Page 23

My elbow clipped the shelf, and ancient tomes tumbled like dominoes in a thunderous cascade, shattering the heavy silence of the library in a single, echoing breath.

The potion’s effect dissolved like frost under morning sun. I materialized before Samael’s widening eyes, first as a shimmer of outline, then fully corporeal—a pale girl with wild eyes clutching her satchel as if it were a weapon.

"Little Raven," he breathed, and there was something in his voice—surprise, yes, but also a note of satisfaction, as if I’d confirmed a theory he’d long held.

His eyes darkened as he took a measured step toward me, effectively caging me between the shelves.

"I was just—I didn’t mean to—" A firm hand shot to my throat. I dropped my satchel and brought my hands to his. Samael’s grip tightened just enough to remind me of the danger in his embrace, yet his voice carried a teasing lilt.

"Spying on me again, are we?" he murmured, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and something far more unsettling.

I swallowed hard, my pulse thrumming in my ears as I tried to steady my breath despite the terror and unexpected allure pulsing through my veins. "I—I wasn’t," I stammered, my voice wavering between defiance and vulnerability. "I... just happened to be here."

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his hand remained firm on my throat—not in anger, but as if savoring the moment.

"You seem to have a knack for being in the wrong place at the right time," he replied, his tone both dangerous and undeniably alluring.

The air between us thickened, charged with an electric tension that belied the threat. His gaze lingered on me, a silent acknowledgment of the risk I was taking—and perhaps, the thrill of it.

“Tell me, little raven,” he whispered again, the words curling like smoke between us—soft, deliberate, dangerous. “Do you fear the shadows that surround you… or the one within?”

His nearness radiated heat, a magnetic pull that stole the breath from my lungs. Terror fluttered in my chest, but beneath it—coiled and undeniable—was the ache of something darker. A thrill. A hunger.

“Maybe I fear both,” I said, my tone steadier than I felt, edged with defiance… and something that might have been flirtation. “But I’ll admit—there’s something alluring about the mystery of the dark.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, the gleam in them deepening from amusement to something far more dangerous. He let out a low, mirthless chuckle that vibrated through the space between us.

“Ah,” he murmured, stepping closer. “So you welcome it.”

His voice dipped into something velvet and wicked, a purr that shivered along my spine.

“Careful, little raven. Darkness can be... intoxicating.”

I shifted against the bookshelf, the press of wood behind me as solid as his presence before me. The scattered tomes at our feet whispered of disruption, of lines crossed.

“And what if I find it…” I met his gaze fully, breath catching. “… irresistible ?”

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the space between us—danger and desire intertwined in every word and every lingering touch. His fingers grazed lightly at my wrist, sending a jolt of heat through my veins, and I dared to imagine what secrets lay beneath the veneer of threat and allure.

Samael’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile as his grip eased—just enough to blur the line between restraint and invitation. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over the shell of my ear, voice barely more than a dark whisper.

“Then perhaps,” he murmured, every word laced with implication, “you’ll come to understand… that surrender doesn’t always mean losing yourself.”

The charged silence that followed was both a promise and a warning, leaving me teetering on the edge between fear and forbidden attraction.

In that fragile moment, I realized that the line between safety and danger was as blurred as the shadows that concealed us, and I found myself inexplicably drawn to the peril that was Samael.

His thumb traced a slow, deliberate path along my jaw, leaving heat in its wake—each inch a silent claim.

“What were you searching for in these dusty tomes, Elvana?” he asked, his voice low and edged with velvet menace. “Ancient secrets? Forgotten power? Or perhaps—” his eyes dropped to the pendant resting against my throat, “—answers about your family’s legacy?”

I stiffened, the words cutting too close. The Raven’s Echo throbbed with warmth against my skin, a silent warning I ignored.

“My family is none of your concern,” I said, forcing the words out with a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I tried to inject defiance into my voice—but it was fraying at the edges.

Samael leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, his breath threading through me like smoke.

“Everything about you concerns me, little raven,” he murmured. “More than you could possibly understand.”

A shiver tore through me—unbidden, undeniable. His presence wove around me like a spell, dark and electric. And despite everything… I didn’t want to break it.

“The Vale artifacts,” he continued, his voice barely a breath, brushing against my skin like smoke. “You’ve started piecing it together, haven’t you? The truth behind their purpose… a puzzle centuries in the making.”

My eyes widened before I could stop myself. That flash of triumph in his gaze told me he saw it—sensed it.

“I thought as much,” he murmured, dark satisfaction curling through his tone. “Tell me what you know.”

“And why would I do that?” I shot back, my voice sharper now, trying to carve space between us—even as his touch made it impossible.

His fingers eased further from my throat, trailing a slow, deliberate path to my collarbone. He stopped just above the Raven’s Echo, hovering. Not touching—but close enough that I could feel the magic stirring beneath my skin.

The amulet pulsed—warm, restless, almost alert.

“This pendant,” Samael whispered, his tone so soft it wrapped around me like silk, “it speaks to you, doesn’t it?”

His breath skimmed the edge of my jaw, every word laced with knowing.

“Has it warned you yet,” he asked, “about the game you’re playing?”

He paused, the space between his fingers and the amulet aching with tension.

“Or the death that’s waiting at the end of it?”

“I’m not afraid of you, Samael. You can’t threaten me,” I said—more to myself than him. The words slipped from my lips unevenly, like I wasn’t sure they belonged.

“I’ve told you,” he murmured, tilting his head just slightly. “Call me Sam.”

“Sam,” I repeated, and it tasted like surrender. One syllable, and yet it felt like a key turning in the wrong lock.

“What do you want with the artifacts? With me?”

He didn’t answer right away. He simply looked at me, as if peeling back every layer I’d tried to keep hidden. The firelight filtering through the shelves cast shifting bars of shadow across his face, making him seem carved from two timelines—one impossibly old, the other achingly young.

“Maybe,” he said at last, his voice low and worn, “I only want to prevent a tragedy.”

His gaze dropped briefly to the Raven’s Echo.

“The artifacts were never meant to be brought together. Your ancestors knew this. That’s why they scattered them—why they buried them.”

But even as he spoke, the Raven’s Echo stirred—warm against my skin, pulsing like a heartbeat caught between panic and revelation.

“He speaks half-truths, Elvana,” it whispered, low and curling inside my mind like smoke . “The darkness in him runs deeper than you know.”

“And yet you and Edric were discussing finding them,” I said, the words sharper now—strengthened by the warmth of the amulet pressing firm against my chest. Its warning still thrummed in my blood.

A flicker passed across Samael’s face—surprise, maybe, or the barest crack in his composure. His hand dropped from my throat at last, but he didn’t move away. His presence alone kept me pinned, his shadow wrapping around me like a cage.

“Clever girl,” he murmured, and this time there was something almost real in his voice. Admiration, reluctant and undeniable. “You heard more than I thought.”

“I tend to,” I shot back, “when people are scheming about my family’s legacy.”

A soft laugh escaped him—quiet, unexpected, edged with something unspoken. Almost gentle. Almost.

“Not scheming, little raven,” he said, voice low. “ Protecting. ”

But the softness was gone in an instant—his expression sobering, the shadows around him seeming to tighten.

“I don’t believe you,” I said, my breath steady even as my heart raced. “I think you’re planning something dangerous.”

He didn’t deny it.

And I didn’t flinch.

He stepped back, finally allowing me space to breathe, though the absence of his nearness left me with an unexpected chill.

“That depends entirely on what you discover next,” he said, cryptic as ever, stooping to gather my fallen satchel with unhurried grace.

“ Power is seductive ,” he continued, voice dropping to a velvet whisper as he knelt before me. “Be careful which secrets you chase, Elvana. Some are better left buried.”

The way he said my name—slow, deliberate—sent a tremor through me that had nothing to do with fear.

He stood, holding my satchel in one hand. As I reached for it, his fingers caught my wrist—firm, sudden. He pulled me toward him in one smooth motion, his body close, breath warm against the curve of my ear.

“And Elvana?” he murmured, each word sinking like a hook beneath my skin. “Next time you decide to eavesdrop… leave the invisibility potion at home.”

He lingered just long enough to let the pause stretch, then added with quiet amusement,

“The scent of lavender and rose oil makes it impossible not to notice you.”