Chapter 21 #2
Cool air greeted her in the corridor, soothing her overstimulated senses. She made her way deeper into the house, past the staircase and several closets. She needed space, needed to breathe—and figure out what she was going to do.
With trembling hands, she pulled a vial of black salt from the deep pockets of her skirt and scattered it across the stone floor. Whispering urgently, she said:
“Darkness wrap and keep me sound,
Let no one in, let none around.
Stay alert, stay sharp, stay true—
And you will know just what to do.”
The spell hummed faintly, the shadows thickening around her and offering a moment of reprieve from prying eyes. She felt safe here, cocooned in her own magic.
Until Lochlan stepped through the barrier.
The faint ripple of her wards shivered, but didn’t push him back, didn’t sound any alarms. Her breath caught as she realized her magic didn’t even try to stop him—how traitorous. Maybe it recognized him. Maybe being magically married meant he got a free pass.
“What’s wrong?” Lochlan asked, his voice gentle yet urgent as his eyes searched her face.
Her cheeks flushed hot, and she grabbed his arm, shoving him toward a nearby door—a small closet beneath the stairs. The space was cramped, and the only light came from a stained-glass window and candles that lit automatically, but she didn’t care.
She kissed him, fierce and unrelenting, her hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt. For a moment, he kissed her back, just as fervent. But then he pulled away, too soon, leaving her groaning in protest.
“I can’t stop this,” she said, her voice shaky, her forehead resting against his.
“What about your father?” he asked, his tone measured but tight.
“Mood killer,” she muttered, her lips brushing his as she spoke.
“I just need to know the rules,” Lochlan said, his hands gently running down her arms.
“Why do there need to be rules?” She tried to hide the whine from her voice, but she felt desperate.
“Because I need them with you,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I need to know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. What’s allowed. What’s not.”
She exhaled sharply, her hands gripping his shirt tighter. “I feel like I need to kiss you.”
“Why?”
His question caught her off guard, her chest tightening at the vulnerability in his tone. “Now you’re the mood killer,” she said, trying to deflect.
“Am I?” His voice was calm but insistent, his gaze unwavering in the dark. “Why, Nia?”
“Because I like you,” she admitted, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you, or that kiss, or the way you treat me. I need more, but…”
“But what?”
“But I can’t let him win.” Her voice wavered. “I can’t be married. But I want you.”
She saw the struggle in his eyes, the war he was waging within himself, and for a moment, she thought she’d lost him. Desperation clawed at her chest, and she offered more.
“No one has to know.”
“I’ll know.” His voice was strained, and she hated herself for being the one who put that look on his face.
“What if… we fake it?”
“I can’t fake this,” he said softly, fingers brushing the small of her back, grazing just above her ass.
“I know,” she said quickly, her words nearly tripping over each other. “But publicly. What if we prove him wrong in public, but behind closed doors we let things… grow?”
His brows furrowed, jaw tightening. “So you want to lie?”
“Just to him,” she said, her voice softening. “To you? No. Never.”
Something flickered across his face, too fast for her to read, and her heart sank again.
She pressed on, her voice trembling with sincerity. “I’ll be honest with you. I will try, but please, let me have this fight with my father. I won’t have it with you. I can’t… I don’t want to fight this.”
“Then we won’t,” Lochlan said, his voice low and certain.
He leaned in, his lips claiming hers.
This kiss was nothing like the first—no hesitation, no restraint.
His hands slid down her body with a purpose that left her breathless, his fingers gripping her hips as if to anchor her to him.
Her skirt bunched under his touch, and when his warm palms met her bare skin, it was as though he ignited something raw and wild within her.
A sound escaped her, somewhere between a moan and a gasp, as her body pressed closer, her hips moving instinctively against his lap.
His responding groan was guttural, primal, a sound that sent a shiver racing down her spine.
She tangled her hands in his hair, pulling him deeper, harder, desperate to feel more of him, as if the sheer force of his presence could fill the aching void inside her.
His lips left hers only to blaze a trail down her neck, each kiss and nip leaving her trembling, her head tipping back to grant him access. Every inch of her skin felt alive, hypersensitive, the friction of his touch as intoxicating as it was maddening.
It was bliss. It was torture. She didn’t know where he ended and she began, didn’t care, until—
Her shadows snapped.
A sharp, magical pulse thrummed through the air, vibrating in the tight confines of the closet. It was a warning, insistent and unmistakable, and it hit her like a cold splash of water.
Her heart stuttered as reality crashed back in.
“Wait,” she gasped, shoving Lochlan away with a force that surprised even her.
He stumbled back, his breathing ragged, his expression a mix of shock and hurt. The trace of pain in his eyes twisted something deep inside her, and for a moment, her fingers twitched with the need to pull him close again, to undo what she had just done.
But the shadows pulsed a second time, dragging her back to the danger she had momentarily forgotten. Someone was passing through the magical barrier she’d created.
“I think my father’s coming,” Nia whispered, panic edging her voice.
Her hands flew to smooth down her hair, trembling as she scrambled for anything—anything—to make it seem like she hadn’t just been tangled up with Lochlan and seconds away from dry humping him in a closet under the stairs in her childhood home.
The charged air between them felt suffocating, a storm of tension and heat that made it impossible to think.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, her fingers twitching as she reached for her magic. “Skin of mine, break and burn, welt and writhe—”
She didn’t even need to finish the words.
A pulse of energy swept over her skin like a flash of heat, followed by an agonizing itch.
Red welts erupted across her arms, her neck, and even along her collarbone, angry and raw, as if her very body was rebelling against her. The hives burned and prickled.
“Nia, no.” Lochlan’s voice was low, horrified. He stared at her, his expression twisted with worry. “What are you doing to yourself?”
Before she could answer, the closet door swung open.
Wulfric stood there, his appraising gaze sweeping the space. His eyes lingered on Lochlan’s disheveled state, the flush still visible on his cheeks, and the tension crackling in the air between them. Finally, his focus shifted to the welts marring Nia’s skin.
“See?” Nia snapped, turning her glare on Lochlan. “I’m allergic…” Her voice caught, and she couldn’t bring herself to say allergic to you. She stomped her foot instead, her frustration bubbling over. “That’s why I came in here—to get away!”
She rounded on her father, glaring. “And now you’re here too!” Her arms flailed as she gestured between the two men, her emotions spiraling out of control.
Wulfric’s amused expression faltered, replaced by concern. His voice softened, though it remained firm. “Nia, you need a healer.”
“What I need,” she bit out, shoving past them and storming out of the closet, “is space. From both of you!”
Her footsteps echoed down the hallway as she marched away, her skin still burning with the magic of the jinx. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t.
She stormed through the house, her skirt swishing angrily behind her. The front door creaked as she stepped onto the porch, the fresh night air washing over her like a salve. Folding her arms, she leaned against the railing, staring out at the expanse of yard, and waited.
It was only a minute or two before Lochlan appeared. His steps were hurried as he pushed through the door, the faint flush of concern still visible on his face. Nia didn’t meet his gaze as she muttered the counter-spell under her breath: “Skin of mine, heal and calm. Burn no more, soothe and balm.”
The relief was instantaneous. The welts faded away, leaving her skin cool and smooth, though a dull ache lingered where they’d been. She exhaled softly, and Lochlan mirrored her, letting loose a relieved sigh.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, without looking at him, she reached out, letting her pinky brush against his.
“Want to get coffee?” she asked quietly.