Page 31 of The Blood Witch

The rest of the words died before they made it past her lips. She stilled, her smile slipping as she stared up at the male who had her pinned, his forearms braced on the wall on either side of her head, caging her in.

Soft brown hair, not midnight black.

Tan, sun-touched skin. A jaw lightly peppered with stubble.

Green eyes flecked with gray, not warm amber gold.

This wasn’t Alastair, it was Jasper. Jasper staring down at her, his face close enough that their noses were touching. Jasper with a crooked smirk on his face.

“Jasper?” Fey tried to ask. But the moment she opened her mouth, lips forming the question, Jasper closed the gap between them and kissed her.

It wasn’t anything like kissing Alastair. Alastair kissed her as though it was a matter of life and death, kissed her like he wanted to possess her. It was hot and rough and rushed and took her breath away every time.

This was completely different. Jasper kissed her softly, patiently. When he opened his mouth and ran his tongue over her lips, she couldn’t stop herself from opening for him, couldn’t stop herself from arching up into him when he groaned in encouragement, leaning further into her, pressing his body into hers.

No.

Fey brought her hands up to Jasper’s chest to push him away. But instead of stopping him, she gripped his shirt tighter, her treacherous hands pulling him even closer. Wanting to feel his body against hers.

Her head emptied as Jasper gently cupped her face, his tongue softly caressing hers. Her mind went blank, and there was no world outside of this, of his mouth, his body…

“You could at least let her get through the door,” a familiar voice said, breaking the spell cast over the two of them.

Alastair.

Fey jerked her head back a little too quickly. The back of her head hit the wall behind her, and she gasped. Stars danced in her front of her eyes, either from the kiss or the knock to her head, or some terrible combination of the two.

“Are you alright?” Jasper chuckled. “That sounded like it hurt.”

Fey swore in answer, twisting to peer over his arms to where Alastair stood, leaning against the kitchen doorway.

“Alastair,” she said. She searched his face for some sign of anger, ofthe betrayal he must be feeling. Of the murderous rage she knew lurked right below the surface.

She found none.

“Happy Birthday, Witchling,” Alastair said with a smirk. He looked amused, not angry. No more homicidal or murderous than usual.

“It’s not my birthday…” she argued.

“He knows,” Jasper told her, moving closer and peppering her neck with soft kisses. His body pressed her hard against the wall, and her mind sputtered again.

“Well, I didn’tknow. I figured it was a long shot.” Alastair shrugged. “But considering we’ve been together two years now, and you still won’t tell me when your birthday actually is, I figured today was as good a day as any to celebrate. Looks like you’re already thoroughly enjoying your present.”

Lips pressed against the bare skin of Fey’s neck, Jasper laughed. “Jealous already, boss?” he asked. The soft brush of his lips against her skin as he spoke sent a shiver down her spine.

Alastair’s only answer was an angry grunt, and Jasper laughed even harder, nuzzling further up Fey’s neck until his mouth was over her ear.

“I don’t think he’s good at sharing,” he told her, and his voice reverberated through her entire body. “But luckily for you both, I’m an expert.”

“Jasper,” she said. “I need you to give me a little space…”

“Why?” he asked, his words soft and warm against her skin. He licked her, a delicate touch with the tip of his tongue, right below her ear, like he was tasting her.

“Because I’ve been practicing boiling things alive,” Fey answered, happy the words held a bite she didn’t quite feel at the moment. “And if you don’t give me some room to breathe, you’re going to be my next test subject.”

Jasper chuckled, but to his credit, he moved back, at least a bit.

“What is this?” Fey asked, eyes narrowing on Alastair as he stalked toward them. He came to a stop next to Jasper, who kept one arm on the wall angled over Fey but shifted a fraction to give him room.

---