Page 54 of Blood Oath
Driven by a mind of their own, my fingers skim down the front of Baelfire’s shirt, slipping into the front of my charred panties. I can't help the sound that escapes when my fingers slide against my wet clit.
Of course, it's wet. I'm completely soaked.
Meanwhile, the rest of my body is so fucking confused.
When Baelfire’s strong arms trapped me against his solid, blazingly warm body, I felt all the familiar horror—the unbearable sensation of someone else’s skin on mine, the tightening of my throat, and the complete inability to breathe or even think straight.
But there was also…something else. Tingling warmth. An electrical flush spread over my skin that created mayhem throughout my body.
I can't tell if I need to puke or come.
Never in my life have I been so aroused, and despite what Kenzie thinks, it’s not because I’m a virgin. Squeezing my eyes shut, I allow my fingers to tease my wet pussy, circling the upper corner beside my clit the way I’ve always enjoyed. I moan at the feeling—it’s been a very long time since I touched myself.
Maybe that’s why they pop into my head.
The way Silas’s dark hair curls around his forehead and the nape of his neck. The strain in Baelfire’s arms as I turned him into a panting mess. Crypt’s deliciously twisted smile and intent stare. Even Everett’s strikingly pale blue eyes and how his lips felt on my forehead.
What would his cool skin feel like against my flushed body?
Unbidden, I slip a finger into myself, crying out softly and throwing my other arm over my face to block out the light as my back arches off the bed. From the darkness, the image surfaces of them surrounding me, devouring me with their eyes as ravenously as they did by the river, their voices whispering against my skin. They’re relentless.
Giving into them would be so easy.
And in this moment, swept away by the pleasure I’m crafting for myself, the idea of bringing all my gorgeous monsters to their knees to worship me is a dark, irresistible siren. I bite my lower lip hard as I moan, fingers circling my clit quickly and need making my chest ache. The orgasm approaches and then recedes again and again until I can’t think straight. I desperately need that release.
I could stop fighting them. Make them mine.
No.
Fuck, no.
With a vicious swear, I rip my hand away, feeling the building pleasure slip away as frustratingly unsatisfying as always. This is why I haven’t touched myself in forever. I forgot just how pissed off it makes me when I can’t ever seem to push myself over the edge. It leaves me overheated, slick, and extremely unhappy.
I can’t let myself fantasize about them. And they are not my gorgeous monsters. I need to get a grip and stay focused, or this will end terribly for me.
More terribly than it already will, anyway.
One cold shower and a slew of swear words about how stupid I’ve been later, I dress in new clothes and pull on new gloves quickly, ignoring their sting against my still-sensitive burns. As always, I slip some small but useful weapons into hidden pockets. I can’t help glaring at Baelfire’s shirt, crumpled on the floor by the desk, mocking me for losing my self-control earlier.
My potion crafting class doesn’t start until after lunch, and at the moment, I’m finally alone. This would be the perfect time to call the supernatural black market dealer…if it wasn’t for the fact that I lost my cell phone at some point during combat training. I memorized his encrypted number, but I need to track down a phone.
Someone knocks at the door. There’s a high chance it’s Baelfire, Silas, or Crypt out there, and I can’t afford to let my emotions slip into play any more than I already have today. Taking a deep breath to compose myself, I run through my plan in my head.
Mess with their heads. Use their curses against them. Make them all hate me.
I open the door, prepared to be a bitch, and blink in surprise at the interim headmaster holding a tablet in front of me. Mr. Gibbons’ bushy brows jump up in recognition.
“Ah, Miss Oakley! I see you’re still alive.”
“Disappointed? Me too.”
Not understanding my sense of humor, he once again looks scandalized. “Of course not! It’s always wonderful to see atypical casters make the cut. I’m only here to verify whether you’re alive because…well, there’s been a rather tragic death at Everbound that is under investigation.”
He marks something on his tablet, and I realize it must be a student record of some kind.
“What makes it tragic?” I ask.
He frowns, scratching his neck uncomfortably. “Well, obviously, death is always tragic....”
