The Weaver's Source

Chapter 71

The moment my fingers brushed his jaw, my magic whirled in insistence, pouring to him from the small touch like electricity. It broke him. Savage lust flashed in his eyes and he claimed my mouth roughly with his, his kiss deep and raw with hunger. I responded to him instinctively, welcoming him longingly and slipping my hands beneath his shirt, feeling the lines of muscle and scars eagerly. Magic burned through me, gathering beneath his rough hand and swelling sweetly over my tongue for Grigore to devour. He took it greedily, teeth nipping and tongue drinking whatever magic he could, his hand slipping along the curve of my waist possessively, leaving behind a trail of white fire.

I loved it at first. I loved how rough he was, how powerful he felt beneath my hands, how he surrounded me with his addictive song, rumbling dangerously. I was melting beneath him, my pulse quick and breath coming in frantic bursts. I buried my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer and deepening his kiss, revelling in his rough love and demands. I was so hot, my body on fire and aching for him sweetly, my mouth full of his heady song and my skin shivering with pleasure at the stroke of his possessive hand. I couldn't think of anything but him.

Then sadness crept over me, pushing through the wanton hunger like a cold wave. All this was fake. Grigore didn't want me, not the way I wanted him to. This was all the magic. It was an illusion and nothing more. Heartache stabbed at me, ousting the lustful fire swiftly and bringing clarity to my melted mind. I parted my mouth from his reluctantly, floundering for control as Grigore's magic rumbled darkly, still lost in the throws of my song. I moaned softly as his mouth sought my throat and pressed my hands against the wall of his chest in quiet protest, his teeth teasing out shivers of pleasure that swamped me, threatening to shove me back into my magic's control.

I didn't want this. I didn't want to feed him like this, not when I truly wanted him. He'd never  love me the way I desperately desired. I stiffened sharply. Love. I realised achingly that I wasn't just terribly attracted to him but that I loved him. I loved his roughness, his scars, his voice, and his tenderness and protectiveness of me, his temper and dark moods. I wanted to keep him safe, to be held by him, to be close to him and never be left behind because it was him, Grigore, a man who'd I had waited for for years and was nothing like I expected. But he didn't love me in turn, he only let me stay by him to keep me out of whatever trouble I'd clumsily stride into in my quest to do my duty, not because he wanted me, and it hurt me deeply, like a shard of ice burying into my chest.

Abruptly pushed him away as hard as I could, desperate to hide away. I couldn't though. Grigore remained towering over me, that fake hunger etched on his features and his magic calling to me teasingly, so I covered my breasts protectively and closed my eyes, trying to settle my frantic breathing and torn between my magic's need to feed him and my desire to cry.

Then clarity came to Grigore. His focus shifted, the glittering need steeling as he gazed at my growing withdrawal. Something black struck him then, dark and savage, and then he was gone, taking his warmth and scent with him and leaving me feeling bereft and stupidly wanting him back.

I sat up slowly, trying my best not to feel so heartbroken and guilty, fully aware he still needed feeding. His reserves still weren't strong and his motions were stiff as he dressed himself, slipping on his boots and jack with his back to me, but I was unable to face him acting like he wanted me when that was a lie.

"Get ready. I'll be heading up to the manor soon." Grigore said tightly then, after snatching up Ursus, he left without looking at me.

I stared at the door, fully aware my eyes were blue from how low I felt, clutching at my loose shift and my lips still puffy from his frantic kisses. I didn't move at first but slowly I pressed my mouth into a pained line. I was being selfish and confusing him, I knew it. After constantly nagging him to feed since I first met him and that I was his Source, I was suddenly coiling away when he was trying to treat me as I had been adamantly demanding of him. My job was to feed him. Lillith had done it with Jon in any manner the magic needed, she'd told me that with pride, and I had to do the same. Whether I felt emotional from the interaction was an issue I had to deal with, it wasn't his fault I wanted something more from him he was unable to give and he was probably utterly unaware of my feelings. I couldn't let him starve, especially when my magic was warning me of his incoming death. I couldn't let him get hurt because I couldn't bare to face his illusion of desire for me.