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I rested my palms on the round curve of his shoulders, still tight from his workout. Casek placed one hand flat against the wall beside me and used the other to lower the waistband of his joggers, freeing his already engorged c**k. I couldn’t look away. Lips parted, I watched hungrily as his hand clasped firmly around his wide girth and squeezed. My core pulsed with such agonizing need that I debated whether it would be inappropriate for me to slide my own hand down my leggings to ease the ache. “No,” Casek growled. My eyes flew to his in surprise. “No, what?” “I want you to concentrate on feeding. That means no touching yourself. Not this time.” He knew what I’d been thinking—had somehow seen it on my face. But the nonjudgmental nature of his response kept embarrassment at bay. I nodded, still holding his gaze. Each shaky breath I inhaled engulfed me in his dizzying scent—spiced leather and a dash of sweat that only enhanced the masculine nature of the smell. Casek began to jerk himself in short, angry strokes over the head of his shaft. His muscles beneath my palms coiled and flexed. He’d told me not to touch myself, but he’d said nothing about touching him. From what I’d learned, we only needed a single point of contact for the transfer of energy. Slowly, with agonizing deliberation, I allowed one hand to migrate down from his shoulder as I kept my eyes trained on his. The mossy green of his irises flashed with an emerald glow, but he didn’t stop me. I drifted shakily over his pectoral, past his rippling abs, and downward to cup his heavily hung balls, careful not to disrupt his movements. I rolled the delicate organs in my hand, then gave them a gentle tug, testing the waters. “Christ, woman,” Casek hissed, eyes shuttering with pleasure. Seeing him come undone was as much an aphrodisiac as any foreplay. The energy between us buzzed like a live wire—the current climbing to a frenzied state, calling to me. Casek sought my eyes, his glowing softly. “Are you ready?” he asked breathlessly. “Yes.” Desperately ready. I craved what he offered, and as he growled the start of his release, I took it. My hand clamped down convulsively on his shoulder, my other lifting to his waist. I was a sponge, soaking up every ounce of his proffered power, only vaguely aware of his movements as he used the towel to catch his c*m. For me, the resulting exhilaration from feeding was a release in itself— pure sunshine, scorching and brilliant. Every inch of my body was alive, down to every molecule and atom. “Enough.” His ragged order startled me back to myself. My eyes flew open, and I could see their blue glow reflected in his. “I’m sorry. Did I get carried away?” I was suddenly horrified that I might have yet again overstepped my bounds. “No.” He shook his head, eyes falling shut as he leaned against the wall and recovered. Tossing the towel onto the floor, he righted his pants and pulled away. The loss of his warmth immersed me in an icy chill. Why were things with him always so damn complicated? He hadn’t been forced to do what he did, so why did I now feel like he regretted his actions? Before I could deep dive into an abyss of uncertainty, his phone rang. Grabbing it from a bench, he barked a greeting. The caller was likely another Huntsman. In a deep, severe tone, the man said something about “dead” and “another,” but that was all I could glean. “Be there in five.” Casek ended the call in a voice so dark it was almost unrecognizable. “Is everything okay?” “It’s fine, but our session has been cut short.” “Fine? But what was that about another dead? Did someone die?” I needed to leave it alone, but I couldn’t help myself. After everything we’d lived through in recent months, worry came easily. He spun around and glared at me with piercing green eyes that were weapons in their own right. “It’s not your concern. Stay out of it.” He collected his things and marched to the door, shooting me one last warning glare before disappearing. OceanofPDF.com Chapter Six OceanofPDF.com CASEK Guilt was a waste of time and energy. Either fix what you f****d up or don’t f**k up in the first place. Those were far more effective strategies than wallowing in worthless regret. That had been my philosophy for hundreds of years and had worked well for me up until fourteen hours ago. Ever since the second I blew my wad into a towel to keep Ashley from going near another man. That wasn’t true. The guilt started another fifteen hours before that when I traced into Ashley’s bedroom and put a binding spell on her magic. She would still be able to feel her magic and could feed it, in theory, but she wouldn’t be able to access it. She couldn’t use the power inside her. The spell was complex. It was one of the many things I’d learned when I was on a mission centuries earlier for revenge. A time when I’d been compelled to seek out dangerous forms of magic, regardless of the consequences. I’d told myself I’d never utilize such dark practices again, but I’d had no choice. I had to protect Ashley. The binding was the only sure way to protect her. Without unique powers, she would have no enemies. Without enemies, there was no danger. It was the right thing to do. I knew it with a certainty in my bones, yet that didn’t erase the bitter aftertaste of knowing what I’d done. Letting her feed from me when I knew the real reason for her stunted powers was just the squeeze of lime in my cocktail of guilt-riddled emotions. If my actions had sent her d**k-hopping through the Huntsman, my emotions would have pushed me over the edge. I’d had to feed her myself, but if I’d f****d her when I knew the feeding was a manipulation, I never could have forgiven myself. It would have been one step too far, and I couldn’t have lived with myself.
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