Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Caelian kept pace with Kjeld, though it was a bit of a struggle given the length of his stride. She had to force him to wait a minute so she could at least have time to slip on a pair of black leather boots that rose just above her knees, lest she wander through the drab halls barefoot.
Though she supposed that wasn’t quite a fair assumption.
Castle Brackroth wasn’t nearly as desolate and depressing as Creslyn had led her to believe.
Sure, the sconces illuminating the hall were alight with flickering flames that might snuff out in a moment’s notice.
But the walls were papered with black roses etched in gold, the floor was made of polished ebony, and each door they passed appeared hand carved.
Perhaps Queen Viktoria had made some improvements since her arrival at the castle.
Not that Caelian would have time to meander through the labyrinth of corridors and wings, because Kjeld barely gave her time to steal a glance at her reflection as they passed a hall of arching gilded mirrors.
Kjeld drew up short before they rounded a corner, throwing his arm out to halt her.
“Shit.”
That was all she heard him mutter before he dragged her across the corridor and shoved her into a closet.
Darkness swallowed her as he closed the door behind him, enveloping them in the cramped stillness.
The closet was musty and damp, and her back was pushed into something that felt like a metal shelf.
Caelian tried to make herself as small as possible when Kjeld’s solid body pressed against her own, when he seemingly inhaled every inch of space between them.
There was no space to move, and she fumbled around blindly, both hands coming to rest on his chest when she belatedly realized she was standing upon his feet.
“Sorry.” The word squeaked out of her, and Kjeld clamped one hand over her mouth.
“Quiet,” Kjeld warned, his voice dangerously low. “Don’t make a sound.”
His other hand gripped her waist, leisurely skimming the boning of the dress, rising higher until his thumb lazily traced circles around her very exposed nipple.
The gown she picked for the Evarfest did absolutely nothing to disguise her rather sumptuous assets, so she’d chosen to flaunt them instead.
Yet as Kjeld continued his teasing strokes around her flesh, she was beginning to regret her decision. Without any underthings, it was impossible to ignore the slickness building between her thighs. The way heat pooled low in her belly. The way her core throbbed with need.
But then she heard them.
The scoff of masculine voices.
The clicking of timely footfalls.
And the desire budding within her withered away.
Guards. She couldn’t be sure how many of them were coming down the hall, but Kjeld had heard them.
In fact, he picked up on their approach well before her.
He’d known they were coming and shuffled her into a closet so they wouldn’t be discovered.
It was interesting, the way his senses had been amplified with fae magic. They were far greater than her own.
Murmured voices echoed on the other side of the closet door—their accents were thick, and whatever they were discussing must have been funny because one of them loosed a good-natured laugh as they continued their patrol.
She kept quiet while they passed, hesitant to even breathe, worried that they would hear.
Every inch of her was pressed against every inch of Kjeld, but they were frozen together, statues locked in a moment of time, worried the slightest blink, the barest parting of lips, would give them away.
Caelian didn’t know how long they stayed locked in there. It was likely only minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Until Kjeld slowly pushed open the door, and all the tension in her body released on its quiet groan.
She stepped out into the hall, a sigh of relief pulling from her lungs, and Kjeld grabbed her hand.
His summer blue eyes were focused on her when he asked, “Alright?”
“Y-yes.” She nodded quickly, looking at the polished wooden floor. Anything to avoid the heat of his gaze. “I don’t think I’m very suitable for this whole espionage ordeal.”
When she looked back up, he was smiling, the scar cutting across his bottom lip giving him a tempting yet dangerous appeal. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, my lady. It’s only your first day.”
Then he winked and led her around the corner, in what she could only hope was the opposite direction of the guards.
They walked down another corridor, and Kjeld drew up short, pulling her into his side. He jerked his head in the direction of an elaborately carved doorframe next to them. “In here.”
“What’s in here?” Caelian asked as he glanced around them, then jiggled the knob to see if it was locked.
“This used to be the office of King Marius.” The sleek black handle gave with a forced turn, and he pushed it open. “It seems like the best place to start. Especially if we want to learn what we can about Queen Viktoria.”
“Of course,” Caelian readily agreed and crept inside, peering around the poorly lit room. She squinted, blinking as a single shard of moonlight poured in through the faceted window. “What is it exactly we’re looking for?”
Kjeld shut the door as quietly as possible, slinking toward the desk cloaked in shadows. “Anything that might be considered useful information. Letters. Contacts. Notes. Ledgers.”
“Right.” Again, Caelian nodded, though she doubted Kjeld could see her.
She glanced about the space, uncertain of where to look first. The hearth was cold, as though it hadn’t been used in some time.
There was a small settee set before it with a throw tossed lazily over the buttoned arm, forgotten.
Each step was cautious. Caelian moved with care, taking heed not to disturb her surroundings.
Casting one look over her shoulder, she realized Kjeld was rummaging through the desk, flipping through papers, so she tiptoed toward the shelves of books lining the other wall.
Many of them were worn. Ancient, most likely. The spines were weathered, fraying from age. It was almost impossible to make out the titles, the fine gold stamping having faded with time. A grimy layer of filth had settled on them and just looking at it made her nose itch.
She plucked the first book she found off the shelf and carefully flipped it open to avoid scattering dust all over herself.
She skimmed through the yellowed pages, not paying too much attention to the words as she wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing.
It must have been a research book of some kind, for every few pages were multiple sketches with labels.
But then one particular illustration caught her eye.
It was a very clear, very detailed drawing of a couple being intimate.
Even though it was nothing more than ink and parchment, a distinctive flush blossomed in her cheeks.
And she took a closer look.
The female—a human—was splayed on her back, her wrists bound above her head with rope or twine.
She was completely nude, her smaller breasts protruding proudly, her nipples pert.
And the expression on her face, the absolute attention to detail, was one of pure ecstasy.
The male—definitely not human but something else altogether—was positioned between her thighs.
He was on his knees, his hands holding her ankles captive as he spread her legs wide.
Caelian’s gaze instantly dropped to where they joined, to where his exceptionally drawn erection speared her center.
Flipping the page, Caelian swallowed her gasp as the next sketch was even more interesting.
Another female, sketched on her hands and knees, except this time she was joined by two males.
One stood before her, his hand fastened in her hair, while she took his large shaft into her mouth.
And behind her was the second male, both of his hands planted firmly on her hips as he took her from the back.
What kind of book is this?
Caelian didn’t even know such sexual positions existed, much less how some of them were even possible.
But she quickly found herself mesmerized, devouring every last detail.
With each turn of the page, warmth flooded her.
She rolled her lips, squeezed her legs together to alleviate some of that familiar aching pressure building between her thighs.
She was slick already, her breasts suddenly heavy, and on the next illustration, she imagined it was her being pleasured by multiple cocks at once—except in her mind, all of them belonged to Kjeld.
The male in question inhaled sharply. Deeply. And a sort of guttural sound reverberated through his chest.
Caelian stilled.
Oh sweet stars, he could smell her. She had no doubt he’d caught the scent of her arousal lingering in the air between them.
“Find something of interest?” he asked, his words hoarse and gritty.
She slammed the book shut and clutched it to her chest, her gaze flying to him.
A scraping sound pierced the silence, and she turned as Kjeld lit a gray glass lamp and shoved something into his pocket.
He set the lamp upon the desk, the singular flame dancing and licking the ornate glass enclosure, its sudden brightness playing across half of Kjeld’s face.
Through the steady glow and the wash of shadows, his eyes found hers. And held.
They burned through her, the pools of brilliant blue searing her. Like he was peeling every layer of clothing, every layer of her skin, until he reached the pulsing beat of her heart.
Kjeld arched a brow, but his expression remained dark and unreadable. “Nothing, then?”