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His response was a low chuckle, the vibrations sending ripples of pleasure through her. His hands, those deft, skilled hands, slid up her thighs, his fingers digging into her flesh as he continued his ministrations. Hali’s hips bucked against him, seeking more of his touch, more of that wicked, sinful pleasure.
His mouth closed around her clit, sucking, flicking with his tongue, a surreal heat enveloping her as he worked her apart. He teased one finger into her folds, the warmth slowly sinking into her cunt, and Hali tossed her head back with a cry. “M-more . . .”
Osric chuckled, and oh, how he delivered.
One finger was enough to make Hali feel like she was breaking open. When he managed to work in a second, she was so full, so resplendent . . . Her thighs clamped around his face as he sucked harder at her clit, pumped his fingers deeper into her. She felt her climax building, a slow, steady burn that threatened to consume her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close, urging him on. She was so close, so very close, and then, with a cry that echoed through her small apartment, she shattered.
Her orgasm washed over her in waves, each pulse of pleasure leaving her breathless and trembling. Osric continued to lap at her, drawing out her release until she was spent, her body a quivering mess of satisfaction.
When she finally came back to herself, Osric was looking up at her, a smug, satisfied smile on his face. Hali couldn’t help but laugh, a sound that was both euphoric and relieved. “I think,” she panted, “you’ve ruined me for any other man.”
Osric’s smile softened, his eyes darkening with emotion. “I hope so,” he murmured, and Hali’s heart swelled at the tenderness in his voice.
He settled in beside her, his weight a comforting anchor, and Hali felt as though she were glowing, a soft, warm light. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, and he buried his face in the curve of her neck. She felt his tears, hot and salty on her skin, and she held him tighter.
She didn’t care that her bed was too small, or that the sheets were scratchy and thin. She didn’t care about the danger lurking just beyond her door, or the questions that still weighed on her heart. All she cared about was this, this perfect, imperfect moment, with Osric in her arms.
They lay tangled together, their bodies still humming with the echoes of their lovemaking. Hali’s mind, always restless, always racing, started to drift back to the events of the evening. She had been so caught up in the romance of it all, in the fairy-tale magic of being with Osric, that she had almost forgotten the danger that lurked just beyond her door.
“The Obsidian Circle,” she said, her voice a hushed whisper. “They’re getting bolder, aren’t they? But why? What are they after?”
She propped herself up on one elbow, her mind spinning with theories. “It has to be the primordial artifacts, doesn’t it? That’s the only thing that makes sense. But what do they want with them? What do they plan to do?”
“I don’t know,” Osric said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “I’m still trying to piece it all together. But we’ll figure it out, Hali. I promise.”
“What if we set a trap for them? What if we lured them out, and then you could use your fire magic, and we could?—”
“Hali, please. It’s late. Can we talk about this in the morning?”
She fell silent, but her mind was still racing, her thoughts a jumble. She was so close, she could feel it. She was on the cusp of unraveling the mystery, of bringing the Obsidian Circle to justice. She just needed to think, to plan, to find the missing piece.
She felt Osric’s hand on her arm, a gentle, grounding touch, and she forced herself to relax. He was right. They needed a plan, not just a reckless charge into danger. They needed to be smart about this, if they were going to have any hope of stopping the Circle.
“Okay,” she said, with a weary sigh. “Okay. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”
Osric smiled, his eyes soft. “I promise.”
And with one last kiss, they let the darkness of the night claim them, and they fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter
Ten
The acrid smoke stung Osric’s eyes as he stumbled over the rubble of his family’s clanhold, the once-mighty fortress now reduced to a smoldering ruin. Soot and ash coated his skin, turning his olive tones a sickly gray, and cloyed in his nostrils, but nothing could quench the searing pain in his heart. He trudged toward what had once been the great hall, the center of his family’s pride and power, and saw the bodies of his parents, twisted and blackened, amidst the devastation. They had fought to the end, he knew, but it had not been enough. The Obsidian Circle had shown them no mercy, and in their mercilessness, they had shattered Osric’s world.
Tears streaked down his face as he fell to his knees, a keening wail of grief and rage building in his throat. He had trained his whole life for this, but nothing could have prepared him for the raw, searing pain of loss. The pain threatened to consume him, to reduce him to ashes, and for a moment, he welcomed it. He welcomed the oblivion, the end to his suffering.
But then, through the haze of his tears, the pain hardened into resolve. The Obsidian Circle would pay for what they had done. He would hunt them down, one by one, and make them suffer as he was suffering. He would not rest until he had avenged his family, until he had wiped out every last trace of the Circle from the face of the earth.
As Osric’s cries mingled with the smoke that billowed through the ruins of his clanhold, a figure emerged from the shadows, tall and imposing. The figure’s face was an impassive mask as he surveyed the devastation, the destruction that the Obsidian Circle had wrought. He moved towards Osric, his footsteps a hollow echo in the wreckage, and stopped before the young elf.
“I am sorry for your loss,” the figure said, his voice low and measured. “I know the pain you are feeling, the emptiness that threatens to consume you. But it does not have to be this way. You have a choice to make, young one. You can let your grief and rage destroy you, as it has so many others. Or you can use that fire that burns within you to fuel your purpose, your resolve.”
Osric looked up, his face streaked with tears, with soot, with the blood of his kin. “I want nothing but to see the Obsidian Circle burn. I want vengeance, for my family, for all those they have wronged.”
Agnith’s eye glinted with approval as he regarded Osric. “Vengeance is a noble goal, one that has driven many of our kind to greatness. But it is not enough to simply seek retribution for retribution’s sake. You must have purpose, a cause worth fighting for beyond your own pain.” He knelt beside Osric, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Your flame, it is a gift from the goddess. A gift that can be used to bring light, or to bring destruction. It is up to you to choose how you will wield it.”
Osric looked up at Agnith, his eyes still shimmering with unshed tears. “I will do whatever it takes to make them pay. I will not rest until the Obsidian Circle lies in ashes at my feet.”
