The taste of her still dances on my tongue, and I can’t get enough of the smell of lilac and mint that hovers in the air around us. There’s something about her scent that’s shifted slightly. It’s still Laurel, still the smell of my mate, but it’s even more intoxicating than before. There’s a spiciness to it now that heats my blood, and I know that I’d be able to track her anywhere she goes by following that scent. My cock aches to be inside of her, but I’m content with what she’s given me tonight. The sight of her so completely relaxed next to me is almost as good as my own release, though I don’t know if I can wait too long before I’ll need to taste her again.

She sits up, breasts swaying with the movement and eyes sparkling. I growl when I notice her hard nipples, blush circles surrounding them. I need to put my hands on her. But when I try to, she binds them behind my back with her own cord of light, and my cock twitches. I enjoy teasing her, like bossing her around and shredding that control she so carefully maintains. But the thought of her ordering me, taking her pleasure from me, is equally, if not more, intoxicating. I want her so badly, but I know she needs to take her time, so I don’t let myself hope we might do more tonight.

“My turn,” she says, voice low and husky, and everything around us—the mist still lingering from her outburst of magic, the ivy that’s creeped in through the windows and under the balcony door, the debris of metal objects that litter the floor—disappears. All I see is Laurel, the way her verdant eyes track my movements with the same hunger I feel. She wants more, thank fuck. I don’t dare breathe, not wanting to jinx this moment. Without warning, she aersteps us to the bedroom, not releasing the bindings around my wrists. A massive four-poster bed sits in the middle of the room, curtains hanging loose around it. Laurel pushes me against it, releasing me for an instant before binding me again, this time tied tightly to the columns of the bed.

“You’re dirty, witchling.” The delight is clear in my voice, and she gives me her own wicked smirk, the gesture bringing me immense pleasure. What I don’t say is that I’m coiled so tight with need I might explode with magic like she did.