Page 7 of Magic Unmasked

"Enough," he groaned, unable to take any more, as he pulled her to her feet.

In one swift motion, he pushed her onto her belly on the bed. Her body was practically humming with anticipation for what she knew was to come. The sensation of the silky, cool sheets beneath her hands and belly grounded her as he raised her ass in the air, face down, presenting her pussy to him.

With one swift thrust, he entered her—deep, hard—and she cried out in pleasure as he filled her completely. The feeling of him inside her was indescribable: hot, hard, and everything she'd never known she wanted. He started moving in and out, setting a torturous pace that made her toes curl and her nails dig into the sheets.

"Yes," she moaned, the sound echoing around the room.

"God," he growled, his breathing ragged in her ear. "You feel so good... so tight..."

His words spurred her on further, her need for release growing more powerful by the second.

"Faster," she panted, trying to find a way to move with him, but he refused to release her from his vice-like grip.

With a growl, he obliged, picking up speed and slamming into her with a force that she felt deep in her core. Her first orgasm ripped through her, forcing a long moan from her lips as stars exploded behind her eyelids. His grip on her hips tightened, and he began to move in earnest—slow, deep thrusts that had her writhing beneath him.

"Harder," she pleaded, lost in the moment.

Ronan hesitated for just a moment before complying, his pace increasing until the sound of their bodies slamming together echoed through the room. He picked up speed, driving into her with an intensity that left her breathless.

"Good mate," he growled, his voice low and guttural.

As she felt the waves of pleasure building again, she knew that letting go and giving in to this man—this shifter—was exactly what she needed, and somehow he had known that. One hand snaked around her body, tugging and pinching her nipples. A gasp escaped her lips as a jolt of pleasure shot through her.

His hands moved back to her hips, holding her steady as he pounded into her, sending her over the edge again before thrusting deep as he roared and filled her with his cum.

When he was done, he leaned down and nuzzled her neck. “Sleep and dream of me, little fae. It won’t be long before I show you how much better this will be in the real world.”

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of Lilith’s hotel room, casting soft, golden light over the wooden floor. She stretched and got out of bed, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. She had slept deeply after he’d left her dreams, but the dream had been unsettling, to say the least.

Getting out of bed, she took a shower, got dressed and then paced back and forth, her boots thudding softly against the floorboards, each creak an irritant that only added to the turmoil swirling inside her. Every step, every breath felt heavy with failure.I should’ve captured Savannah, and I sure as hell shouldn’t have dreamed about that damn sabretooth-shifter,she berated herself for the hundredth time. The Duvall sisters had slipped through her fingers, and for what?

But she knew the answer: for him. Ronan Rousseau. The sabretooth-shifter who had somehow burrowed under her skin in a matter of hours and then invaded her dreams. Even now, the thought of him stirred something deep and primal inside her, and it pissed her off.

She ran a hand through her long, pale blonde hair, trying to focus on anything other than the confusing, visceral reaction she’d had to him. The man was infuriating—arrogant, dangerous, and yet…What the hell had that been about?

Lilith stopped mid-step, her pulse quickening as she recalled the heat in his golden eyes, the raw, untamed energy that had radiated from him during the fight. She hadn’t just been drawn to him; she had been consumed by him, like a moth drawn too close to a flame. Her body had responded to him in ways she didn’t want to admit—in ways she hadn’t even known she was capable of. She could still feel the electricity in the air when their eyes had locked, the tension that had made her heart pound in her chest, and the undeniable pull that had left her wanting more.

“A shifter?” she muttered bitterly to herself. “Never.”

She shook her head, trying to banish the thoughts. There was no room in her life for this kind of distraction, especially not from someone like him. Shifters were unpredictable, wild, and prone to letting their instincts take over. She had no time for primal urges or fated bonds. She was fae, a warrior bound by duty. Such dalliances, much less bondings were forbidden. Attraction, least of all to someone like Ronan, was a weakness she couldn’t afford.

Yet, the fire in her belly still simmered, refusing to be doused.

Lilith resumed her pacing, trying to burn off the restless energy thrumming through her body. The floorboards groanedbeneath her weight, the creaks an echo of the inner chaos that threatened to spill over. She had failed to secure Savannah, and how the hell was Julien Crowe involved?

She cursed under her breath. This assignment was already a mess, and on top of that, she was grappling with these maddening feelings toward Ronan.

Her senses were assaulted by the sweet smell of beignets wafting through the open window. The scent of fried dough and sugar teased her, a reminder of the human world she barely knew. Lilith had spent so much of her life focused on the fae realm and her duties that the mortal realm had always felt foreign. In truth, she’d never been comfortable here. The noises, the chaos, the humans with their fragile lives and fleeting pleasures—it all seemed so distant from the eternal order of the fae.

And yet, here she was, stuck in this world, chasing down fae and dealing with infuriating shifters.

Her pacing halted as her comm crystal pulsed with an eerie, silvery glow from the desk across the room. It hummed with magical energy, vibrating against the wood, the soft glow intensifying as she approached. The sharp tingle in the air made it clear who was on the other end.

Oberon Whisperwind.

Lilith clenched her fists. She wasn’t in the mood for any of his thinly veiled threats.

With a swipe of her hand, she activated the crystal. A figure shimmered into view above it—tall, elegant, and cloaked in the finest silks of the fae court. Oberon’s sharp, angular features were as cold as ever, his silver eyes glittering with icy malice. His long, platinum hair cascaded over his shoulders, perfect as always, and his voice—silky, smooth, and dripping with condescension—filled the room.

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