Page 36 of Gifted Destiny (Hidden Libraries #3)
Zosia
B ren’s attractiveness no longer intimidates me. The vulnerable insight into his nature has revealed that he’s as lost as I am, regardless of the semblance of outer perfection. He is as faceted as the rest of us, and I sense the insecure youth alongside the all-powerful weather mage.
The sudden shift in my chest and mind, like a key opening a lock, reveals that the bond is complete. His emotions trickle toward me, but they don’t reveal anything I don’t already know. If we stop at this second, we’ll be fully bonded.
Neither of us wants to stop. Our continuation isn’t because of the bond, the fate of the world, or the library. Destiny is giving two lost souls a gift. When our lips touch again, it isn’t for the future or the union of the last sphinx with the cosmic mage. It’s for Zosia and Bren, and it offers a victory over those who wronged us with cruelty and pain.
My philosophical musing becomes less beautiful when I consider the logistics of having sex on the roof. We aren’t technically alone because of the gargoyles, but they’re faced the other way. Ansel is hidden by the dome. He might be a gargoyle now, but he’s technically my father as well. I couldn’t do this in front of – behind – him.
Bren’s emotions don’t reveal any concern as he stands and nudges his chair behind him. When he kneels between my still-parted legs, I want to protest and question, but he never releases my lips.
With his knees on the hard stone, his neck tilts awkwardly. He holds my head still, but his kisses are a delicate trap. He’s a teasing kisser, retreating and resuming with small nips and licks. He never keeps his mouth in one place for very long, seeming to want to explore every centimeter of the small area. It makes words impossible.
I forget our position and more practical things as his frustrating teasing becomes too much. With a growl, I grasp the back of his head and force his lips to be still. My tongue strokes along his, plundering and conquering, and the sensation of control is pleasantly exhilarating. I might have missed the satisfied tilt to his lips if his emotions didn’t radiate smug approval.
I’m so focused on his lips that I barely notice when his hands leave my arms. The slide of his palms at my knees and slowly up my thighs causes a reflexive jerk, but the gentle, even pressure overcomes the brief discomfort. The nerves of my legs are hyper-aware, and his intense attention causes me to dissolve into a puddle of boneless sensation. Pain is the farthest thing from my mind, but I realize that Bren is still alert for any sign.
When his mouth leaves mine, I whimper a weak protest that is forgotten the moment they close around my nipple. The fabric of my shirt and bra can’t shield me from the wet heat of his tongue as it strokes the taut, aching peak. My head falls back with a groan, and my thighs automatically clench around his torso, but I keep my gaze on him. The inky darkness of his thick hair presents a striking contrast against the peach color of my top.
Perhaps feeling my gaze on him, his eyes open to peer up at me. The pale green is flecked with neon blue, and I’m mesmerized by the beauty of his magic. The magnitude of his power should frighten me, but it doesn’t. I trust this man completely, and I’ve already surrendered my heart to him. I extend that trust toward my body.
“Should we go downstairs?” Bren asks, briefly lifting his head from my aching nipple. The breeze is cool in comparison to his hot mouth, and I shiver.
My head shakes rapidly. A blanket on the ground isn’t that different from a bed, and the thought of all those stairs is practically enough to cool my desire. “No,” I say and lick my lips. His hungry gaze falls to watch the path of my tongue. “Here.” My hunger has reduced me to one-word replies, but Bren doesn’t require more.
With a nod, he returns his attention to my breasts, but his hands tug at the bottom of my shirt. “Can we get rid of this then?” His crooked grin is teasing, and I’m happy to comply if it means his mouth will be on my naked nipple.
I pull my shirt and bra over my head in one move. This seems to impress him, but it’s a stretchy bra – not one of those underwire, back-closure contraptions. I feel exposed, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing. The weather is beautiful, the temperature warm but not too hot. The slight breeze and the rays of the late afternoon sun are soothing. Although the gargoyles stand nearby, their attention is focused outward. I’m still aware of their presence, but they don’t feel human. I suppose it’s like having a cat or a dog in the room while having sex.
Bren’s gaze upon my breasts veers dangerously close to worship, but I’ve grown more confident about parts of my body since leaving the orphanage. My thoughts flee when his mouth returns to my nipple. My back arches toward him. Bren’s tongue is skillful; he alternates between sucking and licking, offering just enough pressure that it’s akin to pleasant torture. He keeps one hand on my left thigh and moves the other to my lonely nipple, and I’m lost in the feel of him. When his palm slides between my thighs and his fingers graze my crotch, my body shudders. My hips thrust forward, testing the integrity of the chair.
Bren’s smile is sweet as he glances up at me, and I get the sense that his attention is focused solely on me. Since he’s rarely this single-minded, I accept his attention as a meaningful compliment. Somehow, he manages to combine the compassion, fun, and intensity of my other three mates in one. I hadn’t expected that.
“Can you stay in the chair but remove these?” His fingers slide sensuously under the waistband of the stretchy pants as he asks. Thinking of his talented tongue on my aching lower body nearly wipes away every insecurity and doubt I have regarding his first view of my naked legs. The lust, appreciation, and security of the bond erase the rest.
A spark of intuition guides me to try something new. One second, I’m clothed, and the next, I’m fully naked. The sudden rush of air is shocking to my system, but the surprise on Bren’s face overwhelms the discomfort.
“How did you do that?”
“I’m not sure,” I reply with a shrug. “I just acted like I was shifting but didn’t shift. My clothes go somewhere when I shift forms, right?”
For a brief moment, I think we’re going to be derailed by the question, and I regret asking it. We’re both too distractible. Thankfully, Bren is still a male, and he wants me. The sight of my body on display is more tempting than pondering the specifics of shifter magic.
“I like your new trick,” he says in a thick voice as his eyes devour every inch of my bronzed skin. The intensity he and his brother share has returned. He takes me in with the same expression he adopts when reading a book – a rapt, single-minded focus that makes me feel beautiful and desired. “You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he whispers as he looks up at me. His swirling green and blue eyes express more than I thought was possible. The honesty behind his words, coupled with the bond, leaves no room for doubt. I might not be able to grace the cover of a magazine, but this gorgeous man thinks I’m beautiful. He wants me. Warmth and power slide through me at the realization I can’t deny anymore. All four of my mates want me – scars and all.
Connected as we are, Bren senses the realignment of my core beliefs and rises to kiss me again. This one isn’t teasing. It’s all-consuming as he attempts to prove the new belief to me beyond a shadow of a doubt. He doesn’t say anything; he simply kisses me with his entire being, pouring his heart and soul into the stroke of his tongue and the pressure of his lips.
Lightning crackles through my veins as tendrils of heat curl along the pathways. He’s starting a fire inside me, and I will gladly burn. He repositions himself so that only one of his thighs is between mine. I slide forward on the chair, shamelessly grinding against his denim-covered thigh without even realizing what I’m doing. When he releases my lips again, I’m breathless and panting.
“Bren ….” I gasp his name, too mindless with pleasure and lust to do anything else. I need him, but I can’t take control in this position; I can only beg and plead. His mouth slides to my jawline, then my neck and lower, while his hands cup my breasts.
He drops to his knees before me, and his hot mouth catches one of my aching nipples without a barrier of cloth between us. My head falls back as I bite down the moan of needy pleasure. I won’t be able to keep them contained, so I hope the library has enough magic to suppress my cries. We’re ten stories above the campus at least; sound shouldn’t travel that easily.
The hot swirl of his tongue reminds me of why I’d lost all of my clothes. “I want …,” I gasp as I grip his shoulders.
“Yes?” his tone sounds teasing and mischievous as he speaks around my nipple. The movement of his lips adds to my pleasure. “Tell me what you want,” he hums against my needy flesh.
“I want … I need …. Fuck. Why is this so hard?” This might be the first swear word I’ve ever spoken, but it slips out at the most appropriate moment. The situation definitely requires the use of the word.
“You want …?” he asks playfully while grazing the edge of his teeth along the tight peak of my breast. His palm slides leisurely down my stomach, over the curve of my hip, and then strokes slowly toward my center at a pace akin to torture. He feels hot against my skin, hotter than the sun’s light upon me.
“Touch me,” I growl in a feral manner as my beastly side lends her frustration to mine. His lips curl into a satisfied smile, but I barely notice because his palm finally reaches my throbbing core. He cups my mound before flicking his finger against my sensitive nub. I can’t restrain my reaction this time.
“Yes,” I moan as my fingers dig into his shoulders. I would drown in sensation if he weren’t my anchor.
His fingers play me like an instrument, and I’m grateful the chairs are sturdier than they looked because I writhe with greedy abandon. I should be sore or sated after my time with the others, but I feel no such thing. I barely notice when his lips leave my nipple until I feel cool air wafting over the wetness. Goosebumps rise on my skin, and I look down at him.
His eyes are level with my splayed legs, giving him a perfect view of my … everything. Rapt fascination lights his features as he gently strokes my clit and parts my folds. Sudden embarrassment warms my body, but his single glance upward stalls the emotion.
“Don’t,” he orders as if he’s an alpha shifter. “Your body is amazing. I especially like looking at this part of you.” Sincerity and honesty punctuate his words. He leans over to flick my clit with his tongue as if to emphasize his point. “I can see and feel how aroused you are for me right here. There’s nothing that can fake this reaction.”
He speaks the truth because I can feel how my need for him swells my lips and clit and practically buries me under sensation. I don’t know what he sees – I’ve never looked at myself down there – but his truth reverberates through my body. His head lowers again, watching me the entire time as his tongue strokes from my entrance to my clit, like I’m a lollipop and he’s savoring the flavor.
I still don’t know how I feel about his words, but I no longer care. His fingers and tongue drive every sane thought from my mind as he alternates long seconds of staring while he touches me with his fingers and mouth. His attention is as teasing as his earlier kiss, and I begin to pant like an animal as pleasure furls into a bright knot in my center. Heat builds inside me; I’m on fire.
My whimpers and needy moans fill the air when he circles my entrance with his finger before thrusting it inside me. I’m so wet that he slides in easily, and his tongue strokes my clit as I clench my inner muscles around him. When he curls his finger inside me, I break into a million pieces and shatter around him with no warning. My body jerks violently on the chair, but he manages to keep me from breaking it or myself as I cry out with an earth-shattering orgasm. Flashes of light dart through my vision when I open my eyes and realize the world appears altered. The sky is the neon blue of Bren’s magic instead of the light blue it was moments ago. I blink rapidly, and it returns to normal, making me question whether the pleasure has caused me to hallucinate.
“Perfect,” Bren murmurs. His voice echoes as if he’s far away, but he’s still kneeling in front of me. “Seeing you like that has to be the best sight I’ve ever encountered,” he says. Reflex prompts me to think he’s lying, but he’s not. I can sense it. He rises from his knees, and I realize that he’s still fully dressed. I can’t magic away his clothes like I did with mine. When he’s standing, the thick shaft of his cock is visible through his jeans, and my mouth starts to water just staring at it. It doesn’t matter that I just came. I want him inside me.
“Can you do that again?” he whispers in my ear as he leans over me, blocking my perfect view. My head turns quickly to meet his gaze.
“Do what?” My voice cracks, and I wonder how loud my screams were. Did the entire campus hear? Do I care?
“I want you to come again,” Bren replies. “But this time, I want to be inside you when you do.”
I didn’t expect him to talk like this during sex, and it’s a thrilling surprise. I lick my lips, and his hungry gaze drops to my mouth. I open it to answer, but only a squeak emerges because he picks me up at the same time. His arms strain a little; he’s not as strong as his brother is, but he has enough strength to lower me gently to the blanket spread across the rooftop. I have no idea when this happened, but it becomes inconsequential when he whips off his shirt.
I reach for him immediately, wanting to feel his smooth, pale skin under my fingers. He’s leaner than Kodi or Garrett but more muscled than Avery, and I find each of them beautiful. My fingertips trace the ridges of his chest, raising a tapestry of goosebumps as his fingers fumble with his pants. Then, he stops, and I look up to see him watching me.
“Do you want to keep going?” A fresh hint of nervousness hides behind his words that wasn’t there a second ago. I search our bond and realize he’s worried about pressuring me. He still wants me just as badly. “We could wait ….”
I crane my neck so I can reach his lips with mine and swat his fingers away from his waistband at the same time. “I want you inside me.” My tone is blunt, honest, and filled with a self-confidence I don’t usually feel. “Is that what you want?”
“Fuck yes,” he answers and follows up with a bruising kiss. I smile against his lips as I jerk his pants down his hips. His cock springs free with a bouncing eagerness, I wrap my palm around it, forgetting all about his pants. His groan vibrates through my entire body as my hand curls around his throbbing length.
I want to whimper and protest when he pulls away, but he removes his pants and settles between my legs before I can form words. “I can’t wait,” he whispers, and a desperate edge tinges his voice. I’m still wet and aching from my earlier orgasm, and his strong thrust wrings a cry from my throat. His fingertips bite into my hips as he holds me steady for his assault, and the needy hunger punctuating every move of our bodies makes me realize how gentle the other three had been with me. That will have to change because I’m not feeling any pain at the moment.
Pleasure and sensation fill me as his cock strokes my inner walls in rhythmic, punishing thrusts. He drives my body into the roof of the library, and I cry out every time he sheaths himself fully inside me. Neon blue overtakes the last slivers of green in his eyes and blue sparks dance along his skin. The tingling sensation of them fizzling against me adds to my pleasure. Everything around me fades into obscurity as we speed toward the summit with our gazes locked and our breaths synchronized. We could burn the entire world with our magic, and I wouldn’t care – not right now. I’ve never seen something so beautiful as his muscles flexing or the concentrated pleasure on his face as he loses himself inside me.
Bren’s magic spreads until the world turns blue again, not just the sky but the air around us. Subconsciously, I prevent the physical manifestation of his magic from spreading beyond the gargoyle barrier, but it doesn’t take any conscious effort. I am as focused on my mage as he is on me. The color makes me feel like we’re swimming in tropical waters, though, and I gasp for breath.
The same desperate edge plagues Bren as his thrusts deepen, and his finger presses gently against my clit. I grasp him like a lifeline, squeezing around him so that he groans with pleasure and strain. The slight pressure is all I need to unfurl the tight spiral of pressure inside me, and the beginning of my orgasm causes Bren to shatter with me this time.
The power of this climax shakes every nerve and cell in my body. Even though I have to close my eyes, the backs of my eyelids flare with electric blue light as his satisfied shouts of ecstasy join mine. His cock pulses as he spills into me, and the almost unbearable heat of his body consumes me. When I can control my body again, I force my eyes open to see his expression as he rides the aftershocks. His gaze is still intent on me with no trace of green.
“You are real, my beautiful Zosia. You are all that matters – past, present, and future.” Bren’s words are whispered between raw gasps for air as he collapses on top of me. The fervent belief and truth in his tone make the moment brighter and more poignant.
“You are real, Brennan, just as I am.” I’m uncertain whether I’m reassuring him or me after the surreal experience we just shared.
I expect the magic to dissipate alongside the euphoria of our lovemaking, but it doesn’t. A blue sea of color is all I see beyond our island of normalcy. The color is thick and opaque, unlike real air, obscuring the gargoyles that were only feet away from us.
The strange fog sizzles with random magical static, like subdued lightning strikes. The vibrancy of the blue color is practically unseen in nature, and its pure beauty nearly brings tears to my eyes again.
My rapt appreciation of our new landscape catches Bren’s attention, and he lifts his head from my shoulder. When his expression changes from serenity to horrified fear, I rush to reassure him. “It’s not what you think, love.” The endearment comes easily now, and it no longer carries the fear it did a mere hour ago.
His worry isn’t easily soothed. Through the bond, I sense his belief that he’s destroyed our world with magic. I know he’s incorrect, but it isn’t easy to explain. The explanation defies the laws of nature and physics that I once believed were unbreakable.
Despite my reassurance, Bren disentangles his body from mine and reaches for his clothes. A single thought leaves me fully dressed within seconds. I don’t know if other shifters can dress and undress this way, but I won’t complain. The act of getting dressed and undressed has always been more difficult for me, but my appreciation is short-lived when I realize the flaw in my new plan. The clothes are the same ones I discarded. If I used magic every time, I would wear the same clothes for years – like Kodi.
I wish I could offer the same convenience to Bren, but he’s less concerned with his modesty. His jeans are the only thing he bothers to put on before he turns his full attention to our surroundings.
He steps toward the edge of the blanket and stares into the blue fog. The picnic basket Garrett packed is nearby, so I roll toward it to grab a bottle of water. It’s still cold, and I nearly gulp the entire container. Although Bren expended more physical energy, I still feel parched. Surprisingly, I don’t feel the same exhaustion as I did when we climbed to the roof.
I monitor Bren’s emotions carefully, worried he might still combust, but his inner turmoil hasn’t translated to external sparks. Did he exhaust his magic, control it, or send it outward? Is the bond containing it?
After several silent minutes of contemplation, he turns back to me and studies me with equal intensity. The absence of panic in my emotions and demeanor finally allows him to relax. He heaves a huge sigh and drops onto the blanket next to me again. When I hand him the second bottle of water, he gulps greedily. I admire the way his throat moves and the taut lines of his arms and chest still on display. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at him – at any of my mates.
“Do you know what this is?” he asks after he lowers the bottle. His tone is level, but fear still lingers among his emotions. I lean toward him and rest my head on his shoulder, offering and accepting the comfort of his nearness.
I don’t know how to answer. I might possess more knowledge of the phenomenon, but knowledge doesn’t immediately impart understanding. Despite the strangeness, however, I’m not worried or scared, and I attempt to relay this along our secured bond.
“I don’t know how to say this exactly, but ….” I pause and motion to the bright blue air. “You have two powerful abilities. They’ve collided, and this is the result.”
Bren’s eyes are huge as he dips his head to look at me. The blue sheen of his magic is subtly fading back into green, but it’s still there. The light surrounding us transforms his dark hair into a blue-black shade, and I’m certain it’s also affecting me. How do I look with blue hair? I’m positive it doesn’t appear as natural on me as it does on Bren.
“Collided?” he echoes.
The calm I’m projecting must steady him because my words are inflammatory. I nod. “I’m trying to find a way to explain it, but the words aren’t easy. Basically, your farseeing ability has merged with your atmospheric power. The phrase that my mind keeps repeating is time storm , but I might have just created it because it sounds cool. I don’t know how to define it further. My sphinx intuition suggests that we can use this power before it fades, but I haven’t the slightest idea how.” My nose wrinkles in confusion.
“Can we time travel?” Giddy excitement colors Bren’s tone. I hate to shut him down, but contemplating time travel fills me with dread.
I shudder and shake my head rapidly. Loose tendrils of hair fly around me. “No. Well, possibly, technically, we could … but no. We can’t.”
Bren studies my expression with his brows drawn together, and I try to explain. I don’t usually have difficulty speaking, but the topic is so foreign that it scrambles my brain. “It’s really not a good idea. If we try to change anything in the past …. Take the moment Agustin was trapped in that book as an example – stopping this would change more than just his future. If Agustin doesn’t disappear, then my grandmother wouldn’t leave the library. She wouldn’t be captured and killed, so she might still be the librarian. In the slim chance that I’m still born, she might find me before Addington does. My legs might be unbroken, but I wouldn’t have met Kodi. I might not have met you, Garrett, or Avery.” The prospect fills me with so much sadness that my chest aches. I rub subconsciously at my chest, massaging the place where I feel the tie to my mates.
“Not long ago, I would have sacrificed anything to change my body,” I add in a quieter voice. “I would have surrendered my wits to run or dance or just walk – such a simple thing that nearly everyone else takes for granted. I won’t give up the four of you for anything, though, not even that. I can’t.”
Bren’s gaze and body soften as he pulls me into him. The world feels muffled, as if the magic is a thick fall of snow. Sounds are nonexistent, and I might have thought we were the only humans left if the bond with my mates didn’t exist; those and my connection to the library remains strong.
“You’re right. Meddling with time isn’t as easy as books and movies make it seem. I might despise Addington, but I am who I am because of him. If I change who I am, I might not be your mate. I won’t sacrifice this either.” His arm tightens around me, and I relax into him with relief. I was worried he’d argue.
“What if …?”
I lift my head to look at his face. He’s lost in his mind as he evaluates the situation from every angle. I might have a library of knowledge inside my brain, but Bren can solve puzzles and problems with the abstract creativity I struggle to employ; they’re two different forms of intelligence.
“Are we stuck in time? Has time stopped for us? Can we travel linearly?” When I simply blink in reply, he continues. “Can we go to Walthers’ office and destroy him and Addington while they’re frozen in time?”
A bright bolt of electric blue streaks through the static miasma of magical fog. The orgasm might have addled my brain, but I think the magic is trying to communicate with us. I can’t interpret its message, but Bren’s connection to it has increased with every minute. He shakes his head, answering his own question.
“Never mind. That’s equally dangerous,” he sighs. “We don’t want to create a split in time that leads the two of us onto a different path than your other mates.”
I might have been able to explain why time travel is a bad idea, but this goes beyond my understanding. “A split in time?” I echo.
“We could potentially create two paths in which the two of us that exist at this moment right now veer onto a different timeline than the versions of your mates that you’ve grown to love. In that scenario, you might be separated from your mates, too. Furthermore, a version of Addington could survive to threaten the library in either time split, and the sacrifice would have been for nothing. We’d be no different than those that meddle with time ….” He halts mid-sentence, captured by an elusive idea.
“Should we just ignore this opportunity, then?” I prompt after several minutes. The complexity of time is confusing, even with my wealth of knowledge.
Bren jerks at my question. “Sorry. I’ve called the others up, but I need to evaluate my past and current visions. If I’m lost in my head when they arrive, you can explain what’s going on. I don’t think we’re pressed for time because it’s literally ours at the moment.”
I splutter an argument. I haven’t the slightest clue how to explain anything. Bren swoops in for a kiss that effectively halts my half-formed protests. “You’ll know what to say, my little lioness. Before they arrive, I need to tell you that sex with you was the most amazing, phenomenal experience of my life. I love you, and I want to do it many, many more times, but preferably without the magical time storm.”
His earnest declaration of love and appreciation is both swift and endearing. As usual, he adds his flair to everything he says and does. I dart toward him to collect a kiss before he disappears into his visions.
“I love you too,” I say with a certainty I couldn’t muster an hour ago. “Next time, we’ll skip the time storm. I promise.”
An intense smile brightens his beautiful face before it morphs into a mask of concentration. The swirling, opaline colors I saw the morning we freed Kodi returns. This time, a ring of bright blue surrounds his irises, and his sparks are absent. That morning, I’d been worried and scared.
I don’t understand half of the stuff he muttered about time travel, and I have no idea what is actually going on. I am confident he’ll emerge with a solution, however, and I’m not worried about our connection. We are destined to be together, and I won’t undertake any action that might risk our commitment to each other. The same can be said for all my mates. I’ll forego walking and dancing to keep them by my side.