Page 65 of Wicked Magik

With all my heart.

It was unreasonably fast, and I couldn’t say it out loud yet.

What if Oryx repairs his bond with Veylor and decides to abandon me? It's unsettling because Oryx is just starting to comprehend the world, as if his mind has expanded beyond its simple, primitive thoughts to something more fae, or perhaps human? I can't decide if this change is good or bad for us.

Whatever relationship I uncover with Veylor and Oryx, there is that slim chance that there will be no room for me. I remember what Veylor said. I was a wench, and I was poisoning his creation.

Were they lovers? Do friendships invoke that much emotion?

Until I knew, I wouldn’t utter those three little words out loud, but I was having trouble fighting my body.

I wanted to take things to the next level, but damn it I was scared to. I was scared to lose Oryx in the process and get my heart broken.

Oryx wasn’t making it any easier either.

Oryx had clearly been learning. Whether by instinct, reading risqué books on his own, or asking Benedict for advice…because his attempts to please me had noticeably increased. He was getting far too creative in the bedroom.

He would get his dick as close to my pussy as he could. Those little suckers would attach to my clit and pulse and vibrate. He would even bend me over and whisper the most dirty and vile things into my ear as he pressed his cock between my thighs and pulse it between my legs.

Just this morning he had me face down in the pillows, his big claws holding my hips while his cock pulsed and was bringing me to my third orgasm and told me he couldn’t wait to take my pretty pink cunt and claim it for himself.

I took a deep breath and sighed, a hand running down my face.

But then he told me how much he cared for me after, and gave me the best aftercare I have ever read in a book, and asked if he was too rough with me.

And he wasn’t even inside me.

Oh gods, I think I came a little.

A loud bang came from the table beside me. Veylor’s fists were still, almost as still as his unbeating chest.

Though technically dead, the magik coursing through his veins animates his body, making his chest rise and fall as if breathing. His nostrils flare as the air passes through them, hinting at a semblance of life. He gazed down at me with a sneer etched across his face, a twisted expression that revealed his disdain.

The pointed tips of his ears twitch ever so slightly, a subtle movement that betrays his heightened senses. I struggle to muster a smile, the corners of my lips barely curving upwards, attempting to mask the unease that churns within me.

It appears I get under his skin as much as he does mine.

“Are you done daydreaming, or are you going to clean up the specimen?”

I’m supposed to be sanitizing the bodies, preparing them for the table. We have spent the better part of two days selecting parts for new vessels. Three to be exact. We needed to cut bone, trim skin, make sure all the organs were available and healthy.

Although their bodies were undead and sustained by magik, their souls remained attached to them. They could still eat and drink, and their organs continued to function like a living body’s. It was important to choose the right parts.

I think Veylor thought I would want to bow out. He was ready for me to retch into the nearby sink and leave the room and tell him to forget it, which would have voided the contract. Ha, he would think so but I’ve done worse than this.

This was a walk in the park.

“I was just thinking. I need to go to the back, this hand won’t do.” I picked it up by the wrist, it was a male’s hand and the vessel we were creating was meant for a female. If I was a woman, I would want a dainty one, not one with sausage fingers that had been broken one too many times.

As I strolled past him, I playfully waved the object near his face—a gloved hand, fingers frozen in a permanent wave. Veylor, as usual, remained stone-faced, his eyes not betraying even a hint of amusement. I carried the hand with me to the storeroom, pushing open the heavy door. The air inside was cool and slightly damp, enveloping me in a musty embrace. Across the hall, my gaze lingered on the door that stood in shadow, the one I was strictly forbidden to touch.

“Never go near it, don’t even think about it,” he said ominously.

He’s just asking for me to touch it.

I bit my lip, my eyes drawn to the intricately carved wooden door at the end of the dimly lit corridor. Its mysterious allure held me captive for more than just a passing moment. Suddenly, Veylor's grip clamped down on my arm like a vice. Before I could react, he wrenched my arm behind my back with a swift, practiced motion, forcing my cheek against the cold, rough surface of the stone wall. His breath was hot and close to my ear as he growled, “What did I say about that door? Do you humans have the memory of a mere goldfish?”

Oh, he’s witty. That was kind of funny.