Page 47 of Mated to the Mad Marquess

Demons aren’t mindless like phantoms. Ezra had wanted to bargain, and bargain they did.

“A piece of your soul and eternal companionship,” Margot said on a sigh. “What a tale.”

“Companionship wasn’t really part of the bargain,” Hrafn explained, “but it turns out when you share such an intimate bit of yourself with another, it’s difficult to be apart after that. We want to be together.”

Hrafn had fallen contemplative then and had let the room grow quiet.

“How much of that was embellished?” Malcolm asked.

“Oh, I forgot to embellish any of it, actually,” she said honestly, and he laughed at her. Mirth came easily to him. She loved that he was such a joyful person.

“Come along, you,” Margot called to the little shadows. “Let’s turn on all the lanterns in my room and put you to bed before the lot of you get cranky and mischievous. You too, Ember,” she said to the puffy knot that lingered near Malcolm’s feet.

Margot led them out. Susan and Clapa came up the rear, encouraging the slower shadows to keep pace.

Ezra left her shoulder, taking flight.

“Where are you going now?” she asked.

He circled the room overhead.The ladies were telling a story about the time their business was robbed and the Queen of Night went in search of the robber. I’d like to hear how the story ends.

“See you later, then,” she said.

Ezra made another lap around the room.I mean, they are humans, so they’ll probably try to kill me if I’m not too careful.

“Oh, Ezra, no. I don’t think—”

But they tell great stories, he said, and then with that, he took to the hall in the direction the parade of shadows had left in.

Hrafn always felt it when she was alone with her mate. There was a change in the air, a weight added to his stares, a shared awareness of each other. He wasn’t keeping himself from her anymore, but he hadn’t tried to bed her again either.

She didn’t want to push that issue. It seemed unfair to seduce him knowing that she was leaving, and he was staying. But just the memory of him: his touch, his weight, the intimate caress of his soul over her body . . . She wanted all of it, all of him. She wanted to be filled again, to rut like the old gods used to, without a care for anyone else except their partner.

Her stomach swooped.

But, like she had all week, she stuffed those feelings aside, wanting to do what was best for him, and best for her heart.Sidhek, what was best did nothing to cool the growing ache between her thighs or the loneliness that pinched her heart when she turned in at night to sleep by herself.

“How are your hands?” she asked, lips pursed. They’d practiced with the sword today. Ezra had supplied her weapon, turning into a blade that looked like volcanic glass. Even rusty Malcolm was a talented swordsman, but his palms lacked the calluses he’d once earned.

He reclaimed his seat and opened and closed his right hand, examining it. “It’s not unbearable.”

Hrafn knelt before him. He let her turn his hand over, a small smile on his face. The skin between his thumb and forefinger was red and irritated. She pressed her touch into the worn flesh in the heels of his hands and pads of his palms, where the calluses had yet to form.

He winced, but he let her continue. Massaging his hand encouraged the skin to callus faster.

“You’re brooding,” he said.

She felt the corner of her mouth tug up. “I don’t brood.”

“Solis,” Malcolm said to his soul, and the shadowy form stood at attention, “is our mate brooding?”

Solis made a show of examining her more closely, leaning in. His tail swished at the air thoughtfully. Then he nodded his head.

Malcolm laid a hand in her hair, and her chin dropped. She wasn’t trying to brood, but . . . His light touch teased her scalp, and her eyes slid closed. She leaned into it, laying her cheek on his lap.

More touches, gentle down her cheek. He was so, so good at the careful touches. Just as good at the rough ones. She shivered, a full body tremor.

“Raven?”

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