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A wicked grin spread across his face. “Princess, it would be my pleasure.”
Chapter 42
Sorin
The window over the huge bathing tub told him it was well into the night as Sorin lay beside Scarlett, making lazy strokes from between her breasts down to her navel and back up. He took in that naked female laying beside him, her wild mass of silver hair splayed around her like metallic paint splattered onto a canvas. The crown she’d summoned for herself lay on the bedside table near them. She’d removed it after he’d flipped her onto her stomach, and it had fallen to the side. She had simply plucked it from her hair, throwing it to the ground as he had given her what she’d begged for.
Repeatedly.
He had retrieved the crown from the floor as he had headed down to the kitchen to get them some wine. When he’d returned, she had taken the glass from his hand, downed the entire thing, and dragged him back down onto the bed with her. Sorin had experienced her wildness in her training. He had watched her wildfire prowl beneath her skin on a daily basis. Her letting herself be free in bed with him? She was a whirlwind he would never get enough of.
He would never forget his terror when she appeared in the council room at the White Halls. That terror had quickly beenreplaced by utter admiration as he beheld her decked out in witch-attire, as Death’s Maiden stared down the Fae Queen and bound Azrael Luan with her shadows. Then those eyes had turned to him. When she had held up her left hand with the Mark, his knees had nearly buckled. When she spoke the Claiming Rite, he felt like he could take a full breath, like his lungs had been incapable of fully inhaling since he took his own Mark months ago. In a matter of moments, his power had come roaring back to its full strength.
Then this amazing female beside him claimed her throne and stepped into a role she had been destined for. How she had finally accepted that was a story he was anxious to hear.
Now, however, she was tracing the dark ink that adorned his chest, his Marks signaling various loyalties and pacts made. He hissed as the tip of her finger turned icy cold against his skin. She just laughed at him, a silvery lilting sound that was more beautiful than her piano music. “Cruel, wicked thing,” he crooned against her temple, pressing a kiss to it.
Her attention had turned to his twin flame Mark, and she held up her own left hand, comparing the two. “Why has it grown?” she asked.
Indeed, the Mark had once flowed from the back of their hands down their thumb and index fingers. Now it had progressed to their middle fingers as well. “They are the Trial Markings.” She frowned at him as she contemplated his answer. “Do you remember on the beach when I first told you about the twin flame? I told you the connection had to be tested.”
“Five trials,” she said quietly, holding her hand in the air above her head, studying it.
He nodded his head. “Yes. They can be done in any order and at any time, except for the first and the last ones.” With his own finger, he touched the tip of her thumb. “The first is The Claiming. When you accept and acknowledge that the twin flame bond exists. Speaking the Claiming Rite initiates the Trials and offers up a piece of your soul to the other. The second,” he said, moving to her pointer finger, “is The Rescuing.”
“When you rescued me from the Lairwood House,” she said, looking back at her hand.
“Yes and no,” Sorin answered. “That was my rescuing of you, but also whenyourescuedmeby accepting the Mark and restoring my weakened magic and life force.” She looked at him in surprise, and he chuckled. “I can’t be doing all the work, Princess.”
“I am a Queen, you know,” she retorted, flicking his nose.
“Would you rather I call you your Majesty?” he teased with a raised brow.
“No, no,” she said, waving her hand in mock dismissal. “I don’t want you to feel outranked. I know how territorial you Fae males are.” Sorin snorted, nipping at her earlobe. “We had those two before,” she continued. “What is the new one?”
Sorin gave her a feral grin. “The Joining.”
“Hmm,” she mused. “Shouldn’t we have several new Marks by now then?”
Sorin barked another laugh, brushing a kiss to her lips. His equal in every way. His mirror. Someone he thought he’d never have. “The Joining is physical, yes,” he said. “But it is also the joining of our souls and our magic.”
“And the fourth Trial?”
“The Sacrifice,” he explained. “It will test what we are willing to give for each other, for our bond.”
“What of the fifth?”
“The final Trial is The Anointing and can only be given after the other four have been received,” Sorin answered.
“How do we get it?” She was still studying her Mark.
“When we have the first four Trials completed, the connection must be anointed by a Seer who can confirm and bless the bond.”
Her eyes jumped to his. “A Seer? We must go to the Oracle?”
“There are plenty of Seers in the realms. The Oracle is simply the most powerful, the most ancient of them, but any Witch would have some sort of Seer gift, even if it is not their dominant one,” Sorin explained. His fingers had begun roaming over her again. He couldn’t help it. He needed to touch her, feel her. He needed his scent all over her. He had downplayed how possessive males becameof their lovers when he had spoken of it in the Earth Court. It only got worse if they took a wife. And if they found their twin flame? He was not looking forward to being around others for quite some time, not even his family.
Scarlett frowned at him. “So we must go back to the Witch Kingdoms?”
