Onyx Eclipse (The Raven Queen's Harem Book 5)(8)

It’s a trick question. If I tell her I don’t have any, she’ll know I’m lying. If I tell her that I do, she’ll want my head for confirming Morgan’s strength and Dylan’s virility. I hold her eye and declare, “I don’t sleep, my Queen.”

My words hold the truth, but not the reality that I feel the heat between Morgan and her Raven lovers regardless of where I am. It’s a double-edged sword. I’ve never been able to contain my jealousy over her connection to the others, but I accept the flow of energy through our bond. It makes me stronger. It keeps my hands warm and my powers alert. From the way the Queen looks at me, I suspect she hasn’t a clue to the lengths in which our bond travels.

The Morrigan passes me, entering the bathing room. The slave nods, encouraging me to follow. I step inside the room of marble and brass, observing her splash cold water on her face. The slave stands quietly in the corner, waiting for instruction. They’re to wait. To predict. Never to speak.

I watch the Queen’s reflection in the mirror, pretending not to see her flinch as she takes in the dark shadows under her eyes or the fine lines crossing her forehead. She hasn’t aged like this in over a millennium, not since she took on the mantle of her reign, which implies something has changed.

I am not sure why she allows me to see her in such intimate moments. Her mind works in twisted and depraved ways. I stay alert while giving the air of innocence. She sighs, tugging at a wiry gray hair spiraling out of the thick, dark mane near her temple. She yanks out the offending hair without a hint of the sting of pain, dropping it into the sink.

“Tell me,” she says, holding out her hand in the direction of the slave. The girl steps forward, a silver vial ready and uncorked. “Have you completed the next stage of our plan?”

“Almost. I just need a few more days.”

She tips the vial into her mouth, swallowing in one gulp. Her tongue flicks out to get the final drop before tossing the vial back to her slave. She saunters past me, slipping her robe off her shoulders. The slave lunges for the robe but I catch it single-handed before it hits the floor. The Morrigan arches her eyebrow, either in amusement or displeasure that I’d interfered with the girl’s work. It’s impossible to know. I force myself to stare at the Queen’s naked body as she lowers herself into the ice bath. It’s expected. Looking away…it would suggest I don’t find her attractive—a deadly move.

Do I find her attractive? I should, but despite my actions, my heart belongs to one woman. I don’t find the Morrigan arousing, regardless of her beauty. I can’t help but notice the wrinkles and sagging lines. Her hair hangs to the middle of her back, just above the twin dimples dotting the smooth flesh of her backside. Sinking into the porcelain tub, she exhales, clearly invigorated by cold. I know, and she knows that I know, that even from another realm, Morgan brings a fire through our conduit. The fire of lust that brags of her power, of the emotions that build against her flesh. She knows as well as I do exactly what Dylan does to Morgan, and it disgusts her.

The Queen will do anything to extinguish the heat, including submerging her body in ice.

She leans her head back against the pillow, the slave holding it between two hands. She cuts her dark eyes in my direction. “I need the gate reopened.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t make me wait much longer, Reznick, or your brothers will pay for your ineptitude.”

I swallow. “Soon. I promise.”

She waves me away with her hand and I bow before leaving the bathing chamber. Casteel waits for me, no doubt having heard every word exchanged between us.

I pass him, heading back to the hall. Casteel may know the Queen’s commands but he does not know her wants, her pains. She’s weaker than I thought, and I fight a smile as we walk back to my tower where I will continue my work.





Chapter 7


Morgan


Cool air wafts across my face and I snuggle against the warmth next to me, warding off the chill. I only want a few more minutes of peace before the day begins and I wrap my arms around Dylan, feeling something has shifted between us. We’ve broken part of the curse that the Morrigan chained us with when she stole my guardians.

Dylan rolls into me, tightening his arms. I feel the heat of his kisses across my shoulder, the hard length between his legs. I push back and raise an eyebrow.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Good morning to you, too,” he says with a smile. A bit of the angst he usually carries is gone for the moment.

His eyes look a different shade, a brighter blue, and I want to ask him what he’s thinking—about his words the night before. His jaw clenches and I think maybe he’ll say it—speak the truth--but he licks his lip and then licks mine.

I squirm beneath the weight of his body, loving the feel, loving this brief moment in the wake of war.

“Dylan,” I say, successfully pulling away from him. “Do you really think we can beat her?”

“Yes. And we’ll get them back.”

My stomach knots, snuffing out the flicker of hope. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

His hand clenches around my wrist. “I never do, Morgan.”

I brush my thumb over his lip and again the heat and intensity boils between us, the kind that fuels my power and makes me stronger. I’m realizing that I’ll need all the strength I can get when the doorbell echoes up the marble floors and wooden stairway.