Sighing, I moved to the bed. I retrieved Ana’s spell book from my pack and slipped out of my boots before curling into the warm furs of our bed.
I was starting to think that Ana had written this book herself. I was not yet sure what gave me that impression, but it had something to do with the cadence she used to speak spells. More…concerning to me, however, was just how much power was within this little book. There were spells for creating illusions and resurrection and manifesting portals, but not just to places on the earth—this provided access to other planes, including Spirit, Dis’s realm.
I thought of my mother when she had given me the seed.
For when you return to your plane, she’d said.
Had I managed to wander into another world, and could I go back?
Was it possible to enter Dis’s realm without dying?
I swallowed thickly, my chest tightening at the idea of seeing my mother again. I cleared my throat, forcing down the tears threatening my eyes at the thought, and focused on the book, pausing when I came to a spell that looked familiar. It was one Ana had taught us to chant on the night of the full moon before we had been viciously attacked. She had said it was a containment spell, but this…this detailed a resurrection spell.
I frowned, confused.
Perhaps I was mistaken, and the words were slightly different. As I began to compare from memory, Adrian entered the tent.
I closed the book and met his gaze, but he was not looking at me. Instead, he was focused on removing his gloves. He was soaked; water beaded off his clothes and his hair was plastered to his head. He looked beautiful to me, though severe, and while I knew he would be cold, I still wanted him near. I wanted to tell him about my mother and the things she had said, but there was something off about him. I could not help the element of guilt that came as I prepared to run if he looked at me with any glow in his eyes, but he sighed, and when he turned to me, they were as dim as ever.
“Are you okay?” I asked, setting the spell book aside.
“Sable and Lucia have returned,” he said. “It seems Gavriel grossly underestimated Alaric’s army.”
“By how much?”
“They say he has nearly one hundred and fifty thousand soldiers at his command now,” he replied—which was as large as Adrian’s army, except we had only brought half.
“So he and Julian have turned more people?” I asked. “My people.”
Adrian nodded.
I should have expected we would not reach Lara in time to save any of them. I wondered who had turned willingly and who had been forced.
“Do we have a chance against them?” I asked.
“Our army is far more skilled, and as you are aware, it takes time for vampires to develop their powers.”
It was not the answer I was looking for, but I knew Adrian was right. I had barely developed powers since he had turned me. The greatest change was my thirst. I would be better off fighting this battle in my aufhocker form than anything else.
It was an idea I had been toying with since we learned of Alaric’s invasion. I had gotten a taste of that form’s strength and power when fighting the vârcolac and nothing compared.
“But you are still worried,” I said.
I did not like when Adrian worried. He was usually so confident, overly so. He tapped his fingers against the tabletop as he stood near the fire, staring into the flame.
He did not respond to my statement, and he did not need to—I knew the truth. Instead, he began to undress, and as I watched him peel his soaked clothes from his wet, hard body, a delicious warmth simmered inside me.
Naked, he approached the bed, and as he sat, I turned toward him.
“We will each need to feed before tomorrow,” he said.
“You say that as if it is a bad thing.”
“It is not a bad thing,” he said, trailing his fingers down the side of my face. “Are you afraid of me?”
“I have never been afraid of you,” I said. “Even when I hated you.”
I was lying, but only a little. I had been afraid when Dis had taken him over. But I had been afraid, too, when she had tried to take over the night of Efram’s resurrection. I would not say those things aloud, and if he discovered them, it would have to be because he read my mind.
He smiled and leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine.
“I love you,” he said.
I smiled and placed my palm against his cheek. “Why does it feel like you are saying goodbye?”
“I just want you to know,” he said. “I want you to always know.”
I knew what he was doing—it was not a matter of just in case, it was a matter of when I lose control.
I watched him a moment, wanting him—his come, his blood, his love. Those were the things that would make him mine, that he would remember in the face of Dis’s control. I worked my shift over my head, appreciating the way Adrian’s eyes darkened with lust.
Naked, I straddled him, and his hands dug into my ass as he settled me over his heavy arousal.
He tipped his head back to hold my gaze and I whispered over his lips, “Kiss me.”
His hands moved up, over my back and to my shoulders, and as his mouth found mine, he ground against me, his tongue matching the pace at which I moved against him. I moaned and started to push him back, but he shifted first and pushed me into the bed.
His hand swept down my body, and I widened my legs, desperate to feel his touch. I was swollen and hot and completely void, and when he ran his hand over my heat, he moaned, breaking our kiss.
“So fucking wet,” he said, and let one finger slip inside, then another. “Fuck.”
He sat back, gripping himself as he curled inside me. As he watched me, I moved my hand to my swollen and sensitive clit, teasing him at first but soon becoming lost in the sensation as I increased the friction against it.
I dug my heels in. I threw my head back, a guttural cry leaving my lips, and then Adrian’s mouth was on me while his fingers moved inside me, and with each thrust, each lick of his tongue, I felt myself breaking apart. I did not know how he could do this to me, how I could feel so grounded within my body, how I could feel the heaviness of my breasts and the heat inside me, the tightness in my muscles and the pleasure of his touch, but also have no control over my mind or the words and sounds that came from my mouth.
My fingers tangled into his hair, my nails scraping along his scalp as I pulled. I did not care that it might hurt; I needed something to hold onto as I rode this pleasure—until I came with a guttural sob. As my body relaxed, I became aware of how hot it was in this tent. I was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and my hair stuck to my neck and the sides of my face.
Adrian withdrew and kissed a path up my body before his mouth was on mine, and as he shifted to his side, positioning my back against his chest, he shoved his fingers into my mouth. I sucked them, shamelessly, tasting my come.
“I want this come around my cock,” he said, and then he kissed me, and I had to crane my neck to reach him. He guided my leg over his, opening me wide, and the cool air did nothing to ease our heat. I moaned as he slipped his cock through my wetness, teasing until he slid inside.
My head fit into the crook of his arm, and he held my gaze as he moved inside me, touching my breasts and stroking my mouth with his tongue. I had no choice but to bend to his will—my back arched away from him, my head pressing into his shoulder. I fought to breathe as I writhed, lost in the pleasure he coaxed with each thrust of his cock.