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Chapter

Forty-Two

The evening air was alive with a gentle hum of music and conversation, a symphony of voices blending into a pleasant backdrop.

Amid the chatter, one question seemed to be on everyone’s lips: where are they?

Despite the success of the evening, I couldn’t help but be reminded as to the reason that we were all here.

After showing Oz and Kadian a brief tour of the ballroom and surrounding areas, I decided to seek solace in the library.

I left them on a balcony and made my way downstairs, gathering a plate of food before descending to the calm sanctuary.

Tura, ever the diligent librarian, was stationed at her post. “Library’s closed,” she yelled.

Her presence was a comfort amidst the evening’s chaos.

“Just checking to make sure that is truly the case,” I said.

“What are you doing here?” she asked with a mixture of surprise and curiosity as she lifted her gaze to greet me.

“I thought you might be hungry,” I said, offering her the plate of food.

“I know Alvar is the one who usually brings you food, and he’s your favorite…”

She waved me off with a dismissive gesture.

“I like you just as much now,” she grabbed the plate and began eating.

“Tura, do you mind if I ask how long you’ve worked here?”

“I’m the second librarian to have worked in the House of Shadows,” she said proudly while taking a bite of lemon tart.

“And I will remain at my post until the end.”

“Until the end?” I echoed, puzzled by the cryptic note in her words.

She nodded, a strange, somber light in her eyes.

“Thank you for the food, dear,” she said, placing her hand on mine in a rare gesture of warmth.

Just then, I heard the distant shuffling of footsteps.

“Have you been letting people into the library?” I teased.

“When Alvar explicitly told me to tell you not to.”

A tight tug found Tura’s lips.

“Other than you, only one has found their way here tonight. He’s wandering around the third floor,” she said, raising her voice, an unfamiliar edge to it.

“Making more noise than he should as he shouldn’t be here in the first place.”

Cocking an eyebrow, I began to ask who she was speaking to but stopped short when I felt a familiar tickle on my leg.

My shadows, drawn to me, began their usual playful dance, curling up my legs and climbing my arms.

“Hello to you too,” I said as they wove their way to my neck.

Tura’s face paled, and she began to retreat.

“Tura? Are you alright?”

“Yes, dear, I’m fine,” she said hurriedly, stepping back into the stacks behind her desk.

“Thank you again for the plate. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I watched her go, puzzled.

My shadows, however, were growing increasingly restless, hissing and moving with greater urgency.

One of them leaped from my shoulder and onto the floor, guiding me towards the stairs.

“That isn’t the exit, and I need to get back upstairs,” I said, but they hissed louder as if insisting.

“Fine,” I muttered, following the path they were setting for me.

The shadowy guides continued to lead me, directing me to a part of the library I had never seen before.

The room was warm and inviting, resembling a cozy cabin with a fireplace and leather furniture.

A large window framed the evening sky, the view as beautiful as ever.

So they do have windows here .

In front of the window stood a figure in a black suit, back turned to me.

His posture was rigid, and I could see the strength and tension in his stance even from behind.

“What are you doing here, Brida?” he asked without turning.

“How…” I began, surprised by his presence.

“Jasmine and vanilla,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with an edge of sadness.

I moved to stand beside him, the moonlight casting a soft glow over his features, highlighting the depth of his distress.

The night sky stretched out before us, a stark contrast to the turmoil within the library.

“What are you doing here, Brida?” he asked again, his voice carrying a note of both weariness and curiosity.

“Back to calling me Brida, I see,” I said.

He turned towards me with a smoldering intensity that set fire to his eyes.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.

“I suppose it’s rather inappropriate for me to have an affectionate nickname for you when I am to be chained to another.” His voice was formal—something I had never heard from him before.

“I ask you again, what are you doing here?”

“The shadows led me here,” I replied, my voice tinged with frustration and fatigue.

I raised my arm to show him the shadow that had slithered up me once more.

“They insisted,” I said.

Dainan took a step closer, his hand reaching out with a tentative grace.

He held my hand, the warmth of his touch sending shivers up my arm.

The shadow inspected him before slipping from my wrist to curl around his arm.

“It likes you,” I said with a nervous laugh, but the silence that followed felt heavy.

“I tried to leave, but it demanded that I find you first,” I gestured to the shadow.

He nodded, his gaze drifting back to the window.

I could sense his struggle to maintain control, a battle I knew all too well.

“I never asked you,” I said, trying to bridge the silence, “what is your favorite book?” I caught the slight curve of his lips, a fleeting smirk that seemed to soften his stern demeanor.

“I have many,” he admitted, “but if I were forced to choose,” he met my gaze, “I think I would choose Vietta .”

I cleared my throat:

“ Amidst the boundless span, love's flame shall stay,

Neither time nor space can quench its fervent ray.

Though skies may weep and oceans wildly roar,

Their souls, united, bask in love's sweet lore. ”

He looked at me, astonished.

“What can I say,” I said, holding his gaze, “I love the classics.” I smiled as his eyes remained wide, a silent acknowledgment of our shared passion.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a lover of plays,” I continued, moving to one of the leather wingback chairs.

I propped my feet up on the ottoman, trying to ease the tension that crackled between us.

“And what do you think would be my preferred genre?” he asked, following me and sitting beside the chair, appearing unbothered by the proximity.

“Something dark.” I chuckled, “Maybe a murder mystery.” His smirk widened.

“I’m a bit deeper than that,” he said, his tone laced with a hint of vulnerability he seldom shared.

“Not that many around here would know it.”

I felt a pang of sympathy.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my eyes locking with his.

“It must be very difficult to feel that you are not seen for who you are.”

His expression softened, a rare glimpse of his inner self.

“How do you see me?” His fingers began to trace along my shin, and I was taken aback by the ease with which my body responded to his touch.

For a fleeting moment, I wondered if this intimacy had ever felt this natural with Cyria.

Were they mates?

“I think that is a dangerous question, given what is going on upstairs,” I said, emerging from my thoughts as his hand continued its slow, deliberate journey up my leg.

“Fuck,” he murmured, pulling his hand away and pacing the room, his agitation palpable.

“I can’t do this, Brida.” His frustration was evident as he ran a hand through his hair.

“No one is?—”

“I can’t do this when you are here, and you fucking smell the way you do,” he said, his expression torn with pain.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, rising and heading for the door.

But before I could leave, shadows surrounded me, closing in like a protective shroud.

Dainan was inches from me, his presence commanding, his hand braced against the shelf now behind me.

“Gods,” he said, his eyes burning with an unspoken need.

“It’s nothing you’ve done, Ilia.” He gently brushed my hair from my face, his touch tender.

“Dainan…” I murmured, my voice trembling with the uncertainty of why I had been drawn to him tonight.

But a deep part of me knew I was where I needed to be.

He brushed his thumb against my lower lip, and I moved instinctively towards him.

His scent, now intoxicatingly close, enveloped me.

“I need you, Ilia,” he whispered, his breath hot against the nape of my neck, eliciting a moan I couldn’t contain.

Guilt surged through me, mingling with the fire that his touch ignited.

What about Marsh? What about Iona, his marriage, the ball happening upstairs in honor of that marriage?

As his lips pressed against my neck, my worries melted away, replaced by a primal need.

He lightly grazed his teeth along my skin, sending tremors through my body.

His low, sultry laugh reverberated through me, heightening the intensity of my desire.

I pressed myself closer to him with every kiss and touch, feeling the length of him against me.

I brushed my fingers over him, and he growled in response.

“Fuck,” he whispered, “if you touch me, Ilia, I can’t promise I’ll maintain control. I’m on the edge as it is.”

“I want you unhinged,” I breathed, my desire burning bright in my eyes.

His hand began to make lazy circles up my leg, his kisses trailing over my neck, each touch pushing me closer to the edge.

“Dainan,” I whimpered as his hand inched closer to the top of my thigh, the heat between us growing unbearable.

His eyes met mine, a question hanging in the air as he moved my undergarments aside, creating a blissful friction.

I dug my fingers into his arms with every movement, low moans escaping me.

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my neck.

I knew he meant it. He would stop if I asked, but I needed him.

Needed this.

“Don’t stop,” I managed to gasp, my voice raw.

With a low growl of approval, Dainan slid a finger inside me, his movements slow and deliberate.

I moved my hips in rhythm with his fingers, craving more.

I ran my hand through his fiery waves, pulling him closer.

“Do you think you can handle more of me?” he asked, his lips brushing the nape of my neck.

My pleas grew louder, a cry of desperation.

“Use your words, Ilia,” he urged, his thumb rubbing my clit while his fingers continued their rhythmic exploration.

“More,” I begged, and with that, he added a second finger, moving deeper, harder.

The intensity was overwhelming, each stroke drawing out sounds and noises I had never made before, and never would again.

Not unless I was with him.

Nothing compared, no one would compare to this.

I was lost in the sensation, the pleasure building within me until I felt I was on the brink of an explosion.

“Look at you,” he growled, “fucking beautiful.” His mouth found mine.

Our tongues clashed in a desperate dance as I drowned in his scent, in the completeness of him.

He pulled back, his eyes searching mine.

“Is this how you like it, Ilia?” he asked, pressing himself into me, his fingers continuing their relentless rhythm.

The pleasure was almost too much to bear.

“That’s it, Ilia,” he said, his voice thick with approval.

“You’re getting close.”

The tension inside me coiled tighter with each stroke of his hand.

“Come for me, love.”

My scream was swallowed by his mouth as he pulled me over the edge.

My breathing ragged as my body trembled.

Dainan’s expression was feral as he watched me, his eyes a dark, smoldering blaze.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he interrupted me.

“I need a minute,” he said, his voice strained.

I didn’t move, though I longed to reciprocate, to touch him, to take him further.

He remained still, his eyes filled with need but not pressing me for more.

After a moment, he whispered, “You’re so beautiful.” His thumb brushed along the nape of my neck, trailing lower toward my collarbone, his touch feather-light but searing.

“Dainan,” I murmured, my voice trembling with a mix of desire and hesitation.

As much as I wanted to lose myself in the moment, the worries I’d been trying to suppress came rushing back.

“We should…” I began, struggling to give shape to the storm of conflicted feelings rising within me.

“We should…” he echoed softly, his lips brushing mine one last time before he pulled away.

The kiss lingered like the faintest ember, setting fire to something deep inside me.

“There’s a bathing chamber just around the corner,” he said after a beat, his voice tinged with a note of restraint—or regret.

“We can clean you up there.”

“That was…” I began, attempting to steady my breathing and grasp at words that refused to come.

He smiled—a slow, effortless curve of his lips that made my knees falter.

“I’m just sorry it took this long,” he said, his fingers finding mine as he led the way.

“We need to get you back upstairs,” he said as we emerged from the room.

“What about you?” I asked, my voice laced with reluctance, not wanting to let him go.

He took a step closer, his fingers grazing my cheek as he brushed a strand of hair away.

The touch sent a shiver within me that screamed for more of him.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his tone softer, more vulnerable than it had been before.

“For what?” I asked, trying to sound light-hearted, but the intensity in his gaze held me captive.

“For trusting me with you,” he said, placing a kiss on my neck.

The warmth of his lips against my skin made me melt, my body reacting to him with a fervent need that seemed to override all reason.

“Dainan…” I whispered, my voice faltering.

He continued to gently trace his thumb across my cheek, his touch tender and lingering, as if he, too, was reluctant to let this precious time slip away.

“I can bring you back upstairs,” he offered, his gaze dropping to my shoes with a hint of frustration.

“It might be less painful than having you climb up in those,” he added, a trace of annoyance evident in his voice.

“It’s okay,” I said, caressing his face one last time.

He leaned into my touch, a silent acknowledgment of the connection we shared.

We stood there, a silent struggle between departure and staying, our mutual hesitation to be the first to leave palpable.

I cupped his face in my hands, my eyes searching his.

“I see you, Dainan. As you are,” I said softly.

Shadows of anguish flickered across his face, turning his fiery gaze into an abyss of darkness as if he was bracing himself against a storm within.

“I knew,” he whispered into my ear, his breath warm against my skin, “that dress would make you look like a true Lady of Shadows. You look beautiful, Ilia.” And with those words, he was gone.

Of course Dainan had sent the dress to me.

The night had turned into something I hadn’t expected.

“Where have you been?” Kadian asked when I returned to the ballroom.

I offered a carefully edited version of events, concealing the intimate details of what had transpired between Dainan and me.

The secret was mine alone to keep, and a foolish one at that, given the circumstances.

Kadian saw the anxiety on my face beginning to build and insisted we dance.

“I’ve got you, Bri.” He whispered into my ear as he twirled me away from my thoughts and fears.