Page 42 of A Touch of Madness

I lead him backward until the edge of the bed presses against his knees, and he sits without breaking the kiss. My heart pounds as I climb onto his lap, straddling him, and his hands find my thighs, sliding up to settle on my hips. We’ve continued growing closer, and shared many more intimate moments, since he first took my virginity. Each time feels brand new. Like we’re bound together just that much more.

There’s a brief moment where our eyes meet, and I see everything he’s trying to say without words—fear, desire, and something far more profound.

“You’re incredible, love,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. His lips trail down my neck, sending a shiver through me as I press closer to him.

My hands roam over his chest, tracing the lines of muscle and scar tissue, each touch a silent promise. The need between us is electric, urgent but layered with tenderness. As I move against him, his breath catches, and I feel his grip tighten, grounding me while also surrendering to this moment.

I lean forward, pressing my lips to his collarbone, tasting the salt of his skin as his hands slide under the hem of my shirt. He pauses, giving me a chance to stop him, but I reach for his hands, guiding him to lift it over my head. His gaze roams over me, and the intensity in his eyes makes my breath hitch.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says softly, his hands cupping my waist, as though I might vanish.

“Lucian, please,” I whisper, leaning down to kiss him again, my hands tangling in his hair. The kiss grows hungrier, deeper, and as I shift against him, I feel his body responding to mine. There’s no hesitation now, no second guessing—only us, drowning in each other.

“You never have to ask me nicely,” Lucian whispers against my skin. “Not for this.”

This moment…it feels like something more than passion—it’s a collision of everything we’ve been holding back. Every touch, every movement speaks of trust and longing, a desperate need to connect before the chaos of the night ahead. The world outside fades away, leaving only this moment, raw and unfiltered.

I take his cock from his pants and adjust him at my opening before guiding him inside. Lowering myself onto him completely, we both sigh in unison. In the midst of everything else happening, this is the one thing that can always take me from those incessant thoughts.

I move slowly, with precision, up and down his length as he bends to my breasts, admiring them as he takes them in his hands. My head lolls backward as I continue the motion, allowing him to bottom out inside of me before moving back up and down once more. His moans of pleasure only spur me on further, and when he reaches between us to massage my clit, I lose the sliver of control I was barely holding onto.

“Lucian!” I cry out, unable to stand the desperate need welling inside of me. He’s always controlled and careful with me, shielding me from his animalistic tendencies, the feral side of him I’ve yet to experience—in the bedroom, anyway. But for a split second, I think he may lose that bit of control he has too. I look him in the eye and his gaze is so deeply intense, so unwavering, and something lights his beautiful orbs as his breath catches.

“Fuck, Sylvie,” he grunts out as I pick up the pace, and he bends down to bring my nipple into his mouth, using his expertly skilled fingers on my other. I cry out in complete bliss as he moves his fingers back to my clit and circles the small bud in time to my own movements, and before long, he’s sending me over the edge of utter desire. I’m careening into the void, and I don’t have any care in the world because he’s the one making me come undone—shattering me in the best possible way.

He forcefully grabs me by the hips and starts to control my movements, and I sense him close to the edge as well. “Fuck, Sylvie. Fuck.” He repeats the words like a mantra, my name from his lips a prayer as he does unthinkable things to my pussy. He slams me onto his cock and lifts me back up, repeating the motion again and again as he claims my lips in a bruising kiss as he comes.

He holds me, keeps himself bottomed out inside of me as he cradles me to his chest, both of us heaving and panting and coming down from the intense orgasms that just rippled through us. I don’t know how long we stay in that position; it seems like hours but is somehow over too soon. When we finally break apart, he exits the room only to get a warm cloth to clean me, and I revel in the way he cares for me.

After he finishes, we reposition ourselves on the bed and lie tangled together, the weight of what’s to come pressing against the fragile bubble we’ve created. His fingers trace absent patterns on my skin, and I close my eyes, savoring the quiet.

“Whatever happens tonight,” he says softly, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his words, “I’ll protect you. Even if it costs me everything.”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. Instead, I press a kiss to his chest, over the steady beat of his heart. “We protect each other. No matter what.”

He doesn’t answer, but the way he holds me says enough. For this moment, in this room, we’re not fighters or leaders or pawns in someone else’s game. We’re just us.

And that’s enough.

The night air presses against us, thick and damp, as if the forest itself holds its breath in anticipation of our arrival. Shadows flicker like restless phantoms under the crescent moon's pale glow, and the world feels impossibly small, swallowed by the vast, brooding presence of Blackthorn Woods.

Ravenna, cloaked in her dark robes, stands at the forefront with Sylvie beside her. The three elders she’s brought along are imposing figures, their silence carrying an authority that makes even Viago hold his tongue. Nicole and Rebecca linger close, their gazes darting between the trees, tension etched into their faces. The faction leaders—myself, Dorian, Viago, and the two Unbound representatives, Vada and Kristoff—stand in a loose circle, keeping our distance but united by necessity.

“We move quickly and quietly,” I say, breaking the silence like the crack of a distant storm. My voice carries low but firm, slicing through the thick anticipation hanging between us. “This isn’t a battle of brute force. Precision is key. The wards will make us stumble if we’re not careful, and the traps are designed to split us apart.”

Viago chuckles softly, the sound grating in the stillness. “A lesson in caution from you, Lucian? How refreshing.”

I ignore him, focusing instead on Sylvie. She’s watching the woods with a steady gaze, though I can see the faint tremor in her hands. I step closer, lowering my voice. “Are you ready?”

She meets my gaze, her nod steady. Her voice resolute, she says, “Let’s finish this.”

Ravenna steps forward, her voice sharp and commanding. “The elders and I will perform the incantation alongside of you once we have the Mirror of Thorns. But understand this, all of you: the wards are layered and malicious. They won’t just disorient us. They’ll attack our minds. Our memories. Stay close to each other, or you’ll lose yourselves in the magic.”

“Comforting,” Vada mutters, adjusting the blade strapped to her side.

The group stands in tense silence as we finalize the plan before entering the forest. Viago steps forward, his tone uncharacteristically serious as he addresses everyone. “We all know what’s at stake. No one goes off on their own, no matter the reason. These woods aren’t just haunted by magic—they’re alive with it. Stick with the group.”

Ravenna nods, her gaze sweeping over the faction leaders. “The witches and the vampires will need to support one another. Our magic and your strength complement each other. If you see a ward, call for one of us. Don’t assume you can bypass it with brute force.”

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