Short Paranormal/Fantasy Erotica
Rating: Graphic Sexual Content/Language
BUY NOW

Arithmancy was a far more precise practice than Divination. Divination used signs and portents to predict the future, Arithmancy used numbers and calculations to determine how choices would affect outcomes. The difference of something as simple as one number could result in an end completely different than if one used another number or calculation to figure it...

Elspeth Valerin couldn’t put a numerical value on love, couldn’t use addition and subtraction on the human heart. It doesn’t work. She could fact and figure her way into an assumption of the future; use the numbers to lead her choices toward positive or negative, but in the end it all came down to something she could not control.

Either Connell loved her, or he did not. And no matter how many times she looked at the numbers, she wasn’t able to decide which of the two most likely results were going to happen...

"All I ever did was love you," he said in a low voice. "And you treated me like I wasn't even worth it."

Then she was in his arms and his mouth was on hers, bruising. She didn't resist, didn't protest, just let him walk her backward and put her up against the fence, his hands on her waist and his mouth crushing, crushing.

She opened beneath him and his tongue swept inside. She tasted ale and smoke. She tasted Connell, a flavor she'd never forgotten, and it made her gasp as she put her arms around his neck and clung to him.

He pushed hard against her, the way he used to when they were in her garden and desperate to steal one more kiss before she had to go inside. He bunched the fabric of her skirt in his hands and slid beneath it to the bare skin of her thighs atop her stockings. His hands cupped her rear and he lifted her, holding her so tight she had no fear of falling. The heat and hardness of him pressed against her, and she gasped and tightened her thighs around his hips.

She tasted blood from the force of his kiss, from a spot where her teeth had caught the inside of her lip. The metallic, salty taste of it made her think of the way they'd been, and how she'd once taken him in her mouth while the ocean crashed so close to them the spray had wet their clothes.

Desire, unaccustomed and overwhelming, flooded her, but she didn't fight it. Her arms tightened on his neck and she kissed him as fiercely as he did her, their mouths meeting again and again, reminding her of the way eagles mated in the sky, soaring and plummeting as they screeched their pleasure.

He held her against the splintered wood with one hand while the other slid between them to fumble with the laces at his waistband. His hand rubbed her through the thin material of her undergarment, and she shuddered with want.

He'd be inside her in another moment, and oh, by the Astria, she wanted him there. Inside her. Filling her. Making this feeling grow until she exploded the way she used to when they were young, before it had all gone so wrong.

He shifted her weight and she tensed, waiting for him to enter her. Then, in the next moment, she stood on her own, her skirt falling down around her ankles and the fence the only thing holding her up. She blinked, bereft and abandoned, her body not yet adjusted to the loss of his hands on her. She licked her lips and tasted more blood, and she lifted a shaking hand to wipe them clean.

"You might not have changed," he said in a shaking voice. "But I have. I'll not be used like that again, no matter what treasure you hold between your legs."

His words hurt, that he thought she'd ever used him.He twisted away from her when she tried to touch his cheek, and she let her hand fall. He ran his hand again through his hair, then crossed his arms over his chest. The white moonlight made stark lines on his face, cast his eyes into shadow and highlighted his scowl.

"All these years," he told her. "You've no right to come here, to my place, looking as though naught's changed. No right."

His words were unfair, but she accepted them with a nod. "I'll go then, shall I?"

"Aye, go." He bit out the words like they tasted bad. "Get out of my place, and don't come back here."

She didn't move. They stared at each other until at last she nodded again. "I plead your mercy, Connell. I never meant to hurt you."

"No." His reply was colder than the winter air. "And I can see by your tears how grieved you are."

His short, sharp burst of laughter pierced her heart.

"Ah, but then, you've never wept, have you? Why should I expect you'd bother to cry for me?"

"If I could have, believe me, I would."

He didn't answer. She backed away from him, turned and left the courtyard, wishing desperately she could have given him tears but as always, finding none to give.