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“What’s the matter?” Casimir asks.
“The ground just looks… odd.”
I hop down from Scout and walk over on foot.
There’s a clearing so small you can barely call it that. I stop at the edge, staring at the ground.
The dirt is churned up in gouges and lumps. Fresh scratches scar a few of the surrounding tree trunks.
I bend closer to the jutting leaves of a weed. Dark red flecks show against the green.
My lungs constrict. “I think that’s blood.”
Casimir has followed me. He bends down to examine the plant, his shoulder grazing mine with a warmth I welcome more than ever, and then catches my eyes with a nod.
Is the ground damp?Julita asks abruptly.Check it.
I reach forward to press my fingers to the churned earth. Moist bits stick to my skin.
Julita shudders.It’s not like that outside the clearing, is it.
She doesn’t say it like a question, but I scuttle backward to test the dirt there.
It hasn’t rained in a few days. The soil there crumbles dryly at my touch.
“Did you notice something else?” Casimir asks.
“Julita did.” I frown at the clearing. “The earth there is damp, but it shouldn’t be.”
Because they drenched it with water to wash away all the rest of the blood they must have spilled here,Julita says in a strained voice.The wretched sorcerers carried out some ritual here earliertoday.
Twenty-Four
I’m stretched out on the sofa, my sheet vanished but heat washing over my skin. Mainly because of the massive man bending over me.
“Ivy,” Stavros murmurs in a liquid voice like nothing I’ve ever heard from him before. He’s lost his shirt somewhere, but in my daze, I can’t say I mind taking in the muscular expanse of his chest. “Gods, I can’t stop thinking about you.”
His fingers slide along my jaw, tilting my head up, and then he’s captured my mouth.
Yes, this—this is what I’ve craved. The heat of him courses right through my body, sparking desire in every nerve.
I clasp the back of his neck and arch up to meet him. As my breasts graze his chest, an ache forms between my thighs.
His lips break from mine, and suddenly we’re not alone. Alek kneels next to the sofa, his slim hand on my shoulder.
“You can’t have her all to yourself,” he says, as husky as Stavros. “It’s my turn.”
He leans in to claim a kiss of his own. My fingers trace the edge of his mask, and he kisses me harder. More lust spikes through my veins.
I have no idea what’s going on here, but it feels too fucking good to ask questions.
There’s a chuckle, and a well-built form nudges Alek aside. Benedikt clambers right onto the sofa to straddle me, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, I can top anything either of them could offer you.”
Instead of pressing his mouth to mine, he brings his lips to the side of my neck. As he nips the sensitive skin there, his palm swivels against my breast.
A whimper slips through my teeth.
“But none of them really know how to treat a lady.” Casimir sinks down next to me, heedless of Benedikt’s attentions, and glides a gentle thumb over my lips. All at once, they’re throbbing as if I’ve been starved for contact.
