Page 66 of In The Dark

He whirls me back down, pinning me beneath him with startling force as he hovers over me. His body presses into mine, my shoulder wedged tightly beneath his chest, my head resting on his forearm. He traps me in place, pinning me with ease. The weight of him makes it clear that I won’t be escaping.

The air thickens in the space between us when his brows lower. Something in his gaze changes when his pupils dilate, swallowing the vivid blue of his irises until they’re nearly black. A look I’ve never seen before, yet I find myself completely mesmerized by it.

His eyes slowly shift to my lips, lingering in a way that leaves me to believe he could devour me right here. I expect my fear to rise, perhaps the need to push him away. Instead, gazing at him only fuels the fire beneath my skin as it roars to life. His eyes lift slowly as if savoring the sight of me.

“Yellow… orange… a morning sunrise,” he murmurs after a moment, breaking the silence, but my brows pinch in confusion.

“What?” I ask on a breath.

“I never knew what my favorite color was until I ran into you at the Painted Bird, rewriting everything I thought I knew about beauty,” he says quietly, my breath hitching at the confession. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes quite like yours. You quite literally took my breath away.” A small smile.

“Are you going to let me go?” I ask softly, but even as the words leave my lips, a small part of me hopes the answer is no.

He lightly brushes a strand off my face, his gaze pinning me in place. After a few quiet breaths between us, his arm lifts, allowing me the opportunity to get up.

But I don’t move—I can’t.

It’s as if all sensibility escapes me while I remain frozen in place. My heart beats wildly in my chest, my mind racing as he hovers over me. I know I should get up and push him away, but I don’t, and the desire to kiss him—to pull him back down—claws at me as I struggle with the decision.

Pride keeps me in place.

I’m suddenly torn between wanting more and refusing to let him know how badly I want him. Even though I know he can sense it. My breaths become uneven as I decide—kiss him or get up.

His eyes search mine, calculating, as if daring me to make a choice. I hate choices, especially when it comes to emotions. Yet the tension between us simmers, waiting for one of us to shatter it.

But he’s right. I’m too stubborn.

My eyes flick to his mouth before I quickly shuffle out from under him, leaving him alone in the bed. He lets out a low chuckle, putting his weight onto his elbow and resting his head in his palm, glancing at me.

There’s no mistaking the heat between us. But is that all it is? A spark, something temporary? Or is it more? Perhaps that’s all it is for him, but for me—I’m currently pining for the king of Aurelia, and I think that’s more terrifying than any mission I’ve ever been on.What is wrong with me?

“Get out,” I demand, putting distance between us as my back hits the wall. Then he reaches for me. “Get out,” I repeat with more force this time.

I’m not explaining myself because I can’t. I close my eyes, urging him to leave before I make a really foolish, impulsive decision. And it’s not because I don’t want to, but because it frightens me.Hefrightens me.

And although I want to cross that line with him, doing so would feel as if I’m accepting my role as heir of Aurelia.

A role I’m not quite ready to accept yet.

My eyes remain closed when I hear the soft whooshing sound, the only indication that he’s left my chambers. The room feels empty, much colder than it was just moments ago. My eyes open on an exhale, scanning my chambers only to land on a piece of parchment lying on the table near the door.

A black orchid lies atop the paper just as it starts to bloom, the only flower in Elderheim that blooms at dawn during the colder months—deadly and typically found in the castle’s courtyard. Or if you’re adventurous, the northern woods. It tugs at me, realizing that he must have plucked it when he was walking the castle last night.

I glance down, eyeing what looks to be a sketch of myself sleeping in the settee before the fire. My heart stops at the sight of it.

He somehow caught the warm ambient lighting from the fire, soft shadows casting across my face, my cheek propped against my knuckles. He captured the way my lashes lay, drawing every freckle on my face, even the solo one beneath my right eye. My lips are slightly parted as I hold my whiskey glass in my right hand, resting in my lap. He’s captured me, just as a mirror would.

And I look peaceful—beautiful, even.

I find myself wondering how late he stayed up to sketch me before carrying me to bed, suddenly feeling guilty for kicking him out. If his goal was to make me feel bad, it worked.

I dress quickly, knowing that I have to find him and mentally kick myself because we need to formulate a plan on how to get into the archives.

Only I wasn’t thinking about that when I kicked him out, too flustered at the thought of him being so close. I’m fully aware that he won’t come back unless I invite him—not from the wards, but out of respect for giving me space.

As I go to rush out the door, my hand stalls on the knob, remembering that I was able to communicate with him throughthe Veil last night. I lean against the door with a huff, wanting to try before I decide to travel in the cold. No need to waste precious time if I can reach him through the Veil.

I close my eyes, searching. Feeling for the warmth that accompanies me when I touch the edges of the Veil. Then I feel the coolness of his presence, the earthy scent of oakmoss flooding me as the spot behind my eyes tingles.