Obsidian Fire (The Raven Queen's Harem 4) - Page 6

“Does he know we’re coming? Because he may be mad we’re late because, you know.” I’d sucked him off in the car. That’s also left unsaid.

“We’re late because we got stuck in an alley. What we did to bide our time is no one’s business.” He flashes me a grin as we follow the attendant across the crowded club. Patrons ignore us though, eyes transfixed on the performance. We slide into the circular booth tucked in the corner of the club. “Even though I’m pretty sure Clinton would understand.”

Unlike last time, Clinton isn’t alone on the stage. A full section of strings accompanies him and the magical sound of their music reverberates through the building. I’m so used to the strains of his music filtering up the stairs that it’s almost like a pulse—a heartbeat. I focus on the concert, not the complicated feelings being here brings up.

Sam orders drinks and I’m relieved when he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close. My heart races as the melody intensifies. I think about the last concert I attended with Xavier and Anita. Clinton’s music ignited something in me—it brought out the Darkness and allowed the Morrigan to cross from her world to mine.

“She’s gone,” I whisper to myself. Remind myself.

“Did you say something?” Sam says, leaning close.

I shake my head and he squeezes my shoulder, his fingertips warm on my skin.

The waiter brings our drinks and I quickly take a sip. The liquid burns but it also fills my nervous belly. Sam moves my hair and speaks into my ear, “I know this is hard for you, but you’re safe. The Morrigan is gone. You can relax.”

Clinton’s eyes connect with mine from the stage. Without breaking contact, I nod in reply to Sam. “I’ll try, I think I just have PTSD or something.”

I don’t know exactly why but Clinton’s music tugs at the threads of my soul. Even though the Morrigan is gone, I slip into the same heated trance as the last time. I watch his movements, the way his biceps flex while he handles the long bow. My eyes skim his legs and the way he straddles the cello. It makes me think of being in a similar position.

Suddenly the room feels too warm and I shift in my seat.

“Hey,” Sam says. “Are you okay?”

“I, uh,” I blink, trying to focus on him. The room is foggy. “I feel a little strange, that’s all.”

“Talk to me, Morgan. Do we need to leave?”

I shake my head and look back at Clinton. He’s still playing but watching us like a hawk. “No. I feel like last time. Which is impossible, isn’t it? What if I hurt someone?”

Sam pulls me into his chest and I feel the heat of his mouth on my ear. “You’re tied to each of us in a unique way. Clinton’s music must trigger something powerful inside. I know you have an effect on my photography. Before, those binds connected to the Darkness. What do you think it connects to now?”

I hadn’t thought of it that way, that maybe there’s more inside of me than just a normal woman left with a hole from the removal of magnificent darkness and destruction. He’s right, I feel an itch deep down—something that needs to be scratched. I turn to face Sam and the same compulsion that took over when I was in the alley with Xavier grips me.

I want to kiss him but I don’t. I’m scared. Heart-pounding fear. Maybe Clinton’s music is evil. Maybe I’m evil. Maybe the Morrigan isn’t truly gone. Sam holds my face with his hands. “What’s going on in there, babe? You look terrified.”

“Help me not be afraid.”

He nods and gives me my drink. I swallow the rest in a gulp. “Focus on Clinton,” he says, slipping his arm around my waist. “Think about the joy his music gives you. The life. Think about how no matter what happens out there, we’ve got each other.”

With my eyes locked on Clinton’s, I feel Sam’s hands on my sides, rubbing little circles to keep me calm. He moves lower, stroking my arms underneath the table, playing with the hem of my dress.

My breathing calms. My heartbeat shifts. It doesn’t slow, not exactly. The fear subsides but Sam’s touch has me on edge. I’m about to turn and tell him to take me out of here when he runs his knuckles down my inner thigh, urging me to spread my legs.

I do.

We’re out of view of the rest of the crowd; everyone’s eyes are focused on Clinton and the other musicians. His attention hasn’t left me for a second. I lick my lips in anticipation of Sam teasing, what he’s threatening to do and where his fingers are traveling. I have zero doubt Clinton is aware of everything happening in our little corner booth.

“Is he watching us?” I ask, feeling a little thrill.

“Who do you think told me to remind you not to wear panties tonight?”

The admission turns the heat between my legs moist. Sam laughs quietly in my ear while rubbing his thumb over my most sensitive parts. I rest my hands on the table, palms flat to keep myself centered—at least where people can see. Clinton’s eyebrow arches just as Sam spreads my center wide and pushes a finger in. My breath catches.

“Breath, babe.”

I nod and exhale.

“He likes to watch you come, you know, just as much as I want to feel it on my fingers, or Damien on his cock,” Sam murmurs in my ears. My cheeks heat at the confession.

Tags: Angel Lawson The Raven Queen's Harem Fantasy
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