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Authors: Sabrina York

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Chapter Nine

Azreal glanced at Midea. “Well. We did it.”

She grunted in response.

“Who would’ve believed it? A week ago we were all despairing we would ever get these two together. Hell, a week ago it seemed utterly impossible to get my son to commit to any woman, much less one selected for him by Destiny.”

Midea nodded. “A week ago we were convinced Willow would never agree to the mating ceremony.” They shared a glance. Both, perhaps, a little full of themselves. “I must say, it was a stroke of genius to forbid him from seducing her.”

Azreal shrugged. “What can I say? I know my son. But you were also quite brilliant. Giving her just enough rope…as it were.”

“And now look at them.” They both turned to the altar, to the couple writhing and gasping upon it. The magic around them swirled in counterpoint, two beautiful twining colors, a perfect complement.

“They’ll make a lovely baby.”

Midea made a funny little noise, something between a snort and a laugh.
“Babies.”

Azreal tipped his head to the side. “Babies?”

She nodded, biting back a toothless grin.

“You never mentioned there would be more than one.”

“I didn’t want you to get cocky.”

Azreal’s mouth fell open. “They’re having a boy?”

Midea leveled him with a sharp glare. “
She
is having a girl. The next Great Mother Witch. That’s what all this has been about, you know.”

“I know. I know. But…” His eyes shone.

“All right. There may be a boy in there as well.”

The Great Warlock brought his hands together in an attempt to contain his joy. “A boy!” He shot a glance at the altar, even as the two bodies writhing there stiffened, cried out. He imagined he saw it then, the twining of two new tiny energies, there in the mists of passion. “We did it. It’s done. Conception. On the Great Altar. Just as the Auspices predicted.”

Midea shuffled her feet and glanced away.

“What?”

An old, gnarled shoulder shrugged. “Not…precisely.”

“What?”

“Technically, the Auspices didn’t see the twins conceived on the
altar
.”

“What?”
Well, hell.
“Then where?”

Midea’s eyes twinkled. It was an unusual moment of levity for a dour witch wreathed with the burden of protecting and propagating her clan. “They were conceived in a ratty little brownstone in Brooklyn.”

Azreal sucked in a breath. It exploded into a loud guffaw. “So you knew. You knew the whole time…”

“As usual.” Her expression wasn’t one of conceit as much as simple acceptance of her infallible gift.

He shook his head and chuckled, wondering for a moment how a warlock could ever prevail in this eternal skirmish between male and female energy. And then his gaze fell on Skylar and his humor trailed away.

Another, more potent, emotion rose. He wafted it toward her on the breeze.

She sensed it and turned, stilling when she realized his attention was fixed on her. She sniffed, and looked away.

“Oh go to her,” Midea muttered. “It’s a magical night. You might actually get some.”

A heat rose in Azreal’s cheeks at the thought. Hell, heat rose everywhere. He made his way over the uneven ground to her side. “Sky.”

Her eyes flicked to his. Flicked away. “
Your Lordship
.”

It didn’t take any kind of magic to read the sarcasm in her tone.

He sucked on his teeth. Cast about for a topic of some sort. Any sort. Finally he nodded at the altar. “Are you not…pleased? Tonight we accomplished the impossible.”

She glared at him but he sensed a softening in her ire. “Of course I’m pleased. How could I not be?” She looked away. “But that doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

A familiar pain, an irritation, sliced through him. He nodded and turned back to stare, unseeingly, at the altar. He cleared his throat. “It was…unforgivable.” Her aura stilled, melted a little at this admission. It was as close to an apology as he could offer and she knew it. He shot a sideways glance in her direction. “We were amazing together.”

A smile played on her lips, then drifted away. “We were.” She cleared her throat. “But it was a long time ago.”

“Too long.”

He reached out an invisible finger, a twining tendril, and drew it lightly over her nipple. It puckered.

“Stop that,” she muttered, but he saw her shudder. Saw the colors swirling around her change, glow.

“I can’t.” He stroked again. “I want you, Sky.”

“Too bad.” She crossed her arms over her chest. It didn’t stop his dancing touch.

“I always want you, you know. Every moment of every day. I never stopped thinking about you.” He looked away then because he couldn’t bear her beauty. He swallowed. “If it means anything to you…I have remained faithful.”

Skylar snorted. “Right.”

Azreal put his palm on his heart, waited until she glanced back at him, and said, “I swear it.”

Her eyes widened, nostrils flared as she took in the meaning of this, the most solemn vow.

“But…it’s been…decades.”

He bowed his head. “I know.”

They gazed at each other in silence for a long time. When he could no longer resist, he caressed her cheek with another gentle whorl of magic. When she didn’t stop him, when she merely stood there and didn’t stop him, he continued. Added another wisp, one that crawled up her ankle, her calf, her thigh. He shivered as she allowed it. Shivered as he came closer and closer to her core.

And then he found her. Ah. She was sweet and soft and wet. Just as he remembered. She shuddered when he nudged the hard ball of her clit, and her eyes flew to his. She stared at him as he teased her with a tiny tendril of magic, toying with her, tempting her.

“It’s a magical night,” he whispered, willing her closer. Wanting her in his arms.

“It is.” She smiled. Ah, dear Gaia, she smiled. And it was warm.

He was warm.

“It’s a magical night…and, my dearest Sky, it’s been far, far too long.”

When she turned to him, he knew he had her. He saw it in her face, in her expression, in her aura. A sharp thrill snaked down his spine. His balls tightened. He had her back—if only for the night.

But if he was careful and cautious and played his cards right, he could, perhaps, win her back forever.

“Shall we find someplace more private?” He took her arm and led her to a tear in the Fabric, one that would whisk them off to a private bower. An enchanted bower he’d been preparing for a long, long time. For far too long.

And she allowed it.

In the wink of an eye, they were gone.

THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy to scorching romance. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests.

For more information, or to connect with Sabrina, visit SabrinaYork.Com

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