Page 14

Sylph.

That was my name. That was my designation, my honorific. All the world knew me, and there was never a world in which I wasn’t known. All my life, I knew exactly who I was. And even when I was alone, I knew there were others. Sylphs had always been, always were, and we… they lived forever.

A rift existed within me where I once existed. A chasm where I had been stolen. A well now filled with an overflow of misery. Containing the tide was like holding together a fracturing dam with bare hands. A lesson in futility.

A voice like the distant rumble of thunder drew me from the mire of my thoughts. “You know, I must admit, I’m astounded at how quickly you’re learning.” Mavros had met me in the library each afternoon for the past few days, instructing me on the basics of letters.

“Careful, my lord, that edged close to a compliment.” Our eyes met, and I noted the dilation of his pupils. His irises were riveting. Like living flames staring back at me from a black canvas. My cheeks prickled with heat under the intensity of his gaze.

He scoffed, a rumbling growl of a sound, as he sat back in his chair. His mouth quirked as he watched me. “I’ve never given a compliment in my life. I don’t think I’ll start now.”

Prince Mavros had a way of watching me that went beyond my comprehension.

Something about him I’d noticed in the past week of our interactions was not only the inherent predatory grace of his movement, but the effort he put into his gentleness as if he weren’t familiar with the concept.

Despite my initial reservations, I studied him, the lethal grace of his movement and the threat of primal power contained in his imposing form.

He could snatch a falling book in the blink of an eye in the same way a snake might snatch a bird from the trees.

But he was also tender in regard to me. He pulled out my chair when I arrived, and he remained close to answer questions as I studied.

And the touches—fleeting yet inducing shivers down my spine.

His pinky nudging mine as we exchanged papers.

His massive warm hand enveloping mine as he showed me how to hold a pen.

The way his chest grazed my back when he stood behind me to observe my progress.

His tail brushing my ankle under the table.

Rarer even, a claw, barely there, tickling my cheek as he tucked my hair behind my ear.

The threat of those claws sent a ripple of instinctive panic through my guts, and an incomprehensible flood of molten heat to my core.

A persistent throb behind my navel and lower between my thighs bullied me in the hours I benefited from his lessons.

“Right, no one else can live up to your intellect, is that it?” I forgot about the paper, idly running my finger in senseless circles over the page. Shadow-altered birds flit by the open windows. A refreshingly cool breeze infiltrated the library, dampening the obscure tension between my hips.

“Do you ever see anyone else in this gods-forsaken library?” He waved a dismissive hand.

“I have it on good authority you’ve barred the castle attendants from interrupting.” I smirked when he side-eyed me.

“Don’t listen to the imps. They don’t know what they’re talking about,” Mavros grumbled almost petulantly.

A peal of laughter bubbled past my libs.

Still an unusual sensation, but one that lessened the weight of my past. The beast prince grinned at me, the fluffy tip of his tail swishing over the floor, and a pointed ear twitching as I laughed.

“I don’t think so. I quite like the imps.” Silly creatures, but loyal and inquisitive. They provided an entertaining start to each morning. I appreciated the energy they brought that overshadowed the residual stain of my dreams .

“Let’s continue.” Mavros rolled his eyes, pointing at the paper, long finger and sharp, curved claw tracing over the lines of the letters. He was explaining the varying sounds the specific character made in combination with others. I was staring at his hands.

Mavros wore rings. Some thick and heavy, some thin, some bearing a single matte jewel.

His digits weren’t appallingly thick; perfectly long to match the size of his palm.

Sometimes I wondered if his hands were as large as my face.

He was massive, and I never noticed it more than when he held my hand and helped me trace a word.

Then the oddest sensation would overcome me when he did, a pressing tension deep in my stomach.

Sometimes when he lingered, his warmth seeping into me and his presence fogging my senses, I found myself shifting in my seat to relieve it. Knees pressed together, thighs flexed to halt it, then hips rocking unconsciously as his woodsy scent drowned everything else and my body sought… something.

The dreams didn’t help. At night I fluctuated between nightmares of a red-clad hunter chasing me to exhaustion, then tripping into visions of Mavros in my bed with me.

I had no human perspective on why I might dream such a thing.

Yet I woke some mornings eerily aware of his lingering scent on my sheets and the tingling ghost of a touch on my skin.

Insensate heat itched under my skin, and my concentration slipped through my fingers. Mavros spoke, words going in one ear and out the other with only his deep baritone penetrating through to my bones. The rumbling sound of it lulled me.

“Astoria?”

I jolted.

Right, that was my name now.

“Yes?” I answered.

“Are you paying attention?” He lowered the pen and angled in his seat to face me. His slow perusal made my heart skip several dangerous beats. “Though I suppose we’ve been at it for several hours. You must be tired.”

“I think I am.” And I was. Always so tired or succumbing to dreams even while awake. Always, always dreaming. A tired smile rose on my lips as we reached my favorite part of our new routine. “Will you reward me with a story, then?”

Starting our second night of lessons, Mavros said that listening to someone reading might help my understanding.

No one had ever read to me before and I told him as such.

He faltered, struck with confusion before collecting himself and offering to regal me with his favorites.

Each night since then, we moved from the large table in the sequestered corner of the library to a plush couch near the fireplace.

The prince would summon a bottle of wine.

I would sit on the cushions across from him or on the floor by the fire, and for hours, and hours, until the light faded, and night invaded the sky, he would read aloud .

An hour later I finished my second glass of wine, head pleasantly fuzzy.

Mavros’ alluring voice droned on, reading through a book about Infernus history.

A helpful insight into the world I found myself in.

But despite the subtle affinity growing between us, the separation of our lives and our pasts rose to the surface.

Some whisper-soft part of me wanted to trust Mavros.

I knew he was withholding his questions, but I couldn’t contain mine any longer.

“Why?” Barely a breath, a whisper, almost hindered by the soft crackle of the fire. Mavros paused, setting the book on his lap. He cocked his head, silently seeking clarification with an arched brow.

“I still don’t understand why you’ve taken me in.

Or why you’re helping me or teaching me to read?

” I twisted the stem between my fingers.

The remaining droplet of burgundy liquid caught the firelight, gleaming like a ruby as it rolled in circles.

“You say you are obligated to care for those in your realm, but I don’t see every living thing in Infernus claiming a room in the castle. I can’t make sense of it.”

“If you haven’t realized why, then I’m not sure what to say.” The hidden meaning in his words and the darkening in his eyes knotted something loose in my stomach. I swallowed over a forming lump in my throat.

A brittle breath followed. A second stretching into a fathomless eternity .

“You’re very lenient with me.” I picked at nonexistent lint on my rose-pink gossamer dress of the day. The black clad beast next to me sat as a dark contrast, like my own personal shadow.

“Is that right?” The darkly teasing amusement in his voice had me clenching my thighs.

“Compared to the imps and other servants, yes.” I huffed. “Should I start being more careful? Should I tiptoe around you as they do?”

“You have nothing to worry about with me, Astoria.” His gravelly tone traveled over my skin in enticing ripples. I suppressed a shudder.

“And my freedom. Why am I free when my first night here the cat mentioned the dungeon? I am a stranger. An oddity in your world. Why not put me away, never to be seen again?”

“Domovoy always suggests the dungeons.”

“Does it not seem like special treatment? I don’t understand why you don’t set rules for me, why you let me roam at my leisure, or why you went from roaring about eating meat to caving to my dietary preferences. You could have locked me up.”

“But I didn’t.”

My features pinched as I glared at him.

“You might not believe me, but I…” He trailed off.

Firelight reflected in his eyes as he gazed into the hearth.

Sitting right beside me yet far away. I set down my glass and scooched across the cushions to close the gap between us.

He sucked in a breath when my thigh pressed to his. “I have a co nnection to Earth.”

I gasped. He didn’t look like any creature from my world, and I was ancient. Though I didn’t know my age, I knew that I was very old. As old as the stars and the moon. There was no way—

“I see you aren’t convinced.” An uneasy chuckle followed. He set the book on a side table and adjusted himself, half facing me on the couch with an arm slung over the back. It made our closeness suddenly more intimate.

A fog billowed in, blurring the lines. Defenses lowered as the air grew heavier. An unseen thread knotted around my ribs and tugged me forward. Warmth suffused my skin when a clawed finger dipped to my shoulder and lifted my hair behind me. I choked down a gasp and bit my tongue.

“In fairness, I don’t know much of anything.

” I don’t know when I moved, but I’d lifted onto my leg and turned into him.

“I know that on Earth there aren’t any humans as generous as you’ve been with me.

A new wardrobe, free range of a castle, and taking time from your busy schedule to teach me to read.

You’ve been good to me, and I appreciate that. But it doesn’t make sense.”

His thumb lazily stroked over my shoulder as I spoke. Quivering energy raced under my skin in the wake of his touch. My core throbbed and my nipples peaked against the thin dress.

“You don’t know the rules of Infernus or how dangerous the Inferni can be.

Outside of these walls, life is a constant struggle.

For power, for respect, for submission. It’s life or death for many.

I couldn’t subject you to that when I had the means to protect you.

” Mavros’ wandering hand paused, fingers at the base of my throat.

He was so close, so warm, encompassing all my senses.

His woodsy scent, the sound of his voice and his breath, the fire in his eyes.

I wanted to burrow into his body and seek shelter in the cocoon of his ribs.

“I’ve always protected others,” I admitted. A magical, undeniable compulsion. Woven into the fiber of my being came the knowledge to safeguard my forest and those who inhabited it. Perhaps he was the same.

I turned my head away.

His hand caught my chin, firm yet gentle, as he tipped my face up.

A breath vented from me, and he breathed it in.

Mavros lowered his head, and my eyes dropped to his mouth, his thin lips, his tusks curving up.

Close enough to imagine the gap vanishing.

Close enough to feel the impression of his mouth against mine.

“Then perhaps it’s time for someone else to protect you,” he said. His eyes closed as he leaned in.

I tore myself from the couch. Heart pounding, blood moving sluggishly in my veins, and mind full of static, I stumbled away. The wine slowed my movement and fatigue worsened it, but a sudden flood of energy carried me back .

“Thank… thank you for reading to me. Goodnight, my lord.” I dipped my head, catching his hand drop to his lap in a tight-knuckled fist before I spun on my heel. I didn’t hear his response as I fled from the tension attempting to suction me back into the shadows, into the heat, into the unknown.