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“I want that for you too,” he said.

I met his gaze, and before I could confront him about listening to my thoughts, his mouth closed over mine once again.

This time, I did not stop him.

Eighteen

Isolde

I could not remember a time as Yesenia that I felt uncertain about a spell, but I felt uncertain about this one, though we had done so much to prepare over the last two days. We had meditated, drawn warm energy into our bodies as we chanted, matching our words and cadence like a well-rehearsed song. The more we practiced, the more hopeful and confident Violeta and Ana grew.

On a technical level, we were ready, but the closer we came to nightfall, the more I felt like something was wrong. I did not share my feelings because I could not pinpoint why I felt this way. Perhaps it was only anxiety, but the dread inside me only deepened as the sun began to set.

I had just begun lacing my boots when Adrian entered my chamber.

He was dressed in black, his overcoat threaded through with gold, and he had tied his hair at the nape of his neck. The angles of his face were harsh in the warm light. His serious expression only added to my turmoil.

Perhaps I was just too desperate for this to work.

Adrian knelt and took over lacing my boots, his fingers working fast.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Frantic, I thought.

“What if this doesn’t work?” I asked.

“Then we will try something else,” he said, echoing my words, though I wasn’t certain it was so simple. Even if we managed to succeed with our spell, would Ravena retaliate?

“What if we cannot stop her?” I asked.

It was likely that Ravena had the bones of my coven, and I knew she would use them for their magic, to heighten the strength of her army, an army that could literally beanything—another mist, another monster, another disease, or something we had yet to see.

“If you do not think we should do this…”

“I do not doubt the spell,” I said quickly.

His brows furrowed. “Then what is it?”

I stared at him, trying to think of words to use to explain how I was feeling, but I couldn’t.

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

Adrian’s hand tangled in my hair, and his head rested against mine. “It will be okay.”

Our lips met, and it was a simple touch, a soft caress. The second time was harder, the third deeper. A familiar and fluid heat gathered between my legs, and as much as I wanted to press them together, Adrian kept them apart, his body wedged between them as he kissed me. I pulled at his shirt as he buried his face between my breasts, kissing and nipping through my shirt. Then I stood suddenly, my fingers threading through his hair as he pressed his mouth into my heat, and I gasped at the feel of him sucking my swollen clit through the fabric of my clothes.

Adrian met my gaze from where he knelt on the floor, and I knew we were both unhinged. I could see it in his eyes—he looked the way I felt, but I had enough awareness to worry over this desperation. It was as if I would never have another moment like this in my life.

Adrian’s grip tightened and he pressed a kiss to my stomach, then my hip, then my inner thigh. I kept my hands on his head, preparing to descend into a brief and utter madness, when a knock sounded at the door.

I froze, and even Adrian, who was not usually disturbed by the presence of another, went still.

“My queen,” Violeta called from the other side of the door. “May I come in?”

Adrian and I stared at one another for a brief moment before he rose to his feet, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and turned his back to the door.

I cleared my throat and answered, “Yes, Violeta.”