The Bound Witch by Ivy Asher
4
Itake a deep breath, sorting through everything in my mind that Rogan and I need to talk about. There’s so much it’s hard to even know where to begin, but I give my ovaries a good we got this and batten down the vulnerable hatches inside of me, because no more avoiding. It’s time to accept and deal with what we’re up against.
Leaning down so I can bring our eyes even, I ready myself for answers.
“Elon?” I start, his name sticking in my throat like it doesn’t want to come out.
I’m not ready, not really, but I must know. I need Rogan to just rip the bandage off and maybe prepare a tourniquet. Hoping feels useless at this point. I want Elon to be okay, but I can’t banish the vision of Jamie’s dagger plunging into Elon’s chest as my rage-filled scream echoes around that forsaken church.
Rogan’s fingers are firm on the back of my neck, the grounding touch enough to pull me away from the assault of pain that’s welling up. I try to study his face, looking for the answer before he can voice it, but his face is completely unreadable.
He pulls in a hurried breath, like he’s preparing to deliver bad news, and my heart sinks. “He’s back too,” he tells me, emotion cracking through the declaration like the words spilling out of him are still too good to be true. I stare at him as the truth of what we can do sinks in, and then all at once, relief crashes through me so violently that it fractures the weak hope I was clinging to and makes way for a whole new foundation of limitless possibility.
I gasp as the heavy burden of self-blame and guilt immediately lightens, and I drop my face into my hands and let go. Sobs wrack my chest, and tears fill my palms. I knew how much I wanted to hear that Elon was okay, how much I hoped that this would be the answer, but I wasn’t prepared for what knowing for sure would feel like.
I cry, and Rogan pulls me closer and wraps himself around me as I do. He anchors me and supports me as everything comes rushing back. I try to fight all of the emotions that are an echo of the fucked up shit that happened the night I died. But instead of winning the battle, I’m forced to succumb to it. It’s all so fresh and staggering. I wish I could shut it off, but I can’t. I have to get it out. I have to fix the shattered pieces of myself that the trauma of that night took a sledgehammer to.
“It was fucking awful,” I profess, the words spilling out of me like I’m an overfull levee. Rogan’s quiet as he runs a hand soothingly down my back while holding me tightly to him. “I tried so hard to keep her away from him, to focus on me, but…”
“I know,” Rogan comforts, placing light kisses on the back of my hands. “Elon told me what happened. How you…” Emotion bleeds out of his words, and he pauses to try and rein it in. The vehemence leaking to me through the tether has me cracking my fingers so I can look at his face through them. “I fucked up so bad, Lennox. I thought I had to choose, that after everything Elon had been through, he needed to come first no matter what. I didn’t want to admit how I was feeling about you. If I did, it felt like I was betraying Elon. I mean, what kind of person finds happiness and hope when his brother is suffering?” he asks, anguish etched in his features.
He shakes his head, ashamed, an indignant scoff sneaking out of his full lips. “I didn’t want to make room for you,” he admits, bringing his hand to his chest and placing it over his heart. “I didn’t want to see that you’d already sunk inside of me so deeply that there wasn’t a me without you anymore. It was the wrong time, too fast, too uncertain, but there you were all the same,” he tells me, gesturing to his heart.
His last words coax a small smile to one corner of his mouth, but it’s gone in a blink.
“That night when you were torn away from me. It was like I was back in that room with my uncle as he tortured Elon and tried to steal his birthright. I lost it completely. I probably would have taken out half the order if Marx hadn’t been there to stop me. They brought that Saxon fucker in to search your room for who could have planted the trap, and it hit me like a punch to the gut. You were gone. You were gone, and you didn’t know how I felt. I never let you see what you were starting to mean to me.
“I knew wherever that portal was leading, it was going to be bad, and I hated myself for not giving you something to fight for, for failing to show you that we were worth fighting for. I’m never going to do that again, Lennox. Never.”
Slowly, he pulls my hands from my face, lifting up a corner of the quilt to wipe the tears and snot away.
“I love you, Lennox,” he tells me evenly with absolutely no hesitation. “I love you in the way that grows as we grow together. The kind of love worth fighting for, that has me waking up every day grateful and willing to do whatever it takes. I know what you did for Elon, because it’s the same thing you did for me. You’re the light in the darkness. The stars that guide you home when you’re lost. You carry the broken from battle and lift the drowning from the clawing cold that’s trying to claim them. You slay the demons.”
I stare at him, completely dumbfounded. A tear slips silently down his cheek, and I move to catch it, his eyes so intense that he’s looking into me rather than looking at me. Warmth pools in my stomach, and my heart races like it’s giving its all because Rogan is the finish line.
“You, Lennox Marai Osseous, are everything. It scared the shit out of me before, but I’m not scared anymore. I love you. I feel it in my blood, in my bones, in my very soul...and I know you feel it too,” he declares assuredly, now wiping the fresh tears from my cheeks.
I kiss Rogan, my lips capturing his fiercely so I can sip on his words and let them soak into me. His raw declaration fills the cracks that mistrust and messed up circumstances chiseled into us, his faith and trust the very mortar we needed to repair and move forward. I know we have a lot ahead of us, that nothing about this is going to be easy, but Rogan is right. We’re worth fighting for.
I kiss him so thoroughly, pouring my own silent declarations into the passion once again stoking between us. This is the be-all and end-all kind of love that can only be nurtured with patience and understanding. This is the good shit that takes work and time, but when you truly give it everything you have, it’s the epic kind of love that will sustain a soul even in the darkest of times. I don’t know how the hell all of this just fell in my lap, but regardless of how long we’ve known each other or what obstacles may drop in our path, I am not letting this go.
Rogan kisses me back just as ferociously, our actions sealing what words can’t. Our tongues rove and explore, eager to spend the rest of forever learning each other as well as we already know ourselves. His hands splay across my back, pressing me into him, and I know I’ll never get tired of feeling him like this. Vulnerable and needy. Strong and formidable. Willing to give and take and solidify our bond time and time again.
And I am sooo here for it.
I feel him harden inside of me, and I chuckle at the realization that we haven’t even disconnected from round one and we’re already sliding into round two. I’m going to have to build a shrine to the sex gods or something, really make sure they know how grateful I am for pitching this dick my way.
“Alright, Rogan Kendrick, let’s see what you’ve got,” I challenge, tasting his laughter and feeling his chest vibrate against mine.
His arms tighten around me, and in less time than it takes to say Blood Witches do it best, I’m on my back. I release an epic girly squeal and giggle to go with it as he buries his face in my neck. “I meant for our future,” I argue, completely full of shit, “but this’ll do too,” I tease, parroting his sentiment before he took me against the wall.
“You have no idea how much I look forward to fucking that sassy mouth of yours,” he growls into my ear as he places a large hand at the small of my back and tilts my hips up.
Oh, hello, new favorite position—I have a feeling I’ll be thinking that a lot in the near future.
Rogan grinds into me, his insanely gorgeous body pressing against my clit in a really delicious way that I’m down to explore more of.
“Are you going to say it back?” he asks as he starts to pull out.
I furrow my brow in faux confusion. “What? That I can’t wait to fuck your mouth?” I ask, trying to hide the twinkle of mirth in my eyes.
He shakes his head and kisses down my throat, and I wiggle with anticipation, fully expecting some type of retaliation. He nibbles at the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, and I shamelessly lean into the sensations he’s creating when there’s a peculiar heat that unexpectedly starts to gather at my core.
Did someone just shove a hot pack over my hot pocket?
I look down and find Rogan’s devilishly good-looking face watching me, a hint of a smirk dancing on his lips and gleaming in his sultry gaze.
The heat builds even more, and I whimper, not from pain, but because it’s making everything very, very sensitive.
What the hell?
“Wha...what are you doing?” I demand as I start to writhe and wiggle underneath him. Fuck, he feels big. Did he feel that big before? What, does he have Go, Go Gadget dick?
“Are you going to say it?” he taunts, and I swear to fuck, if he so much as sneezes, I’m going to come so hard I’m going to need to be resurrected again.
“Are you giving me menopause?” I demand, panting. “Are these hot flashes, because I didn’t know they came with a side of orgasm so good you might just die.”
Rogan laughs, and yep, that does it. I shatter around him so hard that I now know what a meteorite feels like when it slams into the ground and gets obliterated. I’m pretty sure I turn into dust. Rogan must Swiffer me back into a person, because the next thing I know, I’m screaming like one of those porn stars that makes you roll your eyes, because there’s no way in hell it’s that good.And yet, somehow, it’s that fucking good.
Rogan thrusts shallowly in and out of me as I slam back into my body, the movement the perfect pace to draw out the life-altering release that has me convinced I’m now nothing more than dust bunnies.
“Mmmmm, I see you like the taste of my blood magic,” he purrs against my mouth as he nips and flicks his tongue teasingly against my bottom lip. “I was going to wind you up and then let you cool off as punishment, but I like the way you come all over my cock too much to hold out on you,” he admits, punctuating the declaration with a sumptuous roll of his hips.
I laugh at his admission, but it comes out sounding more like a dazed sigh. Without warning, heat starts to move in a direct path from between my thighs up to my nipples, and I moan and groan at the same time.
Holy Crone, Maiden, and Mother, I just found what I want to do for the rest of my life.
“You’re heating my blood,” I accuse, annoyed when the indictment is a blissed out slur of words instead of an outraged challenge.
“Are you going to say it back?” he demands smoothly, a smile in his tone. He emphasizes each word of his question with a pulse of heat starting at my nipples and radiating down into my breasts.
It’s like he’s sucking on both nipples at the same time, while also pinching them lightly and kneading my breasts to an entirely different rhythm. But none of that is actually happening, because he has one hand at the small of my back and the other is supporting his weight while he moves his cock in and out of me like he hasn’t a care in the world.
This motherfucker is going to orgasm me to death,I realize, as he works my body like he knows it better than I do. I debate holding out—I mean, what a way to go—but there’s a small spark of vulnerability in his eyes, and the last thing I want him to think is that I don’t feel the same way.
“It’s just that I never thought it would be possible, you know?” I start, adopting a shy, hesitant mien. Rogan’s playful countenance gentles, and his gaze softens with understanding. “With everything that’s happened between us, I didn’t quite trust what my heart was telling me, but I can’t deny it,” I admit huskily as I brush hair out of his face and try to breathe through another coalescing orgasm. “I just might love you more than your coffee maker,” I announce straight-faced. “It’s probably too early to tell. We are new to this whole love thing, but the potential is definitely there.”
Rogan barks out a laugh, and the loss of his focus gives my nipples and clit a momentary reprieve. I don’t know if I’m grateful for that or disappointed.
“You do put out way easier than she does, and make me feel almost as good,” I add, trying to hide the cheeky smile that wants to break out on my face.
“Almost?” he growls indignantly, and the giggle sneaking out of me quickly morphs into a deep moan as he starts to pick up his pace between my thighs.
“Almost,” I repeat, gasping as he nips at my neck, his laughter vibrating through me as happiness fills our bond.
“I won’t tell the espresso machine,” he whispers conspiratorially in my ear, his deep sexy voice causing need to settle low in my stomach and goose bumps to crawl up my arms. “Your secret’s safe with me,” he adds, his smile wide, and then he claims my mouth and kisses me almost right out of my mind. “I fucking love you, Lennox, now scream my name again,” he commands, picking up his pace while heating up every possible erogenous zone I have.
I reach back and grab onto the metal headboard of the bed, trying to ground myself as much as possible as extra heat builds at my nipples, clit, and pussy. Rogan pounds into me, deep and hard, and I start a steady chant of you can do it, put your back into it...you know, just to keep that ego in check.
I fight it so hard, but it’s a lost cause. I’m mindless and mewling in a matter of seconds. Another one of those dangerous soul snatching orgasms starts to tingle and collect in my core, and I don’t know if I’m afraid of it or ready to jump in feetfirst.
“You feel so fucking good,” Rogan groans, and then he presses my knees back, opening me up even more for him, and starts driving into me even deeper. “Yes, baby, you like that,” he hums.
“No, no baby,” I gasp and then moan as he fucks me senseless.
“Shit, sorry.”
“Don’t be, I didn’t even know I hated it until you just said it and it felt weird,” I reassure him, groaning with approval as he picks up his pace again.
“Got it, no babes or babies. How about my honey or sweetie?”
I gag at the suggestions, grabbing on to his arms so he can thrust into me even harder.
“What cutesy name am I supposed to use then?” he asks breathily, trying to playfully pout. It doesn’t have the effect he wants because my moans coax out a smug smile instead.
“To be determined,” I squeal, but it’s all I can get out before I throw my head back and scream his name in complete mind-altering ecstasy.
“Yes, Lennox, that’s my girl,” he growls, and then he buries himself and cums hard.
We lie there, sweaty and breathless. I feel almost numb with endorphins and bliss from what he just did to me, and a happy sigh sneaks out easily. “You gotta teach me that thing you did with my blood,” I tell him drowsily.
“Hand over my secret weapon, just like that?” he scoffs, a sneaky smile playing on his kiss-swollen lips. “Come now, Osteomancer, you should know me better than that by now.”
“Mmmm, true. You do like to play things close to the vest. But I’m a quick study, Kendrick, and I will use my powers for evil,” I warn as I wag my eyebrows sinisterly, or at least I think I do, I can’t really feel my face.
He kisses me softly and boops my nose. I slap his hand away and laugh. “Oh no, I didn’t know you were one of those booper weirdos,” I declare, scrunching up my face in disgust. First the baby thing and now this? That’s it, I’m outta here,” I tease, not even bothering to move to support my faux outrage.
Rogan laughs and tweaks my nipple.
“Ahh, much better,” I joke, and we both crack up.
“Come on, let’s get cleaned up and talk about fun things like war with the Order and hunting demons.” He pushes off the bed, grabbing my hand and forcing me to come with him despite my protesting groans.
“You cannot fuck me into a jelly-like state and then make me talk about your mom. I’m pretty sure there are rules against that,” I whine.
He ignores me, pulling me into the bathroom, and starts the shower. “If I could get away with never talking about her again, I’d do it happily, but I don’t think we’re going to get that lucky,” he states, studying me as I rummage through the drawers in search of my shower cap.
I’d normally save this sexy look for later in the relationship, but I already washed and dried my curls earlier. I can’t be bothered to do it again so soon. Rogan climbs into the shower and starts to wash off, and I’m struck by the strange intimacy of what we’re doing, and even more surprised by the fact that it doesn’t actually feel strange at all. I pull my polka-dotted cap on, tucking my curls into it, and just watch him for a moment through the glass of the shower. So much has changed, and yet it all just feels the same somehow, which makes zero sense.
I can’t feel like we’ve done this a million times before, because we never have. We should be in the phase where I sneak off early in the morning to fluff my curls and apply the perfect no-makeup makeup look and then proceed to pretend that I naturally wake up that hot. But no, we’re practically at the “poop with the door open while having a conversation” phase, and I both like that and also side-eye it.
“So, what’s going on?” I ask, tilting my head and watching raptly as soap suds start to drip down Rogan’s abs.
I shake my head to try to snap myself out of my ogling as he turns to rinse himself, subsequently cutting off my view of all his front bits. Damn, the dude has an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. I’ve never felt the urge to bite down on a good piece of ass meat before, but I can now no longer claim that to be true. I turn to the mirror and look myself in the eye. My pupils are huge, and my face looks slightly panicked.
Get a hold of yourself, woman. We’ve got serious shit breathing down our necks. Now is not the time to daydream about nibbling on some beefy ass cheeks.
“Why do I suddenly feel a lot of frantic concern coming from you?” Rogan asks, and I look up to find his gaze in the mirror.
“What? No!” I squeak out in a rush. He shoots me a look that tells me he’s not convinced, and I quickly clear my throat and try again. “It’s nothing, and so that we’re clear, it’s also absolutely rude to spy on my insides.”
“Stop projecting them at me then.”
I gasp and press my palm to my chest. “I would never,” I declare adamantly and fake as fuck. He smiles and shakes his head at me.
“Get in here so I can do other things to your insides. The milkmaid thing you’ve got going on is working for me,” he orders, a sultry smile stretched across his lips.
And here I was thinking that my inner fiend was out of control—this guy is insatiable. I return my stare back to my own reflection in the mirror and roll my eyes. Crap. I do look like a milkmaid. Holding up a defensive hand, I turn around and narrow my eyes at his invitation.
“No more sex. We need to figure things out for real, and we can’t do that if I’m trapped on your cock twenty-four seven.”
Rogan raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Trapped?”
“You know what I mean,” I dismiss. “I woke up in a morgue. I had to sneak out of said morgue. And I’m pretty sure you were announcing some kind of situation when you broke into my aunt’s house and decided to dick me down.”
“Your way with words is truly so eloquent,” he counters with a sly mocking smile.
I flip him off. “Seriously though, how long was I out, and what was the situation that had you risking a Hillen beatdown?”
Rogan’s playfulness drops away, and as grateful as I am that he’s getting back to business, I also hate to see it go.
“You’ve been dead for thirteen days,” he tells me evenly, but his face shows the toll this fact has taken on him.
I feel as though the floor was just yanked out from under my feet. It’s like that trick magicians do where they grab the table cloth and pull it out from under a table full of china. Only instead of sitting unmoved and whole like the plates and cups are supposed to, I feel like I’m falling to the ground, destined to shatter at any moment.
Thirteen days.
A lot can happen in thirteen days, and judging by Rogan’s face, a lot has.