Chapter 22 Chapter 22

Chapter 22 Chapter 22
Nathaniel’s PoV

The night before

The past few days had drained me more than usual. My mind was a battlefield of calculations, theories, and dead ends. I’d gone over every possible way to undo the curse Tristan cast, but there was no known counterspell—none that I’d ever encountered, at least.

How had he even learned it? Who had taught him? Those questions gnawed at me like teeth at bone. The only way to get answers was to find him. I’d tried to sense his magic while I was on Prime Earth, but it was faint—alive, yes, but buried deep, like a whisper under water. Since he remained in a coma, there was no telepathic link to exploit. Another roadblock. Another headache.

Speaking of headaches—mine was pulsing like a living thing behind my eyes. I sent a mental summons to Kara. She was always quick to respond. She’d know what I needed without me having to say it. I wasn’t interested in talking tonight—only in the kind of relief that burned everything else out of existence.

She arrived an hour later, punctual as ever. Kara never missed my calls.

Her black, sheer nightgown left little to imagination, and she knew it. She moved like sin made flesh—confident, knowing exactly the effect she had on me. Normally, I’d mask my arousal with a flicker of magic, but I was too tired to pretend. Tonight, I needed to lose control, if only for a few moments.

Kara climbed into my lap, her hips grinding down on me in a slow rhythm that made my muscles tighten. She didn’t waste time. Her mouth crashed against mine, tongues tangling, lips bruising. I caught her ass in both hands and squeezed until she gasped against my mouth. She loved it when I was rough—loved testing how far she could push me before I snapped.

But not tonight. Tonight wasn’t about her.

I lifted her off me and threw her onto the bed, the lace of her gown tearing like paper. She stared up at me, wide-eyed. Usually I indulged her with patience—with foreplay. Tonight, there would be none. I stripped her of the last scraps of silk and didn’t give her a second to breathe.

“Someone’s in a special mood,” she murmured, smirking.

I didn’t bother replying. My silence was answer enough.

Her hands went for my shirt, but I slapped them away. The flicker of surprise on her face almost made me grin. I shed the rest of my clothes, my body already tight with need. I didn’t want conversation, didn’t want to think—only to burn out the noise in my head.

I pinned her beneath me, kissing and biting down her neck, hard enough to make her moan. My hand slid between her thighs, finding her wet and ready. Good. The sooner this was over, the better. I thrust my fingers inside her, rough, deliberate. She arched under me, crying out, nails digging into my shoulders.

I bent lower, my mouth finding her breast, drawing circles with my tongue, biting until she gasped my name. I wanted control. I wanted to hear her break apart because of me.

She reached for me, fingers brushing the length of me—trying to regain power. I wasn’t having it. With one swift motion, I flipped her onto all fours and entered her in a single, hard thrust.

Her scream echoed off the walls.

The rhythm built fast—faster than I meant it to. The sound of skin meeting skin, of ragged breaths and low curses, filled the room. I could feel my pulse throbbing in time with every movement. The tension behind my eyes was dissolving into something else—something raw, primal.

“Oh, fuck—” The words slipped out unbidden. I never spoke during sex, but tonight everything felt too much.

“Ah, Nathaniel—yes! Harder—please!”

Her voice hit me like a shock. The tone—the desperation—wasn’t Kara’s.

My eyes flew open.

Green.

Bright, blazing green.

Bailey’s eyes.

Her face. Her lips. Her hair, golden and tangled, glowed in the dim light. She was looking at me—wanting me.

“What the fuck—?”

I stumbled back, my body still pulsing with aftershock, my breath coming in short bursts. The illusion held for a split second longer before it shattered, and there she was again—Kara, blinking up at me, confused.

Then came the laughter.

That deep, rasping, hideous laugh that made my skin crawl.

“Hi hi hi! You should’ve seen your face!”

The First Born.

Of course.

His decaying grin hovered in the air, translucent and vile. “Oh, come on, it was hilarious. You really need to loosen up.”

I wanted to tear him apart.

Kara’s hand brushed my arm gently. “My lord… are you alright? Why did you stop?”

Her voice dragged me back to the present. The illusion flickered out. She was herself again. Thank the gods.

“Get out,” I said flatly.

She hesitated. “But—”

“I said get the fuck out!”

The sharpness in my tone sent her scrambling. She snatched the remnants of her gown and vanished in a shimmer of light.

Silence.

I sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through my hair. The First Born lingered, watching, his expression that of a cat toying with a dying mouse.

“What do you want?” I muttered. “Other than to piss me off.”

“Relax, sweetcheeks,” he crooned. “I just wanted some entertainment. Since Bailey’s knocked out cold in the dungeon, I figured I’d come keep you company. Fair trade, don’t you think?”

“Your tricks don’t work on me,” I hissed. “Cut the shit.”

He cackled. “Oh, I didn’t do a thing, boy. That vision of your sweet fiancée? That was all you. I just sat back and watched.”

I froze.

“No.”

“Oh yes.” His grin widened, splitting the rotten flesh of his face. “Take a look down, if you don’t believe me.”

Against my will, my gaze dropped.

Still hard.

Still aching.

For her.

Rage boiled under my skin. “State your business, you decaying bastard, before I end you.”

He tilted his head, mock sympathy dripping from his tone. “Such temper. I only came to warn you—be careful. Your actions will have consequences, for both of you. Don’t do something that’ll make you both suffer.”

“What kind of consequences?” I snapped.

He smirked. “That, my dear boy, you’ll find out soon enough.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Suffer?

If it made her suffer, I’d welcome it.

But when I finally lay back on my bed, exhausted beyond reason, one truth still gnawed at me through the haze of anger and fatigue—

I could still taste her.

And for the first time in years, I didn’t want to stop thinking about her.