Chapter 199

Russo's POV

Night was falling, and everything inside the church's basement was ready. Our pentagram and all of the symbols were written in the specific ink. Our offering was laid out, one each of the five donations on the five points of the pentagram.

Beside me, Lisa's forehead glistened with sweat. We were at zero hour. It was time to start the actual ritual.

She chanted the words that would open us to the magic, then connected that magic to the pentagram and the orders with power over demons written therein.

On TV, magic always showed up as a flashy light show, but this was different, subtle. Being a fae, I could feel the magic whisper across my skin and through my hair like the slightest breeze, one which would tickle the flame on a candle without blowing it out. Yet carried in that whisper was a measure of power that stunned me.

I took a gaping glance at Lisa. I had no idea that my bride-to-be could conjure up that much power. All of a sudden, she was so much sexier than I'd ever seen her. She was the perfect wife for me.

Even if I'd had my pick of the fae, I still would have chosen someone like Lisa, someone who could make my hair stand on end with her raw power.

When she finished, the symbols and the pentagram glowed slightly in the dim light inside the basement. Only a handful of special candles that she had ordered and the burning herbs in their metal censers gave any light to the room.

It was my turn to add magic. Letting my hand glow with fae magic, I held it over the pentagram and read the words that she had written down for me to say. I had practiced them repeatedly over the last two weeks. They were written in Latin, which wasn't a language I was particularly familiar with, so I needed to make sure that my pronunciation was correct.

But unlike Lisa, I hadn't managed to memorize them. She said it wouldn't matter whether I read them or chanted them from memory. The point was that I got them correct.

Slowly and carefully, I went over the strange words, letting them roll off my tongue and flicking them toward the glowing pentagram. With each one, the glow grew brighter.

It was the color of moonlight with just a hint of the blood red that the ingredients in the ink added to the glow. Altogether, the effect was quite creepy, but I ignored that.

After all, we were killing a demon. It wasn't like this was pretty or light-hearted magic. When I finished, Lisa came over and took my hand.

“We have fully activated the circle. Now, all we have to do is wait until the zenith of the moon, and the power of the full moon will do the rest. If we have done everything correctly, the Huntsman will light up like a Roman Candle, exploding.”

“And when he finishes,” I murmured, “nothing will be left but his ashes.”

Helen’s POV

The Huntsman's climax with Julianne was so potent it almost looked painful. And it was painful—for me. The pain came directly through my heart like an arrow to the chest.

I wanted a connection so intense it hurt between the Huntsman and me because that was the way that I felt about him. And I didn't even need to climax to feel that.

All of me ached as I watched him pump his seed into Julianne's body. How unfair. Was there anything I could do to get him in the mood to go again?

The Huntsman huffed deep breaths and pushed himself away from Julianne. He slapped her legs closed and reached up, yanking down the ladder to the attic space. “Up you go, sweetheart,” he snapped at her.

She looked at him and burst into tears. “I have to be separate from you again? I thought I had just pleased you.”

“You got me off. If you want to please me, grow a child.”

He pointed her up the stairs. Julianne obeyed, crying so hard she had trouble gripping the rungs of the ladder. She climbed back up, and as soon as her feet were clear of the hole, he slapped the opening shut.

I couldn't help but cry myself a little bit. Part of me acknowledged how she felt, and part of me was still breaking over the fact that my love had been with her instead of me.

“What?” my Huntsman snarled at me.

“I just want to please you,” I whimpered. “You sounded like that orgasm was so good for you. I want to be the one to make you moan like that. I want to be the one to carry your child.”

He appraised me. “Fine. Into the living room.”

I turned around and realized that Martin had been filming all of this. That drove my humiliation so much deeper because now there was video evidence that I had stood behind my love, cupping him and helping him come inside another woman, filling her with his seed. It showed me distinctly set in the background of his affection.

I choked back a sob. He wouldn't make love to me if I was a weeping mess. Instead, I stuffed those feelings down and followed his march past Martin. My Huntsman waved at the cameraman to follow him. Well, at least this time, he would catch the love between the Huntsman and me on camera, so that was something, at least.

The Huntsman hadn't even bothered to put his pants back on, and the windows were wide open while the people that he kept closest to him wandered the street looking in and watching. Our love would be on full display for everyone. And in a sick sort of way, that pleased me because the more people that saw what I meant to the Huntsman, the more satisfied I would feel with my place at his side.

He stopped in the middle of the living room and turned to face me, pointing at his groin. “Clean the rest of her off of me with your tongue,” he ordered.

A shudder of disgust ran through me. I didn't want to taste this woman, especially not on my beloved’s cock. But if he ordered me to do it . . .

I bit my lip and looked at him, pleading with my eyes. “Are you sure that's what will make you happy?” I asked.

He grunted and pointed again.

If that's what was going to make my love happy, then that's what I would have to do. I started to kneel, but he held out a hand to stop me.

“You're going to have to get me back in the mood first. Strip for me and touch yourself. Make it good.”

I nodded, my eyes watering, but I obeyed, slowly unbuttoning my blouse. He’d left it all rumpled from when he'd groped at me while fingering Julianne. I had hoped the previous activity would lead to him having sex with me, so I hadn't bothered to tidy myself back up.

Slowly, I let my skirt slide to the floor to land in a pile on top of my blouse. I ran my hands across my own body, massaging myself and teasing myself, hoping that it would get him ready for me. Gradually, his cock began to fill and stiffen, not all the way, but enough that I was sure that when I finished with my mouth that he would be ready to breed me, as well.

I made a show of parting the lips between my legs and running my fingers through the dew that had collected there in anticipation that maybe he would find time for me, as well. I had been ready before he even plunged himself inside Julianne, and at the touch of my own fingers, my whole body quivered.

He let out a little groan. “Good. Keep going.”

Outside, night had fully fallen, and I knew that for the people who I could no longer see in the streets, we were basically on TV. The light in the living room would backlight what we were doing. But my Huntsman seemed to enjoy making others watch. So if that was what he wanted, he’d get it.

I got into my striptease, squirming around my own fingers, panting out my desire. Finally, his cock grew stiff and pointed straight at me.

“You can start on me now,” he ordered.

I dropped to my knees and scooted toward him, but before I got there, he clutched at his chest, groaning. I looked up at him, worry permeating all of me. Was he more excited than I’d thought? He wasn’t going to come without me, right?

“What's wrong, my love?”

He shook his head. “Heartburn. I think. Everything behind my ribs is starting to burn.”

I took him in my mouth, working as fast as I could. If he was going to have heartburn, I wanted to give him a pleasurable sensation to override that one. And I really didn't want to miss out on this last opportunity to be with him before bedtime. If he went to bed to sleep off the heartburn, I would have to wait until the next mood hit him.

I cupped and pawed and licked and suckled until he was moaning. He was still rubbing at his ribs, but he pushed me back onto the floor and mounted me, ramming his hips between mine. He got up a swift rhythm. The strokes sent me over the edge.

I slipped my hand between the two of us, rubbing my clit until ecstasy overwhelmed me. He grunted, spurting inside me. It wasn't the grand ejaculation that he managed for Julianne, but when he pulled out, I could feel his come sticky on my fingers.

I thrust my fingers with their gooey load back up inside me, trying to get all of it to stay there and continuing to swipe pleasurably at myself as I rode out the last of my orgasm. When the waves of ecstasy finally ceased, I wiped my fingers on the inside of myself as best I could. I wanted to leave as much of him there as possible.