Page 13 of Possess Me at Midnight (Doomsday Brethren #4)

Chapter Eleven

I drag in a breath and prepare to speak the words that will change my life. “Become a part of me, as I become a part of you. And ever after?—”

“Ice!” Sabelle gasps out. “I?—”

“I promise myself to thee.” The words slam down my senses. I feel their rightness and power crackling between us, acknowledging what I’ve set in motion—irreversible, ancient, binding.

Sabelle might not want me to finish this Call, and saying it might doom me, but the taste of her still rolls around on my tongue like ambrosia, driving me on. Instinct reels, roars, chomping at the bit. No way can she stop me from staking my claim.

“My brother…” she implores.

“Is not involved.” My eyes burn into her startled blue ones. “This is between you and me—no one else.”

“But…I-I don’t… He won’t approve.”

Bram won’t. That goes without saying. And right now, I don’t give a shit. But I notice that she hasn’t said she doesn’t want me. “Fuck him. What do you want? Because I know I want you, princess. Any and every way you’ll let me have you.”

God, her lips are right beneath mine, and I need another taste of her so badly.

I’m burning. Melting. Every cell in my body craves her.

Damning caution, I layer my mouth over hers again.

She’s like sinking into the perfect confection: sweet, light, tempting…

addictive. I nibble at her lips, then prowl deeper, engaging her tongue.

Then deeper still, consuming as much of her as I can in a single sweep.

The renewed urge to claim, to mate, scrapes down my instincts, clear, loud, even stronger than before. There’s no denying what it’s telling me.

I wrench my mouth free, panting over her lips. “Each day we share, I shall be honest, good, and true. If this you seek, heed my call. From?—”

“Stop!” She clutches the sleeves of my robe. “Ice, think. If you finish that sentence, it’s done. Even if I refuse you, for as long as I live, you’ll be bound to me.”

“I want nothing else.” I stare deep into Sabelle’s eyes. A feeling of rightness, inevitability, settles into my gut. “From this moment on, there is no other for me but you.”

The moment the words are out, a blaze slams across my senses.

Take her! Claim her! The voice in my head rages at me, chanting, Now, now, now!

I restrain it—barely—grimacing as I clutch her, waiting for her response.

Will she Bind herself to me? Renounce me?

Most likely the latter. Even so, hope torques my gut.

She strokes my face, her eyes filling with tears. Like she’s going to a funeral. No doubt mine. Fuck!

“Why?” she sobs.

“Why Call to you? Instinct,” I growl out the truth. “You know wizards sense their mates in a single taste.”

And I crave another taste right now—deeper, more intimate. Everything she’ll give me. The need to consume her claws at me. I try to ignore it. In the part of my brain still running the show, I need to hear her reply before this goes further.

Her gaze skitters away. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t know the Binding words?” Is that even possible?

Or…does she not feel what’s blazing between us?

“I-I know them,” she whispers. “But saying them… Witches aren’t blessed with the instinct. We must choose with our hearts and minds. You and I… We’ve barely spent an hour together that wasn’t shadowed by my brother or consumed with matters of survival. How can I know…”

Everything inside me softens like melted butter.

She isn’t saying no precisely; she’s overwrought.

Confused. She needs time. Bram is her priority, and as much as that fact chafes me, rightfully so.

The past handful of hours has been harrowing.

Pushing her isn’t productive, and though I crave her reply, maybe waiting would persuade her to Bind to me.

“Sabelle. My princess…” Pure reverence wells straight from my chest, resonates in my tone. I hope she hears and feels my sincerity. From tonight on, no one will ever be more important to me.

She sobs at my words, staring at me in pained confusion. That expression tears at me.

“Shh.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ve spoken the Call. You know I could never hurt you and will always put you above me. If you need time to know me?—”

“I do, but…” Her blue eyes turn bleak. “Even if you were my best friend and lover combined, my brother would never give his blessing.”

“Do you need it?” I tuck a golden curl behind her ear and caress her cheek. “You’re a grown witch, able to make your own decisions. Bram may not be thrilled. I’m not keen on having the backstabbing bastard as a brother-by-mating, but?—”

“Stop! The bad blood between you and Bram isn’t the only issue. He’s made me promise not to take a mate without his blessing. I won’t break that vow.”

I stare at her in puzzled shock. “You’re fully transitioned. An adult. Certainly you’re not going to let your brother make your decisions for you. What do you want?”

“Not to alienate my brother. Next month, I’ll only be eighty-five…”

So young? I wince. I’m nearly two hundred fifty. Yet another obstacle. “That makes you young but not stupid. Are you saying that, even if you fell in love with me, you would never speak the Binding and take me as your mate?”

“You want a conclusive answer…and my situation isn’t that simple.” Her voice breaks. Tears glitter in her eyes.

I force myself to take my hands off her and step back, though every cell in my body screams at the separation. “It’s a yes-or-no question, princess.”

“You don’t understand.” She wraps her arms around herself as if trying to hold something together that’s breaking apart.

“My brother, everyone I know, my entire world… Matings aren’t choices—they’re alliances, carefully arranged and sanctioned.

I’ve been raised my entire life knowing that my mating would serve a purpose beyond my happiness. I wouldn’t be allowed?—”

“Allowed?” I roar. “Once the Call and the Binding have been spoken, there’s no taking them back. The mating is sealed. You know that, yes?”

“I do,” she concedes. “But being Privileged… Everything is different.”

“And I can’t understand because I’m not as good as you?”

She gapes at me. “That is not what I said.”

“Prettier words, but essentially, it was.” I hold up a hand, a thick sludge of dread sliding through me. I knew when I spoke the Call that little could come of this but doom. Bloody useless instinct. “Never mind. Speak the Renunciation and be done. I expected it anyway.”

Frowning, she murmurs, “Why?”

“You have to ask? I’m Deprived. Everyone thinks I’m mad. Hardly the sort who deserves a princess.”

With a stomp of her feet and a shake of her head, she rails, “I am not a princess. And I haven’t seen any evidence that you’re actually mad at all.”

I raise a brow. “But you said it yourself; you hardly know me. C’mon, Sabelle. The Renunciation, if you please. Let’s be done with this.”

She bites her lip. “I should.”

But she doesn’t.

“I’m waiting.”

And her words will hurt like hell, every syllable ripping out my insides and replacing them with agony.

I brace, eyes closed, head down, shoulders taut.

Why couldn’t I have kept my fucking mouth shut?

For that matter, why did I taste her in the first place?

I was fairly certain what would happen. Now, I’ll have to spend an eternity knowing exactly what I’m missing.

That delectable flavor, the soft sensuality of her kiss, the little catches of breath before she moans. Sugary, spicy, so incredibly female.

All beyond my reach. Forever.

Suddenly, she wraps soft fingers around my arm. “You will remain a part of me, though?—”

As her words begin to eviscerate me, they end in a sob. I open my eyes to see she’s wrapped her arms around her waist, looking as if she might burst into tears again.

Confusion and impatience detonate inside me. If she’s going to put her brother above my devotion, the least she can do is end my suffering. “Now, princess. You know the words. ‘I am no part of you. Ever after, I will not promise myself to thee?—”

“Stop!” She shakes her head, golden curls brushing her waist. God, she looks so beautiful…and so distressed. Pain contorts her expression, as if hearing the Renunciation guts her. “No more.”

I grit my teeth, trying to understand. Either she’s going to Bind herself to me…or Renounce me. Until she chooses, the uncertainty will only cause her unnecessary pain. And witnessing that is killing me.

“Give me the words,” I whisper. “Say them and stop hurting yourself. I’ll keep my distance.”

She remains silent for long moments. Fresh tears well in her eyes. Even in anguish she looks so damn exquisite that I can hardly breathe.

“I can’t.”

Before I can ask why, Sabelle flings herself into my arms and presses herself against me, seeking my mouth with her own. Without pause, I open to her. Inhale her. Is this a yes?

Hope slashes into my heart, hacking like an axe at my defenses and good intentions. God, in the span of a few hours this witch has become everything to me.

I clasp her tight, lifting her off the floor and completely against me.

She moans and tilts her head to receive me.

Her taste blindsides me. I knew it would…

but her flavor is unique. Getting it on my tongue is like discovering her all over again.

My instincts solidify. She is my mate. No error.

No doubt. I pray this kiss is her way of embracing me as her other half, Bram be damned.

Unwrapping one arm around her long enough to sweep our dishes off the table, I barely register the crash of shattering porcelain.

Nothing matters but her. I lay Sabelle across the wooden surface and follow her down, our mouths still fused, her soft curves yielding beneath me.

The table creaks under our combined weight, a counterpoint to our ragged breathing.

Quickly, I unbelt her dressing gown. The silk whispers against her skin as I thrust the edges apart.

God, beneath the robe, she’s naked. And glorious. Lush breasts, an intriguing dip to her waist, enticing curve of her hips, supple thighs slightly parted, hinting at every tempting secret in between.

Bloody hell, her beauty blinds me as she stares up at me, aroused and uncertain. Trembling. So close to perfect, I don’t deserve her, but I vow to do everything possible every day to make her happy. Make her smile. Keep her satisfied.

And I want to show her just that.

“Ice…”

“Feel me, princess,” I murmur as I kiss my way down her neck. “Know how much I desire your pleasure and happiness.”

I fan a hand over her breast, feeling its perfect weight fill my palm.

My thumb brushes the taut nipple, and she gasps—a sound that travels straight to my cock.

She moves restlessly under me, her hips shifting in unconscious invitation.

I settle my mouth on the bud, drawing the dusky peak inside, all but inhaling her with a growl of need.

Sabelle grips the edge of the table, her spine arching in an offering that makes me groan against her.

I sink into the flavor of her skin. Passion pounds me, tightening every muscle. I nip at the hard nipple with my teeth, and she cries out. I smile. If she lets me, I would keep her splayed across the table and make an all-night feast of her. And I would love her forever.

Images blast through my head faster than a strobe light.

In every one, Sabelle surrenders to me utterly—as my mate.

On her back, taking me deep. On top of me, writhing as we chase release together.

Bent over before me as I tug on her hair and lose myself inside her to the heady soundtrack of her pleading moans.

I can visualize us together so clearly, perfectly, it tears the leash from my restraint.

Taking this slowly isn’t an option.

I slide down her body, my hands trailing over her satin-soft skin, memorizing every curve, every dip, every rise.

The firelight paints golden highlights across her body, making her glisten as if she’s my treasure.

The scent of her skin grows headier with each inch I travel—vanilla and peaches giving way to the muskier aroma of her arousal.

Get my mouth on her. I have to. Taste her essence and desire.

Face poised over her pussy, I anchor my palms on the insides of her thighs and push them wide. And stare. Pretty. Pink. Wet.

Mine.

I inhale, and her scent makes me mad with need. Succulent and humid with spice, like summer rain on hot stone. The taste of her earlier kiss still lingers on my tongue, a teasing preview of what awaits me. She looks ripe for my taking, and I want her every way possible.

“Ice…” Sabelle tenses, her voice strangled.

It tells me I’ve come to a line, and if I cross it…there may be no coming back.