Page 19 of Horn of Winter

“You figured right.” I stepped onto the landing and immediately tugged off my sweater. The room was warm, the fire still bright, suggesting he hadn’t arrived all that long ago. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit, though? I thought you were meeting some friends this evening for a boys’ night out.”

He glanced around, the burnished gold flecks in his buttery brown eyes gleaming brightly in the fire’s light. He was a typical Talien pixie in looks, with wide shoulders, slim hips, and thick mahogany hair. Though his face was probably a little too sharp to be called handsome, his lips were full and definitely made to give pleasure, be it as a kiss or in more intimate explorations. I knew that from experience.

Right now, he was wearing my ratty old green dressing gown, which should have made him look ridiculous, but somehow succeeded in doing the exact opposite.

“I was, but it ended far too early. I thought I might as well come here and surprise you with breakfast.” He paused briefly.“Who was with you? It sounded like a woman rather than Mathi.”

“It was just someone wanting me to find something.”

“At this hour?”

“Most night folk don’t keep the same hours as the rest of us.” I slid my hands around his waist and kissed the back of his neck. “So, breakfast. Why? Or is the answer to that one obvious?”

He chuckled softly. “It’s been two days since I had you in my bed, and I ache. Badly.”

I laughed. “Then you shouldn’t have started cooking the bacon. Now we are fated to eat it before we can do anything else.”

“The pan is barely even hot. It can certainly be taken off the heat for the necessary amount of time.”

“If the necessary amount of time is anything less than an hour, I’ll be severely disappointed.”

He chuckled again. “I am certainly not one to disappoint a lady.”

He definitely hadn’t so far. I undid the dressing gown’s sash, then slid my hands down the chiseled length of his body and lightly ran my fingers across his erection. He made a low sound deep in his throat, then flicked off the gas and spun around, sweeping me up and off my feet in one smooth movement. I laughed and snuggled against his chest, even though the bedroom wasn’t all that far away. Nothing really was up here—the word bijou had definitely been developed with this place in mind, even if we had far more space on this floor than many of our neighbors, thanks to Gran illegally raising the roof line and creating a usable loft.

Once we reached my bedroom, he placed me on my feet and began to undress me, taking his time to explore the flesh revealed with teeth and tongue before removing the next layer.By the time I was naked, I was aching with desire and needing him so badly I could barely think.

I slid my hands up his taut body and slipped the gown from his shoulders, then pushed him backward, onto the bed. I climbed up after him, straddling but not immediately sheathing him.

“There is a vital question you’ve yet to answer,” I murmured, my lips so close to his, I could taste the desire raging through him.

“You,” he whispered huskily, “are an evil woman, asking questions at a moment like this.”

“Ah, but it’s a question vital to my future happiness.”

I lowered myself just a fraction, and he groaned, his hands sliding to my hips but holding no force. “And what might that question be?”

“Are we having eggs with the bacon, or will it be a simple butty?”

He laughed and kissed me hard, thrusting upward even as I went down, until he was completely and utterly sheathed.

We moved as one, slowly at first but with increasing urgency, until all I felt, all I wanted, was him coming deep inside. Need and desire combined, a force so fierce it was nigh on explosive. My orgasm hit, and I gasped, shuddering and shaking, unable to breathe or think as the deep, undeniable pleasure consumed me. He came a heartbeat later, his body stiffening underneath mine, his deep groan echoing.

For the longest time after, neither of us moved. When I could finally breathe again, I rolled to one side and tucked myself close. He traced a finger lightly down my cheek and my neck and stopped at the stone pendant sitting just above my breasts.

“You’re always wearing this, and I have to say, it’s an extremely unusual piece of jewelry. The casing looks handmade, and the stone has an odd resonance.”

“We call it the Eye, and it’s basically a focus stone. It used to be Mom’s, and now it’s mine. Lugh made the cage so I could keep it close to my heart and not risk losing it.”

None of which was a lie, even if it wasn’t exactly the whole truth. The Eye was in fact the actual eye of the goddess Ethine, who’d been turned to stone long ago and who’d gifted her eyes in the form of these black seeing stones to both an ancestor of mine and the hags. Mom had indeed used it to amplify her second sight when relic hunting, and to keep in contact with Beira and the other hags when she was undertaking tasks for them, but it was in truth far more than that. It was one third of a triune—the knives and the codex being the other two—that had been designed to gift the women of my line with foresight, knowledge, and protection, supposedly providing all the tools we needed to fight those seeking the rebirth of the dark gods in the tangible world.

Or so Beira had informed me recently.

Of course, the Myrkálfar weren’t the only ones who’d forgotten or lost items vital to their futures, and until I’d come into possession of all three items, the true power of the triune had not been used or even remembered for centuries. Which meant that between the lack of directions and my own inexperience when it came to my recently emerged talents, my ability to use the triune to its full capacity was currently somewhat limited.

“It sometimes glows when you sleep,” he commented.

“Probably when I’m dreaming.” I shrugged. “Not that I get prophetic dreams all that often, thankfully.”

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