Chapter Nine:
Callia

 

“Aren’t you going to come to bed?” Draven asked from behind Callia. His rich voice was as warm and welcoming as it always was when he wanted something from her.

All right, perhaps she was being a little waspish, but she’d been unsettled since her meeting with Desideria and her new fledgling. There, she’d had to finally face the fact that nothing had gone as she’d planned.

Nothing. She was in power, but what did she rule over but chaos? Even that was crumbling beneath her…

And she was part of the reason it was happening so quickly.

One mistake. One tiny, terrible mistake had done all of this, had caused all of this.

“Callie?” Imriel called out, his voice every bit as soft and uncertain as Draven’s was bold.

Her beautiful boy. Just as Draven had said she would, she’d come to adore him — for all that she had to hide away her thoughts lest he pick up on something that might make him uncomfortable. She preferred him sheltered, naive, an innocent in a world where everyone was jaded and everything was tainted. She pitied the poor witchling, whose lack of control over his telepathy made it both a gift and a curse, but her mind was her own… and she wasn’t sharing headspace on anything that mattered.

Which meant thinking about any of this in Imriel’s company was dangerous, even if she was projecting more mundane surface thoughts. It was something both she and Draven had become quite deft at to keep from scaring the boy.

The boy who was part of the reason she had finally made her decision to turn on the very system she’d helped create…

No, not one mistake. Several mistakes, compounded and gaining interest, until she had no choice but to face what she had done.

“Not yet, my loves,” Callia finally answered, half-turning to face them. “Be a darling, Imri, and practice your spell, hmm?” she told more than asked him before returning her gaze to the glass windows in front of her. They’d just been installed, thicker, guarding against the rays of the sun with science and magic alike. They promised protection.

They promised her the sun.

Callia hadn’t told her boys that this was the first time she’d seen the sunrise since her sire had stolen her away from the whorehouse she’d served in. Well, since only a few short years after that. He’d wanted her young, but not scandalously so if he was to keep her forever.

People, after all, would talk.

The two behind her were murmuring quietly. While she could’ve eavesdropped, her mind was in another place — in another time.

A shudder ran through her despite the beauty of the sunrise, the thought of Bastian chilling her to her bones. Part of it was that she needed to feed, but it was so much more, too.

Perhaps she should’ve shared that this was a monumental occasion for her, but so few things were her own now. Callia didn’t keep many secrets from Draven, for he could hardly serve as her counterpart if he didn’t know much of what she did. That, and it reminded her of things she’d rather forget.

It made her remember she’d never wanted this at all, and that the first sunrise after she’d awoken had very nearly been her last. It would’ve been, had she been given the chance to choose… had Bastian not barred the door against her attempt to escape into the sun.

Draven would begin to wonder soon, if he wasn’t already. Perhaps he’d attempt to talk to her about this later, but he knew better than to corner her.

Imriel, too, would begin to falter. He could hold the spell for longer now, and she knew it worked. If not, the poor boy might well have fainted at some of the thoughts she’d purposely put at the front of her mind when they’d tested it in more depth.

Callia chose the chair in front of the window that faced the bed to watch in comfort, crossing one leg over the other and smoothing out her skirt a bit. She watched Draven and Imriel, lightly tanned skin against a much darker brown, wild curls opposed to a bald head, blue eyes countered by darker ones. They were beautiful together, her boys, and she wanted nothing more than to think of them instead of…

Everything.

That could wait until she was alone. For now, she could indulge herself a bit and let her thoughts drift away from the past and the future alike. She could live in the here and now in the safety and security of her own home while the sun rose beside her.

The world might’ve been burning all around them, but she seized this moment as though it was the last time she might see her boys together.

It very well could be.

She shut away that grim thought, refusing to let it rule her.

“All right, Imri,” Callia said gently.

She could see the way his features relaxed as he let go of the spell, and the pressure of magic in the air dissipated.

“Something’s bothering you,” Draven noted aloud. “But there’s no room for that in the bedroom, remember?”

“Your favorite rule,” Callia said dryly.

“You’d never relax if he didn’t have that rule,” Imriel hesitantly contributed.

Callia rolled her eyes, but she knew they were right. “What I would truly like at this moment is a show,” she suggested, tilting her head. Blonde curls tumbled into her face. She absently tucked them behind her ears, but what she had in mind didn’t involve needing to tie her hair back.

Draven’s grin was wolfish. “Are you sure you only want a show…?” he asked suggestively, drawing back the blankets and revealing that both he and Imriel wore nothing.

“Mm.” Callia nodded, not wanting to distance herself from her proximity to the sunrise just yet.

She obviously hadn’t hidden that thought as well as she’d have liked, because Imriel frowned. She met his gaze, and he bit his lip before returning to acting like he could hear nothing.

“Then we’ll give you a show,” the witchling who had come to her as an eighteen-year-old virgin promised, his voice shaking a little despite his obvious determination.

Her sweet boy. How could she do anything but love him?

Imriel cast her a look, uncertainty briefly flickering across his features now that he’d spoken, but she smiled at him and he returned it as he regained the confidence he’d found.

To her surprise, he was the one who leaned in to Draven and kissed him, though it was clear Imriel yielded almost immediately to her witch. Draven wasn’t the type to play submissive to anyone but Callia herself unless the situation called for it.

The situation didn’t call for it very often at all.

Draven pulled the covers back and let them fall behind him, revealing their nude forms to her in full. Imriel’s cheeks flushed, but that was hardly anything new. He was still virginal in so many ways despite the lessons they’d taught him — the lessons he’d learned rather well at that.

He was so very desperate to please them.

Lying back on the bed, Draven urged Imriel atop him, spreading their witchling’s legs and casting an appreciative look at him.

From where she sat not so far away, Callia could see the affection in the man’s features. Oh, Imriel had managed to ensnare both of them in his trap, for all that he’d never know what sort of influence he had over them. The boy lacked the cunning to do anything with that knowledge even if he got it, and as far as she was concerned, that would never change.

Imriel gazed adoringly down at Draven as the man’s hands went to his ass cheeks and firmly grabbed and squeezed them. One hand slid up then, along Imriel’s spine, and it urged him down so they could kiss again. Imriel’s hips jerked, and a moan spilled from his lips, his cock already starting to rise.

Draven, too, was responding, but that was hardly a surprise. The man was damn near insatiable as it was.

She’d let the two of them have their pleasure while everything crashed and burned around them, and she’d love them for it — for their ignorance, for their innocence, for the lack of knowledge of what burdened her heart and soul.

The two figures entwined, bare skin against bare skin, the kisses growing increasingly passionate and less like a performance. Imriel clung to Draven, and Draven pulled him closer until they fit together as two perfectly joined pieces of a puzzle.

It was like they needed one another, desperately satiating themselves, glutting themselves. For a moment, jealousy caught hold of Callia, but she shook it off. She’d wanted this, and her boys were exactly that: her boys. It wasn’t their fault that they were preparing to make love instead of fuck.

She wasn’t sure Imriel could even do the latter.

Imriel finally broke that kiss, drawing back only to bestow a tender kiss upon Draven’s chest. Muscles rippled beneath the skin as the witch moved to bury his fingers in Imriel’s hair, urging him lower at a pace that grew less leisurely and more insistent as the seconds ticked by.

Their witchling went willingly, only stopping when he was flush with Draven’s groin and could take the head of the man’s cock past his lips. It was a marvel to behold, the way Imriel lovingly, enthusiastically, took as much as he could into his mouth. He gasped, pulling back after he pushed himself too far — as always — in his pursuit of pleasing his lover.

Draven murmured encouragement to him, groaning as he lay back on the bed. Imriel offered him a smile, and Callia could see both men’s features soften while they lost themselves in the moment.

Another moment, another breath, then Imriel’s lips wrapped around Draven’s cockhead again. Whatever he was doing had the older witch groaning, fingers groping for purchase in Imriel’s hair once again. Imriel leaned up, making it easier, and Draven let out a soft, breathless chuckle before urging the witchling down once more.

Ever obedient, ever willing despite Draven’s unnaturally high sex drive, Imriel lapped at the tip of the other man’s cock, coming away with a drop of seed on his tongue. He moaned, his hands moving to rest on either side of Draven while he held himself up.

It was odd to watch from this distance, lonely, and Callia’s eyes drifted back to the sunrise. Color spread across the sky like it had come from an artist’s paintbrush, and it soothed her as much as the sounds from the bed began to.

These were her boys, after all. Even if she wasn’t touching them physically, she touched them emotionally. She was so separate from them — mortal as they were, fleeting — but at the same time, she’d made them a part of her, too.

Imriel lavished affection upon Draven’s cock, as tender as he ever was, and Draven responded with soft touches and moans. This wasn’t like when she and Draven fucked each other senseless when they were alone. This was more intimate, far from frenzied but no less needy.

Callia didn’t look away as Draven retrieved the lubricant and coaxed Imriel back atop him. Those deft fingers slid into their witchling and found that perfect spot inside of him. Draven made him arch and moan and writhe until Imriel was too caught up to notice anything but the feeling of what was inside of him.

The witch pulled Imriel back, positioning him just above his cock then slowly coaxing him down. It tore a whimper from Imriel’s lips, but he eagerly seated himself upon Draven’s cock. With his head thrown back and his back curved as he reacted to every sensation her favorite lover was inflicting upon him, the witchling was beautiful.

Draven’s tenderness turned to intensity as he buried himself inside of Imriel, some of his usually ironclad control faltering and fading. He’d told Callia that it was hard to retain control when he was inside of Imriel, and she privately agreed he was hell on control — for all that she’d never say it.

She wet her lips with her tongue as Draven thrust up into Imriel, making him gasp and moan and wail. Draven’s hand found Imriel’s cock and stroked him, encouraging him until he was closer and closer to climax. Ah, the young were so eager…

He found completion there, and Draven started to fuck Imriel in earnest.

His groan filled the air as his climax joined Imriel’s, and Callia only watched the two tremble and hold one another. She felt oddly uncertain in the wake of their joining, and it wasn’t until both of them looked to her that she finally rose from the chair. She pulled the curtains closed, shutting out the sun behind her. She didn’t want any… accidents, and it was better to be safe and in control.

She stripped on her way to the bed, ignoring the sticky feeling of their seed as she curled up with them.

Her thoughts schooled to pleasant things for Imriel to be aware of as he came down from his climax, she buried her face against Draven’s neck and looped an arm around Imriel. There, with her sated boys, she slept.