The Sleeper's Harp (The Arcane Artifacts, #1)

Chapter 18 - Story of Betrayal

Bastian opened his eyes, inhaling. He smelled her, faintly. He'd smelled her earlier too, in the doorway of his room, but no further than that. A smile stretched across his face.

"Teddy, no!" Eleanor's voice carried upstairs, scolding. He sat up, listening. "Bad kitty! Why would you do that? We're guests here. Fuck." He huffed. Great. The cat probably took a shit on his favorite rug. "Bastian's going to kill us," her voice hissed, quieter now.

He wouldn't have heard her, were it not for his supernatural senses. Inhaling, he swung his legs off the bed and used the bathroom. Then he had a seat on the chaise in the corner of the room, forearms braced on his knees. He hung his head, closed his eyes, and set about pouring energy into his metals.

It was a tedious process, requiring focus and calm—

"No! Come back here!" Eleanor's voice again.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, eyes darting open. There was a clatter, followed by the slapping of bare feet on tile. Was she chasing the damned cat? A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He pushed away the thought of her running through his house and closed his eyes again, this time gathering his extra energy and channeling it into his metal jewelry, including the jewelry he kept hidden behind glamor. He only showed off about half of what he wore. Most humans were already shocked by his number of piercings. Keeping the rest hidden avoided extra questions...extra attention.

While the majority of his piercings were for magic, a couple were purely recreational. He huffed, recalling Eleanor's surprise at his tongue ring. If she knew about the other, the one at the base of his cock, she'd probably require a fainting couch.

He straightened, heat spreading from his groin. His cock twitched and he adjusted his pants. She would like it, the way it teased her clit while he fucked her. What sorts of sounds might she make for him?

He shot to his feet, restless—

"See that?" Eleanor admonished. "Don't ever do it again, understand?"

He chuckled, striding from the room. It was a fucking cat. Not like her scolding would make a difference. He was more eager about what it might mean for her...No. He pushed that thought away, disbanded the images of punishing her, putting her over his knee, and leaving handprints on her ass.

He found her in the living room, staring at the side of the couch. Right where—

"Your cat clawed my fucking couch?!" he hissed, sneaking up behind her. She jumped backwards and spun towards him, eyes widening.

"Bastian! Hi!" she croaked, inching over to try and hide the corner of the couch from view. He caught her up, wrapping his hands around her upper arms, pulling her flush against him, against his hardening dick.

Okay...perhaps he should have waited to calm down before coming downstairs.

"Uhm...It was an accident?" she squeaked, eyes darting over his expression.

"That so?" His hands drifted down and splayed open, wrapping around her hips, pressing her more firmly against him. "I suppose I could use a bit of magic to fix it, unless you want to sew it up?"

She scoffed. "Yeah, sure, let me run to my room and get my handy little sewing kit. I take it everywhere with me."

He lifted his brows. "If I wanted your smart mouth, Sugar, I'd have claimed it already."

"If I wanted an asshole, Bastian—"

He dove for her, capturing her lips before she could finish the sentence. She let out a squeak, pausing only momentarily before kissing him back. Her groan had his balls tightening. He ripped his lips away just as quickly, pushing her to arm's length, breathing hard. "That was for the couch," he explained, then, just for the fuck of it, waved a hand dramatically and watched the cat's scratches stitch back together, like it had never even happened.