Chapter 42 Rising Passion
Vanessa
The first powerful thrust has me clinging onto him for dear life.
He fills me completely, not leaving room to breathe, let alone think. I open my mouth to speak but he pulls out and snaps his hips back against mine and I moan, long and low, forgetting whatever I was about to say.
He sets a brutal pace and crashes his lips against mine, our tongues tangling and fighting for dominance, but we both know who the real master is.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pushing him flush against me until there was no space left. No sound can be heard in the room except the echo of our skins slapping against each other.
My mind flashes back to when Max's continued update on his and Xander's progress throughout the short time I stayed at the cabin. I was worried for both our safety - his, because of his status and what the truth will do to his position; then mine, because I don't know who has it for me out there and is determined to make my life hell.
It's a good thing I don't see the cloaked figure anymore, but I'm far from relieved.
Xander's hot breath fanning against my cheek brings me back to the present. "Something on your mind, firecracker?" his thrusts slows as his dark eyes roam my face, searching and probing.
I don't respond, except a cheeky smile splays on my lips. "Why don't you fuck me harder?"
His nostrils flare, dark eyes flashing between emerald green and black as his pace picks up again, and this time, there's no restraint from him.
He fucks me until I can't remember my own name. Fire licks up my spine and I throw my head back, feeling the tightening below as it builds up until my orgasm explodes out of me, then I'm screaming his name for the world to hear.
I'm still coming when I feel his hips slowing down. He pumps once, twice, then slams against me to the hilt. I shiver at the warm feeling of his cum filling me up, which draws a mini orgasm out of me.
"Fuck, firecracker," he grunts.
One of his hands cups my face, then his head dips to kiss me. The kiss is slow and reverent, burning and imprinting his name in my heart.
I trace the crescent-shaped sigil on his chest and he shivers slightly.
He rolls to the side, giving us the space to catch our breaths. Then he turns me around to spoon me, kissing the back of my head and a contented smile curls on my lips.
We don't say anything, because no words are needed at this moment. Surrounded by warmth and feeling a little lighter, I'm pulled into the world of sleep.
Xander had woken up earlier to attend to an important meeting. But before then, we had showered together and he fucked my brains out once again in the shower.
My pussy tingles at the memory.
After that, I got under the covers and slept another few hours.
Now, I feel energized more than ever and pad my way to the library, head still reeling from Damian's words about my mother being a descendant of the first witch to ever exist.
When I get there, the lights inside are dimmed as usual, but the rolling chair is empty.
I wonder where Elias went.
I skim through the rows of books on the shelves, fascinated by the different titles. My legs carry me up until I start to climb the steps leading to the spiraling stairs.
Then I see it.
There's no spine title. It's bound in dark, weathered leather, it's surface cracked like old riverbeds. The cover has no title, only a sigil etched into it: A circle broken in three places with a crescent shape embedded inside it. The lines of the circle radiate outwards, discovered, as if they were never meant to be finished.
I pick it up and immediately my hands come in contact with it, a sharp shock sizzles my flesh and I drop it immediately.
What the hell?
I swallow, trying to decide whether I should just bolt out of here or let my curiosity get the best out of me.
The latter wins, because my hands reach out hesitantly to it. I poke it once and when I don't feel anything, I pick it up.
It's as if the book is calling to me, nudging me to take a peek, and well, don't mind if I do.
Instantly, I know something is weird with this book.
The ink is not fully black, the lines seem to shimmer faintly when tilted, just like oil. The pages are thick, heavy and uneven, almost warm to the touch.
I flip the first page and it starts mid-thought, as though the first part of it was deliberately erased.
'...and thus, Evanora emerged not only from blood, but from the refusal of fate itself." My eyebrows furrow at that.
I continue. 'Before Evanora, power passed through the world; shamans, seers, blood-speakers existed in fragments. But after Evanora, it learned to stay; she not only anchored magic to lineage, but also to identity, which then transcended for generations to come.'
But then, if power was meant to endure, why had it skipped me? Was I not worthy of enough?
A sudden weight falls on my chest and I drag the nearest chair to me and plop down, carefully setting the book on my lap.
I feel a touch on my shoulder and jerk my head up, to see the kind smile etched on Elias's face.
"Vanessa? What are you doing here?"
"Um..."
His eyes snag on the book in my lap and I hear his sharp intake of breath...for just one second, the warmth drains from his face. "Oh, I see you've found yourself something even more interesting than the previous ones you always come here for," he tries to say cheerily but I know something is wrong. His voice carries a note of unease, and even his hand on my shoulder trembles a little.
"Yeah," I say slowly, watching his expression. "Did you know Evanora?"
"Oh no, I'm not that old. I never met her but there's no one in the supernatural world who hasn't heard stories about her. Elda might've met her..."
"Oh," is all I say. Elda? The Seer of the Royal Council?
"Well, I'll leave you to it then, but...be careful, Vanessa." Then he briskly walks away. Nothing more.
It seems even after centuries, her name still brings fear.
What will I find if I decide to dig deeper?