He never brought up their declaration, neither did she.
He left Verenmore for two days immediately after for some work while Corvina got into her studies, but god she missed him.
On the third day, he left her a note asking her to meet him in the tower room after midnight.
Corvina snuck out of her room in her black lace nightgown, one of the special ones that she’d put on just for him, and walked down the corridor with her candles lighting the way. The entire floor was asleep as she made her way quietly up the stone stairs, coming to the spiral staircase and climbing it.
She got to the highest landing and paused, remembering the first time she’d seen him months ago right from the same spot, remembering how enthralled she had been, how enthralled she still was.
A small smile on her lips, she pushed open the heavy door just a bit, wincing at the loud creak of its hinges, and slipped in, going straight to the big arched window with an ornate pattern on the border. She put the candlestick to the side and looked out.
It was a surprisingly clear night. From this high in the tower, she could see the twinkling lights of the town far away in the valley, the endless mountain surrounded by velvety black forest, the half-moon so close she could reach out her hand and touch it. She wondered how the wind would feel on her face at this height. The windows were boarded up with glass, possibly to keep the elements from making their way into the room.
She wondered for a split second how Troy must have felt that high on the roof, sadness making her shake the thought away. Down below, she watched the empty cobblestoned path, lost in her thoughts of Troy and Alissa’s deaths and their uncanny similarities.
It took her a minute to feel eyes on her.
She looked in the reflection on the glass as Vad leaned against the door, his hands in his pockets, his gaze on her. The door from where she’d entered was shut, somehow not having made a sound. Did he know a trick?
“You’re staring,” she told him without turning, just seeing his reflection, her pulse fluttering in her neck.
He tilted his head to the side in a move that was so him, considering her. “I like watching you.”
She shifted to the side and wondered how he could even see her in the sparse moonlight. “You’re the one keeping an eye on me, Mr. Deverell. And yet, I see you better.”
“Do you now?” he inquired, taking a step closer to her. “And what do you see?”
“An enigma,” she told him, playing with him as he played with her, knowing this game would only end in one way and delighting in it. “My enigma. Your eyes have danger in them.”
“And your eyes still have hunger,” his deep, gravel voice cut through the space between them harshly. “Tell me, do you need me to satisfy you more?”
Corvina felt the echo of his words vibrate somewhere deep inside her. He saw her, truly saw her, her ravenous being laid bare in front of him. Chest heaving, she pressed her hand to the window and stared out at the moon, her other hand fisting her skirt. She felt his body heat behind her, felt him stop at her back, and her breathing got loud.
He stayed at her back, not entirely pressing into her but so very there her back felt on fire. His arms came to the window on either side of her, caging her in, and her nipples hardened. She saw his fingers, long, beautiful fingers tapered in neat nails, his hands large and capable, a light dusting of dark hair on the back, knowing what those felt cupping her breasts when they felt heavy, plucking her nipples, twisting them, giving her a bite of pain before soothing them. She swayed slightly, the headiness of the images and his warm, musky scent enveloping her in a cocoon where only the two of them existed.
“Did you enjoy the crowd that day?” he asked, his voice like smoke that thickened the air between them. “Did it give you a thrill knowing they didn’t know?”
He knew her too well.
“Answer me,” he commanded.
“Yes,” she replied honestly, her ribs expanding with each breath.
“And does it give you a thrill knowing that anyone could look up from the path and see you pressed into the glass?” she heard his whisper into her right ear, his hot breath warming her skin.
“I-” she started to speak and felt his nose touch her lobe, her words turning into a moan.
“Pressed into the glass, being fucked by the devil at your back?” he breathed again. “Does it thrill you?”
She nodded.
“Good girl,” he praised her. “Did you wear this for me?” he asked, toying with the strap of her lace gown.
“I like wearing these to sleep,” she whimpered as his tongue licked her hickey, taking the strap down her shoulder, exposing one breast to the glass.
She’d never been so turned on in her life as she was right then.
He took her hair in one hand, pulling it, making that delicious tingle scatter through her scalp, down her neck, right to her nipples, pebbling them against the cold glass, the sensation making her moan.
“Quiet,” he ordered. “My mouth or my cock?”
Her head fell back. “Both.”
“Greedy girl,” he sounded amused, his fingers finding her drenched folds. “So wet for me. Choose one, mouth or cock?”
A flush crept up her neck at knowing she had to verbally use a dirty word. She’d never used them before, even with him, and it felt weird even though she loved hearing him say it. “You.”
“Me what?”
“Option B.”
He chuckled. “You have to say it, little crow.”
God, he was frustrating. She inhaled. “Your… cock.”
“And where do you want it?”
“Inside me.”
“Where, Corvina?” he crooned, kissing the side of her neck. “Your mouth, your pussy, your ass? Where do you want it?”
The blush on her face was a riot.
“My pussy.”
He pushed a finger inside her as a reward and Corvina sucked it in, so needy and so wet she was dripping down her thighs.
She felt him line up behind her, so familiar yet so new every time and gasped as she felt him push in, the fullness at the angle between excruciating and ecstatic. Her head fell back on his shoulder, her palms pressing into the glass as he kissed her shoulder and her neck, his hands caging her between the glass and his body.
“My beautiful, sexy little witch,” he pushed inside her slowly, going so deep she could feel the pulsing of his cock against every inner wall. “Telling me she feels the same. Fucking made for me. My madness.”
His words, breathed in her ear, so soft, so tender, contrasted with the thrill of their rendezvous, sending delicious bursts of fire and joy through her bloodstream.
“Your universe made you for me, didn’t it?” he asked tenderly, one of his hands falling to cup her breast. “And it made me the man I am for you. So I could give you what you need. Do I give you what you need?”
Corvina turned her face sideways, their lips aligned. “You give me more.”
“Fuck,” he kissed her, thrusting in deep, swallowing the sound of her moan. His lips trailed down her neck again, and Corvina rested her head on his shoulder, spreading her legs wider to ease his motion.
A sudden sensation of phantom ants crawling over her skin made her freeze.
Corvina lifted her head to look around, her eyes falling to her reflection in the glass, and saw her eyes blackened completely.
“What is it?” she heard his voice from behind her as another came to her head, a voice she hadn’t heard in weeks, accompanied by that scent of decay.
‘You didn’t find me.’
Chills skittered over her body and she was suddenly empty and turned around.
“What did you see?” he demanded, his eyes serious as he tucked himself in and came to her.
She opened her mouth to speak but the voice came again.
‘I needed you to find me. You’re next.’
She began to shake, gripping her hair, not understanding what was happening to her mind. It had stopped. It was supposed to have stopped. She hadn’t heard a voice or seen a shadow in weeks. It had been blissful. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not again. Because it just meant her mind was still splintered.
“No, no, no, no, no,” she started to chant, rocking like she used to when something upset her as a kid, closing her eyes, trying to escape.
A tight pain in her scalp made her snap out of it.
Vad stood before her, looking pissed and concerned, his hand gripping her hair tightly in his fist as he tilted her face up, demanding all her concentration.
“Talk to me,” he commanded, and she caved, gripping her wrists, her head slightly clearing. He gentled his hold a bit but didn’t let it go, his silver eyes intense on hers in the moonlight and the candlelight.
“I heard the girl again,” she began, detailing out exactly what she’d seen and experienced, and what the voice had said.
“I don’t even understand how my subconscious could be doing this,” she said after she finished. “I don’t know what clues it could have picked up to make this happen. And why now? Why when we were in the middle of-” her voice broke on a sob, all the confusion, the frustration, the fear, the anxiety mounting inside her, trying to drag her deep into the pit of despair the likes of which she would never recover from intact, not with her genetic history.
“Hey, hey, come here,” Vad pulled her in closer, engulfing her in his arms. Corvina inhaled a lungful of his scent, replacing the ugliness the voice carried with the warmth of the burning woods and headiness of the brandy, a scent she recognized in the marrow of her bones. He tucked her in tight, rooting her in place, anchoring her, protecting her from things neither of them understood or knew about.
Corvina buried her nose in his chest, wrapping her arms around him, taking in the comfort he gave, a comfort she had been unfamiliar with until him, her frame tucking perfectly with his.
He held her for long moments, pressing soft kisses to the top of her head, swaying her slightly and Corvina let her heart settle, her mind clear, and her eyes open.
She pulled away a bit and looked up at him. “Sorry for pulling out of the moment. Literally.”
His lips curled slightly as he cupped her face, his thumbs wiping the tears she hadn’t even realized had fallen down her cheeks. “You feeling okay now?”
She gave him a nod, fixing her gown straps, realizing her breasts had been uncovered the entire time.
Corvina sat down on the window ledge, watching him perch himself on the opposite side, the candles burning behind him, casting him in his black clothes in an eerie glow.
“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to find.”
He gazed at her thoughtfully for a long minute, tilting his head to the side. “Have you tried asking Mo?”
Corvina blinked at his suggestion.
“Considering these voices are internal, that they’re your subconscious,” he explained at her obvious confusion, “they come from the same place. Since Mo is a voice you have known your whole life, one that you trust, why not try asking him? What could it hurt?”
It had to be the most bizarre conversation she’d ever imagined having with him. It also made a weird kind of sense.
“You want me to ask now?” she raised her eyebrows.
He shrugged. “I’d rather you do it with me. Just in case.” Just in case she had a breakdown.
Corvina sighed and closed her eyes. She felt him take her feet in his lap, rubbing the arch in circles she was sure he must’ve meant as comforting but were slightly arousing, especially considering the way she’d left them both hanging.
She focused on his touch, letting it anchor her, and thought to herself.
‘Mo? Are you there? I need your help. Help me. Tell me what I’m meant to find.’
She waited. And waited. And waited. And nothing.
Slumping in defeat, she opened her eyes and gave a shake of her head. “I don’t know how to talk to him. Usually, it’s the other way round.”
He tapped her feet with his fingers, playing a tune she couldn’t hear on them. “Trust yourself, little witch. I do.”
She sighed, looking out at the moon, and blinked, something suddenly coming to her, something from her childhood, an old ritual she and her mother performed only a few times in her life.
“The moon,” she gasped, turning to look at Vad. “The Black Ball. Is it always held on the same date?”
Vad frowned. “No. The dates change.”
“But it’s always a full moon?” she asked, her heart pounding.
She could feel his confusion at where she was going with this. “Yes. At least to my knowledge. Why?”
Corvina pushed her hair back with her hands. “There’s a special full moon every five years. It’s called the Ink Moon. Not many people know about it,” she informed him, seeing his gaze sharpen. “Mama told me it was the most powerful full moon on earth, one that spiritually had the power of many eclipses. I was born on an Ink Moon.”
“Okay,” he processed what she was telling him. “So, the Black Ball falls on this Ink Moon every time. What does that mean?”
She grit her teeth in frustration. She wished she had any idea.
“I don’t know. But mama used to say energy is high that night. If so many people were murdered on these grounds on such a night, and of them claimed to be an actual witch who cursed the killers, the energy that night must be powerful,” Corvina felt goosebumps litter her arms at her own words.
“You think the disappearances are truly something preternatural?” he asked her, his fingers frozen on her feet.
Corvina pondered his words.
“Honestly, at this castle, I’m beginning to believe anything is possible.”
