Page 31 of Magpie

“I am just trying to keep you safe as only I can, my darling,” he cooed, tugging my face up, meeting my watery gaze.

“I know,” I whispered, my voice scratchy and raw from begging him all night to stop.

I let him pull me up and carry me to bed, a ragdoll in his arms. I was detached from every feeling and sensation. There was no warmth to be found in his lips as they pressed against mine. The only thing I felt was the overwhelming lesson seared into my brain: do not go against his wishes.

Do not leave the House.

His bellows of rage fill my mind now as I look at the porch in front of me.

Sean is holding his hand out, the rock sitting within it, waiting for me to step forward and take it.

The night air is cold, the smell of autumn thick on the wind.

Sean is bathed in the light of a crescent moon, illuminating the skeletal tattoos accentuating his naturally harsh features.

I’m tilting on a precipice, the burning pain of Alister’s aggression branding me, reminding me not to go against him.

He will be lost in a stupor of power and energy for hours still. I could creep back up to the attic far before he realizes I’m gone. Besides, I tell myself, standing on the porch doesn’t technically count as leaving the House.

As Sean stands bathed in the moonlight and the crisp autumn breeze, I find the courage to step over the threshold. He beams at me, and I grin in return, a heady thrill filling me as I leave the interior of the House behind.

I walk forward and take the pebble from his palm.

As he comes around behind me, I am rigid, every nerve ending alive in his proximity.

His warm breath travels down my neck as his arms curl around me.

I let him take me, mold me, as he grips my free hand gently and positions it.

I thought it would be as easy as pointing, but there is a particular way I have to hold my fingers.

He plucks the pebble from my other hand, rubbing his fingers gently across my palm, the featherlight pressure eliciting a small gasp from my lips.

I’m rewarded with a deep chuckle from him before he tosses the pebble.

It bounces down the four small stairs, rolling to a stop a foot from the House.

“Now, pretty bird,” he whispers, pressing his lips directly to my ear, “let’s see what those fingers of yours can do.”

“Ass,” I say, jabbing him in the ribs and earning another laugh, before he positions my arm until it is pointed directly at the stone.

He doesn’t pull back when he is done instructing me; instead he curls an arm around my waist and tugs me against him.

I’m reminded of all those nights we’ve spent entwined together.

Many have been spent sleeping, or talking for hours on end, but then there are those other nights…

The ones that leave me breathless.

I feel myself heating, intimately aware of every part of my body that touches his.

I’m having a hard time focusing on anything but the feel of his firm chest pressed into my back, or the way his fingers idly move and stroke my hip.

I bite my bottom lip, desperately trying to force myself to focus.

We may have spent countless nights together in varying stages of undress, but he has never once attempted anything more than teasing touches outside of the ritual.

This is the boldest he has ever been with me outside of that blue candlelit room.

“Call the stone to you,” he says, and I open my mouth, inhaling deeply. He cuts me off, chuckling. “Not with your voice, pretty bird. With your will.” He trails his fingers achingly slowly down my arm before he curls them around my extended finger and coils it in. “Then pull it to you.”

I do as he instructs and fail miserably.

Sean is patient as a saint as I try again, and again, and again to get the damn stone to listen to me .

He adjusts my grip, giving gentle prods and instructions on how to move, how to call the stone.

He remains a solid wall behind me, his hand gripping my waist and tracing his fingers over it in turns.

After nearly an hour of failure, I pull out of his grip, flustered and trying to hide it. “How am I supposed to focus if you keep distracting me?” I snap, turning and leveling a glare at him.

“I didn’t hear you complaining all the nights I’ve distracted you,” he says, his voice dripping with seduction. My toes curl at the sound alone. He grins, the moonlight shining on his skeletal tattoos, before he nods to the pebble. “Try again, pretty bird. I promise I won’t touch you.”

I look at him for a beat longer, finding myself caring less and less about mastering the trick.

I’m only focusing on the cold that is seeping in at the loss of contact, and how desperately I want to feel his heat again.

Giving myself a shake, I turn away from those thoughts and from his wolfish grin and force myself to study the pebble.

Taking a deep breath, I lift my hand, focusing. I push out the sounds around me, even the feel of Sean’s presence burning bright behind me. I focus only on the pebble.

Come here.

I pull my finger, like pulling the trigger of a gun, and to my utter surprise, the rock comes soaring into my hand. I catch it, nearly tipping backward with shock. A wide smile spreads across my face as I turn to Sean, letting out a burst of giddy laughter.

“Did you see that?” I shout, jumping up and down with joy, and without a second thought, I leap into his arms in pure excitement. He laughs with me, hoisting me off the ground and spinning me in wide circles across the porch.

Our laughter dwindles when he sets me back down, dying out into chuckles as we stand in front of each other.

My arms are still around his neck, and his hands are still on my waist. All at once, I feel my cheeks burning.

It’s impossible to look away from his rust-colored eyes.

He puts a hand on my cheek, slowly, as if waiting for me to reject him.

I don’t.

His touch sends a blooming fire running through me, setting my heart racing.

He leans down, his shaggy hair tickling my forehead.

We have shared far more intimate moments than this, yet I can’t help but feel nervous.

Like this is our first time truly touching each other.

Like all those moments in the ritual were not really ours.

I am reminded again of the burning page, and Sean comparing us to kindling. A soft smile graces my lips. This moment is not part of the ritual. This moment will not be fed into Alister’s fire.

This moment is mine .

I close the distance between us and press my lips to his.

Lightning strikes inside me at our contact, and I moan into his mouth. In one swift motion, Sean scoops me up, pressing my body tightly against his with one strong arm, the other hand twined in my hair. He holds my face to his, his eager tongue greeting mine, and I am lost entirely in the kiss.

I sense us moving, can feel as he walks us back into the House, but I can focus on nothing but him and the feel of his lips on mine.

That is, until I hear a door shut, and I am surrounded by the alluring scent of him.

Breaking the kiss, I pull back and find myself in his room.

I have only been in here once before, when I was still lost in the fog of my old life.

The House may have deposited me outside of his door many times, but I never found the courage to knock.

Now, as he places me on the ground, I am not filled with the churning carnal dance of the ritual that begs for skin and desire.

Because it is not some ancient power, or some dark incantation, that has me tugging at the hem of his shirt, desperate to pull it from his body.

It is me. My wants. My desires. And I fucking desire him .

He helps me yank his shirt off, tossing it to the ground before his hands grip my face, guiding me back to him, as though even the few moments it takes to undress are too many to be apart.

I grab the hem of my dress, tugging it off, rewarded with a disgruntled noise from him when I break our contact.

“I’m tired of waiting,” I say, and before he can pull me back to him, I turn, darting my eyes around the room until they land on a plush green velvet couch. I grab his hand and pull him after me.

I can tell he is waiting for me to sprawl out on the couch, and I hear a sharp inhale of surprise when instead, I lean over the arm. My naked ass is in the air, at perfect hip level for him. I twist to see how this affects him. He looks like he is moments away from his frayed resolve breaking.

I look pointedly at the bulge in his pants as I say, “I told you. I’m tired of waiting.”

“Whatever you say, pretty bird.” His voice is dark, his eyes darker, as his hands go to his pants. He pulls the belt off, letting it fall to the ground. I begin to tremble in anticipation. For all I told him I’m done waiting, he certainly is taking his time.

He grins at me as he slowly, slowly , unzips his pants, laughing when I let out an annoyed huff, wiggling to try to entice him more.

It has the intended effect. Without waiting a moment longer, he pulls his hard cock from his pants, gripping himself tight.

His eyes roam over my bare flesh as he begins to stroke up and down his shaft.

“Sean, please ,” I beg, rubbing my thighs together to get any sort of friction.

He walks forward, pressing the tip of his cock against my entrance, and I moan at the electric feel of our connection.

He leans forward, rubbing his cock up and down me, coating himself in the slickness he finds waiting for him.

He leans forward, planting one hand on my ass, caressing it, before firmly gripping it and saying, “Only because you asked so nicely.”

He enters me in one swift stroke.

My eyes roll into the back of my head at the feel of him.

With both hands, he grips my hips and begins to rock into me in a quick rhythm.

I reach out, clawing at the crushed velvet couch, drawing in ragged breaths as the pleasure builds.

His pace quickens, and I feel that pure bliss growing inside of me. I’m so close, I’m about to—

He pulls out of me so suddenly I literally shout. My hair has fallen into my face, and I shove it out of the way to shoot a glare his way.

“Why the fuck did you stop?” I snap.

“Because…” Sean leans forward and wraps his arms around me, pulling me off the arm of the couch.

He spins me around, plunging me into the heat of his kiss as he presses my naked body to his.

I can feel his hard cock throbbing against my core, and I’m wet all over again as I begin to grind against it.

He breaks the kiss, giving me a wink as he leans down and tosses me over his shoulder like he did that first time, so many nights ago.

I let out a startled squeal as he carries me to his bed.

I expect him to toss me onto the mattress, but instead he lays me gently down, his movements so tender I feel my heart swelling with an emotion I’m far too scared to face.

He steps out of his pants, gloriously naked before me.

He crawls up the bed, climbing over me until he is settled fully between my legs.

I reach down and grab him, the silky feel of his cock in such contrast to how rigidly hard it is.

I raise my eyes to his ruby gaze as he finally continues his sentence.

“I want you to be my own private ritual. I want the magic of your pleasure coursing through me. I want to see the power of that desire in your eyes. This isn’t some carnal dance for Alister to consume.

This means more than that, pretty bird.” He kisses me hard before whispering against my lips, “ We mean more.”

He puts his hand over mine, and together we move him to my entrance. He takes his time gliding into me, and I arch my back at the feel of it. When he is settled flush against me, he stills, cupping the side of my face.

We pause, looking at each other, settling into the rarity of this pure moment between us. I study the shifting and fading lines of the tattoos across his flesh, and I can’t stop myself as I reach up and trace the line of his jaw, holding his deep red gaze and saying, “Skull.”

“What?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at me.

“The nickname I gave you, back when I thought I didn’t want to know your name—it was Skull.”

He grins broadly, and begins to slowly move inside me, making my eyes flutter closed and drawing a moan from my heated lips.

I throw my arms around his neck, pressing myself against him, desperate to have every inch of my skin touching his.

We move together in the night, our breathy moans the only whispered incantation in our private ritual.

The House, and every creation in it, leaves my mind entirely. I am focused only on him. Only on us.

The skull and his pretty bird.