Page 45 of Unraveled (A Kingdom of Beasts and Ruins #1)

We let the words simmer between us as we stand outside the room. It’s a reach to speak of another prophecy when all I have are fragments of memories and little information.

“For years, I felt something was hiding from me behind Penumbra’s veil. Something—or someone —that called to me,” Ash admits, and the intensity in his gaze makes my heart skip.

Is he talking about the person—the woman, if I’m adding up all the crumbs of information correctly—who stole his grimoires and brought them to Penumbra? The one who cursed him? Or does he mean me?

I push aside the ember of hope that begins burning in my heart. If he shares a soul bond with the one who cursed him, then he would be called there by the magic that binds them.

It’s not romantic—it has nothing to do with me. I take a deep breath and look away to the dark room in front of us, for fear I won’t be able to hide my overwhelming disappointment.

I can’t want more than a physical connection with him. It won’t end well for me. He’s a king, and even if I help him break his curse, I doubt he’s looking for anything more than a distraction with a hybrid like me. His people would riot if this meant more.

But the ugly feelings trailing up my body make my stomach churn. Ash’s brows lift and he moves closer, as if called by my darkening mood.

“What is this room?” I ask, shifting away from him.

Hurt flashes over his face, and I wonder if I completely misread his previous comment.

“This is where we sleep tonight.” He steps into the new room, and I follow him without a moment of hesitation. I don’t trust the darkness that welcomes us, but I’d rather be here with him than alone in the light.

He fetches a couple of gas lamps as I wrap my arms around myself and follow the clear marking of wards that line the perimeter.

I take in the thick velvet curtains that do a poor job at hiding the wood boards covering most of the window. He hands me the second lantern, and the flame’s soft orange light illuminates the cracked plaster and the cobwebs hanging from the chandelier.

Someone shoved a four-poster bed into the corner, which doesn’t seem to belong in such a cramped space.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says, pointing to the opposite corner where a small chair sits.

I wouldn’t categorize that as a couch but choose to not say anything as I inspect the space and the spells that cover the entire perimeter of the room. “I see there are wards on every wall.”

“Yes, we set it up for when Finley needs to rest here. It’s the room we determined had the least concentrated dark magic. We spent a few days four years ago casting spells to keep creatures away while we’re gone.”

I see Ash’s magic at work. It’s easy to recognize with its shades of gold buzzing on each strand, but green traces? Not so much.

If Finley cast protective spells in this place, they weren’t very strong, which goes against Ash’s claims that he’s a powerful sorcerer.

I push those thoughts away as I walk to a second door, which leads to a washroom the same size as the bedroom behind me.

Intricate panels stained a deep shade of walnut cover the walls.

These windows aren’t boarded up, and they face the thick canopy of pine trees, their green needles dragging over the glass as the storm outside rages on.

I’m itching to get out of this beautiful—but constricting—gown. I smell like sour wine and the cheap incense the hybrids were burning at that gods-awful party.

I place the lamp on a small marble table beside the copper tub, and admire the black-and-gray terracotta tiles that cover the floor. My thoughts go back to what he said, and I fear my own insecurities ruined what could have been a sweet moment.

What if it could be more? What if I allow myself to live, like Nera said I should, even if it might end in a broken heart? I can’t predict the future, but I have a say in the present, in how I treat him. And myself.

I shrug off his coat and drape it over a stool beside the tub. The heaviness in my chest lifts as I twist the handle by the spigot and water sputters first in brown shades, then slowly shifts clear and steaming hot.

I should close the door, but there is something exhilarating about leaving it open. About him knowing I’m getting undressed here, where he could easily walk in.

I reach for the laces of my corset and tug on the elaborate bow that ties it all together at my lower back.

I pull harder, but the knot doesn’t budge.

Shifting my attention, I take off the full skirt and kick it out of the way.

I’m left in my chemise, the corset, and the lacy underthings I’ve been wearing since before the party.

Wrinkling my nose, I pull the undergarments off and toss them to the side to wash later.

Then I focus back on the bodice still tight around my torso. Sweat beads at my temple as I continue trying to get this thing off so I can bathe, but it seems the more I work on it, the more stuck I get.

With a huff, I glance at the open door, seeing movement in the bedroom beyond. I drop the corset laces and take a calming breath. I could burn the fabric to get it off—but then again, I doubt there’s something else for me to wear here.

“Ash?”

The shadows move outside as he comes to the doorway, pausing right before he enters. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. I need help with my corset.”

At first, he doesn’t say a thing, and when he strolls into the room, a rush of warmth travels up my spine. He is the image of relaxation with the top of his shirt open, so I can see the smoothness of his skin right before it blends with the peppering of feathers on his neck.

In one hand, Ash holds a glass of amber liquid, while the other is deep in his pocket. Whatever foolish thoughts of bravery I had before vanish as he steps closer. His eyes lock with mine, and I don’t move a muscle until he’s so close I can smell the sweet and smoky scent of his drink.

I catch his jaw clenching as I turn around, giving him a full view of the mess I made of the laces. I pull my hair out of the way to give him better access and wait, not breathing. My heart hammers as he shifts closer to me, and his heat seeps through the thin fabric I’m wearing.

“A couple of maids helped me into this thing last night, and I don’t think I can get out of it without help.”

He hums, reaching to the side and putting his glass of whiskey on the table, next to the lantern. The flame flickers, and I stand perfectly still while he works on the knot.

I expect him to say something, but he’s quiet—too quiet for someone like him. I press my arms to my stomach, holding the fabric against myself as it loosens around my breasts.

When he’s done, he doesn’t move away. Neither do I. The air crackles with energy, and my skin tingles in anticipation of what may happen next.

When the tips of his fingers graze the back of my neck, I hold my breath. His touch leaves a trail of goose bumps behind as he brushes an errant strand of hair over my bare shoulder. My heart races as I turn my head to meet his gaze. Whatever restraint he had before, is gone.

He doesn’t stop at my shoulder, and his touch continues down my arm.

I let go of the corset, and as it falls to the floor, it skims over the thin layer of the chemise underneath.

Ash spins me around, and his lips come down over mine in a deep, sensual kiss.

My body is on fire, and his tongue, tasting of sweet whiskey, fans the flames.

His hands move over my chemise, sliding over my breasts and my hardening nipples. “Mia...” His voice is breathless as his lips travel down my jaw and to my neck where he licks and kisses, leaving a trail of heat across my skin. “If you want me to stop?—?”

“Don’t stop.” I bury my fingers in his hair and keep his head close to me.

My body craves his touch, and I’m itching to get out of these clothes, to feel his hands on my naked body. A desperate throbbing builds at the apex of my thighs, and I reach for the top of his trousers, loosening the strings that tie them at his narrow waist.

He’s wearing far too many clothes. And this should be scary. Perhaps tomorrow it will be.

He inhales sharply when my fingers graze the tip of his cock. Gods, Nera was right. Fae men are built differently.

“Mia,” he says my name with reverence, pressing his forehead to mine. His hands skim my back and settle on my hips, but he doesn’t move away. “I don’t want our first time to be in this filthy place.”

“I don’t care where we are.” My voice comes out needy, almost a whine. “I want this. I want you.”

He groans against my lips and kisses me soundly as he lifts me from the floor. One minute, my feet are firmly on the ground, the next I’m spun around as Ash swoops me up and presses me against the wall.

Distantly, I hear the water is still running. I don’t care. This feels right.

I move to find some relief from the pressure building in me. He pushes his hips forward, bringing exquisite friction to my aching center. He’s so hard. Deliciously so. I barely hold back a moan as pleasure explodes at the contact.

More . My fingers tangle in the waves of his hair as I pull his face closer to mine.

“I’ve been going mad imagining what you taste like.” Each of his words is full of clear desperation. The scent of him makes my head spin, and my skin grows tight and hot. My core flutters.

He keeps me in place with one arm as his other hand glides up the side of my ribs, pulling away the lacy layer of chemise that’s bunched where our bodies meet. A breath escapes me, fanning over his lips as his hand trails down between my thighs.

He groans deeply, and it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. I don’t want him to stop. I meet his gaze and see the same hunger reflected there.

“I’ll worship every inch of you until you forget how much you want to leave.” He pulls my chemise off my body and tosses it to the side, leaving me wholly naked and pinned to the wooden wall. The chill of the night hits the heated flesh of my thighs.