Page 66 of Pirate Witch
His free hand snakes out to the side, returning with a slim dagger decorated with blue sapphires. He hands it to me, and I almost drop it in my haste to slash a thin line across my chest. I barely feel the wound—the blade is that sharp—and when Kier chooses that second to finally pull out of my body and slam back in, the pain I should be feeling is eclipsed by mind-shattering pleasure.
Those piercings drag against my internal walls, lending a heaviness to his dick that does crazy things to my g-spot. Three thrusts later, I’m delirious. My hands cling to his shoulders, trying to force him closer. I hardly have enough wits to notice the fae words he speaks so reverently, or the thin line he creates on his own palm.
But when that hand meets the line across my chest, my world explodes. The mate bond snaps into being like it’s been waiting for this moment. It shatters whatever control my fae has been clinging on to.
Kier flings the blade away and leans over me, hammering into me with a fervent power I can only lie back and glory in. His magic reaches between us to tease my breasts once more, adding to the pleasure already spiralling through my system.
My third orgasm is so intense I swear I black out for a second. My muscles clenching on Kier until he joins me, falling over the edge with a low groan of pleasure. Instead of collapsing on me, he keeps himself suspended above me and presses his forehead to mine. Somehow, I manage to put together the brain cells to activate my contraceptive sigil, but that’s all I have the energy for.
For a long time, neither of us can speak. We just sit there, glorying in the feeling of closeness.
“You are the greatest miracle,” he murmurs, falling onto his side and dragging me across his body like a blanket.
His finger traces delicate swirls across my collarbone and I look down, only to gasp at the bold, twirling lines which his touch seems to bring to the surface of my skin. They’re opalescent and shimmering, almost like scars, but prettier.
Kier’s mating mark.
“Beautiful,” I whisper, craning my head to try to get a better look and probably giving myself a double chin in the process.
“They suit you,” he answers. “I wish you were fae. I’d kill to wear your mark on my skin.”
His finger leaves the mark, and it fades, as if it were never there. I feel strangely bereft without the ability to see them, even though I know they’re still there.
“I could give you some sigils, like Val has, when we get to Coveton,” I offer. “They’re not mating marks, but they’ll protect you when I can’t.” I pause as another thought strikes me. “But, if you’d rather not wear any more witch marks after being cursed for so long, I completely understand.”
Kier kisses me softly. “I’ll wear any mark you give me with pride, my mate.”
I smile, and his wings flutter, drawing my gaze. They seem… glittery. More so than usual.
He shrugs, cheeks glowing a soft pink as some of the glitter falls to the cushions around us. “Fae dust. It happens when we feel strong emotions.”
“Oh.”I always wondered where it came from…“What emotion was that?”
His discomfort is as obvious as it is endearing. “Arousal, happiness… love.”
I press a soft kiss to his skin. “I love you too.”
ChapterTwenty-Two
VALOREAN
“Show her how you feel,” I mutter, grumbling over the ship’s wheel while I stare at the silhouette of the witch who’s currently sitting on Cas’s leviathan’s back. “Like it’s so fucking easy.”
Maybe it would be, if she had fewer mates demanding her time. It’s been five days since we left Isablis. Five days of watching her flit between her men like it’s as easy as breathing. After Kier’s sneaky little date, making her scream from the crow's nest on the first night of our trip, Nilsa has barely had a second alone.
Yet, the only time we spend in each other’s company is at the table in the galley, eating meals as a group. And fuck, I have no idea how to ask for more. Or if I even should, given the way I’ve treated her before.
Fuck that, we’re even. The witch gave as good as she got, and I got her ass out of the collapsing mess that was Cirio’s Cove.
Still, it wasn’t exactly my best side…
This indecision isn’t like me. One of the first lessons Cirio taught me as a kid was that at sea, indecisiveness costs lives. Now, as I watch her slowly submerging herself up to her neck in the sea alongside the boat, clinging to Cas’s scales for support, I wonder if it will cost me my mate.
The sails above us flap wildly even though there’s barely any wind, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to calm the ship. I can’t afford distractions right now, and the last thing I need is for the ship to start acting up and give the rest of the fleet a hard time. This morning, when I was brushing my hair, wondering absently if Nilsa liked the white colour, theDeadwoodstarted raising the signal flags to attract attention. Now that I’ve given up fighting against our bond, even myshipis preening for her.
Half of the fleet peeled off to blockade the Galmeri Strait a few hours ago, with Cirio’s ship, theParlance, leading them. Now it’s just us and four others heading for Coveton. Even sailing hard with perfect winds, it’s going to take another six days at least.
Less than a week to convince her that she needs a mate whose sole contribution to her life is ‘challenging’ her. Sure. Sounds easy.
