“Maybe it belongs to the Witches who built it, the same ones that left people in a ritualistic mausoleum to rot,” he snapped, his eyes moving to each corner of the room she stood in. “Get out of there, you’re not safe.”
“Why? Is it because you can’t touch me in here?” she taunted playfully.
“Olivia,” he said impatiently, but she turned around and began to touch a large pile of books that looked ancient.
“Oh my, gosh,” she whispered fervently. “Do you have any idea what these are?” she asked excitedly. “These are actual grimoires! These books were used by the first Witches back in the old country, and then brought here with families and passed down to generation after generation of Witches.”
“Synthia didn’t need a grimoire to cast spells,” he said.
“No, but she needed vellum for a lot of her spells, which is what the pages of these books are made from. Each spell in these has been created from spells handed down since the beginning of our history.”
“Grab them and get what we came for so we can go,” he urged uneasily, his eyes on the ancient-looking books.
“I can’t take them,” she replied as if he was missing a screw or more in his head.
“Why not?” he asked cautiously, unfamiliar with the books—he could feel they were leaking power.
“They’re not mine, and I sure as hell don’t want to be tied to one of them if it decided it wanted to claim me. A grimoire is more than just a spell book. It contains a piece of a soul from every Witch who has ever used it. It’s sacred, so I’m not sure why they would even be locked in here unless someone didn’t want them used. They could be dark magic, but I’ve only heard of a few people ever turning to dark magic. Most Witches that used Grimoires found a balance. They could dabble in the dark arts, but it was easy to get lost in it. Those who got lost normally started turning against their own covens for more magic, which is bad, very bad.”
“Okay, get the hell out of there then,” he growled again, his eyes daring her to argue.
“Fine, but that key could be in here,” she teased with a brilliant smile as she walked out and the room closed behind her.
Chapter Thirty
The great room of Ristan’s home, where they currently sat, was littered with archives and small stacks of papers from the catacombs. Olivia’s mind remained on the old library they’d discovered, and yet that tingling warning itch in the back of brain had yet to dissipate. She’d been inside that section a few times before and that had never happened, no ghost-spelled reaction from the room. No secret room opening up to reveal ancient secrets, just a boring room filled with missing pages from different archives. So why had it been different this time?
Why now? Was it because the Guild had fallen and the other wards were down? It could be. It could be just about anything, though. Some spells on different parts of the catacombs had to do with moon phases, or the planets being perfectly aligned.
Another warning that kept making her brain tingle was that Ristan had requested for her to pull anything that she knew of that pertained to the three original Salem Covens, specifically the fate of the one that had vanished. He had, however, promised her that the information wouldn’t be used to harm the Guild; it was needed as a part of a deal with someone who had promised to help Synthia when she needed it. Olivia was all for helping Synthia, but only if it didn’t harm the Guild in the process. The real problem she was having was that if she was right in her suspicions, they were looking for Kendra’s Coven. Not that she knew it for a fact, but it fit with what she’d found of that Coven, and Kendra was one of the only people before now who had asked for any files related to those Covens.
“What is this one?” Ristan interrupted her thoughts as he handed her another few pages that looked like they were related.
It was like a jigsaw puzzle since the missing pages hadn’t been placed into the tomes correctly. Whoever had filed them should have been taught how to correctly catalogue them—or they might have been in a hurry and skipped normal protocols.
“This page goes in this one, I think,” Olivia said as she reached over him and pulled out one of the archives. Her breasts, still missing a bra under her dress, skimmed his arm and she swallowed her response to touching him as her nipples hardened and her cheeks flamed. She could see the areola through the white dress. That meant he could see them, too.
His hand lifted from the papers that he’d just set down and his fingers traced the fabric of the dress, his eyes lifting to hers as he made a growling noise deep in his chest that rumbled up. It seemed to have a direct connection to her center, because her pussy dampened with readiness. She swallowed her own moan and did her best to ignore him.
“I smell you,” he said confidently as he pulled her dress up as she continued to concentrate on the task before her. His fingers found her nub and began gently working it; then all hope of working washed down the drain.
She refused to lose the battle of wills they were waging. Of course, his fingers would be the victor, but she was going to pretend he didn’t make her shatter every time he touched her. She leaned back and spread her thighs to allow him further access as she pretended to focus on the paper she held in front of herself. He laughed, and before she could guess his intention, he slid to his knees in front of the couch, and his hot scorching mouth started to work her pussy.
“This…this one goes with that…one,” she whispered huskily as she tried to ignore what his mouth and tongue were doing. He’d cleaned her up the moment they’d returned and now she was going to be in need of a long cold shower.
He brought one finger to her slippery heat and pushed it inside of her until it was buried there, but he pulled it back out as his mouth left her wetness and started trailing kisses over her inner thighs. Eventually, he entered her with two fingers and she allowed her head to fall back against the softness of the couch.
She continued to hold the pieces of old parchment in front of her, refusing to give in. it wasn’t until he added a third finger and sucked on her clitoris that she gave up. His mouth was addictive; his tongue sucking and licking the right places as his skilled fingers filled her until she had to rock her hips to take more was even more amazing.
Papers dropped to the couch as he continued to fuck her with his fingers. She moaned with abandonment as he moved them faster.
“Good girl,” he growled as he pulled his mouth away to watch as he fucked her body with his fingers. His other hand freed his cock, and before she could tell him that they needed to work on matching up the files, he was buried in her pussy. “I can’t get enough of you, my sweet mouse,” he murmured as he picked her up easily, even from his position. He sat on the couch and shifted her on top of him, still impaled on his cock, and his own motions stilled as his eyes held hers. “Ride me,” he whispered and lowered his eyes to where their bodies were joined together.
“I…I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, and he smiled and gave her soft murmurs of encouragement as his hands gripped her hips firmly and moved her up and down on his shaft.
“Male and female were made to fit together. Some more so than others,” he said as he held her body up until only the very tip remained inside of her. He dropped her and she screamed as his cock stretched her body until it molded to fit him perfectly. “Fuck, you feel so good; I could spend eternity here, inside of you.”
“I need to come,” she growled, surprising them both as she lowered her mouth to his and claimed his kiss. She started to move against him and he groaned with need as she controlled the movements—fuck if he wasn’t happy to just let her use him.
She was a little clumsy as she found a rhythm, but it just turned him on more as he helped to steady her. Her movements were unhurried, and every time she slid back down or rocked her hips on his cock, he had to force himself to not take over. Her musky scent and the innocence of h
er moves were seductive, even to him.
It wasn’t until her eyes met his that he lost it. His hands cupped her face as she pulled back from the kiss and screamed as she exploded around his cock. He wasn’t done, though; he pulled her back to him, his movements slow as he continued to bring her pleasure as he cradled her body with one arm while he held her face with his other.
He kissed her deeply, enjoying the slowness of this escapade. He’d never taken it slow while fucking, and this time there was a connection in the way they moved together, her body against his and his against hers. He kissed her harder, wondering why he needed to kiss her at all. Normally he didn’t lavish kisses on his partners; as a rule, kissing evoked a connection, yet he felt as if he would drown without her kiss.
His mind whirled with what he was feeling, and the new feelings that he was sure he had never felt before. Confusion took over, yet he couldn’t stop taking her slowly and with a tenderness that was still new for him. He wanted to fuck her hard and fast, to dominate her, and yet he liked this slow, leisurely session more than he had ever liked fucking Danu—or any other female, for that matter.
Her hands lifted to her breasts, and instead of removing the dress with glamour, he watched as she pulled it down, revealing her perfect tits, and pinched her own nipples. Fucking hell, she was the hottest thing he’d ever seen in his life.
She came again; this time he cradled her through it and knew he was in serious trouble, because he allowed the Demon to slip out, and nibble at the sweetness that was her soul, his cock buried deep inside of her as she gyrated and cried with her continuous release that was fed by his own feeding. He joined her and was lost to the pureness and deliciousness of his sexy-as-fuck librarian.
When they were a heaping mess of limbs and both struggled to catch air, he should have pushed her away. Instead, he rained kisses over her forehead, neck, and mouth. He felt like he was starving, and she was the only one who could satisfy that hunger.
“The papers,” she whispered between kisses.
“Fuck the papers,” he said softly as he continued to kiss her, high on the powerful sensation of the little bit of her soul that he’d taken inside himself. She was innocent, and he was an asshole. He could sense it now, in her touch and in the pureness of the taste of her soul.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered as she pulled away from him and he was left sitting on the couch with a raging hard cock that begged to stay sheathed inside of her. “I can’t…”
“Can’t what?” he asked, coming back to his senses as the sting of her moving away from him hit home. “Can’t fuck a monster like me?”
“I can’t get attached to you,” she whispered brokenly right before her shoulders shook as tears slid down her cheeks.
Ristan paused as he sat watching her. She adjusted the dress and ran from the room, and he didn’t go after her. Instead, he sat still knowing that if he went after her, he’d end up doing what he had just fucking done. Again. He’d be tender, and allow his emotions to get in the way of what he needed to do. He wasn’t going to allow himself to get attached to her, and he would just have to keep trying to find reasons not to. He damn sure wasn’t going to get attached ever again. Those consequences were too high.
He glamoured himself clean and dressed, and started picking up papers. “Fucking hell,” he growled in frustration as he stared at the stack of books, scrolls, and papers, then back to the door where the little Witch’s sobs could be heard.
He was an asshole, but in the end, it was for the best that she didn’t want to get attached to him either. He knew he couldn’t keep her, and it was probably time he started thinking of what he would do with her once Lucian’s requests were fulfilled and the relics were found. He wasn’t sure he could hold Danu back if it wasn’t in her interest to do so.
Olivia slid down the bathroom door and buried her humiliated face in her hands. She’d felt a connection to him, and it scared her. He would never want her in a way that she could hope for, and yet she had felt every kiss to the depths of her soul. Every thrust of his cock inside of her body had left a mark.
She’d never experienced anything like this and it terrified her. Fae didn’t fall in love, that much was a given based on the Guild’s teachings, and what if his plans included making her fall in love with him just to torment her? What if that was how he really intended to get revenge, even though he said he’d understood what happened?
When his fist pounded on the door, she jumped, and somehow made it to her feet. She wouldn’t fall for this dark Demon; she needed to escape him, and if helping him got her a chance at freedom, she’d do it. She opened the door after she’d wiped the tears away and looked him right in the eye.
Ristan stared at her, the defiance in her eyes mixed with the acceptance of what had happened between them. Shit, he wasn’t even sure what had happened himself, but he’d liked it. Too much. He stepped aside and watched as she moved past him to piece together the papers that had been discarded while they’d made love.
His stomach churned, and a cold sweat broke out on his skin as the words he’d just thought got stuck on an endless loop. Made love. Made…love. Made…Fucking Gods! He wiped the sweat from his face on his forearm and shook his head as denial took over his mind. He hadn’t just fucking thought that, no way in hell!
He left before he could do something that he would regret, or say something ridiculous as the emotions ran through him. He sifted outside and let the chill air run through him and clear his head. He needed to get back on schedule and it was time to take the librarian to do as he’d said he would.
Chapter Thirty-One
In a futile effort to take her mind off the Demon, she sat on the floor and continued to work through the stacks of papers, books, and files. She hated that her heart beat wildly at the array of emotions going through her. She needed to get away from him before she ended up falling for her captor, because when it was all said and done, that’s just what he was.
She stood and moved to another stack of papers, and picked them up, scrutinizing them as she scanned them. Nothing made sense; the files they’d retrieved from the catacombs, they were all wrong. Pages were still missing, and the supposed relics he was referring to weren’t mentioned in the pages at all!
She mentally replayed her training and how they’d worked the archives. Her heart sped as realization dawned on her and she could have sworn that the proverbial light bulb lit up above her head.
“This isn’t working,” she told herself and smiled. “It’s not working because you’re not doing it right.” She mentally saw the files in her mind and her eyes moved over the stacks. “You’re an idiot!”
“You’re not an idiot,” Ristan said softly from where he’d entered the room quietly, just in time to watch her berate herself. “I need to apologize for earlier,” he started, but she held up her hand for silence.
“Not now, I’m being brilliant,” she quipped as she grabbed for the pen and started writing down letters for each file. “I thought…well, I thought the missing pages were in the room we visited in the lower levels of the catacombs, but I don’t think they are. You see, I’m not the only librarian with a photographic memory, and I’ve been adding things up. One, what is the safest way to hide sensitive information from an enemy? Two, why hide something where people would know to look? And three, what if you could have an entire file saved in person’s mind that not even they knew about?”
“I don’t follow,” he said.
“I have the files up here,” she said tapping her head. “Think of it like this; if you want to hide information from an enemy in a way that they could never decode it or access it, yet you needed to keep it on hand; where would you put it? You wouldn’t put it all in the same file, because if your enemy wanted it, they’d go straight for it. So I think the more sensitive archives were split up and then sent to different parts of t
he catacombs. However, I know I wasn’t the only one who could easily remember the files, so what if the librarians are a type of backup memory drive?”
“Like a flash drive for a computer?” he asked as he turned it over in his head.
“Exactly,” she said with enthusiasm as her eyes lit up with the idea. “Think about it, though. We didn’t use computers to back them up, as the Guild library system was initiated before computers were even an idea, and once they became commonplace, security was always an issue. In the Guild system, the librarians would process the mission logs or the archives as they came in from the other Guilds, then we would have another librarian check our work, then they would go into another section with the Elders before they were finally filed away. I think the Elders would decide which information was classified and needed to be split up and they were the ones who hid the pages that had been separated. As it was, I was lucky I knew where some of the hiding places were for the separated pages because I’d gone with a few of the Elders when they filed them. I just didn’t know exactly what was going on at the time. I was still pretty young and they didn’t tell me what we were doing other than filing old archives. I do remember one time that they couldn’t find all of the pages to an archive that an Enforcer had requested from a mission; the Elders couldn’t find them, and Alden asked me to write down the missing pages word for word, because I had it here,” she said and tapped on her head again.
“Well fuck me, you’re a backup hard drive for the Guild,” he said with a smile that touched his eyes briefly before he shook his head. “Brilliant bastards,” he mumbled. “This entire time we’ve been wondering how those archives never end up in enemy hands or how to get the ones on the relics back and couldn’t figure it out. It’s so simple and yet also so complex that no one would even consider it.”
“If it’s actually true; but either way, I can get the information on these ones. I’m not sure what we should do for any archives I didn’t process myself,” she said with a beaming smile that lit up her eyes.
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