Page 34 of Soulbound Shadows: Part 2

If I kept watching the look on his face I’d crash over the edge, and I didn’t want it to end yet. I tossed my head to the side, catching a glimpse of Gabriel’s rock-hard cock. It was flushed and leaking against his stomach. I hissed out a curse as he found a particularly good motion, and his cock twitched at the sound. Gabriel moaned against me, eager and urgent.

He gripped my hips more firmly again, pulling me toward him, then away. I let him set the rhythm, then took over the motion, grinding against his face just the way he wanted. It was so fucking good I wanted to cry. It wasn’t hyperbole, either. My moans were closer to little hitching sobs. My legs shook, but I knew Gabriel would catch me if they gave out. Blindly, I reached behind me and swiped my hand through the mess of precum on his stomach, then wrapped my fingers around his cock. He let out a sound like he’d been punched, and I grinned, stroking him rough and fast, matching the pace of my hips against his face.

I felt shuddery and perfect all over. I was close, so close, just hovering on the edge. Gabriel was hot and hard in my hand, fucking up my fist.

“Feels so fucking good,” I moaned. “Gabriel, fuck. It’s so good, it’s—Ah!” He’d moved his hand just enough to dig his thumb into the bruise he’d left on my thigh. The pain was a stark contrast to the pleasure of his mouth on me and also a reminder of what we’d done. I didn’t know if it was the tangle of sensations or the memory that pushed me over the edge, but whatever it was had my orgasm crashing over me. I kept riding Gabriel’s face through the unending wave because it built into something white-hot and blinding. I was too far gone to keep stroking him, but he didn’t seem to mind, rutting up into my hand as I finally reached the peak.

I collapsed against the headboard, leaning a forearm against the top to rest my head on. My knees were still bracketing Gabriel’s head, and he mouthed gently at my thigh. It wasn’t a real kiss or the precursor to a bite, more a lazy brush of his lips. It tickled, but I was too out of it to squirm away. It took herculean effort to roll off him and wiggle around bonelessly until I could lie with my head pillowed on his chest.

“Holy shit,” I said.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Gabriel sounded dazed. “It’s not usually like that.”

“You don’t usually give the people you drink from the best orgasm of their lives?” I asked, still too breathless to attempt any semblance of innocence.

“I usually didn’t sleep with them at all,” Gabriel said. “Hang on, the best?”

I poked his chest. “And you said it would be gauche.”

“I did,” Gabriel admitted. “I did say that.”

One of us should have gotten up to grab a washcloth. I’d get up and do that in a second, then we could both get cleaned up. As soon as my legs could support my weight again.

“Gauche,” I said again, throwing an arm over Gabriel and closing my eyes. I’d definitely get up in a second.

13

GABRIEL

Iwoke to the last of the sunset filtering through the forest, casting little hints of orange and gold over the room. Evangeline sat next to me in the bed, a few thick books spread out across the blankets next to her, all open. She flicked through the pages, then scribbling in a notebook. In addition to the pen in her hand, she’d jammed another into her bun and presumably forgotten about it. I watched her as she frowned down at what she’d written and crossed something out.

I shifted, stretching the kinks out of my arms. It was a surprise to wake up and be able to move. I’d become so used to being restrained, and stretching was a luxury I fully intended to indulge in.

“How’d you sleep?” Evangeline asked, smiling down at me. Her voice was very warm. I nuzzled against her clothed hip like a sleepy cat, and she laughed quietly, running her fingers through my hair.

“Better than I have in a long time.” It was true, even if the bar was so low as to be practically subterranean. “I think I’m ready to see the others.”

“Thank God. They keep texting me for updates, and I’m pretty sure if we stay in here for too much longer, your mom’s gonna take a battering ram to the door.”

“She wouldn’t need a battering ram. She could just kick it down,” I said blearily, still foggy with sleep. Then I processed what Evangeline had said. “My mother’s here?” I pushed myself up onto my elbows.

“Shit, I thought I’d told you,” Evangeline said. “Yeah, it turns out she was also robbing the vault at the citadel while we were there getting the knife. She stuck around to make sure we got you out and helped Marcus break my curse. She’s been teaching me some stuff. Your mom’s actually really cool.”

The idea of Evangeline and my mother getting along terrified me to my very core. The only thing worse would be if they didn’t get along at all. I slumped back down onto the bed for a moment, then stood up. Clothes. I should find clothes.

The outfit I’d been stuck in while my father had held me captive was still in the tiny bathroom, but it was rank, and I wasn’t keen to put it back on.

“You all right there?” Evangeline asked from the bed, her brow furrowed as she tucked a small arsenal of bookmarks into the tomes around her.

“Yes,” I said. “I should—Pants?”

Luckily, she managed to parse that into an actual sentence. With a smile that was almost certainly at my expense, she pointed at a spot on the wall with the forest mural. When I looked closer, I realized the painting had been done over the top of built-in cabinetry, and what I had taken for a particularly good bit of trompe l’oeil was actually a series of drawer pulls sculpted to look like leaves. I pulled open the top drawer and saw a row of my own shirts, neatly folded. I stared down at them.

“Lissa made sure to pack you some options,” Evangeline said. “She thought you’d want stuff you felt good in.”

“Oh.” I swallowed thickly, running a hand over the delicate weave of a rich-blue herringbone silk shirt. I felt a dizzying surge of gratitude for my friends, the people I was lucky enough to call my family. I hunted through the drawers until I’d put together enough of a proper outfit that I wouldn’t be embarrassed seeing my mother. Lissa had chosen well. She’d packed my banyan, a heavy silk dressing gown in a style that had unfortunately gone out of fashion a few hundred years ago. Mine was a blue-gray shade that brought out my eyes, and while it looked fairly regal, it felt like wrapping myself in a blanket. I threw it on over one of the simpler shirts and a pair of soft linen trousers. Lissa had even thought to include a pair of velvet slippers, and I slid my feet into them with a sigh.

“I can’t believe your idea of a casual look involves this much silk,” Evangeline said. “I mean, I can, but it’s still wild.” She’d stacked the books and was now searching around the sheets trying to find her pen, which she’d already stuck in her hair alongside its predecessor.

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