Chapter 16
EVA
Istep down, holding on to the railing.
Alex follows closely behind. Too closely.
“You OK?” he asks.
“I’m not porcelain.”
“Didn’t say you were,” he protests. “I just don’t want to carry you back up if you break something.”
“How chivalrous.”
“No, just practical. You’re heavier than you look.”
I’d retort with a How would you know, but he does know because he carried me from the entryway to the bed at the Royal Pombrio.
Oh, and this is the first time he’s referenced that night, albeit indirectly.
A small slip of my foot jerks me back to reality. I flail. His hand shoots out, steadying me. His palm is firm on my lower back just above my waistband. My shirt lifts a little. I feel the contact like a brand.
“Careful,” he says, his voice low.
“I was careful.”
“Be carefuller.”
I glare at him. “Don’t be smug just because you caught me.”
“I’m not smug, Eva.”
“Oh, please, you’re always smug!”
He doesn’t argue, but his hand lingers on my waist for a moment too long before he lets go. The silence that follows feels thick enough to trip over.
We continue down the treacherous stone steps. He insists on switching places and moves in front of me like a bodyguard. Oh, and he wants the flashlight, too, so that both my hands are free in case I need them to grab onto something. Or someone.
Whatever.
A few steps later, he offers his arm without a word. I hesitate, glaring at it like it’s a trap. Then I take it, pride be damned. His forearm is solid under my fingers, warm through the fabric, lovely to touch…
Oh no! Did I really think that?
Stop! Rewind! Erase!
The staircase gives way to a narrow corridor, tightened by low archways punctuating it. I let go of his arm, relieved and bereft all at once. Shadows stretch along the walls, flickering with the flashlight he carries.
When the ceiling dips even lower, he reaches back and takes my hand. For my safety, obviously. So, I let him.
His grip is firm and protective, but there’s a subtle pressure there…
Is he testing my limits? I feign innocence and don’t pull away.
We move like that, his fingers entwined with mine, the space between us small and shrinking with every cautious step.
The stone walls seem to close in. The scent of mildew, dust, and something older—coal perhaps?—hangs in the air. We pass through another low archway. I duck toward the center, and my shoulder grazes his.
I point my free hand down the corridor. “Almost there.”
He stops.
I do, too.
The corridor is very tight here. I feel his breath. We’re inches apart. My pulse thunders.
He looks at me. I don’t avert my gaze.
His expression is unreadable.
I want to take a step back. I don’t.
Something electric passes between us.
Oh, come on, Eva! I scold myself. You know exactly what it is.
It’s that thing I keep pretending was a momentary madness, gone without a trace.
I draw in a shallow breath. “We should keep moving. The dungeon trapdoor should be just five meters ahead.”
How I manage to break eye contact and move away is beyond me.
We reach the trapdoor. The iron ring is stiff with rust, but it lifts with a reluctant groan. I turn the key. The trapdoor creaks open. Cold air wafts up from the darkness below. A folded wooden ladder lies against the opening.
Alex pulls it down and tests the rungs. “I’ll go first.”
I watch him disappear into the darkness, the beam of his flashlight bouncing off the stone.
He calls up, “Solid footing!”
I step onto the ladder. The wood is cool under my palms, the descent steeper than I remembered. Then again, I’ve only been down here once, years ago.
When my shoes hit the packed stone floor, I take in the space. This oubliette is bigger than I recall. It’s wide, with a low vaulted ceiling and walls beaded with moisture. The air is colder here. Not just damp, but… moving, like a gentle current brushing my skin.
Alex tilts the flashlight beam toward the far wall. “What’s that?”
At first, I don’t see it. Then the light catches a thin gap in the stone, half hidden behind a stack of old wine crates. A faint draft slips through, carrying a sharp, familiar scent… Pine smoke?
I frown. “Probably just a vent. Old castles have them everywhere.”
“Vents don’t usually smell like someone’s wood stove,” he says.
The beam shifts, and I spot scuff marks on the stones behind the crates. Then a muted rustle breaks through the silence, like a small animal’s patter. Not from the corridor behind, but from the wall to our left.
I tilt my head. Alex does the same. Without thinking, we both lean toward the thin gap in the stones. The flashlight beam skims the wall, but whatever made the noise is tucked in shadow.
I hear Alex’s breath. It warms the side of my face, contrasting with the chill in the air. Our faces are inches apart.
“Maybe we just found Narnia,” I say to ease the tension.
His laugh is low and unhurried, stirring me in ways it has no business doing. The sound bounces off the stone, making the space feel smaller. Warmer.
We’re still grinning when our eyes lock. The smiles fade. The air between us shifts.
“We shouldn’t be down here together,” I murmur.
“We shouldn’t do a lot of things,” he says, his voice rough.
He doesn’t move.
Neither do I. It’s becoming impossible to ignore the heat radiating from him.
I feel like I’m standing next to a furnace.
My heart jackhammers against my ribs. His eyes bore into mine with a near-predatory glint.
And I can’t look away. Every instinct screams to close the distance. Every animal instinct, that is.
Reason tells me to get out of here.
“Alex, we…” I begin, then stop.
I swallow hard, clear my throat. I want to say we’ll regret this. But no words escape my traitorous mouth. My lips remain parted, though. A sultry, delicious anticipation coils tight in my belly, making it impossible to think, to move, to do anything but look at him and want him.
His eyes never leave mine.
Even in this dim light there’s no missing the hunger in his gaze. I drink it up like water after a parched climb.
“Eva,” he whispers. “Oh, Eva.”
And then his mouth crashes onto mine. It’s a jolt, a shock wave. I tangle my fingers in his hair. He drops the flashlight onto a crate. I pull him closer, wanting to drown in the heat of him.
The kiss isn’t soft. It’s raw and unrestrained. It sets me on fire, head to toe. I taste the warmth of him, his need, his desire. My own need flares. Every nerve sizzles as I melt into him, feeling his solid frame against mine.
He deepens the kiss that was already so intimate I was practically deep-throating his tongue.
Every inch of me is hyperaware of him, of the way his hands slide up my back and pull me flush against him, of the way his hips press into mine and leave no question about how hard he is.
I let out a soft moan.
He responds with a growl that’s equal parts warning and promise. His hands slide down, grip my ass and pull me tighter against him. Next thing I know, he’s grinding his hard length against my core. I whimper, a hairbreadth from begging him to take me right here, right now.
Our lips move together as if we’ve forgotten who we are. Or maybe it’s that we’ve suddenly remembered it… I’m not sure which. But I do know there’s no stopping what comes next.