W.I.T.C.H.: The Bloody Throne

Part 30

               In the early hours of the morning, just as the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, Phobos awoke to the rhythmic sound of a heartbeat next to his ear and the feeling of a warm body pressed against his. He didn't have to open his eyes to know whose chest his head was resting on, it could only be one, his beloved wife. With a sigh, he opened his eyes and remembered how he had lost control over his desire for her. Part of him feared that he might have harmed the child in her belly, but another part of him knew that his wife wouldn't have let him be her steed if their baby were at risk. He didn't want to get out of bed, instead, he wished for the day to return to night. However powerful he was and however much he wished to slow time to spend it in his wife's loving embrace, he knew he couldn't stop the progress of time. With another, this time reluctant, sigh he lifted himself off his sleeping wife. He waited only a moment to gaze down at his lovely, sleeping, wife. In the blue-grey light of dawn creeping through the cracks in the curtains, she appeared even more angelic than in the garish light of day; her red hair framed her fine face in dozens of tangled cow-licks, her skin seemed percaline white, her heart-shaped lips a perfect shade of pink the same with her cheeks, still blushed from their act of love.

He smiled at how peacefully he slept beneath him and allowed his eyes to wander just a bit more. His eyes wandered down at her slender neck, spotted with tiny bruises where he had nipped her; he hated leaving marks on his wife, but considering his back burned from the marks she had left on him, those tiny blue marks on her neck were a fine compensation. His eyes then wandered down to her chest where his head had rested throughout the night. Her still developing breasts were a perfect handful to him and they were topped with soft, cherry pink, nipples that he enjoyed toying with whenever they enjoyed each other's bodies. He had to stop his eyes from wandering further or his desire for her might overcome him again. With his throat dry and his hands shaking, he placed a quick kiss on her neck before pulling himself off her and climbing out of bed; not once did she awaken during this. Pulling on his discarded nightshirt, cold from the floor, he stepped out from behind the bed's curtains and shivered; the room was freezing cold. Perplexed, he walked over to the fireplace, he was certain that the fire should have lasted long enough to keep the room warm in the morning.

Even though the floor was covered in carpets and heavy furs, its' cold still bit his feet. When he reached the fireplace, he reached his hand in and felt for the remaining embers; the log was warm, barely, but still. He wondered how the room could still be cold if the fire had barely died. Just as he was about to reach for one of the charred logs, he saw some of the ashes move; they had been blown away by a breeze. He looked over his shoulder at the source of the breeze and noticed the balcony door ever so slightly ajar. Had he left the door open? He was certain that he had fully closed it. However, perhaps he hadn't, and now his wife would have to awake to a cold bedroom.

Chastising himself, he got dressed and ready for the day's celebration before returning to his wife's bedside. Pulling the curtains away, he smiled down at her. He hated having to wake her from her peaceful slumber. Still, they had to attend the celebration together and so he reached down and gently shook his wife awake. "Wilhelmina, my love, it is time to awaken."

Will responded by writhing, stretching, and trying to shimmy further under the covers that pooled around her hips.

"No, my love, I said it was time to awaken." He chuckled and shook her again. Will finally opened one of her eyes and peeked up at her husband; a slight smile crept onto her lips before she registered the cold and realized that she lay in bed naked with only the blanket covering her hips. Her eyes shot open and her cheeks turn from their pink blush to a bright red; as quick as a squirrel, Will pulled the overs up to her neck and glared up at her husband.