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Something important was happening. Maybe that was what Pride had sensed when he’d first met her.

I just hoped we figured it out before the storm engulfed us all.

Chapter

Nineteen

JUNIPER

Iwoke to sunlight slanting through my cottage windows, creating pools of gold across rumpled sheets. For one disorienting moment, I couldn't remember why everything ached so pleasantly, why my hair felt sticky, or why bottles–so many bottles–were scattered across my bedside table and floor.

Then it all came rushing back. Lust. His hands. His mouth. The way we'd bottled emotions between kisses, capturing fragments of desire and release like fireflies in glass jars.

"Oh my god," I whispered to the empty room.

I pressed my palms against my eyes, wondering if this was some kind of cosmic joke. Running from one supernatural entanglement only to dive headfirst into another?

A glint of amber caught my eye, a particularly vibrant bottle on my nightstand, filled with swirling golden essence. I picked it up carefully, remembering how we'd captured it at the height of pleasure. It was pure distilled lust, taken directly from the source.

Curiosity, always my downfall, made me uncork it briefly, just to smell it. The scent alone triggered an immediate reaction:heat rushing through my limbs, memories flooding back with visceral clarity–memories of his hands gripping my thighs, his mouth between my legs, and the way he'd groaned when I'd taken him in my mouth.

I hastily recorked the bottle, but the damage was done. My body thrummed with desire, an insistent heat pooling between my thighs.

"Dammit," I muttered, glancing at my clock. Already running late for work. The work I shared with the very person who'd left me in this state.

I stumbled to the bathroom, hoping a cold shower might help. It didn't. The water hitting my skin only heightened everything, each droplet a fingertip tracing patterns of want across my flesh. I turned the temperature up, letting steam fill the small space as I tilted my face into the spray.

My fingers caught in my hair, encountering stiff, crusty patches that would normally disgust me. Today, though, the physical evidence of where Lust had finished last night only intensified the throbbing between my legs. I made a mental note to make sure it all washed out of my hair before work, but for now, the reminder of his pleasure sent another wave of heat through me.

After a few minutes of futile resistance, I gave in. I pressed my back against the cool tile wall, the contrast with the hot water making my skin prickle with awareness. Every nerve ending seemed alive, hypersensitive, as if the bottled essence had awakened parts of me that had been dormant.

I trailed my fingers down my throat, across my collarbone, imagining they were his. My breasts felt heavy, my nipples tight and aching for touch. I cupped them, thumbs circling slowly, remembering how Lust had looked at me last night–hungry, reverent, as if I were a feast he'd waited centuries to taste.

The water cascaded over my skin as I slid one hand lower, across the soft plane of my stomach, down to where I ached most. I was already slick, swollen, desperate for relief. I gasped as my fingers found that sensitive bundle of nerves, pleasure sparking outward like a struck match.

I closed my eyes, giving myself over to sensation. To the memory of Lust's mouth on mine, the skilled pressure of his fingers, the way he seemed to know exactly how to touch me. My own fingers moved in slow circles, building a rhythm that had my hips rocking forward, seeking more.

This wasn't just physical need. It was something deeper, more primal. As if having been touched by Lust himself had awakened something in me that couldn't be satisfied with ordinary pleasure. Every stroke of my fingers sent waves of heat through me, building like a gathering storm.

I slid two fingers inside myself, finding that spot that made my knees weak, working it in tandem with my thumb against my clit. My breath came in short gasps that echoed against the shower walls. Water pounded against my shoulders, ran in rivulets between my breasts, mimicking the touches I craved.

"Yes," I whispered, the sound lost beneath the shower's spray.

The tension built relentlessly, coiling tighter with each circle of my fingers. I braced myself against the wall with my free hand, legs trembling as I drove myself higher. In my mind it was Lust touching me, his voice in my ear urging me toward the peak, his hands replacing mine.

When release came, it crashed through me with an intensity that tore a cry from my throat. My body clenched around my fingers as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed outward from my core, leaving me shaking and breathless.

I sagged against the wall, letting the hot water sluice over me as the last tremors subsided. With them went the overwhelmingeffects of the bottled lust, leaving behind a pleasant, satiated calm. My mind cleared, and for the first time since waking, I could think about something other than Lust's hands on my body.

I finished washing my hair thoroughly, making sure every trace of last night's activities was gone. I dried off and dressed with purpose–choosing a deep blue blouse that made my eyes pop and slim black pants that made me feel confident. Professional, but not sexless. I wasn't going to hide from what had happened.

As I gathered my things, my gaze fell again on the amber bottle. After a moment's hesitation, I tucked it into my bag. The emotional alchemist in me wanted to study it more carefully.

I locked my cottage door behind me, stepping into the crisp morning air. The world seemed unusually vibrant, colors more saturated, scents more distinct. Was this a side effect of bottling such potent emotions? Or just how it felt to be properly satisfied after too long without?

Either way, I had a job to do. And a Sin to face in the cold light of day.

I soon pushed through the door of Eternal Matches, trying to project confidence I didn't entirely feel. Thea looked up from her computer and gave me a knowing smile that made my stomach drop.