Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Even when my Drake got a little…overzealous—and let her see exactly how much he wants her—she didn’t recoil. Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink, but she wasn’t mad. She was embarrassed, yes, but not afraid. Not repulsed. And most importantly, not angry.
She didn’t run. I can feel the beast inside me churning with raw need, wings spread wide in triumph. She saw us. And she didn’t flee. She could be ours.
No. I grit my teeth.
She is not ours. We’re not here to Bond her. That’s not what this is.
My Drake doesn’t care. He pumps heat through my blood like a drug, thick and heady, and it ensures that my cock stays hard and aching—throbbing like I’ve been on edge for hours. Which is going to make putting my trousers back on so much fucking fun.
I look down, grimacing at my blatant erection. Irena’s still flushed, her gaze darting anywhere but directly at me. But I see the way her thighs press together…the way her breath comes faster whenever she glances my way.
Gods, I can smell her. That sweet, spicy scent of female desire, magnified by the magical honey of the bath flowers still clinging to her skin. It’s making me fucking crazy.
Hey, maybe it was a bad idea for both of you to take a bath in enchanted aphrodisiacs, whispers a dry little voice in my head.
The Sorceress doesn’t seem annoyed or offended by my hard cock. She simply smiles, like we’ve all just completed a pleasant bit of dinner theatre.
“Thank you for your help in proving to Irena that she does, indeed, possess powerful magic,” she purrs. “Would the two of you like to come back to the table for dessert?”
Right. As though I can focus on food when I’m one heartbeat away from throwing Irena onto the floor and licking her soft little pussy until she screams my name.
Still, I manage a stiff nod.
“Of course.”
The Sorceress glides back to the table with the grace of a queen, silk trailing behind her like ivy. I force myself into motion, struggling into my black trousers, which are far too tight with my current condition. I forgo the shirt entirely. Fuck it. No one here seems to care.
I drop into the seat beside Irena and immediately want to pull her onto my lap. She smells like flowers and need. My mouth waters again to taste her.
“Now do you see, my dear?” the Sorceress says to Irena, smoothing her skirts as she settles in. “You do indeed have magic—you can brew the Healing Draught yourself. But first, you must go through the Doorway of Uncertainty.”
The words snap my attention back to her like a whip. Doorway?
Irena looks confused, but I know exactly what the Lady of Thornmere is talking about.
The black door outlined in violet light—the one I saw in her workshop. The one that pulsed and called to me, telling me I had to touch it. Only Irena’s screams pulled me away—barely in time.
I don’t like the idea of my curvy little Princess touching that door—let alone walking through it—not one fucking bit.
I narrow my eyes.
“You want her to go through what kind of door?”
“Do not worry, Master Drake,” the Sorceress says sweetly, and I get the unsettling feeling she’s reading my thoughts. “I will not put your Lady in any danger. She simply needs to see what the door will show her, in order to harness her magic.”
“I’m ready,” Irena says immediately, sitting up straighter. Her voice is calm, but I can feel the tremor of nerves under her skin. “Let’s do it—right now.”
I reach for her hand under the table, needing to feel her warmth. I squeeze gently and she squeezes back, tightly—her trepidation leaking through the nervous gesture.
“Oh, not yet, my dear,” the Sorceress says lightly. “For it’s late, and you and your man must be tired. Let us have some dessert and some pleasure, and then to bed. Tomorrow morning, we will begin your training.”
I frown.
“Dessert and pleasure?”
“Why certainly, Master Drake. For do you not wish to pleasure your princess as Horatio has been pleasuring me?”
She nods casually down between her thighs.
I glance under the table—and there he is. The black knight on his knees, face buried between her legs, tongue clearly working.
Well, that explains why he crawled under the tablecloth at the beginning of the banquet. I wonder if her husbands take turns at “dinner duty” or if Horatio is just her favorite.
The smell of the Lady of Thornmere’s arousal is thick in the air, but it’s different from Irena’s. Less sweet—more musky. But the magic that tinges her scent…it’s in both—it must come from the bathing flowers, I think. There’s something feral about it, something that makes my Drake sit up and growl.
Irena swallows hard.
“Er…I thank you for the invitation, but I’m very tired after using all that magic,” she says politely. “Would it be all right if we skipped the dessert and, uh, pleasure and went to bed a bit early?”