Page 56 of Brutal Birthright

Ri rolled her eyes. Kicking his chair to knock the front legs back onto the floor.

Brynne sat her own notebook down and stretched her arms high above her head. “Your body might be here, but your brain is clearly elsewhere. Want to call it quits for tonight? We could head into the village?”

“Fuck, yeah. I’m about done with this bullshit for today.” Etienne tossed the book on the table.

“You only want to go find a sweet young thing to corrupt.” Saskia mused out loud, but didn’t take her eyes off the manuscript in front of her. Tracing the outline of shaky handwritten potions and spells with one finger.

“And?” He chuckled darkly.

A loud snort burst out of Brynne, who began to shuffle her things together. “While you might be trying to set the record for biggest blood whore in the academy, the rest of us are able to control ourselves.”

“Technically, a blood whore is whoever is a willing participant. Not the vampire in question.” He smirked.

“Whatever you say fang-fuck-boy.” She pushed her chair out and scooped up the stack of texts. Looking as buoyant as ever after a day with her nose in a book. Meanwhile, Ri felt like she’d gone ten rounds with the dreaded assault course. On second thought, she’d have much preferred that.

“You go ahead… I’ve got a few more things I want to finish up here.” Ri rolled her neck. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but a variation of it. She’d been occupying herself here these past few evenings. A vain attempt to distract herself from the ever-present thoughts of Rowan–and the knowledge he’d kept her underwear–by combing the library archives for information on the Nocturnes.

Ri couldn’t have him. Nor could she expect anything more than their illicit moment together. But the preoccupation with him still endured.

Not to mention that the words of the witch she’d run into at the tavern kept floating back to her at strange moments like an ebbing tide.

How well does anyone really know the Nocturnes?

That little seed of an idea had been an itch she started to scratch. It had begun the night after they’d crossed the forbidden line, when she was so desperate to have his hands on her that she nearly gave in and went looking for him.

So now, she had this fucked up new activity to occupy her time which was stalking his family lineage of witches through the archives.

Yes. She was ten ways to messed up and well aware of it.

As her friends all filed out of the library and left her to it, she set off for the far recesses of the vast space. Losing herself among shelves full of diaries and ancient manuscripts that had recently been transferred here from the vaults at the vampire palace. Thanks to Ruby’s connections with the vampire coven, Astracadia now housed the largest collection of records from supernaturals across the different realms.

Eons of history lined the impossibly high shelves stretching so far above her head she had to crane to see the top. Rolling ladders lined each long bay. As she descended deeper into the library’s archives, the rows upon rows of books muffled any sounds from the main area where the tables and seating for students filled the central chamber.

Back here was like a private hideaway, and her racing mind found a solace back here that she clung to.

She tugged a couple of leather-bound diaries down off the shelves. Ones that were written by witches from several centuries ago and documented life at Castle Nitorna in the Soterian Realm. The very ancestral home of the Nocturnes, well, at least since Rowan’s brother Lachlan had come into time acting as the Guardian of the Realm. A title, or more aptly a responsibility, bestowed upon whoever the Goddesses deemed to be the most powerful witch in existence at any given time. Ri knew that mantle had now passed to Lachlan’s mate, Belle. An Ampher witch who had the ability to take on the powers of anyone and anything around her–amplifying that magic to untold heights of power.

She shuddered at the thought. It meant that Belle could tap into magic of all kinds, including the darkest possible.

Ri couldn’t imagine what that kind of burden must be like on a soul.

But Belle was kind, sunshiney, and a complete antithesis of the brooding scowl permanently affixed to Lachlan of Nocturne’s features. In that regard, she could see the similarities between Rowan and Lachlan straight away. They’d met a couple of times, thanks to occasions when she had accompanied Ruby on what might be termed queenly business.

Back when Rowan was just a hulking tattoo-covered mess to lust after in her dreams. Not like her current predicament of knowing the taste and weight of him hitting the back of her throat.

She thumbed through the wafer-thin pages. Shaking thoughts of the tattooed brute from her mind. There wasn’t anything to catch her attention in these books other than descriptions of the castle and the lands and the uses of magic unique to the Soterian Realm. Certainly nothing to be found regarding the Nocturnes.

These past few days had been torture. Not seeing him, thanks to the schedule of classes and subsequent rest days from the training arena, was both a blessing and a curse. Ever since their one-time-only encounter, she’d been walking around lost in a dense fog of memories from that night.

How the fat head of his cock had slid across her tongue.

The searing heat of him staring at her spread pussy.

Agony and ecstasy of how his wicked mouth worked her.

Not to mention the way he’d staked his claim on her body. Bruises left where his hands gripped her thighs. The purple imprint of his teeth on her flesh still lingered even now.

Fae were slow to heal, and that fucker knew exactly what he was doing.

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