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I heard a chuckle followed by a sound of protest from behind me and then felt a sudden chill, only to next find myself being pulled back so Vikter could place his clothing on the sill to protect my stomach. I flushed with gratitude and endearment at his thoughtfulness. When he gently guided me back down, I went willingly, anchoring myself and preparing for the carnal onslaught about to ensue.
And he didn’t disappoint. He flipped my skirts up my back and plunged, wrenching a cry from me that I was sure those down the hall could hear distinctly—not that it would be differentiated from the other sounds rising from within the Pearl. He set a furious rhythm with his thrusts, withdrawing almost to the point of separation before shoving back in. It was exactly what I needed, what I craved, I only wanted…more. And so, I told him as much. And he delivered.
He moved one hand to the base of my throat in a proprietary hold that only fanned the flames of my desire. I never felt threatened or in danger with him. What I did feel was conquered—and for someone as independent and old as me, that was a rarity. Never faltering in his indefatigable pace, my cries turned to screams until I shattered in one of the most intense orgasms I’d had in ages, the pleasure locking every muscle in my body and pulling all my connective tissue tight until it snapped like a rubber band, making me sag against the sill and catch myself on the table.
As I did, I felt his thighs tighten against the backs of mine, and his length grow inside me before he finally tumbled over the cliffs of pleasure and released himself deep inside me, the hot jets setting off aftershocks of orgasm within me and bringing a huge smile and a contented sigh to my lips.
As I looked up, I caught sight of someone coming down the hall, beige-brown skin almost glowing in the light of the sconces, blue eyes flashing with mirth as he looked at me and gave me a crooked smile and a tip of his head before continuing on and knocking on the sixth door on the left.
Vikter slid from me and placed a kiss in the center of my back before I felt him use something to clean me and then set my skirts to rights. He turned me to face him. When I looked up into his roughly handsome visage, I saw satisfaction there. Relaxation. I asked him how his headache was, and he just laughed, the rumbly sound settling somewhere deep in my belly, causing sensations I didn’t know how I could still feel.
He helped me right the top half of my gown, and I helped him clean up, do up his breeches, and re-don his tunic. He kept the vest in his hand—that would definitely need to be laundered, and I almost chuckled aloud at what those who took care of it would think.
When we were both put back together, I peered over the end of the roof and found a group of smiling people staring up. They waved and hooted, smiling goofily, one couple clearly needing to come in and get a room before guards seized them for public indecency—something I should have probably been more worried about.
Vikter went through the window and then helped me through, picking me up from the table as if I weighed nothing and setting me before him. He simply stared into my eyes for a beat before pinching my chin in his thumb and forefinger and tipping my head so he could take my lips in a languorous kiss. He placed one last peck on my mouth, caressed my cheek with the backs of his knuckles, and then backed away before turning on his heel and heading down the stairs without a word.
I took a deep breath and leaned against the table behind me, listening to his footfalls, my gaze tracking his departure and reliving what had just happened and what I’d uncovered tonight.
Vikter Wardwell, a Royal Guard, was also a viktor, an eternal being born with a goal: to guard someone the Fates believe is destined to bring about great change or purpose. But from what I saw, he was also…different. And I couldn’t wait to find out more.
That’s right, dear diary… Vikter is a viktor, the very first, in fact, chosen and commanded by the Fates. But here’s the kicker. Most viktors don’t know anything about their previous lives or exactly why they are where they are in this one. But given what I saw this night, Vikter is different. He remembers. And he knows. And there seems to be even more to that story besides.
Which makes me wonder what is to come for our dear Penellaphe Balfour. I’m sure it’s even greater than what I’ve seen.
KNOWN WOLVEN
Much before my time, the kiyou wolves were given mortal form to serve as guides and protectors to the children of the gods. Strong and loyal, they hold a high place in society because they were chosen by the gods themselves. Several wolven have played a role in the story that has unfolded, particularly as it pertains to the tale of Poppy and Casteel. I wanted to record them in one place in case the information was ever needed.
Click here to see a full-size image of some wolven by Jemlin C.
ALASTIR DAVENWELL †
[see Alastir’s file for additional information]
Hair: Long, sandy-blond.
Eyes: Pale blue.
Body type: Broad-shouldered.
Facial features: Ruggedly handsome.
Distinguishing features: Deep groove scar in the center of his forehead.
Other: Raspy voice. At least eight hundred years old but looks in his forties.
Personality: Not prone to violence. A bit of an alarmist.
Habits/Mannerisms/Strengths/Weaknesses: Incredibly loyal to his kingdom.
Background: Was King Malec’s bonded wolven but has been unable to shift since their bond broke. King Valyn and Queen Eloana’s Advisor to the Crown. After he betrays Cas by kidnapping Poppy, Poppy kills him by slitting his throat.
Family: Daughter = Shea †. Niece = Gianna. Great-nephew = Beckett †.
ARDEN †
Eyes: Vibrant blue.
