Page 91 of Samhain Savior

She was mine and I was hers.

It felt good. It feltright.

Of all the things I had done in my very long existence, she was going to be my greatest triumph.

Or my final damnation.

“My witch,” I said, close. “Come, witch. Give it to me. Give itallto me.”

She came, her sweet, hot pussy gripping me almost violently, and I followed her immediately, pouring myself deep within her.

But that wasn’t the only violent thing to happen.

As she screamed her release, the buzzing around us grew louder, the bulbs from the lamps hissing and flaring again, until, as one, they exploded, plunging the room into darkness.

Chapter forty-two

Delilah

“What was that?”

Above me, Archer groaned, pulling out slowly, and I felt the movement of his body everywhere.

I couldn’t believe it had come to this. I’d started the night so angry. At him. At myself. I’d worked up a fairly impressive steam of rage, ready to confront the demon who had taken such liberties with my very soul.

But then he’d turned up, full of concern and broody, gruff demands, and like a weakling, I’d caved.

Really, we had always felt inevitable. Archer was like the tide, steady, constant, and powerful. I was a fool to have thought I could resist him.

But a mate? Was that even possible?

The vibration in my chest said it was, even if my brain was staunchly refusing to believe it.

“That, my witch,” Archer said, his big body flopping onto the bed beside me. “Was you.”

“Me?” I asked, feeling beneath me for the blankets. Now that the moment was over, being naked felt awkward, even if my body was barely visible in the pale sliver of moonlight that came through the windows. Wriggling under the covers, I pulled them up nearly to my chin, refusing to think about the fact that Archer could probably see in the dark. “How could that have been me?”

“It’s all been you,” Archer explained, his arm coming around my shoulders and pulling me against him. I stiffened, the contact startling. He’d never been this affectionate, our interactions being mostly full of spite and insults, but now it seemed like he couldn’t stop touching me. As he curled me into his bare chest, my cheek resting against his warm, strong muscles, a feeling of contentment washed over me, and it took a moment for me to recognize it as Archer’s feeling, not my own.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered into the darkness. “Any of this.”

“I know,” he replied, his fingers trailing a gentle path up and down my spine. “There’s a lot that I don’t have the answers to. But I’ll tell you what I can.”

“Where do we even start?”

“With your magic.” His reply was instant, almost as though he wanted to put off the other topics as long as possible. I couldn’t help but agree. The sudden appearance of magic within my formerly barren body seemed a much safer topic than the massive elephant in the room that was Archer announcing I was his mate.

At that thought, my heart constricted, the idea of us being destined not nearly as off-putting as it would have been only days ago. As though he could feel my hesitant acceptance, Archer tightened his grip on my shoulders, like he was trying to eliminate any space between us at all.

I didn’t hate it.

“When did you first notice your magic increasing?”

I scrunched my forehead, trying to remember. “Boston, I think.” Looking back, I pictured that first kiss, the moment that Archer and I had shared in the backyard, how that spot inside me that had always felt like an empty well had begun to fill. “It was so gradual, I wasn’t sure what it was at first. For my whole life, I’d only been able to do little things. Minor magics that other witches could do without thought. For me, they were always exhausting, taking all that I had just to form a simple parlor trick.”

“Show me.”

His words were gentle, a plea more than a command, and that tiny flicker of warmth in my chest shivered in appreciation.