“If it is only Misty’s allegiance that is troubling us then there is an easy way to resolve it.” She paused. “Well, two, actually.”

Misty didn’t want to hear it. She still didn’t like the way Ivory secretly looked at Domenico, her damsel-in-distress persona melting away as she hungrily devoured Domenico with her doe eyes.

“There is nothing to prove,” Lysander said coldly.

“There is everything to prove,” Arabella snapped. She looked at Ivory. “Go on, tell us what you feel is a good way to resolve this.”

Ivory said slowly, “If she truly feels she is a part of our race then she must seal it with something indelible.”

Every pair of eyes in the High Circle’s chamber swung to her.

Master, it is time, Ivory thought.

Yes, the Master hissed. It is time.

Ivory didn’t even blink to acknowledge the Master’s answer. She said softly, “Misty can turn into a Faerie…or she could betroth herself to Lysander Allard instead.”

Domenico stood beside Misty in an instant, his heart racing with desperate fear. Yes, he had wished this. It was why he had done his best to push Misty away. But now that he was faced with the possibility of truly getting his wish---

It was impossible.

He had been a f**king fool to think he could let Misty go for a second time --- especially if it meant that another man would have her.

“Misty.” His fists clenched at his side. He wanted to spin her around so she would look at him and so he could see in her eyes what she really wanted. But he did not move. He did not want the same mistakes to happen, did not want to undermine or humiliate Misty in any way again.

Misty was torn apart inside at the dilemma she was suddenly facing.

She closed her eyes, wishing there was a way out of it but already knowing what the answer would be.

When she opened her eyes, she could feel Domenico’s body practically vibrating with tension. Her gaze strayed towards Lysander, who was also on his feet, his jaw clenched hard. Nothing g*y at all about him, she mused absently, when he looked so serious.

“What do you think, Misty?” Ivory asked ever so softly.

Bitch. That was what Misty thought of her. It was unlike her to think something like that, but it was the only word that she could think of.

“I, too, am interested to hear what you have to say,” Magenta said slowly, almost reluctantly.

Misty lifted her chin. “I am willing to betroth myself to Lysander Allard if he takes---”

Lysander cut her off with four simple words. “I will marry you.”

Chapter Twelve

“Wait!” Misty anxiously went after Domenico, who had stalked out of the High Circle’s chamber the moment the meeting ended.

But still he continued to walk farther and farther away from her, as if not hearing her call out his name repeatedly.

“Domenico, wait!” But he was too fast and she knew it would be impossible to catch up with him. She stood there, hesitating, and decided impulsively that there was nothing to lose if she tried being as manipulative as Domenico was.

“Oww!” Misty pretended to trip and began hobbling away for good measure.

Domenico was on her side in an instant.

She pushed him away. “No!”

“Don’t be stubborn.”

“Go away!”

“Let me just take you to your house,” he said as he swept her up in his arms.

“I don’t need you to do this.”

“Don’t worry,” Domenico said coolly. “I’ll leave you the moment I get you into your house safely.”

Misty kept herself stiff in his arms all the way to her house. “You can let me down now,” she muttered when they reached her front door.

Domenico didn’t even bother to answer her, simply turning the knob and letting himself inside. When he started for her room, she took that as her cue to start struggling.

“Stop it!” Domenico did his best to maintain an unemotional tone even though his emotions were raging inside him. Last night she had been practically begging for his company and now she couldn’t bear his touch? What the f**k? Did this mean she had been stringing him all along, and now she was going to f**king kick him out of her life because she could finally have Lysander Allard?

“Put me down! I can do this.” She struggled harder as they reached her bedroom.

The contempt in her tone made Domenico so furious that he strode into her room, intent on taking her to bed when all he wanted to do originally was get her to the bedroom.

Misty made her move the moment Domenico lowered her to the bed. She pulled him down, taking him by surprise, and she wrapped herself around him as her lips covered his.

Domenico stiffened.

She kissed him harder, willing him to open his lips even as she pressed herself against him closer, her ni**les pricking his chest.

Domenico tried to pull away. “What the f**k---”

Misty pulled him back and kissed him again, more desperately this time, trying to communicate without words how much she loved him. She could have wept the moment she realized he had given in, his lips finally opening, and his tongue coming out to taste her. Immediately he became the aggressor and she joyously surrendered herself to him, loving the way he took command.

Domenico tore their clothes away, and Misty was glad that he did so. She was just as feverish as he was in her need, and she moaned loud and long when he came back to her, their na**d bodies brushing against each other.

“You’re soaking wet,” he gritted out as his fingers came in contact with her moist sex.

She arched herself invitingly towards him, shamelessly rubbing her core against his long, hard fingers. Misty moaned again as Domenico’s lips moved down, sucking her neck, biting her shoulder, licking her chest, and she cried out at the sharp pleasure that struck her body when Domenico cupped one breast to feed him her nipple.

She gripped his hair tightly just as she pushed herself up. Domenico obligingly followed her silent demand, sucking her nipple harder and she twisted under him, loving the exquisite torture that his mouth wreaked on her body. Below, his fingers continued to play with her folds, tracing but not quite entering. She parted her legs wide open, hoping she could get his fingers inside but still Domenico resisted, as if determined to prolong her sensual agony.

“Misty.” He couldn’t help growling her name as his thumb brushed back and forth against her clit.

She dug her nails into his shoulders in answer.

His body bucked at the sensation, and his fingers slid home.

Misty gasped, and the sound was the most beautiful thing he had heard for a long time.


Tags: Marian Tee The Moretti Werewolf Vampires
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