Absence of Light
We walk in comfortable silence for a few blocks. I don’t have to clarify to know where we are going. I’d feel the pull to Hill House no matter where I was, though that pull is duller now. The magnetic insistence of my obsession focuses more on the man, or whatever he is, beside me.
“Is Sarah,” I search for the words “Like you?”
He shakes his head slightly.
“No, I’ve never met anyone like me besides my mom. Sarah is a witch, though. She knows what I am.” I shouldn’t feel that sting at all, but it does.
“Did you think I wouldn’t keep your secret?”
Another shake.
“No. There’s not really a secret to keep, amongst the locals anyway.”
I nod to myself pensively. I’ve seen enough people interact with Rowan to have been able to guess that. He’s beloved here. It makes sense that the outsider trying to stumble onto his secret would be systematically blocked. Sucks if you’re the outsider, though.
He must sense the tension that creeps into my shoulders.
“I was never overly concerned about you knowing.”
I glance up, my train of thought derailed slightly as I see an unexpected wisp of shadow curling near my neck.
“You were cold,” Rowan explains quickly.
Sure enough, as I watch, there seems to be a layer of darkness moving with the thin fabric of my hoodie as it blows in the wind, insulating me against the chill of the evening air.
“Thank you,” I press my lips together to keep laughter from bubbling up at the absurdity of the situation. The very notion that shadow can be tangible and given chivalrously, like an ethereal jacket, is inconceivable. I wonder what else he can do.
“Who was your concern?” It seems a safer question than where my mind is going.
“Me. I knew if you knew, and didn’t run, I’d be consumed with the thought of making you mine. Consequences be damned,” His hand squeezes mine softly as he draws in a deep, steadying breath before continuing.
“You can still run, Auburn.”
Now it’s my turn to shake my head.
“No, thank you.”
The outline of Hill House comes into view before either of us says another word.
The pull in my chest sharpens the second I see it, but it doesn’t feel quite the same as before.
The wrought iron gate appears mundane now, far less like a mocking symbol of my constant perceived failures since moving to Drayring.
We slow as we reach the edge of the property, and I instinctively glance at Rowan.
“This is where you tell me to turn back, I’m guessing?” I study him closely, hoping he doesn’t.
His jaw flexes.
“If you were going to,” he says, “this would be the time.”
I look past him, into the dim stretch of the estate, my skin vibrates with the need to be beyond the gate, with him.
“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”
It’s mostly rhetorical, but Rowan tips his head back, like the star-flecked sky might have better answers.
“You need to understand something,” he finally says, his voice rough. “Once we go further, I won’t be able to keep this contained the same way I have been.”
My pulse quickens. The frantic, desperate kiss from earlier flashes into my mind.
“Is that what you’ve been doing?” I ask, the teasing evident in my tone.
His gaze flicks to me.
“Yes. In fact, I’ve been doing a tremendous job of holding back.”
The darkness at the edges of the path thickens, like a caged animal stalking toward the gate.
“That sounds exhausting.”
A quiet, strained sound leaves him.
“You have no idea.”
I turn away from the gate and face him straight on, lifting onto the balls of my feet to loop my arms around his neck and pull him closer to me.
To his credit, he doesn’t hesitate for a moment.
Strong arms wrap around my waist, allowing our bodies to meld together.
I can feel his muscles tense as I press against him.
It’s euphoric, and I let my mind wander back to the feeling of his tongue against mine, the insistent throb between my legs begging to be satisfied.
When I look up at him, meeting his gaze, I can see the desire burning hot in his eyes again.
The tender possessive way he watches me is so familiar, all indicative of my strong-willed friend and the man I’ve known for the last year.
Then shadow moves across his face, and the unanswered questions I have just add more academic desire to the existing carnal interest that’s kept me on edge for months.
Regardless of everything, the way he looks at me still makes me feel giddy. More than that, it makes my knees weak.
“So what happens if you stop holding back?” His head is inclined now, his lips near enough that I could close the distance.
“I’ll try to claim you,” he murmurs, leaning in a little closer.
“I will stop trying to protect you from myself, stop trying to get you out of this town, and I will give in to the very loud, very persistent voice in my head that tells me you are supposed to be here, and you are supposed to be mine, and you are supposed to give me an heir.”
The intensity of his words sends bolts of sensation through me, and a needy gasp falls from my lips. I should be very, very concerned by how much those words turn me on.
“You were so close.” He sighs, and I feel his lips brush against mine as they move.
“It felt like dying,” finally saying it out loud makes me melt into him more. Rowan’s arms tighten around me in response.
“What did?”
“Leaving Drayring.” I clarify.
The tension between us is nearly unbearable.
“If you choose me, you won’t be able to leave. Not for more than maybe a week at most. Nowhere there aren’t significant hours of night. You’ll be more like the subjects you study than I think you’d care for.”
He delivers the sentence like it’s dirt on his grave. It’s a serious consideration, or it might be. Not for me.
“How long do I have to decide?”
“One year.”
It’s about three hundred and sixty-four days more than I expected. I hum to myself.
“And you want me?”
He pulls back as though I’ve slapped him.
“Desperately, irretrievably, completely.” He seems genuinely bewildered that I’d ask the question. But I need to be certain. “Auburn, I’ve been in love with you since the first time I saw you through the gate. I see home in your eyes.”
The reverence in his voice makes my stomach flutter.
I’ve been told my eyes are so deep of a brown they are more like the absence of light, like a pool of coffee, liquid night. I’d always liked those descriptions, but I’ve never heard anyone say my features could be considered as transformative as being someone’s home.
“Then take me, Rowan, and make them roll back in my head.”
His expression fractures, and the night around us seems to fall in step, like the world itself is holding its breath.
The change is subtle at first. The shadows at the edge of the path surge forward with purpose, and the street lights seem to shrink back. Then darkness curls around his feet, and climbs the long line of his body as though pulled by a gravity that doesn’t belong to this world.
His eyes shift first. That pale green deepens, flooding at the edges until it seems almost bottomless.
“Auburn,” he warns again, but there’s no control left in it now.
Only hunger.
I pause. I should be thinking about Svalbard. About flights and research papers and a version of my life that made sense before tonight.
But I’m not.
Whatever this is, whatever he is, and whatever it will cost me, I know one thing with a clarity that feels almost raw.
I’m not leaving.
“I’m still here,” I whisper.
The darkness winds higher, threading through his hair and spilling over his shoulders. For a second, his outline blurs, something much larger and decidedly not human pressing against the shape of him like it’s trying to break through.
It should terrify me. Instead, it makes my pulse spike for an entirely different reason.
His thumb drags along my bottom lip, and the contact sends a sharp, electric jolt through me. I feel him everywhere, concentrated touch on every single inch of my body.
“Are you sure you want this?” he asks quietly.
“Yes.”
The word barely makes it out.
“Good,” he breathes.
Then he kisses me.
Instantly, I melt.