17. Eva #2
Within minutes, half our party has stripped down and is splashing into the lake with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
Mira leads the way with a smooth dive off the small dock, then taking clean, powerful strokes that cut through the dark water like she was born to it.
Adrian follows with dogged determination, clearly more interested in staying close to her than actually enjoying the frigid swim.
Alicia and Maisie, who came prepared with swimsuits under their clothes after I suggested it earlier, shriek and laugh as they wade in more cautiously, while Dane cannonballs off the dock with abandon.
I remain by the fire with Robin, Leon, and Dimi.
“You’re not tempted?” Robin asks, nodding toward the swimmers.
“I’m enjoying watching,” I admit. “It’s been…a long time since I’ve seen this kind of simple happiness.”
Robin’s hand finds mine in the space between our chairs. “You could have it more often, you know. This kind of life.”
The suggestion sends something warm and dangerous through my chest. Could I? Could I choose quiet evenings and family laughter over the travel, the stress, the danger that has defined my existence?
As if summoned by my thoughts, clouds begin gathering overhead, blocking out the stars and moon. The night turns deeper, darker, the lake becoming a mirror of black glass that reflects nothing.
“Everyone out,” I call out to the swimmers. “It’s dangerous to swim after dark.”
“Eva’s right,” Leon adds, his voice carrying the authority that makes everyone listen. “Black water, black night—easy to lose direction and swim toward the deep center instead of shore.”
“Like that time you and I got lost on the lake for a night,” Dimi laughs, turning to me.
“Tell us!” Maisie squeals, running back to the fire pit, shivering. She lets Robin throw a towel around her to rub her up and down as Dimi tells the story.
“We were not much older than you are now, Maisie, and trying to prove who was the better navigator. We snuck out after dark, determined to have a competition. And we ended up rowing in circles for hours. Dawn broke to reveal we’d barely moved from where we started.”
The story earns chuckles from everyone, and I smile along with them, but something cold slithers down my spine.
The memory Dimi describes—being trapped in the darkness, going nowhere despite desperate effort, dawn revealing how little progress we’d made—feels too much like a metaphor for my current situation.
As we pack up the remnants of our feast and begin the trek back to the castle, Robin falls into step beside me.
“What’s wrong?” she asks quietly.
I consider deflecting, maintaining the cheerful mask I’ve worn all evening. But with Robin, I find myself incapable of sustained deception.
“I felt something,” I admit. “Something foreboding. Like a shadow passing over everything.”
Robin’s expression grows concerned. “Felt how?”
“It’s difficult to explain.” I pause in our climb up the winding path, suddenly needing her to understand. “Do you remember what I told you about my ancestor? Erzsebet Novak, the Blood Rose?”
“The serial killer who was torn apart by the villagers? Kind of hard to forget.”
“She was accused of witchcraft for more than just her murders. The historical accounts mention premonitions—visions of future events that proved accurate. During her first year at Castle Blacklake, she supposedly foresaw an invasion that allowed the village to prepare its defenses.”
Robin studies my face in the dim light filtering down from the castle. “So she did good things as well as terrible, then. But you think you might have inherited her…gift?”
“Curse, more likely.” I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the mild evening. “I have this sense of... wrongness . Like we’re balanced on a knife’s edge, and one small push will send everything tumbling into chaos.”
Robin steps closer, her arms coming around me with the kind of fierce love that still surprises me.
“Hey,” she says softly, her breath warm against my ear. “We’ve survived everything else thrown at us. We can handle whatever comes next.”
“Can we?” The question comes out smaller than I intended, more vulnerable.
“Yes.” Robin’s certainty is absolute. “Because we’re not facing it alone anymore. You have me, I have you, and we both have people who care about us.”
She pulls back just far enough to meet my eyes, her expression shifting to something warmer, more intimate.
“Besides,” she murmurs, her voice taking on that husky quality that never fails to make my pulse race, “I can think of several ways to take your mind off dark premonitions once we get back to our room.”
She’s not wrong. My mind immediately turns to delight. “Is that a promise?” I ask with a grin.
“It’s a guarantee,” Robin replies, then leans up to brush her lips against mine with tantalizing brevity. “Now come on. The sooner we get everyone settled for the night, the sooner I can show you exactly how distracting I can be.”
As we continue up the path toward the castle, Robin’s hand warm in mine and her promise heating my blood, I push the sense of impending doom to the back of my mind.
And she does her best to distract me, that much is true.
When we close the door to our chambers, the castle goes silent around us, leaving only the sound of Robin’s quickened breath.
She turns to me with that daring little smile, but before she can say a word, I have her pinned to the wall, kissing her like I need the taste of her to survive.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan into her mouth.
The promise of doom and betrayal lingers somewhere out there in the night, but here—here there is only heat and certainty.
Robin’s body is warm and pliant under my hands, her curves fitting against me as though carved for the purpose.
I trail my lips down her throat, biting gently at the pulse that leaps beneath my tongue. She gasps my name, and the sound threads through me like fire. My hands slide beneath her shirt, palms flat against her skin, savoring the way she arches into my touch.
“Distract me, little bird,” I whisper against her collarbone, though we both know she already is. She laughs softly, breath hitching as I cup her breasts and thumb her nipples through the thin cotton of her bra.
She pulls me to the bed at last, tugging me down beside her, and I lose myself in her taste, her scent, the sharp little sounds she makes when I slide lower and part her thighs.
There, between her legs, she is sweetness and power all at once—wet heat on my tongue, shivering moans vibrating against the stone walls.
In Robin’s arms, the shadows cannot touch me. For these precious moments, there is only us . Equal, entwined, unstoppable. But once she’s fallen asleep, even as I hold her tight, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m sleepwalking toward something inevitable.
Something terrible.
Because the more I surrender to what Robin and I could be, the more I have to lose.