was. Then, he said all she needed to do was imagine a tether from the book to her and use her power to will that invisible tether into reality. She closed her eyes to picture it better. She saw in her mind’s eye the shimmering strand connecting herself to the grimoire, and she felt her power snap it into place.
Her eyes flew open, and she looked up at Ciaran with wonder. “I think I did it! How do I know if it worked?”
He reached down and grabbed the book, placing it in a cabinet, and told her to feel that thread and pull. Etain did, and she pulledhard– too hard. Before she even realized what was happening, the book collided with her chest, causing the air to leave her lungs suddenly. It was no small book, after all.
Ciaran threw his head back and roared with laughter. Etain glared at him, though she found it hard to be mad when she had just used her power for the first time of her own free will.
“Perhaps next time, little witch, try a gentler hand,” Ciaran said with the last bits of his laughter shining in his eyes.
Etain got up and placed the book on the bed, then walked several paces away and tried again. She was amazed to see it disappear and this time reappear gently in her hands. It was almost as if the book traveled through the invisible thread. “Thank you, Ciaran. You have no idea what this means to me.” She closed the distance between them and lifted as high up on her tiptoes to reach his shoulders with her hands. He understood what she wanted and leaned forward to meet her mouth in a soft kiss.
Etain, back in her chair, found herself shifting in the overstuffed wingback she had been sitting in, her body still uncomfortable with need. She was looking back in her family’s grimoire for any information regarding the earliest Walsh witches. Particularly, anything they may have written which could help with her magic or power, and understanding this realm.
Every time she shifted, she felt Ciaran’s eyes on her as he looked up from his book, sitting in his own chair across from her. She would look up to see him wearing a rather smug grin. He was entirely too proud of himself, and the effect he could easily have on her. She rolled her eyes at him and willed herself to focus on her research.
“Is something bothering you, my little witch?”
Etain could feel her traitorous body heat her face crimson. “No, I am merely anxious to find what I am searching for.”
He gave her a knowing smirk she could feel, since she refused to look at him. “Hmmm, I’m sure. You definitely seem to be searching for something.”
She didn’t dare look up from her book. She had read this page several times and still had not actually taken in the words. Frustrated in more ways than one, she flipped to the very front of the book and decided she would have to read the whole thing from beginning to end.
Hours passed as Etain immersed herself in her family’s history. She was deeply enthralled by her research and could almost ignore the heat that was still burning in her belly. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Ciaran placed a plate of bread, fruits, and cheeses on the small table next to her. He always moved too quickly and quietly; she was sure it would always unsettle her.
“So jumpy, little witch,” he said as he placed either hand on the arms of her chair. He leaned into her space, running his nose up the column of her neck.
Etain swallowed a groan.
“You smell delectable little witch. Have you found anything to fulfill your needs yet?” he asked, and the meaning was not lost on her. He knew the effect he had on her and looked to be taking immense pleasure over getting her body more and more unsettled.
