Page 19 of Masked Fate

Fucking hell.

“Astrid, you want Rave to kill me with his bare fucking hands? Look away from my crotch,” I growl, then bring my eyes to thewitch. “And you…” I trail off because she’s drunk, so there’s no point trying to reason with her. “Eyes off. Go back to your own kingdom and get some warlock dick.”

But something about that doesn’t sit right with me. I feel… off. I can’t pinpoint why, and I’m not going to waste my time trying to figure it out.

Astrid studies me, frowning. “You know, Soren—”

“Why is everyone staring at Soren’s dick?” Rave growls, scowling at his mate. He pulls her to his side, and she climbs up his body until her legs are wrapped around his hips and his hands are on her ass.

“Soren, can you get Pandora back to her room, please?” Rave asks, burying his face in Astrid’s neck.

Why me?

“Rave—”

“Now, Soren. I need to go and fuck my mate and remind her who she belongs to,” he grinds out, making moaning sounds as he walks away.

I really miss the days when Rave was better at sharing.

“I can walk myself,” Pandora states in a snappy tone, then walks in the wrong direction, almost tripping over.

Sighing heavily, I grip her upper arm and lead her toward the castle.

She resists me at first, scowling, but eventually gives in with a sigh. “I’m a whole grown-ass queen, Soren. I can find my way to the guest room. Just because you’re a tracker doesn’t mean you need to direct me.”

A laugh bursts out of me. “I’m not helping you because I’m a tracker but because you’re drunk. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to our resident witch, would we?”

“You would,” she mutters, stopping and turning to face me as we enter the castle. My eyes drop to the black stone she always wears around her neck, drawn to it for some reason. “You’dprobably celebrate if something happened to me. But then, who would you blame?”

I’m not getting into this with her right now.

Instead, I bend to pick her up, lifting her over my shoulder.

“Put me down!” she growls, pinching my ass. She slaps it when I don’t react, making me smirk.

That’s the first time a female has been the one to spank me.

When we reach her guest suite, she raises her body and puts her hand against the lock, allowing it to open. Stepping inside, it smells like her—cherries and a hint of coconut.

All but throwing her down on the bed, her violet eyes look up at me, unguarded for what feels like the first time.

There’s pain in them.

Deep, unfiltered pain.

And… longing?

I don’t know why she’s looking at me like that, but with a slightly tilted head, I study her for a long moment.

This witch’s mother took something from me and broke something inside me.

She made me feel weak, and I’m a warrior.

I don’t fucking like that.

I should never feel weak.

I should never have broken.

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