His other hand slid up to the bodice of my dress, deftly undoing the laces. He pulled back the fabric, exposing a breast, and brought his mouth down to it, finishing what he’d started this afternoon. I cried out as his teeth and tongue played with my nipple and shifted so that I sat up right on my knees and gave him better access. He freed the other breast and sucked on it while also attempting to hike up the dress’s skirt. I tried to pull him on top of me and lie back on the floor, but he stopped me.
“No,” he gasped out. “Not here. I need to take you to ... somewhere else ... the bed or something... .” He started to get up, and I pushed him down.
“No,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Right here. Right now. Just like it used to be.” I don’t know what urgency drove me. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the fear of another interruption like we’d had earlier. Maybe it was just the constant threats I seemed to face that made me want to grasp on to this moment before it could slip away. Or maybe I just hadn’t had sex in too long.
He studied me for a moment, and I thought he might refuse. Then, he made his decision and came forward to kiss me even harder than before. His body pushed me down so that my back was on the floor. That ridiculous “slayer” robe turned out to be pretty easy to get off, and so help me, he was completely naked underneath. He pushed my skirt up over my hips and tsked when he saw I had underwear on. This had been a longtime debate between us, seeing as gentry women rarely wore any with dresses.
He quickly took mine off and then lowered his body on top of me. His hands caught hold of my wrists, pinning me to the floor with the same domination he’d always shown in bed. A moment later, without further warning, he was in me, just as hard and long as I remembered. I let out a small cry of surprise, a cry he muffled with a kiss. My body seemed startled at first, seeing as it hadn’t had a lot of action in a while. It didn’t take long to recover, particularly since I was wetter than I’d expected.
He held me down and thrust himself in and out of me, awakening the desire we’d once shared. I grew lost in it, and soon it was as though no time had passed at all between us. I think he would’ve gone slow and easy if I had asked. I didn’t. I urged him on to take me harder and not hold back. My body reveled in it, loving the feel of him in me. I arched up when I finally came, and he pushed me back down, thrusting harder still as the orgasm wracked my body. He came almost immediately after, his face exquisite in the throes of ecstasy. I had a feeling it had taken every ounce of control he had to wait for my climax.
He collapsed down on me when he was done, panting and sweaty. I pulled him to me, running a hand over that brilliant, fiery hair. In the afterglow, lying half dressed on the floor seemed a little ridiculous—but only a little. I tried to think of something funny to say, but my brain was lazy and tired with bliss and affection.
“I feel like I might have just been used,” he said with amusement. “But I don’t think I mind.” It was a fair point, considering my earlier talk about not knowing where we stood.
A knock at the door interrupted any response I might have made. Dorian groaned and nuzzled against my breast. “Ignore it.”
The knock sounded again, this time more urgently. When the knock digressed to what was obviously kicking at the door, I suggested that maybe Dorian should answer it after all.
“I don’t think that’s a servant,” I said. “And hey, at least they waited until after we were done.”
With a sigh, he got up and put the robe back on. I managed to do the same with my dress as he walked to the door, though anyone with a sharp eye would guess what had been going on. At least the gentry didn’t judge much.
“Well, well,” he said when he opened the door. “Very unexpected.”
Jasmine and Ansonia stood there. Ansonia’s face looked as scared as before, but it was Jasmine’s that truly alarmed me. She was so pale, so terribly distraught that I thought she was going to pass out. I jumped up and hurried over to them.
“For God’s sake, sit down,” I exclaimed. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?” There was no water in sight, so I poured two glasses of wine, figuring underage drinking was better than nothing.
Jasmine took a sip, though hardly seemed aware of it. There was a robotic quality to her.
“What’s the matter?” I repeated. “Jasmine, talk to me. One of you, say something!”
“I’ll send for a healer,” said Dorian.
That seemed to wake Jasmine up. “No, wait. That’s not—that’s not the problem. I’m just ...” She shook her head and drank more wine. “I don’t know what to think. Ansonia, tell them. You have to tell them.”
Ansonia regarded us with big scared eyes that were a lovely shade of gray-blue, almost the same as Jasmine’s. “Do you know where Pagiel is?” I asked hopefully.
Ansonia shook her head. Her hands trembled so much that I thought she’d spill the wine, so I took the glass from her.
“You have to tell them,” Jasmine urged. “They have to know.”
Ansonia opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. A few moments later, she tried again. “A ... a few days ago, I overheard Mother and Grandmother talking at night. They thought I was asleep. They—they were talking about Pagiel and his raids.”
br />
His other hand slid up to the bodice of my dress, deftly undoing the laces. He pulled back the fabric, exposing a breast, and brought his mouth down to it, finishing what he’d started this afternoon. I cried out as his teeth and tongue played with my nipple and shifted so that I sat up right on my knees and gave him better access. He freed the other breast and sucked on it while also attempting to hike up the dress’s skirt. I tried to pull him on top of me and lie back on the floor, but he stopped me.
“No,” he gasped out. “Not here. I need to take you to ... somewhere else ... the bed or something... .” He started to get up, and I pushed him down.
“No,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Right here. Right now. Just like it used to be.” I don’t know what urgency drove me. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the fear of another interruption like we’d had earlier. Maybe it was just the constant threats I seemed to face that made me want to grasp on to this moment before it could slip away. Or maybe I just hadn’t had sex in too long.
He studied me for a moment, and I thought he might refuse. Then, he made his decision and came forward to kiss me even harder than before. His body pushed me down so that my back was on the floor. That ridiculous “slayer” robe turned out to be pretty easy to get off, and so help me, he was completely naked underneath. He pushed my skirt up over my hips and tsked when he saw I had underwear on. This had been a longtime debate between us, seeing as gentry women rarely wore any with dresses.
He quickly took mine off and then lowered his body on top of me. His hands caught hold of my wrists, pinning me to the floor with the same domination he’d always shown in bed. A moment later, without further warning, he was in me, just as hard and long as I remembered. I let out a small cry of surprise, a cry he muffled with a kiss. My body seemed startled at first, seeing as it hadn’t had a lot of action in a while. It didn’t take long to recover, particularly since I was wetter than I’d expected.
He held me down and thrust himself in and out of me, awakening the desire we’d once shared. I grew lost in it, and soon it was as though no time had passed at all between us. I think he would’ve gone slow and easy if I had asked. I didn’t. I urged him on to take me harder and not hold back. My body reveled in it, loving the feel of him in me. I arched up when I finally came, and he pushed me back down, thrusting harder still as the orgasm wracked my body. He came almost immediately after, his face exquisite in the throes of ecstasy. I had a feeling it had taken every ounce of control he had to wait for my climax.
He collapsed down on me when he was done, panting and sweaty. I pulled him to me, running a hand over that brilliant, fiery hair. In the afterglow, lying half dressed on the floor seemed a little ridiculous—but only a little. I tried to think of something funny to say, but my brain was lazy and tired with bliss and affection.
“I feel like I might have just been used,” he said with amusement. “But I don’t think I mind.” It was a fair point, considering my earlier talk about not knowing where we stood.
A knock at the door interrupted any response I might have made. Dorian groaned and nuzzled against my breast. “Ignore it.”
The knock sounded again, this time more urgently. When the knock digressed to what was obviously kicking at the door, I suggested that maybe Dorian should answer it after all.
“I don’t think that’s a servant,” I said. “And hey, at least they waited until after we were done.”
With a sigh, he got up and put the robe back on. I managed to do the same with my dress as he walked to the door, though anyone with a sharp eye would guess what had been going on. At least the gentry didn’t judge much.
“Well, well,” he said when he opened the door. “Very unexpected.”
Jasmine and Ansonia stood there. Ansonia’s face looked as scared as before, but it was Jasmine’s that truly alarmed me. She was so pale, so terribly distraught that I thought she was going to pass out. I jumped up and hurried over to them.
“For God’s sake, sit down,” I exclaimed. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?” There was no water in sight, so I poured two glasses of wine, figuring underage drinking was better than nothing.
Jasmine took a sip, though hardly seemed aware of it. There was a robotic quality to her.
“What’s the matter?” I repeated. “Jasmine, talk to me. One of you, say something!”
“I’ll send for a healer,” said Dorian.
That seemed to wake Jasmine up. “No, wait. That’s not—that’s not the problem. I’m just ...” She shook her head and drank more wine. “I don’t know what to think. Ansonia, tell them. You have to tell them.”
Ansonia regarded us with big scared eyes that were a lovely shade of gray-blue, almost the same as Jasmine’s. “Do you know where Pagiel is?” I asked hopefully.
Ansonia shook her head. Her hands trembled so much that I thought she’d spill the wine, so I took the glass from her.
“You have to tell them,” Jasmine urged. “They have to know.”
Ansonia opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. A few moments later, she tried again. “A ... a few days ago, I overheard Mother and Grandmother talking at night. They thought I was asleep. They—they were talking about Pagiel and his raids.”
“Damn it,” I muttered. “They do know where he is.”
“N-no.” Ansonia shook her head. “They don’t. Truly. None of us do. But they were talking about how they’d been expecting this from him but never thought it would happen so soon. Grandmother said it wasn’t the right way, that he needed to go in with a real army and that he was acting without even realizing what he was doing. Then they started talking about you too, Your Majesty.” Those nervous eyes flicked to Dorian. “About whether you’d support him.”
“Support the raids?” asked Dorian, puzzled. “They know I don’t. It’s why they didn’t tell me.”
“No, support Pagiel. Fulfilling Grandfather’s legacy.”
I tried to dredge up what I knew about their family, vaguely remembering how Ysabel’s father had run out on her and Edria. “What legacy?”
Ansonia swallowed. “I swear, I never knew! I never knew who he was! Neither did Pagiel. He still doesn’t know.”
Jasmine had recovered enough to no longer have patience for the length of this story. “Damn it, just spit it out!” Not waiting for a response, she turned to me and Dorian. “Ysabel’s dad was Storm King. Our dad. Edria’s been hiding it this whole time.”
I could only stare. Even Dorian was speechless.
“Don’t you see?” said Jasmine. “You aren’t the oldest, Eugenie! Ysabel is. And Pagiel is Storm King’s first grandson.”
Chapter 25
There were only a handful of moments in my life where my world had been so irrevocably altered that time stood still and I was trapped in my own shock. I could count those times on one hand. Discovering I was pregnant had been one such moment. Another had been learning I was Storm King’s daughter.
And now ... this.
“No,” I said at last. “That can’t be right.”
There were tears in Ansonia’s eyes. “I heard them,” she said. “And when I look back ... there were a lot of conversations I never understood, hints of something big between my mother and grandmother. They didn’t make sense ... but now they do. It started, I don’t know ... maybe a year ago. I remember one day my mother was in shock. She wouldn’t speak to anyone. I think that’s when she found out. I don’t think Grandmother told her until then.”
Dorian pulled up one of the chairs and sat down. He still looked stunned, but it was fading as his quick mind began analyzing everything. He picked up the wine I’d snatched from Ansonia and took a gulp. “The whole family works weather. Or at least wind and air. Ysabel, Pagiel ... you?”
Ansonia nodded at the query. “But not as strongly as them.”
“That may not mean much,” I said. “Magic isn’t always passed down in families.”
“Not always,” Dorian agreed. “But often. And certainly in Storm King’s line, if you and Jasmine are any indication. She got water. Ysabel got air. You were the lucky one to inherit it all, furthering our thoughts that you’d be the heir’s mother. But look ... look at the resemblance. You and Ansonia were mistaken for each other.”
He was right, I realized with a sickening feeling. Up close, Ansonia and I didn’t look alike, but from a distance we shared similar features. All of us did: me, Jasmine, Ysabel, Pagiel, and Ansonia. I’d thought it was funny that the clinic in Ohio had accepted my siblings so easily. Suddenly, that was no longer a joke.
“Oh God,” I said.
Dorian’s gaze was far away. “And Pagiel’s power has grown—considerably. We haven’t noticed it because of everything else going on.”
“He’s my nephew,” said Jasmine in despair. No one paid much attention.
I closed my eyes as something else occurred to me. “And he’s already begun his invasion of the human world. None of us knew it. He doesn’t even know it.” I opened my eyes. “Kiyo was right. Prophecies do fulfill themselves in unexpected ways.”
And speaking of Kiyo ... the most startling thing of all hit me. Isaac and Ivy. If this was all true—and I was beginning to think it was—Isaac wasn’t Storm King’s heir. He wasn’t the first grandson. He really was an innocent, not a conqueror of worlds. He was free of the prophecy. Free to live his life.
Hope and joy blossomed within me, though I kept it to myself. This revelation was dearer to me than anything else we’d discussed ... but it wasn’t relevant to the larger problem. There would be time to bask in this news later.
“His raids just got a lot more serious,” I said. “If there really is truth to the prophecy ... well, then. What he’s doing has the potential to develop into a lot more.”