Page 119 of An Oath at Midnight

I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself. Bram had walked out of the bathroom half an hour ago in only a pair of track pants, his hair wet and hanging over his face. His dark gaze had slid to me in the bed instantly, and I’d seen his relief.

He’d expected me to run.

I won’t lie, I had thought about it. I didn’t know if I’d ever get a handle on this thing Death had forced on me, and keeping everyone I loved safe was more important than anything else, but I couldn’t do it to Bram—or to me. So I stayed.

I dried off, my body still a bit sore and bruised, but with the help of Else’s balm and tonics, I felt better than I should. I turned to the mirror, my gaze trailing over my bare skin again, my new scars.

Then froze.

The vine markings the mother had given me were still reaching for each other, still a few inches between them, and they were black. Ryan was the killer, and he was dead. If my trial was over, the vines should have changed color, right?

Which meant, it wasn’t fucking over.

I pulled on my underwear and tugged on a clean shirt I’d taken from Bram’s dresser and walked out. Bram was sitting on the couch in the living room.

He turned when I walked in, and his gaze darkened as it moved over me. “How do you feel?”

“Physically? Pretty good, actually.” I gripped the bottom of my shirt and lifted the side, showing him the vine markings from the mother. “But we have a serious problem.”

His gaze instantly dipped to what I was showing him, and he stood, stalking closer. I took a step back, and he pulled up short. “Fuck.” He looked from the vine markings and back up, then shoved his fingers through his hair, his biceps bulging, abs tightening. “How can that be?”

“I don’t know. Someone else has to be in on it with him. Isaac. It has to be him.” Bram’s chest was pumping, the veins in his forearms bulging. He was furious on my behalf. I wasn’t that freaking happy, either, to put it mildly, but for once anger didn’t come, because I didn’t want to think about it, any of it. I was struggling to do anything but watch Bram. Goddess, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was beautiful like that.

I took in every raw, furious, wild inch of him, and my body heated.

Bram stilled and his nostrils flared before his eyes locked with mine. “You sure you’re not in any pain.”

“I’m not in any pain,” I said.

He straightened. “But you’ve got an ache you need to ease, haven’t you, Magnolia?”

“Yes.” The word slipped from my damaged lips all on its own.

He watched me for several long seconds, his abs tightening with every one of his labored breaths. “Take the shirt off, baby,” he finally said.

At his rough command, a throb started deep inside me. I did what he said, lifting his shirt over my head and tossing it aside. Clayton and Ryan had both tried to make me feel ugly, unworthy, but what those monsters thought of me didn’t matter. I only needed to look into Bram’s eyes to see he thought the complete opposite.

“So fucking beautiful,” he said, making sure I knew it. “Cup your tits for me, Mags, give them a squeeze.”

I did, and a shuddering breath escaped when my palms pressed against my hard nipples and I squeezed lightly. I did it again.

“Good?” he asked, watching me closely.

“Yeah.”

“Play with your nipples. Gently squeeze them.”

I did as he said, imagining it was his hands on me, that the warmth of my skin was his.

“I’d lick them and suck them deep into my mouth,” he said, raw need on his face. “Lick your fingers for me, Mags, and do it again. Make them slippery for me, show me.”

I was so turned on now that I struggled to catch my breath. My fingers slipped over my hard nipples, and Bram reached down and squeezed the obvious hardness behind the front of his track pants. He groaned, then shoved the pants down, kicking them off.

He was only in his boxer briefs now, and the outline of his erection made my heart pound. I could see how thick and long he was, the ridge below the fat swollen head, all perfectly outlined, and remembered how he felt in my hands, in my mouth.

“Slide your fingers down your stomach, nice and slow,” he said roughly. “That’s it, now down the front of your panties.”

As he watched me do it, he shoved his hand down the front of his underwear, and I could see him grip his length and squeeze. Liquid heat trickled over my fingers.