Ebony Rising (The Raven Queen's Harem 2)

I remove the necklace. Then the ring comes off, placing them in a small dish on his worktable.

With a dry paintbrush he presses the tip in the hollow of my throat and drags it down between my breasts, stopping only when it tickles the sensitive spot below my navel.

My nipples harden from the sensation and Bunny’s pupils constrict in reaction.

“I think you should get on the table,” he says quietly. I nod, keeping my eyes away from the bulge in his pants. As gracefully as I can, I hoist myself up on the surface, and following Bunny’s instructions I lay flat on my back. I’m thankful there are no mirrors or reflective surfaces, but at the same time, ever since I committed myself to this endeavor—searching for a mate—I’ve lost a fair amount of modesty. Mostly it comes from the constant hunger. The intense desire that courses through my body all the time. I know it’s the Darkness calling and the only salve is to dull the ache with the guardians.

No, there’s no time for embarrassment.

I stare at the ceiling as Bunny preps his supplies wondering what he thinks about me like this. He’s so quiet and shy. With the others, they let me take the lead, although I get the feeling I’m pushing their self-control to the edge. Choosing a mate must be my decision and they’re all willing to let me take charge, although they are active and engaged participants.

But Bunny? I’ve never felt his hand or fingers on me like I have with the others. I haven’t tasted his skin other than a few lingering kisses. Because of this, I think of him all the time. Curiosity may get the best of me.

He suddenly appears, blocking the high ceiling. He smiles and says, “This may feel a little cold at first but as it reacts to your body it will warm up.”

“Is it paint?”

“Sort of,” he pushes his glasses up his nose. “I mixed a base acrylic paint with a compound that Damien created.” Damien works with precious metals and jewels. “I thought maybe we could bring about a heightened experience.”

I tilt my head. “How so?”

“I’m hoping we can ground you to earth and strengthen the gate between you and the Darkness. Maybe open a conduit to your decision-making process, so you know,” he swallows, “you can make a choice between us sooner.”

“It’s worth a shot.” I lay my palms flat on the table. “Let’s do this.”

Bunny starts in the center of my belly, above my navel and below my breasts. The first touch jolts through me like a shard of ice and I jump on the table. “Holy shit.”

“I told you.”

But like he also said, the cold dissipates and turns into a blanket of warmth. I relax back on the table and with a focused look, he begins working diligently.

The tip of the brush sears like a piece of ice traveling across my skin, but I anticipate the slow, burning heat. It’s a strange mixture of pain and pleasure that only grows when he extends the paint away from my belly and toward the other, more sensitive areas.

He works with three different brushes—two held between his teeth. Since I can’t see anything but his face I watch his expression as he reacts to my every movement. His pupils constrict at the same time as my nipples. His mouth twitches when the bristles tickle across my hips. A line of concentration slashes between his brows. We both bite down on our lip when he decorates my left breast and then my right with the most excruciating patience.

The desire is not just from his touch, but from the properties in the paint. I feel the magic seeping into my flesh and my stomach tenses at the rush of raw energy.

Bunny moves down my body with long strokes against the dip of my sides and the arch of my hips. His brush travels downward, swirling across my legs. He spreads my thighs and I clutch the table. I know I’ve left a wet spot down there.

“Why are your cheeks red?” he asks, pulling the extra brushes from his teeth. He’s fully attuned to my reactions. “Are you uncomfortable? Just tell me.”

“No,” I reply, staring at the ceiling. He’s standing above my hips and thighs. “It just feels really good and even though I’m trying to keep my mind out of the gutter, my body has a mind of its own.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he says. “You’re exquisite. The most glorious canvas I’ve ever had the pleasure of working on. Do you want to see?”

My first thought is no. I don’t even like to look at myself in the wide mirror outside my shower. But Bunny is an incredible artist. I feel an intense urge to see it myself. “Can I?”

“Of course.”

He walks away and I instantly miss the heat of his body near mine. The magic, I think, must not only react to my skin but his proximity as well. It makes me wonder what would happen if he were even closer.

Bunny returns with an oval mirror and holds it over my body. My eyes widen when I see what he’s done. Nearly every inch of my skin is covered in, what I now understand to be from my research and studying, runes. I lift my hand to a symbol above my breastbone.

“You can touch it. They dry quickly.”

I’m careful at first, worried anyway. But the paint is dry, feeling more like it’s part of my skin than just applied on top. The designs shimmer when I touch them, as if activating their magic. The warmth hasn’t left my body. It’s only grown stronger and as Bunny watches me looking at myself, the spark burns.

“I feel the magic,” I tell him. “Do you feel it?”