Page 49 of Wings of Darkness (Daughter of the Seven Circles #2)

Chapter

Thirty-On e

LUCILLE

l ater that night, I couldn’t fall asleep.

I should’ve been trying to connect with my mom or Aspen, but Ronen’s gentle touches and soft gaze kept taking over.

The more I thought about it, the more I beat myself up for reimagining it.

Over and over the thoughts circled until I slipped out of bed and padded to the library in my slippers and pajamas.

If I couldn’t sleep, I might as well do something to help Aspen.

I clenched my fists, standing in front of the library doors.

I wanted to smack that sickening smile off Michael’s face and rip him to pieces.

My Infernus whispered in my ears, its familiar tune calling to my vengeful heart, begging me to pull at the black flames and seek him out.

But I didn’t dare touch the haunting melody .

What was the point of showing me an image of Michael holding a dagger and me exposing my back to him? Did the doors want to anger me?

Heavenly Hell, I didn’t understand them. Or Cato, who refused to say a peep about my dream-walking powers. Lucifer couldn’t even pull anything out of him—or so he claimed. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure if I could trust his word.

I opened the doors and froze.

Ronen lounged in a chair near my mini library, a book in his hands.

He wore dark sweatpants and a baggy sweater, and his usually styled fade was messy, brushing his forehead.

I hadn’t thought he could look any sexier.

I bowed my head, feeling like I was betraying Aspen for even thinking that.

I’d come here to get away from thoughts of Ronen, not run into him.

I took a step back.

“Rune’s never been great at protection detail when she’s sleeping.”

Of course he noticed me. Sighing, I walked over to my table.

He glanced up, his gaze slowly roving over me. His lips twitched. “Is that your normal attire when you come to read?”

I internally cringed, remembering I’d come down in no bra, a silk camisole, and shorts, with fuzzy slippers warming my feet. “It is in the middle of the night, when I assume no one else will be here.” I plopped into my chair out of habit. Unfortunately, one that was closer to Ronen than I liked.

He made a noncommittal noise and returned to his book.

That was it? That was the extent of our conversation?

“Do you need something, Hellion?”

I looked away, my cheeks flushing. “No.”

I pulled a random book from my stack and opened it. A moment later, the library doors swung open. Dorus entered, carrying a tray with a steaming teapot and a slice of chocolate cake.

“You didn’t tell me you had company tonight, Ronen,” she chided, setting the tray on a small table beside his chair.

“It seems she found my hiding spot.” The smile in his voice did regretful things to my heart.

“Maybe some company when you can’t sleep would be a nice change for you?” A motherly smile tightened her crow’s feet as she patted his shoulder. “I’ll grab another cup and slice.”

I waved a hand. “That’s not necessary.”

“The tea will help your racing mind, honey.” She cut off my next protest and quickly strode to the doors. “I’ll even add some chocolate truffles to your plate,” she called back.

I sighed, knowing she had me there.

Ronen chuckled and sipped his tea. “Dorus isn’t one to take no for an answer.”

“Is this a nightly occurrence for you?” I gestured to the tea and library.

He lowered his steaming white cup, shadows sheathing his palms as he rested it in his lap. “Yes, when someone isn’t passed out on her books.”

I opened and closed my mouth, having no reply. Heavenly Hell, I hoped he hadn’t seen me drool.

His lip twitched. “Helps settle my mind.”

“Does it work? ”

Seconds ticked by as I waited for his reply. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach under his silent attention. I shifted in my seat.

“Sometimes the Greek legends of Earth help.” He nodded to the book on the arm of his chair. “But I’m beginning to see there are other things that prove more effective.”

“Like your chocolate cake?” I teased.

“Among other things.”

Heat touched my cheeks, and I glanced at his book, desperate for a new focus. “I always liked the legend of Jason and the Argonauts.” I wasn’t well-versed in Greek myths, but that was one of the stories my mom read to me as a child that I connected with.

“Really?” His brow quirked.

I realized then that I’d been going about earning Ronen’s respect all wrong.

Looking back on last night, opening up to him had changed the way he viewed me.

He gave ground because I’d given him a piece of myself.

I smiled. No, not just a piece—a truth .

And while I wasn’t ready to hand over all my truths, I could offer a few and hope that, in time, it’d be enough to win him over.

“Yeah,” I whispered, my clammy hands fidgeting in my lap. “When my mom read me the story of Jason going off on dangerous adventures, building friendships, and seeking an item that could give them immense power and protection—what abused, isolated eight-year-old wouldn’t connect to that?”

Ronen leaned forward and stilled my hands.

He kept his head bowed, and I couldn’t help myself.

I inhaled a lungful of his intoxicating scent.

My eyes fluttered and flew open when he grazed a finger along the scar peeking from my shorts.

I shivered. It almost felt like it vibrated against my skin. He did the same to my other thigh .

“Our wounds shape who we are. They’re our dark stories that either haunt or empower us.” He looked up, gently taking my chin in his hand, drilling his gaze into my soul. His lips were close—too close.

Why was he looking at me like that? Where was the disdain? The disrespect? This reminded me of my father’s illusion. Had he picked up on something I hadn’t from Ronen?

Except the tip of Ronen’s finger grazing up and down my thigh couldn’t be imagined. Nor the heat pooling in my core. I didn’t understand what was happening and hated myself for wanting to. I should pull away, scoot back, but I couldn’t.

He placed his other hand over my heart, and I stopped breathing. His hand covered most of my chest. My nipples protruded, pressing against his touch. We stayed that way for a tense moment.

“Don’t let him haunt you, Lucille,” he whispered.

“I’m not.”

“Then why do you let your fear control your Glory?”

I swallowed, having no answer. I couldn’t think with him this close, touching me like this, drawing me in with his openness.

I lifted a shaky hand, intending to push him away. Instead, my thumb stroked the stubble of his cheek.

“Lucille?” His tone was a soft plea, barely audible, as if he feared disrupting whatever this was.

“I found some—Oh, dear me.”

Ronen and I jerked apart.

Dorus stood near the doors, looking everywhere but at us, holding a plate filled with chocolate and another teacup. “Should I come back later?”

Ronen cleared his throat. “No, Dorus. Now is fine.”

She nodded and walked over. She scooted my open book to the side, set down my cup and plate, then took Ronen’s teapot and poured me a cup.

“Cato would have my head if any one of his precious books got a crumb on it. Good thing he goes to bed early. But please do be careful, honey.” Dorus patted me on the shoulder, gave me a wink, then left us to sit in awkward silence.

I ate a chocolate, sipping my tea in intervals while I stared unseeing at my book. I didn’t know what the hell I was thinking. Why did I touch him? Why did I let him touch me? Why did I like it?

I gulped down the rest of the tangy tea, picked up my plate of chocolate, and stood. I needed to get away from him—and sleep. In that order.

He grabbed my wrist before I stepped past my chair, the heat of his touch branding me.

Hell , I didn’t want to like it.

“Think about what I said. It’ll be important for tomorrow.”

“Okay.” I kept my gaze fixed on the exit.

He held on for a breath longer before letting go.