Page 34

MORTAL EMOTIONS

GRACE

T he next morning, after Sebastian makes me come twice—once with his tongue, and once with his cock—we leave the sanctity of his room for the far less welcoming auditorium.

His inner circle is already there by the time we arrive.

They stand against the far wall, their backs pressed to the wood paneling.

Opposite them, the drapes are drawn to reveal three narrow windows and the early rays of sunlight.

Cora was right.

If this ritual relies on the full moon, the ballroom is a better location. The windows are larger, and there are twice as many of them. I should tell Sebastian it’s fine to do it there. Instead, I don’t say a word.

While Sebastian fed downstairs this morning, I gave myself a much needed pep-talk in front of his mirror.

I can hope he cares for me. I can have hot sex with him and believe his intentions are better than they once were.

But I can also prioritize myself and not cave to his circle’s every demand.

Right now, that means learning how this ritual works without being reminded of my time as spider bait .

Sebastian’s hand claims the small of my back as he leads us through the auditorium.

My body relaxes against his touch, and for once, I don’t fight the instinctual pull.

I only step closer to his side and study the surrounding artifacts.

They’re staggered throughout the room, each one balanced on a short wooden stand.

The werewolf ear. The unidentifiable feather. The vase with cloudy liquid. The mismatched teeth. The bundled grain. The liver and the heart and the long-dead rat. At the center of it all, a tall podium stands with an empty glass bowl and an intricately-carved dagger.

That’s where Cora stands. Dressed in her typical baggy black dress, she leans against the podium and smiles. It’s meant to be reassuring, I think. It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing to calm the realization that the glass bowl is meant for me and that it looks equipped to hold gallons of blood.

“All right,” she says. She pats the podium, drawing everyone’s attention.

And still, I see the faces of the inner circle as they look from me to Sebastian and finally to Cora.

Their expressions shift, trying to hold back smiles.

They’re fidgeting like high schoolers with juicy gossip, and entirely too late, I realize what I should have long before I arrived.

They can scent me.

They know exactly what I’ve done.

A violent flare of shame courses through me.

I’ve always strived to be sex positive, to allow myself to enjoy sex, even if it’s a one-night stand.

This is undoubtedly different. I let Sebastian fuck me, only days before he uses me as a sacrificial lamb.

And now, his followers are absolutely judging me for it.

I dig my fingers against my bare thighs. Oh god . How pathetic. I suck a breath through my teeth, feeling the edges of my vision blur .

“And Grace, you’ll stand here,” Cora says, gesturing in front of her.

She holds the dagger as nonchalantly as a pencil, twirling it between her fingers.

“I’ll get the spell started, and at my word, you’ll slice your palm or wrist or what-have-you.

Then, you’ll give me access to your magic.

There’s a chance you’ll lose consciousness at some point, but I’m fairly confident we can finish this before it kills you. ”

Cora moves on to each of the artifacts and their respective roles in the ritual.

I should be paying attention, but my mind can’t focus on anything but blatant humiliation.

I only come back to attention when Cora claps her hands together, as if closing a book.

She looks from Sebastian to the inner circle.

“Any questions?”

Amelia asks something, but I don’t register a single word. My mouth has gone dry, and I’m staring absently in front of me.

Fairly confident .

They’re fairly confident this isn’t going to kill me. They think they’ll finish before I die.

“Grace,” Sebastian says. I startle as he touches my face, gently cupping my jaw. He tries to steal my attention, but I can’t bear to look at him.

He promised. And he meant it. He’s not going to let me die. He’s not…

I close my eyes, fighting off a rush of tears. When a pathetic sob breaks from my lips, I cover my face with my hands.

“Grace,” he says, voice soft, urgent. “Look at me, love.”

It’s that word— love —that has me opening my eyes. He’s looking at me entirely too gently, like he cares. Like he’s truly concerned, and not just trying to get me to calm down.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he says. His thumb strokes my cheek, brushing away a stray tear. “Forget everything else. You have my word, little witch. I am going to keep you safe.”

I’m nodding, even when I know it’s foolish to believe, to trust. Sebastian doesn’t look away though. He doesn’t show an ounce of hesitation or deceit.

The momentary flicker of warmth in my chest is shattered by Beatrice’s animalistic snarl. She’s moved from her place at the wall, surging closer until she’s only feet from us.

“Master,” she says. Her dark brows slant, mouth twisting into an ugly grimace. “Whatever mortal emotions you think you feel for her now, they are temporary. This darkness—this curse— is forever, unless she stops it.”

“And she will,” Sebastian says, keeping his eyes steady on me. “But not at the expense of her life.”

“Master—”

“Does everyone understand?” he shouts. “We will break this curse, but not at the expense of her life. Repeat it back!”

The room is silent for a horribly strained second, until finally, six voices repeat Sebastian’s words back to him. By the end, the inner circle stares at their leader in a mixture of horror and disbelief, except for Oskar, who looks only at me in pure wonder.

I don’t remember the rest of the meeting.

I blacked out everything following Sebastian’s speech, and I’m still in a daze as we leave the auditorium an hour later.

We don’t speak as we walk. He doesn’t tell me where we’re going, but a rush of relief courses through me as we turn not for my cell, but his bedroom.

As soon as we’re locked in his room, Sebastian crashes against me. He presses me against his closed door, lips trailing open-mouthed kisses across my throat. I arch into him, clutching his shoulders to keep from floating away.

“They’re angry,” I say. I force the words out, much as I’d like to fall into Sebastian’s sudden affection. “Your circle…They’re going to?—”

“They’re not going to do anything,” he interrupts, lips not leaving my skin. “They’re going to do as they’re fucking told.”

He nips at my jaw, letting his hand slip up my shirt and beneath my bra.

“They’re scared,” I say. “And they’re—they’re right—everyone is depending?—”

Sebastian drops to his knees, yanking my shorts to my ankles. My words break away on a gasp as he presses his lips to my clit.

“On me,” he says. “They’re depending on me. You’ve agreed to try, and you’re going to do what you can. All right? That’s it. You’re not going to die to clean up my mess.”

“But you said?—”

“That was before,” he says roughly. He sucks my clit into his mouth, humming as he slips a finger between my legs.

“Before you realized how good I am in bed?” I ask. It’s meant to be a joke, but it comes out as another needy gasp.

“I don’t know,” he says, pausing again. He looks up at me, somehow looking both savior and sinner. “Maybe before I met you. Before I realized…”

He trails off, but he doesn’t look away. His eyebrows crinkle, mouth twitching silently with words he can’t seem to say.

“I can’t explain it, Grace,” he says finally. “Just…just shut up and let me?—”

I use my magic to move him .

For the first time, it’s not to hold him down or to put him on his knees.

It’s to bring him to his feet. He yells out in surprise as I slam his back against the door.

Before he can say another word, I’m knelt before him, hands frantically undoing his belt.

He might not understand what’s happening between us, but I finally do.

And while I’m not ready to tell him either, I can certainly show him.

“Take off your shirt,” I say without slowing my movements. He does as I say, not bothering to undo the buttons. They fly off his shirt, scattering across the floor. If I weren’t a jittery, wanting mess, I might laugh.

As it is, I’m too focused. I yank his pants down, letting his cock spring free.

It’s long and thick, straining for me. It’s too big to take all at once, but I stroke the shaft with one hand, leisurely, if only to watch Sebastian at my mercy.

He stares at me like I’m his salvation, and I smile up at him, because I think he’s right.

His hips jerk, thrusting him harder into my fist.

I wet my lips, slowly, teasing him. Until finally, Sebastian snaps, wrapping my hair around his wrist and tugging my head back.

“Give me your mouth,” he says roughly.

I consider making him wait, but I’m desperate too.

I run my tongue over his length before wrapping my lips around him, taking him as deep as I can.

As soon as his cock hits the back of my throat, a heady growl rumbles from his chest. And then, his cautiousness is gone.

His hips snap hard and fast, until I’m gagging on him.

He fucks my mouth like he owns it, like it’s only ever belonged to him.

I shouldn’t love it.

I do.

I grab his hips, falling into rhythm with his frantic thrusting. Spit trails from my mouth, and my eyes water. He’s too big, too much—and I can’t get enough.

“Holy fucking hells,” he says. He curses, dropping his head back as he unloads into my mouth.

I swallow every drop, and when I’m done, he wipes the tears from my face.

“That was…” he trails off. “You’re perfect, Grace.”

I sit back on my heels, dabbing the corners of my mouth. Satisfaction hums through my chest, building me up until I feel nothing but pride.

“Tell me I was a good girl,” I say. When he lifts a surprised eyebrow, I continue. “I’ve got a praise kink. I want you to be rough. Take what you want, and then tell me I did a good job.”

“Praise kink,” he repeats. His gaze darkens, mouth ticking into a smirk, but there’s nothing mocking about his expression. “Is that a human thing?”

“I don’t know. I guess,” I say. “I just…I like when guys tell me I was good for them.”

“Only me,” he says sharply. He presses his thumb against my lips, until I open for him. “You’re a good girl for me. All right? No one else.”

“Only you,” I repeat. I close my lips around his thumb, sucking softly. My center aches, and I shift on my heels, seeking relief.

“Good girl,” he says. The words tumble easily from his lips, and he tightens his fingers around my chin. “My only girl.”

Now, I’m the one surprised. I didn’t expect him to say those words, let alone this quickly.

“I’m going to fuck this mouth for the rest of my life,” he says. “Understand?”

I pull back, letting his thumb fall out of my mouth .

“The rest of your life is a very long time,” I say carefully.

I try to control the fluttering warmth in my stomach, but I’m afraid it’s too late. I’ve stood on the edge of this cliff for too long, and now that I’ve jumped, there’s no going back.

“Yes,” he agrees. He cups my jaw again, applying pressure until I open my mouth. He feeds his rapidly hardening cock between my lips. “Now be a good girl and swallow.”