Page 31 of Heavy is the Crown
His eyes grow dark, his pupils expanding. He can smell me. Smell my need. His body tenses, the veins on his forearms pushing out as he holds himself back. A whimper escapes me. I bite my lip as I gaze at his mouth. That's all it takes. He crashes into me, the taste of Shadow’s blood still potent as he sweeps his tongue into my mouth. The kiss claims me. Captures parts of my soul that feel as though they are dying and breathes new life into them.
I am consumed, my body lighting up with feral need. I move my hands up his body, gripping him hard, and wrap my legs around his waist. My core is slick with need, and I grind up against his cock, an appendage that is straining against the white towel around his waist. Visions of him fucking me flow through my brain like a movie reel.
Then he pulls off my mouth for only a moment, but that moment is enough for reality to hit me. Placing my hand on his bare chest, I push back slightly. “We can’t,” I say, though I’m notsure if it’s to remind him or myself. Our heavy breathing echoes in the space around us.
His eyes are wild, and for a moment, I’m not sure he’ll listen, and if he comes back in, I know I won’t be able to say no. His body is on a hair trigger as he takes a few steps back from me, the last one putting him firmly outside the bathroom. Firmly out of reach of me. “We can’t wait much longer, Ava. You know that. If he won’t get his head on straight, you know what I’ll have to do.” His voice is stern, no give in it. The voice he uses when he’s taking control.
My magic pushes up in response to my emotions turning to a raging whirlpool inside me, but I lock it down quickly. “I will never forgive you,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m never going back.”
But Drago shakes his head. “I would rather have you hate me alive than be dead because our stubborn mate can't get over his demons.” He doesn’t wait for a response before he moves out of my sight, and I hear the bedroom door shut.
My stomach drops out, and I press the back of my hand to my mouth, desperate to contain the sob breaking through me as the overwhelming fear of being taken back home seizes my lungs. Leaving home was reckless, but it was the best thing I have ever done and going back would break me. I would choose death before that, before letting my father have any say in my life again. I allow myself to sit with the fear, allowing it to swim around in my body, before drawing a trembling breath in and pushing it back.
No. I am not that same girl. I’ve grown and matured. I do not have to allow anyone to dictate my life again.
SEVENTEEN
There are two ways a royal of Hell can replenish their magic
1. A ceremony performed by their priestesses under the full moon.
2. Drawing magic from their mate.
– Mori Family Grimoire
Ava
“What would you do?” I ask into the phone as I play with a piece of loose thread on the comforter.
Astrea lets out a long sigh. “I don’t know. I think he needs time, Ava. He’ll come around.” I can hear rustling in the background, and I smile knowing it’s most likely Poppy nesting. The little fox is greatly missed here. “Look, you have time to figure it out.”
I wince. Astrea doesn’t know who I am or what I am. Despite hearing Cordelia call me “princess” and seeing my magic, she hasn’t pushed for me to tell her anything, and part of me feels awful for keeping the secret. It’s the same feeling I had all thoseyears ago that made me tell Drago and Shadow. My mouth opens to let it spill out, but a part of me worries if I vocalize it, my old life will no longer be a ghost haunting me but a poltergeist that will wreck the home I’ve built. “Enough about me. How are you?”
“Nice subject change,” she says, and I can hear the eye roll in her voice. “But I’m okay. Ciaran and I are trying our hardest to get this magic down, but . . .” She trails off, a heavy silence filling the line.
“But?” I press.
Another long sigh comes from her. “But I worry that I’m changing. This magic . . . This magic is a lot, Ava. It feels so fucking heavy at times. Even with Ciaran’s help, it feels like it’s dragging me down.”
I chew on my lip as I listen to her, my stomach rolling with discomfort. “What does Kallen say?”
Astrea growls. “Ciaran never should have brought her here.”
I wince at the venom in her voice but push forward tentatively. “She had the magic for a long time; it might be good to get her help.”
Astrea goes quiet again for a while before clearing her throat. “You are probably right. But all I see when I look at her is my dead sister. I don’t know.” A heavy breath escapes her. “Look, I have to go. Try to be patient with Shadow. I’ll talk to you soon, Ava.” She hangs up the phone before I can even say goodbye.
Throwing my phone down onto the bed, I flop over. Samhain flutters down next to me and pulls on my hair with his beak. I smile and stroke his feathers behind his neck. My cranky little familiar is the only constant I’ve had since coming here. During those years I was held by Alexi, he never left the outside of the prison. I heard rumors from guards that a “giant bird from hell” was killing people as they left the prison. He did what he could to protect me, even if he couldn’t rescue me. He lets out a caw, hisblack eyes assessing me, before he flutters back over to his perch in the corner of the room Drago has given me.
The bed sits against the far back wall facing into the room. Giant fur blankets are piled atop it and drape down. Plush green carpet covers the floor in its entirety. The wood-burning fireplace off to the right always emanates a light scent of smoke, even when it's not burning. With two plush armchairs in front of it, I have fallen asleep there more times than I can count. The wall-to-wall bookcases are by far the best part of the room, and the never-ending reading material makes me want to become a hermit. This room doesn’t match the rest of Drago’s penthouse.
Truthfully, I miss his home on the bluff. Miss the sounds and smells and the feel of it being our home. I had hoped he would bring us there, but Drago, to my knowledge, hasn’t been back since I moved into The Playground. Part of me thinks he can’t bear the idea of us being there again unmated.
Standing up, I make my way over to the adjoining bathroom. This one has a giant clawfoot tub in the center of it. Plants of all varieties decorate the room. Potted trees stand in the corners, and long vines sweep down from hanging baskets. Small succulents line the countertop. The chaos of it all feels oddly relaxing to me.
I fill the bath, and the hot water fills the cool room with steam that spreads the eucalyptus scent out and around. I ignore the beads of sweat that break out over my forehead as I let myself sink into the deep bath. I try to allow the hot water to ease the tension in my shoulders, but after a few moments, I realize it’s a waste and pull myself back out.
Wrapping the towel around my lean body, I huff my annoyance at the fact that I apparently can’t even enjoy a bath. I wipe the mist off the mirror and note the deep purple circles that have taken up permanent residence under my eyes. Clearevidence of the weight I’m carrying and the lack of connection to Hell.
