Page 21 of Bound By the Wraith: Northern Realms

Cali let the sheet drop and he drank in the sight of her. It made his blood burn with lust. Cali quickly climbed into the tub and slowly sank beneath the bubbles, closing her eyes. Cillian crept to the side of the tub and swirled his fingers in the water, watching her.

So, this is your amusement, eh?” she teased.

“Not completely, but this is very pleasing,” he agreed.

“I do have a question.” She hesitated, biting her lower lip.

“Why I didn’t claim you?” Which was a nicer and less crass way of asking why he didn’t fuck her, especially when he very much wanted to.

She nodded. “No one has…well…you know.”

He grinned lazily. “You never asked me. A wraith I may be, but I don’t need to force myself on women. That gives me no pleasure.”

“But reaping souls does?” She teased again, splashing him slightly.

“It’s all about power,” he replied.

“The root of all evil.”

“That’s money, pet, and a mortal consequence.”

“Souls are currency, are they not?”

He frowned, because she was right and he wasn’t enjoying this line of questioning. He stood and, with a snap of his fingers, dressed himself again. “I’ll leave you to your bath.”

As much as he wanted to stick around and drink in the sight of her languishing naked, he didn’t want to divulge too much information, because if she knew, her simple mortal mind could be easily read and easily broken. Gotzone the seraphim had pretty much confirmed that when they healed Cali.

As he made his way down to his throne room, Honk came scurrying up the hall in a panic, their beetle black eyes wide and their tuft of hair standing on end.

“Sire, your mother awaits you.”

Cillian groaned. “My mother?”

“The banshee. Yes.” Honk wrung their hands together nervously.

Cillian grunted and balled his fists, but before he opened the throne room door, he turned to a cowering Honk. “Honk, make sure the mistress Cali has all she needs.”

Honk bowed. “Yes, sire.”

Cillian took a deep breath and opened the throne room doors. His mother sat in his chair on the dais, her pointed chin resting on her hand. Her eyes white, without pupils, prevented him from knowing how she was feeling, and her usually flowing silver hair was tied back in a plait.

Aoife’s line descended from his mother’s sister, so there were some similarities there, but thankfully Aoife and he both took after their human father, bastard that he was. Aoife was nothing like her diabolical witch mother or her great, great, great-aunt, his mother. It’s why he tolerated Aoife.

“Mother, what a surprise,” he said sarcastically.

“Oh, come now, I know your imp Honk told you of my presence. We don’t have to exchange pleasantries.”

“Fine. What’re you doing here then, Mother? You haven’t visited me in years.”

She shrugged. “I heard things.”

“What kind of things?” Cillian asked, crossing his arms.

“The human,” his mother hissed, sitting up straight.

He shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His mother’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t play games with me! She’s here, in this realm. Reincarnated once more. There is powerful magic to be had with that kind of bond.”

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