Page 21 of Blackwarden

Rosalin

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He didn’t come to dinner and every second it took me to choke down the stew and bread I’d conjured from the stupid Gatehouse magic was agony.

His empty chair mocked me. I knew his absence was my fault.

I took a sip of wine and lost myself in the liquid as it sloshed against the sides, running in long threads down the inside of the glass.

It reminded me of the blood that had run down Keres’ pristine skin.

“Fuck.”

I was trying to calm my racing heart as I made the decision not to finish my pathetic dinner.

I needed to find him. I needed to make sure he was okay.

I’d done this to him. I’d tried to break his silence, only to realize—too late—that whatever this curse was held him in its vicious claws.

It wasn’t me that was cursed. It was him.

I was just collateral damage from some strange agreement made centuries ago to end a war.

I didn’t waste any more time, walking as fast as I could without hyperventilating, the braziers springing to life as I made my way down the hall.

There was a buzz of energy rippling through the Gatehouse.

Something was wrong. Everything seemed lighter even though the sun had already set.

It wasn’t until I’d made it to the last door on the right that I realized why— there were no shadows.

With a shaking hand I knocked. There was no response. I bit my lower lip and waited a few seconds before knocking again and pressing my ear against the door to catch any sound on the other side.

Nothing.

“Fuck.” I spun a lock of hair around my index finger, trying to take deep breaths to calm my racing heart. What if he... I shook the thought away and tried the handle. It was locked. I hadn’t expected it to be otherwise.

“Keres?” I called through the door. “Are you in there?”

The silence that surrounded me was darker than any of his shadows. A tremble crept into my hands as I tried to press my fear into submission, wishing I had the cloak he’d conjured for me so I could pull it around my shoulders.

“Keres. Please talk to me. I just need to know if you’re alright.”

It sounded like something fell off a shelf and rumbled across the floor. I yanked at the handle wishing maybe I hadn’t turned it hard enough, but it was definitely locked.

“Keres? Are you okay?”

Nothing.

I looked up to the rafters. “Can you help me?” I asked the Gatehouse. I was desperate. “Can you unlock the door?”

Heavy, uneven footsteps were both a blessing and a concern. If Keres was anything, it was graceful. I don’t think I’d ever heard him walking through the Gatehouse before. He was silent, perfectly attuned to his surroundings with his shadows doing the rest.

The door slowly swung in, and my breath caught fast in my throat.

A rather haggard looking Dark Fae struggled to stand on the other side of that door.

He was so much paler, which seemed impossible with how pale he usually was.

His eyes were sunken and hollow. He looked half dead, and yet, he was still gorgeous.

A flash of frustration ran through me at how he could look so beautiful when he was in such terrible shape.

“I’m fine, Rosalin.” His voice was flat and empty. His eyes found mine and immediately slipped to my lips, a strange hunger growing in his expression as he tried to stand up straighter. “I’m sorry to have worried you.”

He apologized? Keres?

I pried my eyes from his face and focused on the room behind him.

It was so... bright. That wasn’t like Keres.

He surrounded himself with black and darkness.

His magic was literally made of shadows.

How many times had I seen him materialize from them?

Surely the fact that his suite was flooded with light was a terrible sign.

“Where are your shadows?” I shouldn’t have asked. I knew better but it left my mouth before I could stop it.

His eyes rolled, before he braced himself hard against the doorframe, shoulders curving forward with exhaustion. “I shouldn’t have...” He seemed to stumble over his words. “I shouldn’t...”

“Stop.” I pressed my hand to his chest as if this would stop him from responding. “Don’t. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have asked.”

He looked down at my hand, head dipping in slow motion before he looked back up at me, agony in his eyes. I didn’t know if he was mad I’d touched him, or if there was something else about my hand on his chest that caused him pain.

“I’m fine—” He stumbled against the door frame, and I reached to help keep him from falling, but I wasn’t strong enough.

Instead, we both slid to the floor in a pile of tangled limbs, his head resting against mine.

I couldn’t move, frozen in place as my stomach bottomed out, heat building in my cheeks as I stared at his closed eyes.

My arms were threaded under his and around his waist, the muscles of his back firm beneath my fingers.

So close. The scent of him seemed to wrap around my throat and squeeze.

After a few seconds, which felt both eternally long and not nearly long enough, he pulled his head back from mine, a withered smile turning up his lips.

“Your infernal questions, Ms. Greene.”

I couldn’t help it, a short laugh popped from my mouth as he lay his head on my shoulder with his lips nearly touching my neck. Mother save me, being this close to him melted any coherent thoughts from my brain.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said.

His soft breath on my neck was maddening.

Goosebumps rippled down my arms at the deep rumble of his voice.

I needed to think of something other than how close he was.

I tried counting to ten, tried focusing on the light in his room.

I tried to think of what I was going to have for breakfast the following day.

I tried anything to pretend there wasn’t a gorgeous Dark Fae essentially laying on me, clearly in need of assistance because of what I had put him through.

But it was impossible to ignore that his hands were slowly moving up my back.

“It is my fault,” I said. “I shouldn’t ask so many stupid questions.” I swallowed my nerves, trying to calm the trembling that was returning to my hands, to will my heart to stop racing.

“I want you to ask me all your questions.” His voice was a tight whisper. “I want all of your curiosity.”

Fuck, this was impossible. I tried to push the wanting that was boiling deep in my stomach away, but the way his voice curled around me sent a swarm of butterflies loose in my chest. I wanted his lips to slowly climb their way up my neck to my mouth.

The need to pull him against me was overwhelming.

I squeezed my eyes closed trying to focus on anything but how the quiet of the Gatehouse was so complete, it made every ragged breath he took sound twice as loud.

“I want you...” I thought perhaps he’d failed to finish his sentence, but then he said it again. “I want you...so badly, it’s agony. ”

Then, he bit my neck. Hard . The sharp spark of pain ripping a gasp from my throat as one of his hands crept around the back of my head and clutched my hair in a greedy fist. I was trapped between his mouth and his hand, my entire body frozen as my blood turned molten.

He pulled me tight against him with surprising strength, kissing up my neck and over my chin to my lips exactly as I’d wanted, as if he’d plucked the desire from my soul.

His kiss was hungry, devouring the last shreds of my self-restraint.

I lost myself to the warmth of his hands as his tongue explored, vicious and claiming.

I’d never been kissed like this, with a passion so complete my entire being ignited.

Every nerve in my body was alive and begging for more of his touch, begging for his hands to be on my skin, his tongue, all of him.

He moaned into my mouth before he pulled my lower lip between his sharp teeth and bit me again, the sting of his bite so delicious.

I managed to free one of my arms and threaded my fingers through his hair as I kissed him again.

His lips were impossibly soft, impossibly warm, the taste of him was intoxicating. .. fuck . I was losing myself.

He pulled away abruptly, eyes wide with fear, every muscle in his body tight with some nameless agony.

“Keres?”

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head and pushed himself back from me. “I’m...I’m not permitted...”

“It’s okay.” My confidence shattered seeing him scramble to get further away from me. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No...” He slumped on the floor, rolling to his back and covering his eyes with his hands.

I slid closer, trying to make sure he was okay, but also because I couldn’t be so far away from him. Not yet. He was in pain, and I hated it. More than if it was my own pain. He shook his head from side to side, his horns smacking the floor and making a horrendous clanking noise.

“No, Rosalin, I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for? ”

“I’m out of time. We’re out of time,” he gasped, his body tightening.

“Out of time for what? What’s going on?”

“I have to finish it in two days.”

“Finish what?”

His arms fell hard against the floor, as he stared at the ceiling, dark eyes wide. I thought he’d passed out, or maybe I’d asked another question he couldn’t answer.

“I have to finish your portrait in two days.”

His entire body tensed. With horror I realized he’d probably just said something he wasn’t supposed to. The words, not just the shape of them on his lips. For an agonizing moment he was rigid, his face pinched in pain before he went limp, another line of blood running from his nose.