Page 47 of The Warlock & the Witch

“Any idea who was out here?”

“No,” he said—another lie.

“Hmm.” Pearl observed him. He avoided looking in her general direction, aware that her hair was mussed and her clothes were rumpled. In short, she looked thoroughly fucked even when it hadn’t reached that point. “Henry?”

“What?”

“Are we okay?” she asked.

“We’re fine,” was his calm reply, even when his insides raged a war and his cock felt like it just needed a stroke or two to explode. The good thing was that his coat was dark and covered it up. Despite his conviction, a certain curiosity took over. “Pearl?”

“What?”

“Did you use sex and those men to distract yourself from the grief of losing your brother?”

It was the wrong thing to ask as her body went rigid and he felt the switch from vulnerable to her cold wall forming, but it was too late to take it back. This time, he looked at her as she lifted her chin at him.

“Sex was a means of fun, nothing else,” she stated firmly. “And don’t be so arrogant to think that you did that because of your magical hands, Mr. Prim. Maybe I just needed it after a long time and any hands—”

He strode over toward her, not stopping until he backed her against the mausoleum’s outside wall. Their bodies didn’t touch, something he was careful about.

“Any hands wouldn’t have made you come,” was his reply. His voice was clipped, but a thunderstorm twanged underneath. “Mine did. And Mr. Prim seems inappropriate now, don’t you think?”

He couldn’t help feeling smug over it, knowing he was the one who had driven her into her frenzied state and brought her to the highest throes of pleasure. Pearl’s mouth dropped open at his spurring words before she recovered and scoffed.

“Whatever. You’re still Mr. Prim.” Silence, then, “But thank you. Not for the orgasm but for keeping my fear at bay.”

How was he supposed to respond to that?

“Sure. No thank you necessary.”

And just like that, they were back to normal, albeit an awkward kind. She cleared her throat, glissading back into her casual mode.

“Should we continue hunting? Or maybe try to find out who those energy sources were from?”

A chill went down his spine. He shook his head.

“Maybe later. I remembered I have an appointment.”

It took everything in Henry to say that next lie with conviction. But it didn’t stop the guilt that festered in his soul and accompanied him for the rest of the night.

The trip back home was a whirlwind of roaring thoughts and unsettled emotions, but Henry shoved everything in as soon as he reached his house. He wasn’t fazed when he found his brother there, sizing up his clothes and general state in suspicion.

“Where were you? And why do you look like that? You know, Martin has been worried about you these past few days and I could see his worries had merit. You’re lucky I managed to convince him not to report anything to—”

“What happened between you and Emerald Sutton?”

That wasn’t how Henry had wanted to bring the topic up, but it was too late to take it back. It caught Gunther off guard, and the man gaped at him for a few seconds before recovering. Confusion muddled Gunther’s features.

“What? Why are you asking, and what’s going on—”

“I’m asking a straight question, Gunther, and all I need is a straight answer.”

If a voice could kill, Henry’s was a newly-sharpened blade. He rarely used it, but Gunther knew it existed, and knew he wasn’t messing around. The man’s confusion switched to resignation.

“Fine. We were hooking up. She’s crazy and she played me—”

“One thing I know about Emerald is that she’s not crazy,” Henry cut in once more, his aura turning colder as his energy glittered at his feet. If Gunther knew him, he knew Gunther—and he could tell an on-the-spot lie when he saw one. Had this always been the case with his brother? Had he just not noticed? “She’s known for keeping a cool head at all times and not involving herself in other people’s business. We both witnessed it every time she faced the Council.”

---