Page 30 of Petals of Innocence

She tried her best to seem as unaffected by him as she slowly turned the page and kept reading. “Not yet, though I am sure…” She trailed off and sat up a little straighter as she reread the page to make sure she was reading what she thought she was reading. For once, she was distracted enough to forget her body and the male that was still entirely too close.

“You found something, did you?” he asked.

It took her a few moments to pull her eyes away from the page and look up at him. “I think so. Here – look,” she said excitedly and shifted to allow him to read the page as well.

She felt him stiffen slightly as they both read an entry made by one of her earliest ancestors, who was recounting the events which had led her to curse the Night Court king of her time. Apparently, he had been stealing witches as they slept in their beds. He did unspeakable things to them and returned them several weeks later, mere shells of the women they had been before.

“Ciaran, was this your relative? He sounds like he was a real…gem,” she said, her voice filled with disgust.

Ciaran was quiet for a moment and Etain began to wonder what was going through his head. “He was my great grandfather. I told you, little witch, I am a very wicked male, and I come from a long line of very wicked males.”

He moved his head back to the side of her neck and breathed her in again before placing his mouth next to her ear and saying, “Although, it seems my wickedness does not apply to you. Well, at least not in a way you don’t seem to enjoy.” He nipped a trail down her neck until she shivered and gooseflesh erupted on her skin.

Etain thought she would surely combust at any moment. She was left reeling when he pulled away suddenly and declared it was time for them to prepare for the Lunar Ball. He pulled the massive book from her lap and ushered her off to the bathing chamber. Etain was nearly drunk with the effect he had on her body and barely remembered entering the obsidian room. She didn’t think her face could heat any further; though, one glance at the tub and her body was proving her wrong. She would not be taking a bath, that was for sure.

She strode over to the nook with the heated waterfall in the corner and stepped into it. When she emerged, she felt slightly more relaxed and smelled of jasmine and lavender. After she dried off, she noticed a sheer black gossamer gown hanging against the wall. It looked like it had been adorned with the millions of stars that decorated the night sky. It was absolutely lovely.

Upon further inspection, she noticed there was a beautiful black leather cropped top and matching black leather bottoms, which barely covered her unmentionables. She had never worn such scandalous undergarments. She was uncertain of the leather and thought it would be especially uncomfortable, though she soon realized the leather was incredibly soft and fit her perfectly.

When she pulled the dress down off its hanging spot, she was first confused about how to put it on. After some fidgeting, she realized it wrapped around her body and straps held it together at her waist; that’s when she noticed how incredibly sheer it was. You could easily make out her undergarments through the shimmering material.

Embarrassment began to color her cheeks when she thought about everyone seeing more of her than was proper. Then, she glanced at herself in the dark reflective surface of the walls and thought she looked rather magical; perhaps she should let go of her human sensibilities. If the Fae were comfortable with their bodies, surely she could be as well.

Twenty Four

CiaranimmediatelyopenedEtain’sfamily grimoire the moment she disappeared behind the bathing chamber door. He continued reading from where he had left off. The list of misdeeds his great grandfather had committed were not unknown to him; he had just been reading his great grandfather’s own account where he was practically bragging about the splendid ways he tortured the many witches he stole.

As he read the account from Etain’s great-grandmother, he learned she had to flee the Fae Realm and hide in the human world, because his great-grandfather had been enraged and would not stop hunting the witch that cursed him. It was not until the witch was with child that she fled, fearing more for her child than herself. He kept reading, confident that if there was anyone who would have made a record of the curse itself it would be the witch that placed the curse to begin with. Sure enough, as he made his way down the following page, there it was.

“In order for the curse to be broken, a descendant of my body must fall in mutual love with the descendant of his body, and as soon as the two are bound and ascend the throne, the curse on that descendant’s line will be broken and full power will be restored. It must be true and honest love, for this love will greatly balance the wicked ways of the Night Court and bring with it a new era of harmony.”

Ciaran groaned. Of course the witch would make it an impossible task; one which could not be cheated in the slightest. As he thought about it, he wondered if it was truly as impossible as he first thought. If he had learned of this information before meeting Etain, he would have found it impossible, likely as his great-grandfather had found it. He would have gone on a rampage destroying any witch he came across, unless they could find another way to break the curse.

He supposed it was a good thing he had not found that journal entry from his great-grandfather sooner. How interesting he found it now considering he had searched every library in the palace and any others he had access to across the Night Court, yet had never once stumbled across it, only to have found it easily the other night.

The way the witch spoke of the curse made it seem like every descendant of his great-grandfather was cursed to half their power and not just the one in line for the throne, like he had assumed this whole time. This would mean Kes was cursed as well, but part of breaking the curse is to ascend the throne. He wondered if this knowledge would make Kes more likely to betray him and make a move for the throne to break his own curse. Perhaps he would keep this knowledge to himself for the time being. Once he and Etain ascended their thrones, he would then divulge the information to Kes.

Ciaran heard Etain moving around in the bathing chamber and figured his time for snooping was coming to an end. He put the book down in the chair Etain had been sitting in as if he had placed it there when she had first gotten up and then quickly dressed for the ball. It was a quick change for the only thing he wore were black leather pants and his boots, leaving his chest bare. He completed his look with his black obsidian crown he only wore when dealing with the court.

He heard Etain making her way to the door and quickly took up his place in the chair he had been reading in all afternoon…or at least trying to read. Every time Etain shifted in her seat, seeking relief from the need he had been building in her all day, he would catch the scent of her arousal in the air. It would take restraint Ciaran had never used before to maintain his air of cool nonchalance. He didn’t think Etain had any idea of the effect she had on him.

He was purposely bringing her need higher and higher all day in hopes she would have a greater chance of embracing the depraved debauchery of the Night Court. If he brought her higher and higher the rest of the night, he had no doubts he would be inside Etain’s eager body in his bed this very evening.

Just then, the door opened and Ciaran was momentarily dumbstruck. He had picked out Etain’s wardrobe for the Lunar Ball, and now he was about ready to murder anyone that dared to look at her. She looked like a goddess of night.

She had not looked up to see him yet, as she inspected her wet strands of hair looking near-black. She had missed the way he suddenly stood and practically lurched towards her.

“Ciaran – it’s going to take hours for my hair to dry. I don’t suppose you have some way to speed it along? I do fear the dripping is making my gown…” She trailed off as she looked up and found him gawking at her. She then took in his own attire, letting out a soft sound as her mouth fell open.

“I have never seen you wear a crown before. It does make you look rather regal.” She said as if that was the only reason for her reaction.

Ciaran gave her his most devilish toothy smile as he sauntered up to her. He reached out his hand holding it just above her hair and suddenly her hair was dry and shiny with a gentle wave cascading down her back.

“Yes, my little witch. I do indeed have a way to speed it along,” He said softly next to her ear before stepping away. “I will teach you this simple trick later. You are a vision of night.” He was rewarded with the flush he loved so much, which rose from her chest to her cheeks. Leaning down, he brushed his lips across hers and said, “I can smell your arousal, little witch, and I intend to bring you to the edge of desperate need so you are begging for me when we retire to our chambers after the ball.”

Her eyes widened and her pupils blew wide as her breathing increased in such a way it made her chest heave with her breath in their leather confines. Ciaran enjoyed the view immensely.

They stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments before Ciaran made sure she still wanted him to bind her power for the night’s festivities. As soon as she confirmed, he began to focus his power around her, creating knot after knot, until she was cut off from the well of power within her. He frowned slightly at her bereft-sounding gasp as she blinked rapidly. He had never been cut off completely from his power, though he knew the frustration of not being able to access the full extent of it. He had heard being cut off completely felt like losing something as vital as a limb.

---