Heavy is the Crown: A Gothic Grove Novel, page 13
“The moment my teeth were in him, and I tasted him, I thought . . . fuck, I don’t know. But he’s so fucking afraid,” he speaks. “You can taste the fear in him. It’s bitter and acidic.”
My feet swing back and forth, a nervous habit of being unable to remain still. The cool granite countertop rubs against my bare thighs. “He’s spent a very long time blaming himself for his mother’s death. And you know what his father was like, he didn’t allow Shadow to believe he was worthy of love. Ciaran may have rescued him from the physical cage Alexi put him in, but Shadow has been in an emotional one for far longer.” I grab my pink hair and twist it up into a bun, wincing at the slight pull of my shoulder muscles. “We need to give him time.”
He catches my eyes, and his stare has my heart skipping a beat with its intensity. “And how much longer do you have, Ava?”
I roll my eyes in a desperate attempt not to show the truth. “I’m fine.”
But Drago growls low, his dragon pushing forward. “I want the truth. How bad is it?”
My body tenses as the command ripples through me, and I fight it as long as I can before the words are inevitably pulled from me. “If I don’t replenish, I’ll die next time.” The moment I say the words, the spell breaks, and my hand whips out and slaps him across the face. “Don’t you fucking use your compulsion on me, you asshole.” I try to hop down from the counter, but he grips my forearms hard. I let out a feral hiss at the contact. “We made a promise long ago about that power. Don’t start breaking it now,” I growl.
“You have to go home if he won’t bond.” His voice is dangerously low. It’s at this moment I regret ever sharing knowledge of my magic with him. And while he promised to never use the information against me, I know when it comes down to it, he will do what he feels is necessary to protect me.
“Absolutely not,” I say. “And if you command me, I will get Astrea to have her snakes fucking eat you.”
He chuckles a bit, as if I’m joking, before his face goes grave again. “What if we just completed it?”
I groan, my whole body responding, the space where the bond should rest flaring with need. “It would help short-term, but you know that's not the solution long-term. I need both of you. Want both of you.” But the thought of Drago fucking me after he’s just been inside Shadow has my veins heating. The sounds I heard just moments ago echo through my head.
His eyes grow dark, his pupils expanding. He can smell me. Smell my need. His body tenses, the veins on his forearms pushing out as he holds himself back. A whimper escapes me. I bite my lip as I gaze at his mouth. That's all it takes. He crashes into me, the taste of Shadow’s blood still potent as he sweeps his tongue into my mouth. The kiss claims me. Captures parts of my soul that feel as though they are dying and breathes new life into them.
I am consumed, my body lighting up with feral need. I move my hands up his body, gripping him hard, and wrap my legs around his waist. My core is slick with need, and I grind up against his cock, an appendage that is straining against the white towel around his waist. Visions of him fucking me flow through my brain like a movie reel.
Then he pulls off my mouth for only a moment, but that moment is enough for reality to hit me. Placing my hand on his bare chest, I push back slightly. “We can’t,” I say, though I’m not sure if it’s to remind him or myself. Our heavy breathing echoes in the space around us.
His eyes are wild, and for a moment, I’m not sure he’ll listen, and if he comes back in, I know I won’t be able to say no. His body is on a hair trigger as he takes a few steps back from me, the last one putting him firmly outside the bathroom. Firmly out of reach of me. “We can’t wait much longer, Ava. You know that. If he won’t get his head on straight, you know what I’ll have to do.” His voice is stern, no give in it. The voice he uses when he’s taking control.
My magic pushes up in response to my emotions turning to a raging whirlpool inside me, but I lock it down quickly. “I will never forgive you,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m never going back.”
But Drago shakes his head. “I would rather have you hate me alive than be dead because our stubborn mate can't get over his demons.” He doesn’t wait for a response before he moves out of my sight, and I hear the bedroom door shut.
My stomach drops out, and I press the back of my hand to my mouth, desperate to contain the sob breaking through me as the overwhelming fear of being taken back home seizes my lungs. Leaving home was reckless, but it was the best thing I have ever done and going back would break me. I would choose death before that, before letting my father have any say in my life again. I allow myself to sit with the fear, allowing it to swim around in my body, before drawing a trembling breath in and pushing it back.
No. I am not that same girl. I’ve grown and matured. I do not have to allow anyone to dictate my life again.
SEVENTEEN
There are two ways a royal of Hell can replenish their magic
1. A ceremony performed by their priestesses under the full moon.
2. Drawing magic from their mate.
– Mori Family Grimoire
Ava
“What would you do?” I ask into the phone as I play with a piece of loose thread on the comforter.
Astrea lets out a long sigh. “I don’t know. I think he needs time, Ava. He’ll come around.” I can hear rustling in the background, and I smile knowing it’s most likely Poppy nesting. The little fox is greatly missed here. “Look, you have time to figure it out.”
I wince. Astrea doesn’t know who I am or what I am. Despite hearing Cordelia call me “princess” and seeing my magic, she hasn’t pushed for me to tell her anything, and part of me feels awful for keeping the secret. It’s the same feeling I had all those years ago that made me tell Drago and Shadow. My mouth opens to let it spill out, but a part of me worries if I vocalize it, my old life will no longer be a ghost haunting me but a poltergeist that will wreck the home I’ve built. “Enough about me. How are you?”
“Nice subject change,” she says, and I can hear the eye roll in her voice. “But I’m okay. Ciaran and I are trying our hardest to get this magic down, but . . .” She trails off, a heavy silence filling the line.
“But?” I press.
Another long sigh comes from her. “But I worry that I’m changing. This magic . . . This magic is a lot, Ava. It feels so fucking heavy at times. Even with Ciaran’s help, it feels like it’s dragging me down.”
I chew on my lip as I listen to her, my stomach rolling with discomfort. “What does Kallen say?”
Astrea growls. “Ciaran never should have brought her here.”
I wince at the venom in her voice but push forward tentatively. “She had the magic for a long time; it might be good to get her help.”
Astrea goes quiet again for a while before clearing her throat. “You are probably right. But all I see when I look at her is my dead sister. I don’t know.” A heavy breath escapes her. “Look, I have to go. Try to be patient with Shadow. I’ll talk to you soon, Ava.” She hangs up the phone before I can even say goodbye.
Throwing my phone down onto the bed, I flop over. Samhain flutters down next to me and pulls on my hair with his beak. I smile and stroke his feathers behind his neck. My cranky little familiar is the only constant I’ve had since coming here. During those years I was held by Alexi, he never left the outside of the prison. I heard rumors from guards that a “giant bird from hell” was killing people as they left the prison. He did what he could to protect me, even if he couldn’t rescue me. He lets out a caw, his black eyes assessing me, before he flutters back over to his perch in the corner of the room Drago has given me.
The bed sits against the far back wall facing into the room. Giant fur blankets are piled atop it and drape down. Plush green carpet covers the floor in its entirety. The wood-burning fireplace off to the right always emanates a light scent of smoke, even when it's not burning. With two plush armchairs in front of it, I have fallen asleep there more times than I can count. The wall-to-wall bookcases are by far the best part of the room, and the never-ending reading material makes me want to become a hermit. This room doesn’t match the rest of Drago’s penthouse.
Truthfully, I miss his home on the bluff. Miss the sounds and smells and the feel of it being our home. I had hoped he would bring us there, but Drago, to my knowledge, hasn’t been back since I moved into The Playground. Part of me thinks he can’t bear the idea of us being there again unmated.
Standing up, I make my way over to the adjoining bathroom. This one has a giant clawfoot tub in the center of it. Plants of all varieties decorate the room. Potted trees stand in the corners, and long vines sweep down from hanging baskets. Small succulents line the countertop. The chaos of it all feels oddly relaxing to me.
I fill the bath, and the hot water fills the cool room with steam that spreads the eucalyptus scent out and around. I ignore the beads of sweat that break out over my forehead as I let myself sink into the deep bath. I try to allow the hot water to ease the tension in my shoulders, but after a few moments, I realize it’s a waste and pull myself back out.
Wrapping the towel around my lean body, I huff my annoyance at the fact that I apparently can’t even enjoy a bath. I wipe the mist off the mirror and note the deep purple circles that have taken up permanent residence under my eyes. Clear evidence of the weight I’m carrying and the lack of connection to Hell.
Drago’s threat still lingers in my mind. I have no doubt he’ll figure out a way to send me home if things get bad enough. Anger briefly pulses through me at the idea, an urge to run, to show Drago he can’t control me. It is a reaction that comes from years of being inhibited by my family. A reaction that is unfair for Drago to be on the receiving end of. Despite all that, I still have the itch in my skin to escape the penthouse tonight.
“Fuck it,” I mutter, grabbing my makeup. I paint my eyes with kohl, the wings elegant and thin. I brush on more blush and bronzer than I should, but I need to look somewhat more alive than I currently do if I plan to leave this place tonight. I end up leaving my hair down in waves that caress my back.
I walk over to my closet, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as I look through my options. In the end, I opt for comfort. The long black maxi dress hangs loosely off my left shoulder, and two slits expose my legs up to the hip on either side. Pulling on some gold bangles over my wrists and attaching dangling gold earrings, I assess the look in the mirror. As much as people say they like outfits that leave nothing to the imagination, I’ve found more people flock to me when I’m dressed like this. Simple with a hint of mystery.
Looking down at my options for shoes, I curse when I realize I don’t have the energy to put on the strappy gold sandals I want and instead have to opt for my plain white slip-on sandals. While comfortable, they do nothing for the outfit. I guess I’ll go barefoot tonight once I get there. Taking a deep breath, I look at myself once more in the mirror. My kohl-lined eyes stand out starkly against my skin, and despite the blush, I still look a little too pale. My blonde roots have started to peek through my pink hair, and I make a mental note to fix that. I sometimes toy with the idea of going back to blonde, but despite it making me feel connected to home, I hate that it reminds me of my time with Alexi. So, I keep the pink to remind myself I got out. To remind Shadow I got out. He got me out.
As if those thoughts summoned him into existence, I spot his tall body leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his muscular chest as I enter the bedroom. Drago is slung casually over a red armchair in front of the fireplace. Their contrast is sharp. Drago bleeds confidence, a danger that shimmers below the surface, whereas Shadow holds a darkness around him that is toxic and all consuming.
“Where do you think you're going?” Shadow asks, his eyes trailing over my body in a path that sets me on fire. I’m both cursing my dress choice, given how easy it would be to scent my arousal, and loving that it would be so easy, on the off chance he decides to finally give in to that need we both have.
“To work,” I say. My voice is flat and leaves no room for argument. “Where have you been all afternoon?” I raise my eyebrow at him, a challenge.
“Absolutely not,” Shadow says, ignoring my question.
Disbelief moves through me like a tidal wave. “I most certainly did not ask permission to go to my place of work. I’m telling you I’m going.”
“It’s not safe,” he grinds out. I can practically taste the flames he is dying to spit out. I should stop, back down, but I can’t now. I’ve dug my heels in and refuse to give an inch.
“It was safe enough last night, what changed?” I ask.
Neither say anything, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Drago is pulling back, now that he knows just how depleted I am. I shoot a glare over at the bastard as he continues to silently watch our sparring match like he’s at a fucking tennis game.
“The Playground is the safest place around,” I argue. “Cordelia isn’t going to show up there. Let's be honest, no one is getting past my magic. Besides, she knows Astrea and Ciaran aren’t around.”
“No, but she might look for you,” Drago says. “Or someone else might be.” I glare at the traitor, despite my stomach sinking at his words. “Were you planning on telling us about the two shifters who showed up last night with Kallen?”
Well, shit. “I didn’t bring them. Take it up with Ciaran.”
Shadow growls low. “They were Primal Knights, Ava. You should have fucking said something. And with no magic, you were unprotected.”
“More reason for me to be at my own club. Like I said, nothing is getting in.” I step forward, and Shadow moves to block the door. Samhain looses a warning caw at him, fluttering closer to the fray. The movement from Shadow switches something in my brain, turning the rational side off and leaving nothing but the anger I feel toward his consistent rejection of our bond. “You don’t get to have a say in this. Not when you don’t care otherwise,” I say. “You made your choice last night, and it wasn’t me.” He flinches. I step closer to him. “Now. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”
“Ava,” Drago says in warning, seemingly done with being a passive observer. But I ignore him, holding Shadow’s glare with my own hardened one. I know it was a low blow, but my hurt and anger is boiling over.
“You can’t keep me here,” I say to both of them, though my eyes stay on Shadow, locked in a standoff with him that goes beyond this moment here. We are one altercation away from coming to blows, me and Shadow. This dance we keep doing is grinding us down. His whiskey eyes are almost begging me to release him, while my own silver ones hold strong, refusing to bow. The need to have my mates feels like the worst craving imaginable. As though I’m coming off a binge on Eufori and my body is desperate for the next hit. I need him to understand what I’m going through without them, what he is choosing to put me through while he refuses to face his issues.
I hear Drago let out an exasperated sigh, his frustration evident. I think I also hear him mutter something about being cursed with bratty mates before I’m suddenly pulled tight against his body. His breath plays over my neck, and the contact sends jolts of need through me. I squeeze my thighs together, desperate for some friction, and Shadow’s eyes zero in on the movement, gold flashing across them.
“If you go, one of us will always be with you. You will listen to us, obey us. No matter what,” Drago says. “You will tell us if some other fucking shifters show up on our turf.”
“What, so Shadow gets to fuck around, and I don’t? He gets to come and go without so much as a word, but I don’t tell you one thing, and suddenly I shouldn’t be allowed to my own gods damn club?!”
I can’t keep my eyes locked on Shadow’s when I say the next words. “Don’t think I didn’t smell that cheap perfume on you. I hope her pussy was fucking worth it.” I also can’t keep the blatant hurt from my voice. I keep my gaze locked on Drago’s hands splayed across my belly, focusing on the tattoos and rings instead of looking back at Shadow.
“Shadow knows he fucked up and he knows what will happen, should he do it again,” Drago says in my ear, then bites out, “You will listen and obey, Ava, if we let you go tonight. You will communicate with us, no secrets.”
Flames spark inside me again. I growl at him, “I don’t obey anyone.”
(“Don’t Blame Me” – Taylor Swift)
He brackets his hand against my throat, squeezing slightly, my back still flush against his front. “You obey me.” His voice shoots straight to my pussy, and I have to bite my lip to keep the moan I want to let out from slipping past my lips.
I finally lift my eyes. Shadow tracks us both, not saying a word, but his body coils tighter and tighter with each moment Drago’s hands are on me.
Drago lets out a small laugh. “I’m testing Shadow’s patience, it seems.” The hand on my stomach moves up and tweaks my hard nipple through the thin dress. This time, I let myself moan out loud.
“Mmm. You make such delicious sounds,” he says into my ear before moving my hair to the side and licking up my neck. “Do you like hearing them, Shadow?” he teases as he lets his hand trail lower, until it’s peeling back the maxi skirt and those ringed fingers are dancing across my lace panties, which are already embarrassingly wet. I hiss as he dips into them, touching my soft curls.
“She’s so wet, so ready to be fucked,” he groans as he strokes my folds, before circling my clit. The moan that leaves my mouth is nothing short of needy, and I push my hips forward, demanding more. Drago chuckles as he pushes two fingers into me, playing those cool rings against my warm core. “She’s tight. So fucking tight. Can you imagine how it would feel to fuck her together?”
“Oh, fuck,” I whimper. The thought makes me gush, and I feel my arousal dripping down my leg.
