A Kiss of Flame & Fury, page 11
It represented Tama’s status as a warrior of the Sea-People. When he’d given it to me to seal our friendship, he’d told me it came from an orca he had single-handedly defeated in combat.
“Yes,” Tama replied, his expression resolute. “My Kujiranokiba represents my oath to protect you. If transforming it shelters you from harm, then it serves its purpose.”
I leaned in to kiss his cool cheek. “Thank you, Tama. I’ll cherish it even more now.”
“Then it’s settled,” Gwydion said, clapping his hands together.
“I’ll help you research how to construct that restrictor,” Ilhan said, sounding eager. “I’m taking the Advanced Amulets class this semester. What if I presented Mage-Instructor Bevitrice with a hypothetical and got her thoughts on the best approach for a partial restrictor?”
Gwydion nodded. “Excellent suggestion. Everyone’s heard about Jacinthe’s mishaps by now, and Mage Bevitrice is the most skilled mage here. I have a great deal of respect for her.”
I did, too. She taught my Intermediate Potions class, and I’d already learned a lot from her.
“But I how do I keep from accidentally setting more fires in the meantime?” I asked.
“Return to my apartment,” Boreas suggested. “I’ll wear you out every morning, just like before.”
Ilhan turned beet-red and looked away at this casual reminder of how Boreas had pounded the magic out of me during my brief stay with him.
I winced. As much as I’d enjoyed his vigorous lovemaking, it had taken days for the soreness to vanish and my bruises to fade after I moved back to my room.
“Sweet Jacinthe,” Gwydion said, his voice low, “I can offer you another solution.”
I looked up, meeting his intense silvery gaze. “What do you have in mind?”
“Allow me to consume your excess magic,” he suggested, his expression serious. “It would be less strenuous than Friend Boreas’ solution—”
He shot Boreas a wicked, teasing look. The Wind-Walker harrumphed loudly.
“—but serve the same purpose,” Gwydion continued. “If you agree, we can meet each morning before breakfast. It won’t take long to drain your powers down to a manageable level for the time it takes to finish work on your restrictor amulet.”
I hesitated. I remembered when Gwydion drew on my powers at our fateful first meeting.
My latent magic had allowed him to fend off a swarm of magically constructed monkey demons determined to tear us limb from limb. But as seductive as Gwydion could be, the experience had been anything but pleasant. It had felt like he was tearing the very life out of me, leaving me weakened and shivering with cold.
“Isn’t there any other way?” I asked, my voice wavering slightly.
Gwydion spread his hands. “You could always take Friend Boreas up on his offer. If Mage Bevitrice can point us in the right direction, creating your restrictor amulet should only take us a few weeks. Six months, at most.”
I gulped. Caught between Dragon fire and Fae poison, as the old saying went.
“No offense to you, Boreas,” I said hesitantly. “But I’m not sure I’d survive six months of your non-stop attentions.”
“No offense taken.” Boreas guffawed loudly, but I sensed his regret through our bond. “I forget how fragile you humans are!”
“And I promise to be very gentle with you.” Gwydion hesitated, then added, “Allowing me to feed upon you would restore balance to our reckoning. It would be a fair payment for what you owe me for my help in things such as repairing your bed and creating the restrictor.”
I swallowed hard at the reminder that friendship notwithstanding, the Fae needed balance in every transaction.
“Very well,” I agreed softly, steeling myself for the ordeal to come. “It’s a deal.”
“Thank you for trusting me,” Gwydion murmured, reaching for my hand to seal our bargain.
∞∞∞
Gwydion
Eager to feast on Jacinthe’s delicious energy, I lingered in her room after the others returned to their rooms to begin the day.
I couldn’t help but notice her dread seeping through our mystical bond. I could guess what drove her apprehension. It made my heart to race in response.
“Jacinthe,” I said gently, once we were alone. “My previous draws on your power were born of desperation and life-threatening danger. On those occasions, I took more from you than I should have. Today, and in our future sessions, I promise you I will be much more restrained.”
Her eyes met mine, and I sensed her relief. “I trust you.”
Jacinthe’s trust was the most precious jewel I’d ever held. I was determined not to shatter it.
After an uncomfortable moment of silence, she blurted, “Are we going to have sex?”
My surprise at her baldly-stated question was mingled with amusement and anticipation. I felt she was intrigued by the prospect, rather than repulsed.
Then again, she knew I was a Dark Fae. But she didn’t know the full truth of what that meant.
“Why do you ask?” I questioned, bracing myself for a difficult conversation.
“When Boreas was helping me control my Fire magic, you know he, ah, used sex to draw it off until it was at a level where I could manage it.” Her brown cheeks flushed, and a wave of embarrassment rolled through our bond.
I nodded. “I could sense what was happening. It was most interesting. I had no idea you enjoyed being dominated like that.” I couldn’t help teasing her a little.
Her face darkened even further. She muttered something under her breath, then blurted, “Anyhow, you told me you, um, wanted to court me.”
I gave her my most brilliant smile. Of course, I enjoyed flirting with her. Perhaps a little too much, considering how intensely Lord Tama and Prince Boreas both adored her.
But I loved her, too. She had such a generous spirit, and she was my first real friend. I’d fantasized about bedding her more often than I cared to count. I wanted all she offered me. Except…
“Sweet Jacinthe, there is something I must tell you.” I had hoped to keep my secret from her a little longer.
“What?” Now she looked worried again.
“You know that sex isn’t necessary for me to drink from your power. That being said, I would love nothing more than to become your lover.” I paused, searching for the right words. “However, there’s a significant complication.”
“What kind of complication?” Jacinthe asked, clearly puzzled.
So, she hasn’t heard the rumors circulating about me?
Well, and no thanks to my fellow Fae hostages! Angharad, Branwen, and Eluned all despised and hated me. They knew about the curse, of course, and called me “leech” and worse. I spent as little time as possible in the suite of rooms we were forced to share.
“The men of my bloodline bear the Curse of Thorns. We cannot have sex with our partners without causing them immense pain and injury,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. “And I refuse to hurt anyone like that.”
I shuddered at the memory of my father and uncle’s sadistic pleasures and their victims’ injuries.
I braced myself for Jacinthe’s reaction, expecting rejection or disgust. Instead, she reached out and laid her hand on my arm.
The heat of her touch soaked through the thin silk of my shirt. I welcomed it with a shiver of pleasure.
“Who cursed you?” she asked instead. “And why would they do something like that?”
“From what I heard, it was well-deserved,” I replied. “My father is a monster. And my grandfather was ten times worse. Because of them, my capacity to give and receive pleasure is… limited.”
“That’s unfair!” Jacinthe said, outraged. “Why should you be punished for their misdeeds?” Her fingers tightened around my arm. “I know how hard you try to be a good person, Gwydion.”
My heart swelled with gratitude. She had been the first person here to look past my cursed heritage and offer me her friendship and trust. It only strengthened my resolve to become the person she believed I could be.
The room was growing lighter by the minute. Dawn was only minutes away.
“May I drink from you now?” I asked her.
She tensed, but nodded.
I gathered her deliciously warm body in my arms, then leaned down and kissed her tenderly.
The connection between us flared to life as her intoxicating energy bathed me like a potent elixir.
“Trust me,” I whispered against her lips, sensing her vulnerability.
“I do,” she replied softly, her eyes locked onto mine.
She relaxed as I deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth with all the sensual skills I possessed. It didn’t take long before she wound her arms around my neck and pressed her soft curves eagerly against me.
Her power rose eagerly to my call, pouring into me like the rarest, headiest wine. I had to fight the temptation to take more and more, to lose myself completely in the ecstasy of our connection and sate myself by draining her dry.
As we continued kissing, I stroked her body, teasing her with feather-light touches through her nightgown that added the spice of desire and arousal to the heated rush of her power flowing into me.
When I sensed the current diminishing to a gentle flow, I broke our kiss with a supreme effort of will and released my call upon her power.
“All done,” I managed, taking a wobbly step backwards and putting distance between us. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Rare warmth suffused me from fingertips to toes. I felt lightheaded and my cock was painfully hard, aching to plunge into her welcoming depths.
Jacinthe swayed a little, then smiled dreamily at me. The tips of her lovely breasts poked at the thin fabric of her nightgown, stiff with desire. Her mouth was swollen and her cheeks flushed. Her arousal pulsed insistently through our bond.
But I knew, all too well, what would happen if I yielded to my desire.
The Curse of Thorns was merciless. It would tear and disfigure, soaking up Jacinthe’s blood with unstoppable hunger.
“Thank you, Jacinthe,” I murmured, hoarse with need. “Best of luck in Mage Quinson’s class today. I look forward to our next kiss tomorrow morning.”
“Me, too,” she breathed.
Chapter 11
Jacinthe
Two hours later, I stood in front of Mage-Instructor Quinson’s battered desk in the Fundamentals of Magecraft class.
“Student Jacinthe, the charm for levitation, if you please.” Quinson visibly braced himself, then released a single white feather. It spun lazily as it drifted down towards the desktop.
I had been repeating this same exercise daily since the first day of class. The rest of the class had long since moved onto more complex spells.
Taking a deep breath, I muttered the charm and reached for my power.
Behind me, my classmates watched in rapt silence, waiting for the inevitable windstorm to begin. I’d overheard a whispered wager a few minutes ago, betting that today was the day I finally toppled the heavy purple porphyry statue of Mage Sancola that stood next to the blackboard.
Instead of leaping up eagerly and flowing out of me in a slippery, uncontrollable current, my power rose to my call slowly, creeping up inside me like chilled honey.
I pulled hard on it and drew up a sluggish trickle. I pushed it through my hands, where it left behind a warm, tingling sensation.
The feather stopped its leisurely descent and hovered gracefully in midair. I couldn’t believe it at first.
I heard a scatter of whispers and surprised exclamations rising from my classmates.
Maintaining the constant flow of power was hard work, though, in contrast to the overwhelming force I’d wielded with ease before Gwydion fed on me.
“Very well done, Student Jacinthe,” Quinson said after a few moments, his dark brows arching in surprise behind his spectacles. “I believe you’re finally getting the hang of controlling your magic.”
I grinned at his praise. It worked!
“Finis.” Panting with effort, I ended the spell, and released my hold on my powers.
I swayed with sudden fatigue, my shoulders aching with tension and my lungs burning as if I’d just run up the spiral stairs leading to the attic. I clutched at the edge of Quinson’s desk to keep from falling over.
“Student Jacinthe, you’re dismissed.”
I couldn’t wait to tell Gwydion about this small but important victory when I walked over to his apothecary garden this afternoon to harvest herbs and roots for drying.
Quinson poured water in a basin. “Lord Paolo!” he called. “Let’s see if you can succeed at raising and suspending a drop today.”
I—and everyone else in the class—noticed that Quinson called on Paolo more frequently than the other students. And that he always found an excuse to touch Paolo’s arms or shoulders… invariably followed by Quinson’s collar springing to life.
His bald scalp sprouting a dark fuzz of returning hair, Paolo rose slowly from his desk and shuffled to the front of the class. Every line of his thin frame radiated reluctance and discomfort.
Every time I wondered if perhaps Quinson wasn’t really the vile predator that gossip painted him, the instructor proved me wrong.
As Lord Paolo approached, I stayed where I was, bracing my hands on Quinson’s desk. I didn’t even have to feign my weakness.
As the oldest student in the class, I felt a duty to shield Paolo as best I could. Even if he had been an obnoxious little rat before Boreas and Tama paid him a visit.
“Student Jacinthe, you’re dismissed,” Quinson repeated, in a sharper tone this time.
I stretched my mouth in a smile.
“Oh, but Mage Quinson, I’d really like to observe how you instruct Lord Paolo in correctly using Water magic for this exercise,” I said as cheerfully as I could. “Since I’m so far behind in your class, I need all the help I can get!”
“Yes, this servant girl does indeed need all the help she can get!” Paolo said eagerly. “We should show her how to do this charm the right way.”
Beneath the boy’s condescension, I heard relief.
“Please, sir?” I begged. “It would really help me.”
Quinson’s gaze darted nervously around the classroom. “Very well, Student Jacinthe.” He didn’t sound happy about it.
Lord Paolo shot me a quick, grateful look. He stood behind me, letting me block Quinson’s view of him. “Watch and see, Miss Jacinthe.”
∞∞∞
Over the next few days, I immersed myself in my studies, determined to master the beginner spells that once seemed impossible. Each new triumph fueled my confidence as I gradually pieced together the puzzle of my newfound powers.
In class, I progressed from levitating feathers to heavier objects like stones and books. I successfully called on Earth magic to transform a rough chunk of pink quartz into a smooth-sided bowl, and Water magic to move streams of water from pitcher to basin and back again. And I sprouted seeds and shaped wood with Wood magic.
When the day of the autumn equinox arrived, bringing the Festival of the Mother of Harvests, I celebrated the fact that I’d caught up with my classmates in the Fundamentals of Magecraft.
My Intermediate Potions class with Mage-Instructor Bevitrice also continued to go well. Previously, I had been restricted in our practicum sessions to working on potions that did not require an infusion of power. Now I could look forward to crafting a potion from the starting ingredients to the finishing spell.
Most of the other mage students now seemed resigned to my presence at the academy, if not my sudden progress. The whispers continued but felt less venomous, though I was still ostracized at mealtimes in the Great Hall.
As sunset fell, the castle’s inhabitants gathered in the enormous chapel beneath the Great Hall to sing the traditional hymns of thanksgiving to the Divine Mother.
Everyone was dressed in their finest and brightest clothes, nobles and servants alike. Precious gems and gold chains gleamed in the light from dozens of beeswax candles. I wore the beautiful turquoise velvet gown that Boreas had given me, along with the wide silver cuffs and earrings, both inlaid with turquoise, carnelian, and mother-of-pearl.
Our voices rose, filling the space beneath the cross-vaulted stone ceiling with ancient melodies as we gave thanks for the Divine Mother’s blessings.
The candlelight cast a soft glow over the polished basalt statues of the Twelve Gods and the Trickster. Each figure wore the traditional garlands of newly harvested wheat and barley stalks decorated with ripe fruit and nuts, even the Trickster.
