Page 35 of The Witch’s Spell (Season of the Witch #4)
Thorne
AFTER AN AWKWARD DINNER DURING which Aurora pointedly ignores Faolan while Alden and Rowan try—and mostly fail—not to laugh, I retire on the couch in front of the hearth, one of Aurora’s aunt’s spellbooks open in my lap.
Eventually, Rowan heads upstairs, and Alden joins me in the parlor, where he rocks slowly in the rocking chair while working on a whittling project of some kind.
I can’t tell yet what he’s crafting, but I’m pretty sure it has antlers.
Distantly, I can overhear Faolan and Aurora speaking in the kitchen.
My hearing is much more acute than a human’s, so I have to make more of an effort not to listen in on their conversation.
As a means of distracting myself, I pore over pages of the spellbook, trying to find anything I can that might help give me another idea as to how to fix the portal and get rid of the fog.
But no matter how many pages I read, nor how many times I pull myself away from Faolan and Aurora’s conversation, I can’t find a single thing that might help me fix all the wrong I’ve caused.
I’m still sitting there later, rolling a lock of hair between my forefinger and thumb, when I hear Aurora and Faolan step into the foyer, their weight causing the floorboards to creak softly.
From where I’m seated on the couch, I can just barely see them.
And when Faolan pushes her against the wall and captures her mouth with his, my cock jumps.
Stop it. Control yourself.
It takes all my concentration to focus on the book in my lap and not the gentle breath Aurora lets out as Faolan pulls away. He heads up the stairs, feet thumping with every step, and when Aurora slips into the parlor, her cheeks are flushed and her pink lips are pulled into a content smile.
It seems she and Faolan made up, then. That’s good. It’s one fewer thing for me to worry about and feel like I caused.
Aurora takes a seat beside me on the couch.
Her smell, like lavender with a hint of honey, wraps around me.
In response, I tighten my hold on the book, trying not to react to her presence.
But the more time I spend with her—the more I come to understand her facial expressions and different smiles—the harder I’m finding it to keep my distance from her.
Even now, her thigh is barely brushing against mine, and I want so badly to reach over and grab it, to run my fingers under the hem of her skirt and finally discover what her skin feels like against mine.
“Any luck?” she asks. Unlike during dinner, she sounds cheerful again .
I’m glad Faolan mended things with her. I don’t think any of us liked seeing her upset—Faolan probably least of all.
“Unfortunately not.” I close the book in my lap, then stretch my arms up and interlace my fingers behind my head.
It’s strange not wearing my glamour anymore; I kept catching the men glancing at me during dinner, looking equal parts perplexed and unsure, but no one said anything about it, so I guess that’s another thing I don’t have to worry about anymore.
“I don’t think your aunt ever had to contend with out-of-control fairy magic. ”
Aurora shrugs, and a long strand of green hair slips over her shoulder.
I almost reach out and grab it, just to touch it, to feel connected to her, but Alden is here with us, and even though he accepted my being a fairy with apparent ease, I’m not sure how he’d respond to me trying to impede upon the complicated relationships that already exist in this tiny cottage.
“We’ll figure it out,” she says. “I’m not sure how, but”—she reaches out and places a hand on mine, right where Alden can see—“I believe in us.”
My gaze flicks from Aurora’s green eyes to her hand on mine, then up to Alden. But he’s not watching. Instead, he’s holding his block of partially carved wood up in the light, studying it. I think it’s starting to look a bit more like a stag, but I’m still not entirely sure.
Encouraged—potentially foolishly so—I allow my thumb to graze the back of Aurora’s hand.
Under the crackling of the fire, I detect the tiny sound of her catching her breath.
Her eyes meet mine again, green like the emerald caves back home.
And if Alden weren’t here, I’m not so sure I’d be able to resist leaning forward and tasting her lips, just like in the library.
If he hadn’t walked in when he did...
“Well,” Alden announces, causing Aurora to start and pull her hand from mine, “I’m beat. You ready for bed?”
Aurora nods. She holds out a hand, and Alden pulls her to her feet. Without her thigh beside mine, it suddenly feels colder in here, lonely even.
They both bid me good night, then walk to the bedroom together. And when they’re gone, I drop my head into my hands and wonder what the hell I’m doing.
She’s with three other men. I need to get a grip.
Aurora and Alden seem hell-bent on preventing that though.
Because only a few minutes after the door has closed behind them and I’ve peeled off my tunic to get comfortable on the couch, they start making breathy sounds, just like Aurora and Rowan did the other night.
I heard the whole thing, just like I’m hearing now.
And no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop myself from picturing it: Aurora’s naked skin in the firelight, her hair tangled in Alden’s fist, her perfect mouth parting on a whimper as he sinks inside of her.
Just like I want to do. Like I’ve dreamt of the past two nights.
Fuck.
I turn on the couch so my back is to the closed bedroom door, but it doesn’t do any good. I can hear all of it. Every caught breath, every fluttering sigh. And my cock responds each time Aurora moans, hardening in my trousers until I can’t take it anymore .
I’m in physical pain at this point. If I don’t release this pressure, I might burst.
With a barely restrained groan, I push up off the couch, then pad quietly into the kitchen, gait hitching as I go.
Silver moonlight slips through the window over the basin, illuminating the kitchen.
I brace one hand against the counter and reach to loosen my trousers with the other, easing them down just below my hips.
In here, I can’t hear Aurora and Alden quite as clearly, but if the rhythmic creaking vibrating through the floorboards is any indication, I imagine he’s fucking her on the bed now.
My fingers wrap around my shaft. I can almost pretend they’re hers. Aurora’s.
I close my eyes. And I imagine tasting her skin, tracing my tongue along the curve of her breasts, sinking my weight between her legs until it’s my name she whispers in the dark. My fingers stroke my length. My other hand grips the counter, my legs already starting to shake.
Aurora’s mouth moves behind my eyelids, whispering sweet words into my pointed ear. Her hair falls all around us, tickling my cheeks and the backs of my hands as I reach up to cup her face in my palms. And she tastes like summer when I kiss her.
It’s been so long since I touched myself, it takes no time at all to hit my climax.
And when I do, it’s with gritted teeth and Aurora’s face in my mind, her imagined breath touching my lips. Finally, the pressure between my legs eases, but it does nothing to soothe the strain on my soul.
This whole time, I thought I could resist the pull I feel toward her, thought I could just walk out of here as simply as I walked in.
But as my body trembles and I take a ragged breath, I start to worry if I might be wrong. If maybe this earth witch has ensnared me in a trap. And if it’s one I even wish to escape from.