Her? I thought, frowning. I hadn’t gotten a good look at the falcon, but Aflora would know better than I would. Just as she would be able to sense that the bond still thrived if she went looking for it.
Night flew off my shoulder to perch on her nightstand, taking my mental cue through our connection.
“Aflora,” I murmured, sliding my arm around her shoulders. It was an awkward angle with her legs tucked partially beneath her, but she melted into my side, her body curling into mine as a single tear slipped from her eye.
“I thought the squawk...” She trailed off, her shoulders beginning to shake.
I followed her train of thought. “You thought Night was your falcon.” I didn’t bother pointing out that falcons didn’t sound the same at all. Her heart didn’t know the difference because Zeph had broken it with his cruelty.
“I’m sorry. This is... I’m being...”
“A familiar creates an unbreakable bond with its host,” I whispered, my lips brushing her temple. “That’s why you felt the pain from your falcon, sweetheart. But I promise you he, or rather she, is fine. A familiar can’t die unless his or her owner dies. Zeph was an asshole for not telling you that.”
Well, he was an asshole for a lot of things.
I gave her a reassuring squeeze and added, “Our familiars are created with the protector spell, meaning your falcon was born from the incantation. She’s tied to your existence, so she’ll always regenerate for as long as you’re alive.” Which, if I had it my way, would be for a very long time.
I swept her hair over her shoulder to palm the back of her neck and forced her to meet my gaze once more.
“Say Ahaminee,” I told her. “You don’t need your wand, just the spell.” It was a more advanced phrase than the one her textbook would have taught her initially, one I only knew because of my unique upbringing.
Becoming King of the Midnight Fae required a certain amount of defense instruction early on in my life. While I learned some things at the Academy, I mostly attended as a formality or a rite of passage.
Aflora studied me for a long moment as if debating whether or not to put her faith in me. I allowed her the time to consider her alternatives. She either believed me or she didn’t.
“There’s only one way to know the truth,” I whispered, catching the distrust in her gaze. I couldn’t blame her for being wary. While I might have gone out of my way to help her these last two months, it wasn’t all out of the goodness of my heart. I wanted her to survive for a multitude of reasons, one of which existed in my pants.
Hence our frequent dream sessions.
Which worsened my cravings for her rather than satisfying them, as tasting her only made me want to experience reality with her that much more.
“Ahaminee,” Aflora said, incredulity written into her tone and features. But there was enough power tied to it for the incantation to work. I felt the spell shimmering over the air, reaching out for her creation and beckoning her to join us.
When nothing immediately happened, Aflora’s gaze narrowed in suspicion. “It’s not a trick,” I promised her. “Just be patient.”
Her jaw clenched, but she gave me a stiff nod, choosing to believe me for a little bit longer.
I released her neck to stroke my hand up and down her back, lending her my strength in the process and caressing the energy vibrating around her aura.
It was a dangerous game to allow my power to mingle with hers. An intimacy I shouldn’t grant her. One that would infuriate the entire Council if they ever found out. Yet it came so naturally to me that I couldn’t stop it, my connection to dark magic thriving when in her presence because of our mating potential.
She relaxed considerably, her expression softening. “What are you doing?” she asked, her pupils dilating.
“Something I shouldn’t be doing,” I murmured, my fingertips trailing up to her throat to brush her quickening pulse.
She leaned into my touch, her eyes falling half-closed. “Why does it feel so good?”
“Because it’s meant to soothe you.” My thumb traced her jaw, my gaze tracking the movement. She had such soft skin, reminding me of a flower petal. Her lips were soft, too. Or I imagined them to be in our shared dreams. They looked soft now, plump and ripe. I licked my own, my mind wandering to a place it shouldn’t as I increased the intimacy of our connection.
She shivered, the power humming between us in synchronization. It’d be so easy for her to reach out, to take a sliver of my access to the source, but she didn’t. She merely basked in the glow, her eyes now fully closed in contentment.
Until a cooing sound caused them to spring open in surprise. Our link weakened as her focus went to the falcon swooping in from the hallway, her expression opening in excitement and pure joy. “Clove!”
Aflora’s familiar landed on the bed and shook out its feathers before peering menacingly my way.
Night cawed out a warning, but I sent a blast of security through our link, calming the animal before it picked a fight with the much larger bird. I wasn’t concerned about Night’s success—I knew he would win, as he always did—but I just didn’t want a repeat of the experience outside.
The falcon shifted closer to Aflora, its black eyes on me the entire time.