Onyx Eclipse (The Raven Queen's Harem Book 5)(7)

Her nails scratch down my chest, tugging at the fabric of my shirt. I lift it over my head and then strip the tank off her body. She lands on her back, her hair a dark halo on the white quilt covering her bed. Her black, lacy bra contrasts with her pale skin. A dark bruise is forming on her ribs. Hildi got in a few good punches, that’s for sure.

She lifts her hips and I strip off her exercise tights, taking the panties with it. I blink, having a vision of black wings spread across the sheets. Dear gods, I think, rubbing my eyes.

I drop my pants, kicking them off my feet, not hesitating before I grab her legs and pull her to the edge of the bed.

“She doesn’t own us, Morgan. Not our minds or our bodies. She doesn’t understand how, when I touch you here,” I reach between her legs, eliciting a moan of pleasure. “Or if I fuck you like this,” I flip her to her stomach, pulling her hips in the air, exposing her voluptuous, full ass, “that it brings us closer. Makes us stronger. Mentally and physically.”

I slip between her cheeks, coating my shaft in the wet heat of her body. When she begs, I ease inside, pushing to the fullest—the farthest possible. Her fingers grip the bedding, mine grip her hips. The silence of the house is broken, filled with cries of passion, the release of anger and fear.

“Harder,” she cries. “I want to feel you. Gods, I just want to feel more than the ache of loss.”

I comply, thrusting in and out, and feel relief when her body moves in synch. But it’s too distant, which, again, is what the Morrigan wants. I need to see her face, see the ecstasy tremble from her lips. I pull out and she rolls to her back. There’s no hesitation, not a break in our movements. I lift her hips and lean against the bed, entering her once more. The anguish has vanished from her face, her eyes glazing even as they hold mine.

“She doesn’t have this,” I say, holding, holding, holding…

“She has them.” Her breath catches, her body quakes.

Our fingers link and the wave crashes over Morgan like Thor’s mighty hammer against a mountain. She shatters, her voice loud, her pleasure and satisfaction known.

I thrust into her, spilling the warmth of my seed and the keys to my soul. I’m still in her when I reply to what she last said. “No,” I tell the woman lying beneath me. Our bodies are still joined. “She doesn’t have them. She doesn’t have their hearts—she sure as hell doesn’t have mine—and that’s what will break her.”





Chapter 6


Bunny


Casteel arrives in my studio just past dawn. Hulking and demonic in the doorway, he makes no bother to knock. His rank gives him the privilege of coming and going as he pleases.

“The Queen wants to see you.” He glances over my stained hand and paint-covered smock. I try my best not to stare at the gnarled scar at the base of his jaw. “Now.”

I wipe my hand on a rag, leaving my paintbrush in a jar of turpentine. The painting behind me has begun to take shape. My mind is sharper in the Otherside—or at least, my magic is.

I follow Casteel out of my room in the tower and down the stairs to the main section of the castle. He wears a traditional uniform: black leather tunic, heavy pants with pockets and slits for hiding weapons. His boots are made from the hide of an animal I never want to see in person. Thick and bumpy, with soles made from the tar pits in the northern territory.

Even with the dark fabric I see and smell the blood splatters of my brothers. They are fierce warriors—the Raven Guard—and to elicit the screams of pain and misery that echo from the dungeons up to my rooms must mean Casteel has refined his level of torture.

Payback sucks, especially if you’re not the one that committed the crime.

Casteel does knock before entering the queen’s chambers, he’s not that much of an arrogant fool. I lurk behind him, head bowed, counting the stones on the floor. A slave—The Morrigan does not pretend the people in her castle are anything but owned by her—opens the door and nods for us to enter.

“Reznick?” The Queen calls from the other room. It takes me a beat to recognize my given name.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Come to me.”

I spare a glance at Casteel, who is well aware he’s not been invited to the inner chamber. He smirks, as though it may be my final act. It could be, but I don’t think so. He’s unaware of our relationship. How we work.

The Queen is still in bed, her cheeks unusually flushed. A sheen of sweat covers her overheated forehead and there’s a look of hunger in her eyes. She grimaces as if a bitter taste is on her tongue. I have little doubt what caused the reaction. I too felt the echo of pleasure rattle across my bones. Even across realms, we’re connected. Something happened with Morgan, something that increased her strength. I assume she mated with Dylan, just as she has every other day since I tore the Guardians away from her.

In this realm, the Queen pushes back the heavy, midnight blue covers draped over the bed. She swings her slim but muscular legs over the edge. She pauses, taking a moment to catch her breath. The pause implies an expectation.

I step forward and offer my hand. “Please, let me.”

She smiles, white teeth against too-pale skin. Without the flush on her cheeks, she’d look like one of the hordes of dead that roam the Wastelands. “So sweet,” she says, allowing me to help her off the mattress. “Tell me, Reznick, tell me about your dreams.”