“Same.” Maeve lifts her mead mug and swallows down the rest of it. “You coming, Ly?”
I’ve been waiting for this all night, an opportunity to slip away. Finally, it’s here.
I shake my head. “No. I’m gonna stay a while longer.”
My roommates give me quizzical looks.
“You sure?” Maeve asks. “The festival’s almost over. Andbesides”—she tips her head back, eyes regarding the cloudy night sky—“it’s about to rain.”
I can’t see anything in the clouds, but being a storm witch, Maeve can probably feel the rain moving in.
Trying to be nonchalant, I shrug and say, “It’s the fire. I just wanna stay a while longer, watch the flames.”
Poppy and Maeve exchange looks, then seem to accept my reasoning as fair. I’m a fire witch—ofcourseI’d want to spend more time with the fire.
Or with Cairn, but they don’t need to know that.
“Okay.” Poppy squeezes my hand. “We’ll see you back at the room, then?”
I nod once. “Yeah.” Then I remember I promised to bring Juniper some treats, and the booths are quickly closing. “Actually, will you do me a favor?”
They nod.
Hurriedly, I move booth to booth, purchasing Juniper a caramel apple, a slice of warm pumpkin bread, and a crinkly bag full of cinnamon-spiced nuts. Poppy and Maeve take them from me.
“Thank you,” I say. “Just want to make sure she gets them in case I’m late.”
“She might like us more than you now,” Maeve warns with a flick of her silky hair over her shoulder.
I let out a laugh. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Okay, see you soon,” Poppy says.
The two of them move away from me, the flickering candles that float midair lighting their way as they go.
Finally alone.
Crossing one arm over my chest and sipping from my mug of mead, I turn back toward the flames, staring into them as they move against the chill of the autumn night. And only when I’m certain my roommates have made it back to the castle do I cast my gaze toward the other side of the flames, where Cairn has been manning the mead booth all night. It was almost impossible to keep my eyes off him, to resist the urge to keep glancing his way. My roommates are perceptive, and they would’ve noticed right away.
I swallow down the rest of my mead, liking the way it makes my skin tingle and my head sway. It takes the edge off, just a bit, and makes me perhaps a bit more reckless than I should be. But it’s nighttime, and most of the festivalgoers are one or more mugs of mead in. They dance and laugh and sway together before the fire, not paying any attention to me as I head toward Cairn’s booth, my boots crunching softly through the dried grass.
There’s one witch at the booth when I get there, but she quickly takes her mug and moves away, and then Cairn looks up and meets my eyes.
A wave of heat goes through me, warming the spot between my thighs.
I remember seeing Cairn here last year, remember thinking he was rude and brash and being annoyed by his gruff nature. But looking at him now, with his long hair knotted atop his head and his horns gleaming in the firelight, all I can think about is his warm voice, the way he so tenderly cared for that injured red fox, the feel of him beneath me as I sat in his lap on the blanket under the stars.
He was hard that night, his cock pressing against me through his trousers, but he wouldn’t let me go any further, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since, wondering what he’d feel like inside me.
And if the way he’s looking at me right now is any indication, I’m pretty sure he’s been thinking about it too.
Slowly, I walk toward him, liking the way his gaze follows the movement of my thighs, which slip through the slits in my dress and shine silver and orange in the pale moonlight and dancing flames. When I make it around the booth and step up beside him, his throat bobs with an obvious hard swallow. My lips quirk up in response.
“Hi,” I say.
He draws himself up, fingers curling into fists at his sides. His nose ring winks in the firelight as he moves his head. “Miss Wilder. Do you need something?”
He’s using his formal faculty voice. And I understand—there are still festivalgoers around us, students and professors and people visiting from Wysteria. But I can’t help pushing him, just a bit.
