Page 109 of Wedded Witch
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs against my lips, his breath ragged. The way he looks at me, full of desire and admiration, sends a jolt of pleasure through me.
The pressure builds inside me, an irresistible wave that threatens to wash me away. I’m teetering on the edge, desperate for him to push me over.
“I’m so close,” I gasp, my voice trembling with need. I cling to him, my body arching in response to his every thrust, every caress. Oland’s grip tightens around my waist as he picks up the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room.
It’s intoxicating, primal—everything I’ve ever craved.
“Then let go, lucky charm,” he urges, his voice low and heated. “Let me feel you.” His words send a shiver down my spine, and I can’t hold back any longer. The tension within me spirals out of control, and with one final thrust, I’m undone.
“Oland!” I cry out, my body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash over me, each one more intense than the last. I’m lost in a haze of ecstasy, my vision blurring as I ride the waves, my body clenching around him.
The world fades away, leaving just the two of us, intertwined and consumed by the moment.
He groans my name, the sound reverberating through me, and I feel him shift, his movements becoming more erratic as he chases his own release.
With each thrust, he buries himself deeper, matching my rhythm until he finally spills into me, his body tensing as he releases a low, guttural sound.
We’re both panting, lost in the aftermath of our passion, our bodies still connected, a warm bliss enveloping us. Oland collapses beside me, pulling me close, his heartbeat pounding against my skin.
I nestle into him, a content sigh escaping my lips.
“That was…” I start, but words escape me. I’ve never felt so alive, so complete. He chuckles softly, brushing a stray hair from my face, and the tenderness of the gesture makes my heart swell.
“Yeah, it was,” he replies, his voice still thick with emotion.
We lie there, bodies intertwined, the bond between us now palpable. This is real. The bond between us is flaring, the connection we’ve always shared finally sparking into something tangible, something powerful.
I can feel it—like a thread of magic tying us together, stronger than before. It’s more than just physical; it’s a connection that transcends everything.
The curse is breaking. Unravelling. Loosening its grip on me, on us. It’s dissipating, a weight lifting, a suffocating fog finally clearing under the heat of the sun.
SOL
The airin the catacombs is thick with the scent of damp earth and stone, the dim torchlight casting flickering shadows on the crumbling walls.
Kel, Ri, Mavis, and I have been searching for hours, combing through ancient texts and artefacts, hoping to find anything that might protect us from Morfran.
The weight of the place is pressing down on me, but I push it aside, focusing on the task at hand. We don’t have time for anything else.
Kel grumbles as he flips through another dusty tome. “This is useless. Half of this stuff is written in some old language none of us can read.”
Ri shoots him a look. “Complaining isn’t going to make it easier, Kel.”
I’m about to chime in, maybe throw in a sarcastic remark to needle my brother, but then it hits me—like a punch to the gut.
My knees buckle, and I catch myself on the edge of a stone altar, gripping it hard enough that my knuckles turn white.
My heart lurches, pounding against my ribcage, and suddenly, I know.
The mate bond—it’s solidifying, locking into place like a key turning in a long-forgotten lock.
Kel curses, his voice tight. “You feel that?”
Ri’s breath hitches, his eyes widening as he straightens, gripping the edge of a nearby shelf for support. “Swyn and Oland. They...”
“Shit,” I mutter, clenching my fists as the wave of sensation washes over me, an overwhelming mix of relief and something else—something deeper, primal.
The bond isn’t just a thread now; it’s a chain, unbreakable. There’s no mistaking it.