Page 69 of The Jester

I let my powers free, and I let his feelings engulf me.

“What else haven’t you told me?” I ask again.

When he replies, “Nothing,” I know he’s telling me the truth, and it doesn’t feel like enough.

Chapter Thirty-One

FINN

She is panicking, pulling away from me. I don’t need to be an empath to see the walls slamming down in front of her right now.

Despite her anger, she is beautiful. Maybe even more beautiful like this. Raw, sweat-laced skin, flushed cheeks, and fury in her eyes.

“You should have told me.”

“How could I?” I slide my hand around to her back and gently caress the fabric that hides imprints left by the sting of my wings. “I would have lost you.” I slot my other hand into hers and lace our fingers together. I stare into her eyes, trying to make her see the sincerity in my words. “It’s because of me that you’re here. How could I tell you that?”

Alana lets go of my hand and paces away from me. She shakes her head, her auburn hair falling over her shoulders, and her wings flutter so hard they whip air across my face. She is so beautiful I want to devour her.

Even more beautiful when her face is etched with anger, power, fury.

Without breaking eye contact, I drop to my knees in front of her.

She presses her lips together, and her eyes widen. She loves it when I kneel like this.

“That’s why you’ve given yourself to me the way you have,” she says, her voice strong instead of quiet. “To ease your guilt?”

I hang my head, bracing my hands on my knees. “I wanted to help you see what I see. I wanted to help you take control.” In a whisper, I add, “It was the least I could do.”

There is a long, quivering pause, and then she pads softly towards me. Bending down, she grabs hold of my hair and roughly jerks my face up towards her. Without breaking eye contact, she takes hold of my mask, rips it from my face and tosses it across the room. Then she strides to the chest at the bottom of the bed and takes out the rope.

Anticipation burns inside me, and my cock hardens.

Watching her stroll towards me, rope in her hands, and that look in her eyes – like she wants to completely destroy me – brings saliva to my mouth and tension to my balls.

Her movements are fluid, her hands deftly working the rope as she binds my hands and feet. The fibres are rough against my skin as she fastens my hands tightly behind my back.

I expect her to straddle my face and make me lick her pussy. Instead, she grabs my head, jerks my hair back, gives my cheek a light slap, then pushes me forward so I’m bent double, chest pressed against the floor.

“Should I retract my wings?” I stutter.

She doesn’t answer, just walks over to the table next to the bed and picks up my water jug. “I have something to show you,” she says. “I’m still practicing but...” Waving one hand over the jug, her eyes shimmer as the water levitates into the air and starts to swirl – a beautiful, suspended whirlpool flickering in the candlelight.

I start to sit up, but she shakes her head at me.

“Would you like to see it?”

I nod. She can do magic? The pieces immediately slot into place. Water magic. Kayan’s magic. Her grief must have –

“I asked if you’d like to see?” she snaps.

“Yes. Show me.”

She smiles, puts the jug back down, then blows across her palms. As her breath meets the whirlpool, it changes shape, crackles, and solidifies into a large, rounded icicle. Hanging in the air. Brilliant white, so cold I can almost feel it from here.

Walking slowly back to me, she holds the icicle in her hands. The look in her eyes tells me to stay exactly where I am.

Crouching down, spreading her legs so I can see her cunt, she slips a finger into my mouth, opens it, then inserts the icicle. “Suck,” she whispers.

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