<h4>Chapter 48: Chapter 48: JUST ONE MORE ORGASM</h4>


    <strong>MAEVE’S POV</strong>


    I had barely been able to sleep a winkst night.


    I shut my eyes tightly, wishing for rest toe, but it was all to no avail. I remained wide awake, tormented by guilt for not being able to resist Ivan’s touch.


    The moment he kissed me, every ounce of reasoning had flown out the window—reced by a gnawing hunger that threatened to tear me apart if I didn’t satiate it.


    And of course, Ivan had milked it for everything it was worth.


    His kisses had been liquid ecstasy in the cavern of my mouth. I could still feel the imprint of his fingers, burning hot between my thighs.


    And Goddess help me, I could still feel the hunger.


    The ghost of his teasing touch breezed over my skin, demanding attention—grazing torturously toward the aching spot between my thighs.


    Against every ounce of dignity I had left, I slid a hand down my belly, breathing shallowly as my fingertips brushed the ce he’d touched—where he’d agonized me with nothing but his filthy, dirty-talking mouth, his hands, and that maddening scent of his.


    I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to.


    But the heat burned low and tight and feverish, and before I could talk myself out of it, I was rubbing slow, shameful circles through the thin cotton of my pajama shorts, chasing after the ghost of him.


    His goddamn piercing gray eyes—always stormy, always arrogant, but somehow still soulful enough to tilt toward soft.


    That cocky tug of his smirk when they locked on mine, just enough to remind me of the bastard he truly was.


    And his words—Goddess, those fucking words. They might be the death of me, if this mission didn’t kill me first.


    I bit my lip, my other hand fisting the sheets, heat rising in my face like a second skin.


    It wasn’t even about pleasure—it was about need. About the unbearable, desperate hunger Ivan had nted in me, blooming like wildfire, choking out reason.


    My body remembered him. Responded to him. Even now. Even after everything. Even after all this while.


    And the worst part—the part that made me want to scream and sob and maybe set myself on fire—was that not once in five years had I ever felt like this with Devon.


    Not this quickly. Not this intensely. Not even when I tried to fake it.


    Devon, with his characteristic sweetness—something Ivan sorelycked.


    Devon, with his yful words and boyish charm. His steady calmness. All the things Ivan never had.


    Ivan was a fucking caveman. Neanderthalic. Always manhandling. Always growling. Always crossing lines.


    How could I want that? How could he undo me with mere words and those chaotic gray eyes?


    And yet, even with the guilt fighting through my chest, even with the shame like ws in my gut, my fingers moved—desperate, greedy, chasing the crescendo left behind by another man.


    I had never been this wet in years. Never this affected by just a memory.


    Devon had never flipped me over and fucked me until I saw stars. Never made me choke on my own moans. Never made mee this fast just by existing in my mind.


    My fingers pressed harder, the sheets twisting under my clenched fist, as the wave of my orgasm crashed through me—delicious, breath-stealing, humiliating.


    My breathing was fast. Embarrassing.


    And all I could think was: he wasn’t even here.


    That truth gutted me.


    As I squeezed my thighs together under the sheets, guilt returned with all its fury—and my mind instantly turned to Devon.


    White-hot shame crashed over me in waves, causing goosebumps to bloom across my skin.


    I knew I sounded like a broken record at this point, but I still couldn’t fathom how wildly out of hand things had gotten with Ivan.


    After the first time he kissed me, I’d promised myself it would never happen again.


    Where the hell had that resolve gone?


    How could I act so shamelessly with Ivan when I had Devon?


    Devon—who was back home in Darkwind, trying to secure a better future for me and Asha.


    Granted, his methods were less than ster, but that didn’t change the fact that every move he made was for our family.


    I loathed to imagine how he’d react if he ever found out I’d made out with his nemesis. Not once, but twice.


    As much as it would be easier to me Ivan for all of it, deep down I knew I had a part to y in ourtest escapades. It was a madness that had gone on long enough.


    It ended now.


    This time was thest time. I promised myself.


    But... right after I got myself off again. Just one more. For closure.


    With a sigh, my fingers slipped under the sheets. One more orgasm, please.


    * * *


    I got out of bed an hour before dawn. Asha was still sound asleep.


    I took care not to wake him as I climbed out of bed. My sweatery next to the dresser, and I slipped it on over my pajamas.


    Then I strapped on my beige fleece-lined boots and padded softly out of the room.


    Nina usually came to my quarters around dawn. Hopefully, she’d be there by the time Asha woke up.


    Outside the pack house, the air was cold. White puffs of smoke left my lips with every breath I took.


    I clutched my basket to my chest, careful not to slip on the frostcednding that led into the woods.


    Apparently, I miscalcted my step. I lost my bnce and nearly went tumbling down the slope—but at thest second, a strong pair of hands caught me by the upper arm and yanked me back upright.


    I gasped, breath catching as I came face-to-face with none other than Revierrie.


    He looked just as unrested as I felt. His hair was mussed, the gelled side part he usually wore now undone. He was still in yesterday’s clothes.


    "Revierrie," I breathed, the chill stinging my throat. "I never imagined I’d run into you here at five in the morning."


    "I could say the same about you, Mistress," he replied with a clinical smile.


    It was the kind of look people reserved for strangers or high-ranking people. Surface-level politeness, no intimacy.


    It made me wonder what he actually thought of me.


    Probably not much—aside from the fact that I was the moon healer.


    So far, all I’d managed to do was give him every reason to see me as reckless. First, I’d crashed a royal wedding. Then I’d nearlye to blows with Lydia in the throne room.


    And, of course,st night—after the rejection ritual had failed—I’d screamed at the priest and stormed out of the sacred hallpletely naked.


    Now he’d just stopped me from face-nting down a hill. Lovely.


    "Mistress?" I scoffed, wrinkling my nose. "Please. Call me Maeve. And thank you—for stopping me from wiping out."


    "You’re wee... Maeve," Revierrie said, repeating my name with stiff civility. "So tell me, do you usually venture into the woods at the crack of dawn?"


    "What? No," I said with a snort. "I just couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well go out early and look for herbs."


    A glimpse of guilt shed across his expression at my words, but he covered that up fast with a curious look.


    "Herbs?" he asked, feigning genuine intrigue.


    "Yes. It’s for the Luna’s treatment."


    Not exactly.


    I nned to gather a particr kind of leaf—an herb potent enough to brew into an elixir that induced deep sleep.


    That was the goal: to give Lydia a dose today. Once she was out cold, I could finally search her quarters without interruption.


    But first, I needed to wrap up my conversation with the priest and get started on that mission.


    "I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get going. The nts I intend to collect are freshest at the first light of dawn."


    "Oh, I see." Revierrie’s eyes lit up with fascination. "If you don’t mind, Maeve, I’d like to apany you on your nt hunt. You don’t know this, but I’ve always had a great curiosity for herbs and healing. It’s yet another passion of mine."


    "Really?" I asked, sounding thoroughly unenthused.


    Thest thing I needed was someone as grounded and observant as the priest tagging along on my secret quest.


    But before I could shut him down, he jumped down the narrow slope and held out his hands to me.


    "Here. Take my hands. I’ll help you down the slope. I wouldn’t want you tripping over again."


    "Thanks," I mumbled, epting his help.