“The sixth symbol matches the one you saw on that woman’s abdomen, and the element is Folly. Whatever that is. Children of Folly are chaos born. If I can grasp more of the concepts here, I might be able to head the black robe and mask brigade off at the pass.”
The bed springs squeaked, the spot beside her sinking into a slight depression. Brian stroked her wet hair, finger-combing out tangles in perfect pulls that tugged her scalp in all the right places. “Helen. It can wait until the morning.”
“I don’t know.” Runes and drawings crammed rough-looking end pages stained with old splatters of dark mystery fluid. Like some gnostic bastard of the Book of Revelations. She looked past the sliding doors to where the storm had slowed to a drizzle. The pool lolled, a slab of water rendered uncanny by fantastical underwater lights and an insidious undercurrent. “I just feel a weight in my bones. Like they’re plotting as we speak, that she’s stalking us right now.”
And she did feel heavy, stiff like she’d been sitting in a crappy plastic chair all day.
Granted, she hadn’t been practicing magic long, but it hadn’t impacted her body before. She stretched her folded legs, wincing when a sharp pain tweaked a tendon in her knee.
“Not that I know what I’m talking about, but it does concern me that I see it has taken a toll on you. Which is why I think it would help if you took a night off. I don’t see what use you are to anyone if you’re knackered and stretched too thin. Hazarding a guess, but it can’t be good if your concentration is compromised.”
Helen snuggled into Brian, closing the tome in favor of soaking in the scents of his freshly showered skin. Ignoring him wasn’t cool, and relaxing sounded a helluva lot better than driving herself nuts staring at weird shit that made no sense. “I should snark at you for mansplaining witchcraft to me.”
“Consider me corrected. Unless you need to turn me into a frog to set things right.” He completed the banter circuit, like always. The fact that the two of them had become an “always” didn’t even freak her out anymore.
Her temple resting against his chest, she allowed the picture of their two pairs of feet side by side to mellow her with a snapshot of mundane domestic ease.
“I suppose it wouldn’t be a bad thing to take a few hours to recharge. And it’s after eleven in Minneapolis, too late to call Nerissa. I’ll hit this hard in the morning.”
“I meant what I said outside.”
Silence brought her focus to the low hum of their shared breathing, the intimacy of bodies together in bed.
She pushed the magic book off of her lap, Sisyphus shirking her burden onto the floor. “Which part?”
“The important part. All of it.”
“Me too.” And she existed in a maddening sort of stasis, a purgatory where she was both imprisoned and free. Free of the chains of her past, the internalized jailers who stopped her from being able to love.
But at the same time, an unguarded flank quivered. Unknown and unresolved, a threat desecrated the otherwise sanctified bedroom. Helen dropped a baleful glance to the grimoire. The book was her ally, albeit a cursed sort of comrade, and one she could not shake. Magic shackled her heart.
“Clue me in on the brilliant workings of your mind?” His breath heated the shell of her ear, the sensation swirling with the coldness of wet hair licking her flesh.
Sensitive nerves registered every caress, the delightful dampness on her tender skin. A promise of bliss teased her with whispers of a short vacation to heaven through tactile pleasures.
“I’m thinking…” Helen closed her eyes, stress and release fighting for purchase inside of her. “How good it feels to be with you. But that I’m also afraid. And worried, and uncertain about the future. You’re right. I should shut it off for the night, but it’s like I can’t. My mind is racing.”
“I have an idea.” Speech near her ear transitioned into slow kisses, a trail of sensual brushes down her neck.
Troubles melted into the intimacy she hungered for. “I’m sure it’s a good one.”
“Yeah.” The way his word edged toward a growl, gruff and excited, sparked awareness between her legs.
Eager to lose herself, to forget, Helen angled her body so she lay flush with Brian and kissed him. Her hands got busy opening the soft fabric of his robe. His tattoo came into splendid view, the secret badassery of him rendered in body art.
Brian moaned when she stroked his ink, her greedy touch traveling the maze. Too impatient to tease or hold back, she undid his robe’s knot. Pliant fabric flopped open, revealing the delights of his flat stomach and fit chest. The prize between his legs was stiff and at proud alert, plump crown engorged and decorated with that naughty piercing.
She went down with a line of kisses, sloughing off her troubles like the dead leaves that fell to the ground outside. She nibbled his torso, licked his happy trail, dipped a playful tongue in his belly button.
His hands dove in her hair, pants and moans tensing as they grew faster, clipped.
Brian’s firm thighs flexed, widening to accommodate her as she settled between them and curled her hand around his shaft.
He pushed her robe over her shoulders, licking his lips when the covering slid past her breasts. He stared, eyes hooded, while she took him in her mouth. The first flavors of him, salty musk mixed with shower fresh clean, tantalized her taste buds.
She cupped his full, tight balls, playing with the ribbed skin and seam while she bobbed on him. He punched up his hips in rhythmic thrusts, driving his erection into her throat.
Licking and sucking, she attended to him, his pleasure becoming her own. She’d found a steady pace when he urged her off his erection.
