Bride of the Traitor: A Prophecy of Sisters Novel Page 7

  “You are still here this morn, sweeting,” Elias’ voice whispers against the side of my neck.

  I hum, my eyes trying to adjust to the pitch-black room around me. His hand massages my breast before his fingers pinch then tug on my nipple. I let out a shaky breath as my eyes close with a long sigh.

  His tongue snakes out and he tastes my skin. I’m sure that I taste like salty sweat since there isn’t a shower in here to bathe, especially after our energetic session together last night. His fingers leave my breast and slowly dance down the center of my chest and belly until they slip between my legs.

  Instinctively, and mainly because I like the way his fingers feel between my legs, I lift my top one and hook my leg around his thigh, spreading myself for him. Elias must like it, because I feel his chest rumble behind me as he lets out a growl.

  “Gods,” he breathes against my neck as he fills me with two fingers.

  Yes, he likes it.

  His palm grinds against my clit and I can’t hold back the shiver as it slides over my skin from his touch. Something feels almost magical every time his fingers are on my skin, every single time. I don’t know what it is, but I’m also afraid to question the sensation, afraid that it will be gone the moment that I verbalize my questions.

  Shifting my hips, I let out a whimper as he uses his fingers to make that perfect come-hither motion inside of me with each pump. Closing my eyes, I arch my back, pressing my ass against his hard length. I can feel him nestled between the crack of my ass and I can’t help but moan.

  Elias slips his fingers from me and makes painfully light touches against my clit. Playing me, his fingers only a whisper of a touch with each stroke. My hips roll on their own volition, searching for so much more than he’s giving to me.

  Turning my head to the side, my lips touch the underside of his scruffy jawline. “Please, Elias. It’s not enough,” I whimper.

  He hums. Of course, he knows that it’s not enough, he’s trying to torture me. His fingers continue their torturously light touches as he shifts behind me and I feel the head of his cock at my entrance. Grinning against his jaw, I try to rear back, but he pulls back at the same time with a tsking sound.

  “I am in charge, sweeting. At least right now,” he murmurs.

  Biting the corner of my bottom lip, I pinch my eyes closed and wait for him. He repositions himself, then as his fingers continue their ministrations, he slowly buries himself inside of me, both of us letting out a sigh when he’s buried to the root.

  “Hold your leg higher,” he gently demands.

  Slipping my arm beneath my already bent knee, I lift it to my chest, opening myself for him even more completely. I should probably be embarrassed, but I’m not. It feels far too amazing to be even the slightest bit embarrassing.

  Elias dips his chin, his mouth touching mine. I keep my head back so that I can feel his lips on mine. It’s an odd angle, but there is no way I’m going to move away from him. Not when his mouth is on mine, not when he inhales my breaths and fills me, stretching me as he brings me to the edge of my orgasm.

  Not when it feels magical.

  “Sybilla, you bewitch me,” he rasps, his lips moving against mine.

  I cry out in pleasure before I pant against his mouth. “You make me feel the same way, Elias.”

  He grunts, his hips moving faster and harder, as his fingers begin to move in firm circles against my clit. It’s too much and yet it’s not enough. I suck in a breath, holding it while my body climbs higher, teetering on the edge and only when the orgasm rushes through me do I let out my breath with a whoosh.

  “Given freely,” he rasps against my mouth.

  “Yes,” I breathe.

  Elias’ hips don’t stop, he continues to fuck me through my orgasm, prolonging the sensation that flows through me until it’s almost too much to bear. Only then does he bury himself deep inside of me before I hear his growl of pleasure and feel him fill my body with his release.

  Unable to hold my head, leg, and back at that angle another moment, I turn my head, lying down against the pillow, drop my leg to rest on the top of his thigh and let out a long sigh as I bask in the best orgasm I’ve had since late last night.

  Still buried inside of me, Elias’ hand slides up my side, then shifts to slide up my arm as he runs his fingertips over as much of my body as he can reach at his angle. His mouth touches the top of my hair and I feel his body curl closer as he rests his chin on top of my head and nestles the back of my head against his throat.

  “The witch from Kelna will be here on the morrow,” he oddly announces.

  “And?”

  There is a moment of silence before he speaks. Before he says a word, he wraps his arms around me and squeezes. “We shall find out if this is all real, or if you have indeed altered my reactions to you.”

  I should be angry at his words, at his suggestion. I’m not. Closing my eyes, no anger comes, instead I’m filled with an indescribable hurt. I don’t know why his words affect me as much as they do. But I feel it down in my bones, the pain of his words is more intense than anything I’ve ever felt before and I don’t understand it.

  Without a word, he releases me and slips from me before he slides from the bed. I watch, my eyes welling with tears as he makes his way over to the fire and places a couple of logs there, still completely naked as he walks over to the door and yanks it open, bellowing down the hall.

  Grabbing ahold of the thick blanket that is being used as both a top sheet and a comforter, I pull it up my body to shield my nakedness.

  Almost immediately, Jasmine, Katrina, and Ellyn arrive in the doorway. Elias steps aside and my eyes widen in surprise. He’s still completely nude as he begins to bark orders at the women. All three of them dip their chins before they turn and scurry off.

  Sitting up, the blanket still pressed to my chest, I call out Elias’ name. He turns his head, his dark brown hair deliciously messy from sleep, so much so that I almost forget what I wanted to say to him.

  “You’re naked,” I point out.

  His lips frown before they tip up in a smirk. “And?”

  “And they all just saw you.”

  His lips shift from a smirk to a full-blown smile. I forget about the hurt that he’d just delivered as I watch him stalk toward me, his massive chest on display. He climbs up the bottom of the bed and I’m forced to lay back down as he covers me with the entire length of his own body.

  Elias’ lips are hovering above mine, still turned up into a devilish grin. “Do the men in your land stay covered all of the time?” he asks, his lips touching mine with each word that he says.

  “Not completely, but they definitely don’t show their penis off to the world,” I point out.

  He laughs softly, his mouth brushing mine. “Does this upset you, that the servants have seen me in my glory?” he asks.

  I want to tell him to not be so damn cocky, but there is the little fact that yes, it does bother me. Wrapping my arms around his lower back, I run my nails back and forth there. He closes his eyes with a grunt before he reopens them.

  “I just…”

  I let the words trail off because how do you tell a man who is obviously delusional, who has kidnapped you and that you’ve only known for twenty-four hours that you want to be the only one who sees him naked?

  The cocky asshole has me figured out though. His grin doesn’t die, not even as he runs his nose alongside my own. “Do not want anyone getting any ideas about me, eh? Want to keep the size of my wimble all to yourself?”

  I can’t help but let out a laugh at his words. “Wimble?” I ask between giggles.

  He tilts his head to the side. His mouth capturing mine causing my laughter to die in my throat as he fills me with his tongue. I don’t hear the people moving around the room, I also don’t see the way the women and the boys who carried the tub into the room watch us.

  I don’t see the gold light that surrounds us, or the way that they all stare in awe at the magic that
they witness between their king and me.

  ELIAS

  Love drunk? Perhaps a fool as well. Leaving Sybilla in my personal chambers with a bath, food to break her fast, and the three women as her handmaids I make my way to my chancery to break my own fast, alone in my thoughts.

  Turning my back to my door, I stare out of the window and watch the castle grounds. People mill around, doing their duties to help keep their families fed and this castle in working order. I can do naught but think of Sybilla. She has consumed me in such a short period of time that I’m concerned.

  Witchcraft.

  It is the only explanation. I was not even this taken with the woman who made me a man. “Pardon me, Your Highness,” Cornwall’s voice booms, interrupting my thoughts.

  Turning to look back at him from over my shoulder, I incline my chin so that he will continue without me having to actually order the action. He dips his chin, then does as I silently bid.

  “Aleida would like to speak with you, Your Majesty,” he murmurs, keeping his voice low and even.

  Smirking, I turn completely around to face him. “And what would your mother need to say to me, Cornwall?” I ask.

  His nose twitches from my blunt use of my new knowledge of his witch mother. “All I know is that she’s informed me that it has to do with the woman, Sybilla, and possibly where she hails from.”

  I take a step toward him just as a commotion causes me to freeze. Reaching for my sword, unsheathing it immediately just in time to see Merek burst through my door, a beautiful woman at his side.

  “Godiva has information,” he announces.

  My gaze shifts from him to the woman, then back to him again. “This is the powerful witch Godiva?” I ask, arching a brow in disbelief.

  His lips twitch for only a moment before they return to a frown. “She is.” He nods.

  Sheathing my sword, I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my head to the side. “I must have Aleida present. She will need to hear this,” she demands.

  “Cornwall, fetch her and bring her here.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” he says as he turns and his feet carry him quickly out of my chancery.

  Merek wraps his hand around her waist and guides her over to a chair. I watch the two, wondering if there is more to this than I am able to see with my own eyes. Then, right in front of me, she waves her hand and before me sits a frail-looking old woman.

  “What in heavens…”

  “The world will not bother a pretty maiden, Your Highness. They will not think of her as anything but a pretty maiden. But an old woman living out in the woods alone, she is no doubt a witch and a target,” she explains.

  “You are wise, Godiva,” I murmur.

  Merek chuckles. “She plays with men’s hearts is what she does,” he says.

  “Only for a bit of sport, Merek,” she snaps.

  I can’t contain my own laughter. That is how Cornwall and Aleida find us a few moments later, laughing at the situation at hand.

  “Godiva,” Aleida rasps as soon as the door is closed and we are all in the room alone and away from prying ears.

  Godiva slowly stands, turning to face the other witch. They close the distance between one another and I watch as they embrace in a hug that is bonded beyond simple friendship. They were very close once, if not still.

  “It is time, Aleida.”

  “Yes, I know,” she whispers.

  “Women of the crystal, please explain to me what you are referencing,” I demand, my admiration and humor now vanished as they obviously are speaking in code.

  “The Prophecy of Sisters,” they say in unison.

  Chapter Nine

  ELIAS

  “What in the name of Hades are you talking about?” I snap.

  Merek clears his throat. “Listen to them, cousin. I would not have come straight here, through the night and without sleep, pushing my horse far too hard if this wasn’t important,” he says.

  I blink and nod my head. He’s right. He would not have done that and he shouldn’t even be here until tomorrow. Narrowing my eyes, I realize that there is only one way for him to have made it there and back so soon, witchcraft.

  He smirks and I roll my eyes at the same time he coughs out a laugh. I don’t call him on his lies, there are more important things brewing here and I want to know what in gods bones they’re talking about.

  “The prophecy is from ancient times. The story handed down from generation to generation. It has never come true, not even an inkling, therefore it never crossed my mind,” Aleida explains.

  “What is the prophecy?” I growl.

  Godiva clears her throat. “It is said that four sisters will be born, not of this world. Four sisters who are born of the same mother and father, yet do not share the same appearance. They are the only ones of their kind in the entire universe.

  “Four sisters who will marry and love the fiercest warriors from all four corners of our world. Once all four relationships are consummated, the events foretold in the prophecy will be set in motion, becoming unstoppable.

  “If the four sisters come together once their fate has been sealed, they will absorb all of the powers this world holds. Four sisters will be the most powerful creatures in this world. It is not known if this will be used for good or evil.

  “The future is uncertain and unknown if these sisters gather together in our world.”

  My entire body stiffens at her words. “Four sisters?” I ask.

  “She has three sisters, does she not?” Aleida asks.

  “Gods bones,” Merek curses beneath his breath at the same time Cornwall lets out a, sard.

  Lifting my hand, I realize that I’m trembling as I run my fingers through my hair. “What does this mean? Does this mean that she has bewitched me? Bewitched my people? Does she cast a spell on Bunafi?” I demand.

  Aleida shakes her head, but it is Godiva who speaks. “She is no danger to you or your people. I would guess that if she holds magic, she does not even know of it. In fact, I don’t think that her magic has come to fruition yet, it won’t be until their fates are sealed and they are all together. When the prophecy is set in motion, that will be when her magic becomes apparent.”

  Closing my eyes for a moment, I open them again, my gaze finding Aleida. “Does your enchantment of blocking her power still stand firm?” I ask.

  “Until I break it, yes, it stands firm, Your Majesty,” Aleida confirms with a nod.

  “What do we do?” I ask the witches.

  They look at one another, then both turn toward me. “There is naught to do, Your Highness.”

  Shaking my head, I lift my hand and run my fingers through my hair. Pinching my eyes closed, I remember another piece of their prophecy. “If she is not born of this world, where does she hail from? Is she not of Earth? Is she a mirage? What is she?” I demand.

  It is Godiva who speaks, obviously knowing more of this prophecy than Aleida. “She is of Earth, just not this world. Bring her to me and I may be able to better read her,” she softly demands.

  “Merek, go and fetch Sybilla.”

  Merek dips his chin and he leaves us, though I don’t take my eyes from Godiva. “So, she has not bewitched me?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

  Godiva takes a step toward me, then lifts her hands and cups my cheeks. “You feel strongly for the girl, so soon?”

  “Stronger, bigger, unworldly,” I hesitate to admit.

  Godiva nods her head, dipping her chin, then drops her hands. “Perhaps the prophecy forces the emotions to be greater, more intense, Your Highness? I do not know, we’ve been told that it was coming for generations, though I’ve never had even an inkling of it coming to fruition before now,” she admits.

  “Why now?” I say, more thinking aloud than actually asking them.

  They are silent for a moment, my eyes shifting from one old witch to the next. I watch as Aleida opens her mouth, then snaps it closed as soon as the chancery door opens. They turn around to see who is entering
the room, but I don’t even have to lift my gaze to know who has walked in.

  It’s only been mere hours since I’ve last laid eyes on her, but it feels as though I haven’t seen her for a lifetime. She causes my heart to swell. Her dark golden hair is piled high on top of her head, pinned with glinting black ornaments.

  Her dress is another—far too tight with a far too bare expanse of neck and chest on display— piece from the wardrobe of my father’s last paramour. I’m only a tad disappointed that it is not in the colors of my coat of arms. Though, I must admit that the deep plum color makes her skin appear even creamier.

  “You needed me, Elias?” she asks, completely oblivious of my station and that of her own.

  “The witches needed to speak to you, milady,” I murmur.

  Her eyes widen and adorably her lips part before she whirls around to face the two old women. Aleida and Godiva both take a step toward her.

  I can tell by the way that she holds her body that she is indeed, frightened. My body practically shakes with the need to comfort her, but I deny not only myself, but her as well in the name of my station as king.

  Aleida and Godiva take one another’s hands, then they each extend a hand toward Sybilla. “Take our hands, lambkin,” Aleida murmurs. “We need to feel you equally in order to read you.”

  “I don’t understand,” Sybilla says, her voice trembling as she reaches out to take the women’s hands.

  I watch as the witches’ eyes roll in the backs of their heads and they begin to vibrate in their places. Both of them mumble beneath their breaths, but I decide to watch Sybilla, keeping a pulse on her reaction to this moment. She looks scared. Her eyes are wide and she looks from me to the witches, then back to me again.

  Then, as if time stands still, they all three freeze before gold shoots from their hands breaking their huddle apart. Taking a step forward, I catch Sybilla before she falls to the floor, her body slumping against my own. Merek and Cornwall catch the old women.