Page 13 of Blackwarden

Rosalin

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So. Many. Books.

My small village library was tiny compared to this.

I didn’t know where to start. I wandered to the nearest shelf, letting my fingers drag along the spines at eye level.

After being trapped in a strange cycle of fear and sorrow, this seemed unreal.

I traced the letters on one of the spines with my index finger to prove to myself the books were truly there.

That this wasn’t some elaborate trick of dark magic.

Slipping one from the shelf, I lay the book open across my hand, lifting the pages to my nose and taking a deep breath.

It was musty earth and leather and the hint of vanilla.

My eyes slipped closed, shoulders sagging, as I relaxed for the first time since I’d been shoved into the carriage.

After what seemed like several minutes, I opened my eyes again and was thrust back into the moment.

As much as I would have loved to remain lost in the worlds these books had to offer, there was a strange hum of magic reminding me I couldn’t.

I was only passing through. I was in the library of the mysterious Gatehouse, the home of Keres, a Dark Fae. And I needed to get to work .

I took an inordinate amount of time reviewing the shelves of books before I began rummaging through the desk drawers, then the cupboards along the far wall, hoping I’d find something that might help me understand what exactly was going on in this place.

Every moment seemed strange, every detail just a little off.

And then there was Keres and his refusal to answer most of my questions.

It was almost as if he couldn’t answer them.

There was something bigger going on here and I needed to know if it was Dark Fae magic or something stronger.

The more I thought about it, the more I was certain there was a curse at work.

Whatever it was, there were too many questions Keres was unwilling to answer, and I needed to figure out why.

Even if what I found just confirmed my suspicions.

“What are you looking for?”

I jumped, smacking my head as I yanked it from one of the cupboards.

I wasn’t sure what I expected to find when I met Keres’ dark eyes.

Anger or confusion, but certainly not amusement.

Heat rose into my cheeks. I couldn’t figure him out.

One moment he was as cold as the black stone, the next he was endearing, soft, approachable.

“I’m uh...”

“I assure you, there’s nothing but dusty books and stationery down there,” he said, as he leaned against the arm of a nearby chair, dark eyes glittering with amusement.

But I already knew this. That’s exactly what I was looking for. A dusty book that would give me the answers he refused to share.

I stood up straight, mustering my bravery, which was more difficult than usual.

I hated to disturb the amicable friendliness growing between us, and I knew as soon as I said what I needed to I’d be staring at the cold Keres.

The one that scared me—the one who was not amused by my questions and didn’t have the patience to deal with a human.

I swallowed hard, hoping my bravery wouldn’t fail me.

“I’m trying to figure out this curse. ”

A flash of something crossed his face. Fear? I wasn’t sure, but he smothered it with a smirk.

“What makes you think there’s a curse?”

I swallowed the anger that sparked to life in my chest. We’d circled so many topics already with his evasiveness.

Why wouldn’t he just answer my questions?

My hands fell to my hips. I might have practiced more restraint if I’d taken the tightness in his jaw and the arch to his eyebrows more seriously.

But I was feeling particularly confident.

If I was going to be dragged to the Unseelie Court, I wanted to know everything.

“The magic of this place for one. Or maybe the way you dodge every question I’ve asked with another question. Or the way you leave without answering at all.” I glanced at the brazier before returning my gaze back to him. “It’s as if you aren’t allowed to answer.”

My suspicions were growing and only being confirmed by the way his eyes grew wide as he dropped his arms to his sides. He looked... terrified . Truly worried by the words tumbling from me.

And I loved it.

“Like someone has ordered you to keep me ignorant,” I said, as I took confident steps toward him, a smile on the edges of my lips. “Or they’ve made it so you can’t say certain things. Maybe it’s not a curse, but it’s something.”

I pushed past him, leaving him staring straight ahead at the cupboard, muscles tense in his shoulders.

I dared to glance back. His slender fingers pushed the cupboard door closed slowly, as though his limbs were encased in syrup.

I couldn’t stand to stay in that room another second.

I’d crack if he failed to answer any more of my questions, and a strange, simmering vengeful giddiness threatened to erupt from my skin if I didn’t remove myself from his presence that instant.

I rushed from the library, the only sound was my hurried steps on the stone tile as I forced my legs to walk and not run.

I needed to get back to the safety of my room before I said more.

The hall felt twice as long as usual, my heart pounding in my ears.

My salvation was the pesky brazier that always burned outside my door.

But as if I’d blinked and missed the moment it happened, he stepped from the shadows and leaned casually against my door.

He gazed down at his shoes, radiating with the swagger of a male who knew exactly how attractive he was.

“How...?”

He met my wide eyes with that sultry smirk of his. The one he wore when he was hiding behind his beautiful face. The light from the brazier gilded his obsidian horns and accentuated the sharp angle of his jaw.

“Come now, Ms. Greene,” he said, voice low and rough. “I don’t think we’re finished talking.”

My breath hitched. Where once I’d found him terrifying, now I choked on something far more dangerous.

My fingers itched to weave through his midnight hair and push the soft waves back from his eyes.

To follow the pointed tips of his ears. Desire, hot and wholly unwelcome, unfurled within me and pulsed through my veins.

My mouth went dry as my eyes followed the column of his throat down.

I wanted to trace his collar bones slowly with my lips, lingering at the base of his neck.

I ached to close the distance between us, to map the line that ran down the center of his chest with my tongue.

To feel his firm muscles beneath my fingers.

I shouldn’t want him.

And I hated myself for it.

I took in a sharp breath and tried to look away, but I couldn’t. I needed to, but the way his hands rested on his hips—elegant and effortless. Those hands. How would they feel gliding over my skin? Holding my arms over my head?

His pupils dilated, the smirk slipping from his lips as his body stiffened.

He could feel my emotions.

The heat that had been building in my core soared into my cheeks. The flicker of realization in his eyes terrified me more than anything else. He felt it all. Every. Terrifying. Desire. My hunger. My need .

My shame.

I rushed past him, ducking into the safety of my room and slamming the door before he could say another word.

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That night I didn’t go to dinner. I couldn’t sit at that table and feel his dark eyes slip along the lines of my face.

Not after the incident in the hall. My stomach bottomed out every time I thought of his voice, the golden light on his skin.

I needed to get my emotions under control or risk mortifying embarrassment every time I noticed his reaction to one of my wildly inappropriate emotions.

At the time, it seemed like a good idea, but it was nearly midnight, and my stomach wouldn’t stop grumbling.

I was genuinely curious if I could scrounge up a snack.

I had seen a door that looked like it led from the dining room into a kitchen of sorts.

Why else would a house have a kitchen if not to store and prepare food?

I snuck out of my suite, closing the door as quietly as I could. I glanced up at the brazier, burning as though it required no fuel other than the frustration seething in my chest. An ominous slowness to the flames froze me in place as I watched, uneasiness settling around me like heavy shadows.

I cleared my throat. “I’m hungry, okay?” I had never felt so judged in all my life and by a house no less.

I slipped down the hall and around the corner to the main corridor.

Keres had warned me that I needed to stay in my room after midnight.

But it wasn’t quite midnight, and I’d be quick.

Plus, he hadn’t exactly explained why I needed to stay in my room after midnight.

Perhaps there was some monster that stalked these halls at night.

Perhaps he stalked the halls at night. I shivered but didn’t turn back.

I hadn’t been aware of the stillness that smothered everything once the sun set.

If I thought the Gatehouse was creepy during the day, the all-encompassing silence that cloaked the entire mansion after midnight, was downright foreboding.

Most houses offered some hint of the outside world—the wind, the chirp of insects, the familiar trappings of night.

The Gatehouse, however, was the purest form of suffocating quiet.

It made every breath I took sound four times louder.