Page 45 of Soulbound Shadows: Part 2

“Off,” she said, reaching for my shirt buttons. “Off, off.”

I obliged. One of the joys of button-down shirts was that you could remove it without breaking a kiss, and I made liberal use of this trait as I stripped to the waist and let the shirt drop to the floor. Evangeline broke the kiss only to tug off her pants, which I deemed to be an acceptable reason.

There was another of those soap-bubble moments as Evangeline’s hair sprung loose from its restraints, and her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. Her lips were swollen and slick with my spit. She stood before me in an oversized shirt and her underwear—black panties, practical cotton, but with the barest hint of lace trimming the waistband. With my fingers on the jut of her hipbone, I brushed my thumb over the tiny bow that decorated the front of the underwear. She looked up at me as if hypnotized, her eyes dark.

Again, the bubble popped. I spun us and pushed Evangeline against the wall. She gasped and let me, yanking me down into brutal, devouring kiss. I grabbed one of her thighs and lifted it, encouraging her to wrap it around me. Her skin was smooth, and intoxicatingly soft. I dug my nails in to hear the soft, sweet sound of her moan.

As I reached for the hem of Evangeline’s shirt, she put a hand to her chest. “No, leave it on.”

I frowned but didn’t push the issue. As much as I loved seeing Evangeline entirely naked, there was something to be said for this as well. Her bare legs, creamy pale and covered in constellations of freckles, went on for miles. I wanted to map each perfect mark with my hands, then my tongue, then my hands again.

Evangeline reached for my trousers, pressing a hand to the length of my cock through the fine wool. She squeezed just the right side of rough, and I hissed, hips bucking into her touch, which made her grin in triumph, as though this was some great victory. To be fair, every time I got to touch Evangeline, I felt as though I’d just done something incredible, so I couldn’t judge her for it.

Evangeline undid my fly and pulled out my cock. She gave me a few quick strokes, and I had to close my eyes. The sight of her hand moving over me was dangerous, as was the pleased, hungry look in her eye. The adrenaline rushing through me urged me to push forward, and the rational part of me knew the night was young. Still, I didn’t want this to end with a quick hand job. I tugged Evangeline’s underwear down enough to slide two fingers between her folds, not pressing in, just teasing.

“Fuck.” She groaned and moved her leg from around my waist, so her underwear could drop to the floor. I missed the sensation of her wrapped around me, so I lifted her thigh back into place. I gave a considering glance to the wall behind Evangeline and took a half-step forward until she was pressed between it and me, then reached down and raised her other leg.

Evangeline went still for a moment, then her eyes widened, and she allowed me to take her weight. With her legs spread to wrap around my hips she was spread open for me. I moved against her, watching my cock slide against her flushed cunt, and she gasped as the head brushed against her clit.

“Fuck,” Evangeline said again, breathlessly this time. She reached down and guided me into her. It was somewhat awkward, and I had to cant my hips away to give her room to maneuver. But then I slid into her molten core, and any awkwardness vanished.

I fucked Evangeline with rough, grinding thrusts. She tried to move back down to meet me, but there wasn’t much she could do in her position. All she had to do was relax and enjoy the ride. A steady stream of curses spilled from her mouth, although they began to be interrupted more and more frequently by moans she couldn’t hold back.

Evangeline’s eyes were closed, her head tipped back against the wall. I loved watching her like that. When she closed her eyes, any self-consciousness she had about sex fell away. She got louder, more expressive, and the expression on her face every time I hit the right spot was transcendental. Tiny, bright spots of pain ignited across my back as she dragged her nails over my skin, and it only made the pleasure more overwhelming.

I buried my face in the curve of her neck, mouthing blindly across her pulse, and she moaned, putting a hand to the back of my head to press me closer. Well, if she insisted. I gave her the barest prick of a fang, and she cursed, one of her legs kicking. I bit down gently, and Evangeline wailed, clenching around me in dizzying waves as she came. With the taste of her on my tongue and the pulsing of her body around mine, I followed her over the edge.

We were in the living room when Theo, Vic, and Marcus returned, looking tense and drawn.

“Any luck?” Evangeline asked them.

“Yeah. Yeah, we found something,” Theo said.

“Wraithwood School,” Marcus supplied. “It was before your time, I believe, Evangeline.”

Her brow furrowed. “Yeah. The magic school, right? Closed down ages ago.”

“Well. ‘Ages ago’ is relative.” Marcus sniffed.

“It’s dead,” Theo cut in. “It should’ve had enough background magic in it to maintain a strong personality for decades, even stronger than this place, but it’s just… empty. I tried to communicate with it, but there wasn’t anything there.”

“The school used to have an incredibly vital presence,” Marcus said. “It frequently played pranks on the students, and on the faculty. Never on the staff, however. It had a great deal of respect for the janitors.”

“Something’s been draining it?” I asked, thinking of the device that had been left in Evangeline’s apartment.

“Someone,” Marcus said. “Or something.”

16

EVANGELINE

That morning, I grabbed Marcus and pulled him aside. I’d slept in a T-shirt the night before to hide the cracks in my skin from Gabriel, and if he thought it was odd, he’d kept it to himself. I was grateful for that. I wanted to figure out what I was dealing with quietly, without freaking anyone else out unnecessarily.

“Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”

Marcus nodded, then led me to his bedroom. The place was tidier than I’d expected, probably because there was more space than there should have been. The furniture was on every surface, not just the floor, so the clutter was spread across the walls and ceiling, too. Marcus had walked easily up the wall to sit in an armchair, and when he snapped his fingers, the ottoman warped into a matching chair. I followed gingerly, feeling a twist of vertigo as my sense of which direction was down rotated ninety degrees.

“What’s on your mind?” Marcus asked. His impish uncle act was turned down low, which meant he could tell I was worried.

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