Chapter 21: Torture [Part 2]

Chapter 21. Torture [Part 2]

My tongue was a relentless torment.

I circled her clit with light, teasing strokes, then sucked it into my mouth, flicking it with the tip of my tongue. I plunged my tongue deep inside her, my nose nuzzling against her sensitive bundle of nerves.

She was lost.

Her body was a bowstring, pulled taut with a tension so sweet it was agony. Her hips bucked against my face, seeking more, needing more. Her cries filled the room, a desperate, beautiful music that drove me wild.

"Yes. Louder. Tell them exactly how I’m tormenting you tonight."

I felt her tighten around me, her muscles clenching. I doubled my efforts, my movements becoming more insistent, more demanding. I wanted to break her, to shatter her into a million pieces of pure, unadulterated bliss.

And then she broke.

Her body arched, a perfect, trembling curve against the sheets. A scream tore from her throat, raw and primal. Her inner walls contracted around my tongue.

I didn’t stop.

I rode her through her orgasm, my tongue a constant, tormenting presence, drawing out her pleasure until she was a limp, quivering mess beneath me.

Only then did I pull away.

I looked down at her.

Her face was flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes dazed and unfocused. She looked utterly debauched, completely wrecked.

And she had never been more beautiful.

I peeled off my pants and moved over her, my body covering hers. I positioned myself at her entrance, my erection nudging against her slick, sensitive folds. She was so wet, so ready for me.

I looked into her eyes, wanting to see her reaction as I entered her.

There was fear.

But there was also a desperate, aching need.

I pushed inside her, slow and steady.

Her breath hitched.

A soft, choked sound escaped her lips.

I sank deeper, burying myself to the hilt. A tight, wet heat enveloped me, a perfect, blissful agony. She was so tight, so incredibly tight.

I stilled, giving her body time to adjust to my size. I kissed her, slow and tender, nothing like the brutal possession of my body.

"You are tight," I murmured against her lips.

A tear escaped her eye, tracing a glistening path down her temple. "No. You are so big."

"Am I hurting you?"

She shook her head, her lips turning up in a small, hesitant smile. "No. It’s... it’s good."

I started to move.

Slowly at first, a gentle rocking motion. Her body was a fragile, beautiful thing, and I wanted to savor every moment, every sensation.

But the gentle rhythm was not enough.

Not for me.

And not for her.

I could feel the shift in her, the way her body started to move with me, her hips lifting to meet my thrusts. Her hands, which had been limp at her sides, came up to rest on my back, her nails digging into my skin.

The sound of our bodies filled the room.

The gasps and sighs that escaped her lips.

I increased my pace, my thrusts becoming harder, deeper. I angled my hips, hitting a spot deep inside her that made her cry out, a sharp, keening sound of pure pleasure.

I had never heard anything more beautiful in my life.

"Rey... oh, gods, Rey..."

My name on her lips was a prayer, a plea, a confession. It was everything.

I claimed her mouth in a brutal kiss, my tongue dueling with hers, tasting the desperation and the desire that poured from her. My hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as I drove into her, again and again, my movements becoming a primal, almost violent rhythm.

The bed creaked in protest, the sound a counterpoint to our frantic coupling. The room was filled with the scent of our arousal, a musky, intoxicating perfume that hung heavy in the air. The candlelight flickered, casting dancing shadows on the walls, making the room seem like a secret, sacred space.

I could feel the pressure building at the base of my spine, a hot, tight coil of pleasure that threatened to unravel me. I was getting close.

Too close.

I wanted to last.

I wanted to stay inside her, to feel her wrapped around me, for the rest of my life.

But her body was betraying me.

I could feel her inner walls start to flutter.

"Look at me," I commanded, my voice a harsh growl. Her eyes fluttered open, dazed and unfocused. They were the color of a storm-tossed sea, and I was completely, utterly lost in them.

I wanted to see her face when she came.

I wanted to see the moment the pleasure broke her.

I wanted to be the one to break her.

She held my gaze, her eyes wide and vulnerable. Her breath came in ragged pants, her breasts heaving with each intake of air.

I reached between us, my thumb finding her clit.

I circled the sensitive bud, my movements slow and deliberate at first, then faster, more insistent.

Her body arched off the bed, a high, thin cry tearing from her throat. Her inner walls clenched around me, a series of intense, rhythmic spasms that milked me for all I was worth.

The sight of her, the feel of her, the sound of her... it was too much.

The hot, tight coil in my spine snapped.

I buried my face in the crook of her neck, a guttural groan tearing from my throat as I spilled myself inside her, my body shuddering.

This was her first.

But it was also my first.

The frantic heat faded. The room settled around us. My breathing slowly returned to normal while Ariel remained beneath me, exhausted, flushed, her blue hair scattered across the pillow like spilled silk.

I moved away carefully.

Ariel immediately noticed the small stain left behind on the sheets.

Her face turned crimson.

Her hand shot toward the blanket, clearly intending to hide the evidence before anyone could ever discover that the terrifying Royal Magus and his first wife had, in fact, behaved like an actual married couple tonight.

I caught her wrist. "No."

She froze.

I pulled her hand away gently. "Let the servants handle it."

Her face somehow became even redder.

I almost laughed.

Instead, I pulled her against me.

Tightly.

Her cheek settled against my chest.

My arm wrapped around her waist while the other cradled the back of her head, fingers disappearing into that ridiculously soft blue hair.

I didn’t want her moving.

Didn’t want her getting dressed.

Didn’t particularly want her leaving this bed.

Possessive? Probably.

Maybe it was Rey’s body.

Maybe some buried instinct recognized Ariel as his wife and was currently screaming mine at every available corner of my brain.

Or maybe...

It was me.

That possibility was considerably more troublesome.

Because this felt nice.

Not the physical part.

This.

Having someone curled against me.

Someone who wasn’t asking about my brother.

Wasn’t interested in my research because she wanted access to it.

Wasn’t approaching me because of my family name.

Ariel had accepted me.

Completely.

The thought produced a strange warmth beneath my ribs.

I kissed her forehead.

Ariel remained silent for several moments before her fingers curled lightly against my chest.

Then she asked the question that apparently mattered more to her than anything else tonight. "How is your curse?"

I lowered my face and pressed a kiss against her neck before finding her lips. "The curse isn’t a problem anymore."

Ariel went completely still.

I brushed my thumb across her cheek. "I’m healed, Ariel."

Not entirely accurate.

I corrected myself before my researcher conscience started throwing furniture.

"Or close enough. I can suppress it now. Control it. It can’t hurt me the way it did before."

She stared at me.

For several seconds, she didn’t even blink.

Then confusion slowly replaced the relief beginning to appear in her eyes.

Her lips parted.

She hesitated.

"So... you called me tonight because...?"

I smiled.

Warmly this time. Not the blood-covered psychopath who had terrified a courtyard full of servants earlier. Just me.

"I wanted to ask about your condition."

Ariel blinked.

"The ritual," I continued. "And what happened before the ritual." My fingers moved through her hair. "Did I hurt you?"

She looked away. "No."

I narrowed my eyes. "Ariel."

"I just—"

Her expression suddenly changed.

A sharp breath escaped her.

Her body curled slightly against me.

One hand flew toward her mana core.

I sat upright immediately.

Researcher brain took over.

"Ariel?"

She tried to straighten.

Another pulse hit.

She flinched.

I felt it.

A tiny distortion in her mana circulation.

Not a fracture.

Thank every god currently accepting applications.

A cracked mana core produced a very specific instability. I’d spent fifteen years studying one intimately.

This wasn’t that.

I placed my palm carefully over the area and extended the smallest thread of Arcane perception I could manage without stressing her further.

Mana flowed through Ariel’s core.

But irregularly.

The core itself remained structurally intact.

The problem was the layer surrounding it.

The mana mantle.

A semi-permeable magical membrane regulating how quickly stored mana entered the body’s channels.

And Ariel’s was inflamed.

Badly.

My expression darkened.

Mana Mantle Burn.

An overdraw injury.

It happened when a magician repeatedly forced mana out faster than the core could safely replenish it. The core remained whole, but the regulating membrane became irritated and partially scorched by excessive throughput.

Painful.

Dangerous if ignored.

Usually reversible.

I looked at Ariel.

Memory answered before she did.

She had healed Rey.

Again.

Again.

And again.

Every time the curse tore through his body, Ariel poured water mana into him.

Every time black veins appeared.

Every time he collapsed.

Every time his internal mana channels ruptured.

She healed him.

Then purified him.

Then healed him again.

Even after her reserves were nearly empty.

Even when her own core started protesting.

And immediately after the sacrificial ritual... She had done it again.

Pushed herself nearly dry trying to stabilize him.

My jaw tightened. "Ariel."

She refused to meet my eyes.

That told me everything.

I gently caught her chin and turned her face toward mine.

Her expression was guilty.

Guilty.

As if she had done something wrong.

Something inside me became very cold.

Not toward her.

Toward every circumstance that had convinced this woman destroying herself was simply part of loving me.

I lowered my forehead against hers.

My arm tightened around her waist.

So much for having one peaceful night.

Fine.

The curse was under control.

Now I had another problem to solve.

And I happened to be very, very good at repairing damaged mana systems.

More importantly, I knew the perfect place for her.

I brushed a strand of blue hair away from Ariel’s face. "You don’t have anything planned tomorrow, right? I’ll take you on a date."