Page 1 of Spring's Descent

1

PERSEPHONE

I just needed an orgasm.My knees dug into the field of wildflowers as I rocked over the stablehand’s toned body. The long layers of my cotton dress pooled across the chiseled muscles of his stomach as the heat from our combined breaths puffed into the cool spring air around us.

“Gods above, Korae,” he said as his blue eyes roved over my body, snagging on the loose ties over my breasts. They were on the verge of slipping out, exposing me to the curious eyes of any person wandering this part of the forest. I didn’t mind the thought of others watching, so long as I could finish.

His grip on my ass tightened as I picked up the pace, arching my back. My hands trailed up to my chest, brushing my nipples through the thin, cotton fabric as I let a moan tumble from my lips—fake it till you make it, right?

“Gods,” he panted, head falling back. At leastheseemed to be enjoying himself.

Closing my eyes, I focused on finding the rhythm I needed, grinding along Oliver’s length—Orein? Odin? Never mind. I just needed to come. Not only would an orgasm grant me a much needed stress relief, but I also craved a glimpse of the magic lurking in my veins.

Magic was addictive, especially when you were as weak as I was. Each burst was euphoria. Every hit, a taste of the type of power I’d never get to experience. Release magic was all I could muster—power derived from an emotional release. Sex was the most common, but mending a heartbreak, forgiving those who have wronged you, all contained power. It wasn’t a type of magic that could be controlled, though, and I’d only ever been able to feel power through an orgasm.

Other earth witches didn’t need sex to access their magic before their awakening, but even the strongest among us had admitted to flares of magic shortly after climax. Something to do with how sex was linked to life magic, not that any of them would fess up to Demeter about it.

We were supposed to be chaste, docile things whose only care in the world was ensuring our magic lines continued. Sex was for reproduction purposes only, not something to find pleasure in. At least not for women.

Much to my mother’s dismay, I thought the entire idea of being a man’s breeding toy was totally fucked. She’d wanted me to be her perfect daughter, one pure and above reproach. So, naturally, I had done everything possible to rage against the destiny she’d crafted for me.

Which was how I found myself in the middle of a field, fucking a stableboy whose name I couldn’t remember.

Adjusting my angle, I braced my palms on his chest, working my clit. There. A real moan fell from my lips as I concentrated on chasing that growing heat low in my belly.

Grass stained my knees and wildlife flitted around us, but I welcomed the extra connection to the earth. I needed it.

“You’re a ray of beauty in a dismal world,” the stableboy panted, his body writhing up and down as I moved. “A marvel to behold, Korae.”

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, attempting to block him out. I hated my name, the very sound of it feeling like daggers dragged across stone. Larkspur said this guy was a good fuck—and I was so desperately in need of a good fuck—but this was seriously taking a turn for the worse.

“Your eyes are like fresh grass. Your hair like the golden-red of a blazing fire?—”

“Stop talking,” I ground out, pressing my hand over his mouth as I angled my hips forward.

If he could keep his mouth shut for a little longer, I might have a chance?—

“You have got to be shitting me,” I muttered, slipping off him as I felt his entire body tense. I angled his pulsing dick down just as he came, spraying his own chest with the mess.

A long, contented sigh escaped him as his eyes fluttered open with something close to hope. “Did you finish?”

Is he serious?If he thoughtthatwas what it sounded like when a girl came, I would have to have a very serious conversation with Lark. Pressing my lips together against a very candid and extremely unhelpful retort, I pushed to a stand and focused instead on retying the bodice of my dress.

“Not even close, Orwin.”

“It’s Owen,” he said, using his discarded shirt to mop up the mess. Stepping into his pants, he lifted a bushy brow in my direction as if I were lying. “I’ve never not made a girl come before.”

A snort ripped through me, the sound only darkening the look of suspicion in his eyes—eyes that shifted over my shoulder to the tree line in the distance.

“Get behind me,” he ordered, retrieving a small dagger from the pocket of his pants.

Rolling my eyes, I continued brushing out my dress. His actions were commendable but pointless. Only the strongestwitches were granted life after our twenty-first birthdays, and I was anything but.

I was the daughter to the great Demeter Thornbrook, the witch who had single-handedly led our people to safety after The Dark Faction’s infamous attack on The Crystal City. She was powerful enough to keep us hidden, single-handedly maintaining the glamor these past ten years.

There were whispers the gods would invite her to join them in The Aboveworld. Some claimed she had already conversed with Zeus and Hera, that she had been given Hestia’s blessing for selecting our new home in The Black Forest. Every witch here worshiped her, but they didn’t know her the way I did.

“Put the blade down,” I said to Owen as the pungent smell of lilac reached me. Power rippled through the field, causing my spine to stiffen and my pulse to race, but Owen stood his ground, having no idea who was walking toward us.

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