Page 101 of Wicked Magik

Since crossing paths with Vesper, how can I entertain such thoughts? The agony of being separated from her for days is excruciating, far worse than when I kept Oryx at a distance. When they're both out of reach, I retreat into the shadows to be near them, desperate to keep away the searing pain that threatens to consume me if they drift too far away.

It still burns when only Oryx is with me.

I needed her too.

I craved her with an intensity that burned through my very being. It wasn't just about alleviating the gnawing pain; it was a visceral belief that she was destined to be one of us. Every moment spent apart only fueled this conviction, transforming it into an unyielding obsession. I couldn't comprehend the depth of this connection, and now I relentlessly question whether there is a hidden bond that the courts have dared to keep from all the upper class fae.

Could there be such a thing?

How would that work when my soul has been pulverized into dust to make my magik? Would I always hunger for them both?

A sudden warmth at my back made me jump, and I felt the soft whisper of Oryx’s breath against my neck. His arms encircled me, firm yet gentle, holding me in place as he exhaled heavily. With a deliberate motion, he nudged the book from my hands, dismissing it with a flick of his wrist. "She isn’t a goblin," he said, his voice low.

I chuckled weakly. “Of course, I know that. I’m grasping at vines to get out of the sinking sand I have put myself in.”

Oryx chuckled and teetered his skull back and forth. “I have news, I have sunk into her mind and…”

I spun and raised a brow. “She has asked you not to do that, Oryx.”

Oryx’s ears dropped as he hunched his shoulders. “I am trying to help. I don’t like to be in the middle of you two,” he whined.

I slowly shook my head and gently pulled away from his arms, feeling the warmth slip away like sand through my fingers. As much as my body ached to be enveloped in his embrace, to feel his strong arms around me like they used to be, I couldn't betray Vesper's trust. The flicker of longing in Oryx's body movements was unmistakable, yet he also insisted on keeping things platonic while I tried to win Vesper over.

I’d honor her.

I have given Oryx complete access to my thoughts. He has witnessed our memories and how he pursued me. Now, he comprehends my quirks better than ever, knowing I was introverted and preferred to stay out of the spotlight until he came along. He was the one who chased after me, and it took a considerable amount of time for him to break down my defenses and earn my trust.

And when I fell, I fell hard.

While Oryx knows our past memories, we are making new ones. These new ones involved ideas to have Vesper forgive me. Forgiveness from a woman is much different than getting forgiveness from Oryx.

He’s always been quick to forgive. He shouldn’t, but that’s always been him.

Oryx began, “Here is what she wants, you should…”

I placed my hand on Oryx's snout and gave it a soft shake. "No, I won't use that approach. What if she discovers it? She'll believe I deceived her, that I used you to learn how to win her over. It's not honorable, and I refuse to do it."

I moved away, circled the desk, and settled into the chair. Reclining, I gazed out the window. Oryx paced around the library, grumbling to himself about my stubbornness, comparing it to the memories he had observed in my mind.

Meanwhile, I see Benedict outside pruning the hedges.

“Where is Vesper? She’s usually with Benedict when she is not with you.”

Vesper disliked solitude, a sentiment I cannot relate to. She and Benedict have developed a strong connection, and although I'm not fond of her doing chores, she seems more content when she's busy or contributing. Unlike most women I've encountered, like my sister who preferred being pampered and receiving gifts, Vesper enjoys being active and helpful.

I know because I tried to leave her a necklace on her pillow and she slung it out the door in anger. Then another time I tried to leave a book of poetry, one of the romantic kind, and she used the pages to start a fire in the hearth. Vesper was not one for material gifts, that much I had learned fairly quickly.

Oryx stared out the window. “She’s sleeping in my den. Our pet is tired and I made her take a nap.”

I pursed my lips together. “You left her sleeping?”

Vesper's nightmares have been occurring more often lately. I linger outside their door as they sleep, tormented by the sound of her cries when she wakes. It's unbearable, especially knowing that I'm responsible for them. The guilt felt like shadows were constricting around me, squeezing the breath from my lungs. I feel powerless, yearning to enter the room and find a way to soothe her.

But I can’t, she doesn’t want me near.

She wanted nothing to do with me.

Oryx nodded. “Nightmares happen at night, it is day. She cannot have daymares.”