AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His smile grows into a grin. “Any other night, I would have you coming over and over again from my mouth alone.” He sighs, a hint of melancholy seeping into his gaze. “Tonight, unfortunately, I’m running on borrowed time.” His lips press against my forehead. “Something to look forward to when I’m better.”
“That might be the first time you admitted that you expect to get better,” I muse, watching the play of muscles in his back as he sits up on the side of the bed.
“First time I have hope of getting better,” he replies, looking over his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
“Hope is hard to come by sometimes,” I state, frowning as I watch him open the bottom drawer of his nightstand and drop the used condom inside. “I can throw that away for you.”
“There’s a small trash can in here,” he explains, though he seems embarrassed to admit it. “I, uh, put it there along with a few other things when it got harder to get out of bed.”
Propping myself up on one elbow, I ask, “Like what?”
“Like this,” he replies, handing me a bottle of room temp water before closing the drawer. At first, I don’t understand why he’d be embarrassed by a trash can and some bottled water, until he opens the top drawer and pulls out a couple of wet towelettes. He turns back around and says, “Here, let me help you get cleaned up.”
I shyly spread my legs, watching as he uses the first to gently clean any remaining blood on my thigh from the bite. It’s warm against my skin, which I didn’t expect. When he switches to the second one, I can’t help the shiver that runs through me as he carefully wipes away my excess arousal.
“You okay?” he asks, his hand stopping mid-motion.
“Just, um, still a little sensitive,” I admit, awkwardly fiddling with the bottle of water.
He nods, being even more gentle as he continues. “Edging can have that effect.”
When he finishes, he grabs a third towelette to clean himself before disposing of them, and then he leans down to retrieve my clothes. While I wiggle back into my underwear and T-shirt, he digs under the comforter for his sweats. By the time we’re both dressed and back under the covers, his eyes begin to droop, the first signs that fatigue is setting in.
While yawning, he opens his arms, and I immediately shift into his embrace, my head tucked under his chin. Our legs tangle together, and he squeezes me tightly. “I love you,” he mumbles, and then he is unconscious before I can say it back. My heart swells with the depth of my feelings, and I happily snuggle against him, whispering the words of endearment so they fill his dreams.
Before drifting off to sleep myself, I place my hand on his chest and peer into the soul that I love so much. Tears spring into my eyes, and I’m horrified by what I find. Gone is the golden light and gentle laughter. Now, his soul is gray and withering. At its core is a darkness I’ve never seen before—a bloated beast with teeth and a hunger that is all consuming.
Sensing the promise of pure magic, it reaches for me with tar-like tentacles, ready to drag me under. It’s sickening in its familiarity. Flashbacks of the night I was nearly trapped within Gina have me recoiling back into myself. I clasp a hand over my mouth to muffle my sob, not wanting to wake Nolan. I don’t know how I missed it before, but one painful truth becomes evident—his grandmother is wrong. If we don’t cure him fast, his body might survive, but there will be nothing left of his soul.
Chapter 16
Callie
As I stand at the base of the stairs to the mayoral home, a flurry of emotions battles for dominance within me—fear of what it will mean if we don’t get the answers we seek, grief over the state of Nolan’s soul, anxiety as I try to figure out how to explain what I know without revealing what I am, and a searing rage that demands retribution for all that Nolan has suffered. All of it is heightened by exhaustion, having spent the rest of last night watching over Nolan as he slept.
I worry my lip between my teeth, using the sharp bite of pain to help me focus on the here and now. Kaleb looks at me with concern, but he doesn’t comment, most likely due to the fact that we’re not alone. Both of my grandmothers, as well as Nolan’s, are only a few feet away, discussing how best to proceed once we’re inside.
“You’re only here to observe,” Mildred reminds Dalia, shifting one of the famous Volkov grimoires against her hip.
“I will have answers for my queen,” Dalia counters, crossing her arms over her chest. “The atrocities this family has committed against my grandson will have grave consequences. Using magic against one of our kind unprovoked breaks the treaty.”
Carlotta sighs while twisting her dark, wavy hair up into a bun and then stabbing it with an ornamental hairpin she retrieved from her purse. “We’ll ask your questions, and then your queen and the council will decide how best to proceed.”
Back in his cat form, Mr. Mischief takes a swipe at my paternal grandmother’s ankle, causing her to hiss in pain. As far as I’m aware, he has yet to shift to the humanoid form, choosing to give his opinions through growls and well-placed strikes of claws.
“That’s a valid concern,” my nan muses, addressing the fae sitting regally at her feet before shifting her attention to Dalia. “If the parties responsible are punished to whatever you would deem appropriate, then would you consider not involving the council?”
“You can’t possibly have gotten all that from a scratch,” my paternal grandmother fumes, raising her pant leg to examine the damage.
“He struck you when you mentioned involving the council,” Mildred replies, as if the woman is particularly dense. “Considering the history the fae have with the council, I can’t say I blame him.”
“They were on the wrong side of the shifter war,” Carlotta argues, glaring down at the massive black cat. “They massacred thousands of witches. Honestly, I can’t believe you allow him to be so close to our granddaughter.”
Mr. Mischief releases a throaty growl and flicks his tail.
“History has a way of being rewritten by the victors,” my nan states, compassion filling her gaze as she looks down at the fae. “We only have the council’s version of events. Perhaps if you stop antagonizing him, he might give us his account.”
“I’m antagonizing him?” my grandmother shouts, twisting her ankle to show the blood-tinged scratches. “He attacked me. Note how I haven’t burned him to cinders because of it.”
