Chapter 44
Lochan
I watch, transfixed, as dark shadows swirl around Marius and Brigid, the air heavy with an energy that is both mesmerizing and unsettling.
Marius's face is a mask of intense concentration, his dark eyes narrowed as he channels his power. The revelation hits me again—he has shadow magic. How could Dean Charling or any of us have missed this?
The shadows seem to dance around the two of them, the blackness coiling around Marius's fingers where they press firmly against Brigid's temples. He leans in, his lips brushing her ear as he murmurs words I can't decipher. The sound is low and rhythmic, almost hypnotic.
Brigid's response is immediate and physical. Her back arches off the stone altar, a soft, sultry moan escaping her lips. The sound goes straight to my cock.
Her shirt falls open, baring the pale curve of her full breasts, the cool air of the chamber causing her nipples to harden into tight peaks. The sight is breathtaking; her body is an artist’s masterpiece of sexuality and vulnerability.
Fuck . I shouldn't be watching this. I shouldn't want to watch this.
But I do. Gods help me, I do.
I want to rip Marius away from her, to be the one touching her, eliciting those sweet moans. My hands clench into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms as I struggle to control the urge. The sight of his hands on her, his shadows caressing her skin, is almost too much to bear. I selfishly want to be the one to bring her to the heights of pleasure, to see her eyes glaze over with ecstasy.
Marius's shadows continue to dance and weave, their movements synchronized with Brigid's gasps and moans. They seem to have a life of their own, exploring her body with an intimacy that makes my blood boil. They trace the curve of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, each touch eliciting a response that is both beautiful and torturous to watch.
I take a step forward, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I need to be closer, to see her face, to read her eyes. I need to know that she's okay, that this is what she wants. But more than that, I need her to see me, to know that I'm here, that I want her.
The shadows seem to sense my presence, a few tendrils reaching out towards me before Marius pulls them back, his grip on Brigid tightening. His eyes meet mine, a challenge in their dark depths.
Brigid's eyes flutter open, unfocused and dazed. I hear Tiernan exhale a sound of relief. Marius steps back into the shadows.
Brigid struggles to sit up. Her gaze drops to her exposed chest, and she flushes, quickly pulling her shirt closed.
I move closer, concern overriding my arousal. "Are you alright?"
Brigid nods, but she's trembling slightly. The others crowd around, their expressions a mix of worry and wariness.
Tiernan’s face is a more a mixture of concern and curiosity, but that’s Tiernan. “Can you tell us what just happened?”
"I... I'm not sure. It's all jumbled."
“I saw something,” Brigid says, her voice hoarse.
I lean in closer, my heart pounding. "What did you see?"
Brigid's eyes lock onto mine, intense and urgent. "Rory. I saw Rory."
Disbelief wars with a sudden, fierce hope. "That's impossible. Rory's..."
"Alive," Brigid insists. "He's alive. I saw him."
I search her face, looking for any sign of doubt or deception. There's none. Just raw, unshakeable certainty.
"Where?" I demand, grabbing her shoulders. "Where is he?"
Brigid shakes her head, frustrated. "I don't know. It was dark, vague. But he's alive. I felt it."
Could it be true? I want to believe her, but...
"How can we be sure?" Callen's voice cuts through my thoughts.
Tiernan steps forward, his calm presence a stark contrast to the almost physical sense of unease. "There might be a way," he says, his voice low and thoughtful. "A ritual to stabilize Brigid's powers so that she can use them to connect to whatever created that rift. If we can do that, we might be able to use them to locate Rory."
"What kind of ritual?" Marius moves closer to Brigid, possessive. I want to rip his head off.
"We need to focus on getting out of this chamber first. We can worry about rituals once we're out of this place. And after we figure out what’s going on with the Council,” Callen says.
I need to take a minute. I lean back against a wall, checking for the murals first to make sure I’m not going to be accidentally fondling the Raven King’s dick.
"You know, my sources have been singing quite the interesting tune about our esteemed leaders.” Callen drops the bomb on everyone.
Marius's eyes narrow.
"What sort of tune?" Tiernan asks with raised eyebrows.
"Oh, you know, the usual conspiracy theories. Secret meetings, hidden agendas, possible total domination." He waves his hand dismissively, but his eyes are alert. "They seem to think the Council's true motives are far from the unity and cooperation they preach."
"And what do you think, princeling?" Marius's voice drips with disdain. "Or are you too busy licking your father's boots to form an opinion?"
I watch Callen’s smile freeze. Before he can do anything, Brigid steps between them, a position she seems to be taking a lot these days.
"This isn't helping," she says softly. "We need to work together."
You're right, darling. Though I must say, all this back and forth is making me rather—stiff.” Callen's gaze lingers on Brigid's still-disheveled shirt. "Perhaps we should consider some group bonding exercises to relieve the stress?"
I groan. "Now's not the time, Callen."
"On the contrary, my sour friend. I find laughter to be an excellent way to keep the shadows at bay. Give them a good spanking, so to speak." He winks at Brigid, and I see the flush that spreads across her cheeks even in the dim light. "And I'm sure we could all use a bit of... release."
Marius's eyes flash dangerously. "Watch yourself, princeling. Your silver tongue won't save you down here."
Callen leans in closer to Brigid, and I see her eyes stray to his mouth. "Oh, but it's not my tongue you need to worry about. It's what I can do with my—"
"Enough!" My voice is thunderous, silencing them all.
Marius's comment about Callen’s father nags at me. What does he know?
My gaze locks with Brigid's, and for a moment, the world narrows to just us. The apprehension in her eyes, the slight tremble of her lower lip – it ignites something instinctual within me. I want to protect her, to possess her, to—
"We should split up," Tiernan suggests, breaking the spell. "Cover more ground."
"No," Marius snaps. "We stay together."
I can't help but notice how his eyes never leave Brigid. The possessive glint there makes my blood boil. She's not his to claim.
As we begin our search, I hang back, watching. Tiernan's gentle touches as he helps Brigid over debris. Callen's stolen glances when he thinks no one's looking.
My fingers trace the damp stone walls, searching for any hidden mechanism or passage.
"Fuck," I mutter, withdrawing my hand. Something sharp has sliced my palm.
Brigid is at my side in an instant, her cool fingers cradling my injured hand. "Let me see."
The concern in her eyes, the softness of her touch—it’s unexpected.
Her skin is warm and smooth against my own. I can feel the gentle pressure of her touch, like a feather dancing across my skin. Her touch sends a tingling sensation through my whole body, igniting something deep within me.
I'm about to say something else when Marius's voice cuts through the tautness.
"This way," he announces, striding towards a shadowy corner of the chamber.
My eyes narrow. How convenient. I exchange a loaded glance with Callen, his clenched jaw telling me he's thinking the same thing. Marius sweeps his hand through the air, and the shadows seem to part like a curtain, revealing a narrow passageway.
"Surprise, surprise," I say, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. “After you.”
As we file into the passage, Tiernan's voice echoes off the close walls. "Did you know Grimstone was built on ruins older than anyone knows? These tunnels could predate the academy itself."
The narrow passageway is dimly lit by the glowing orb in Tiernan’s hand, casting shadows over the roughly carved stone older and less refined than the newer stone used to build Grimstone.
"Fascinating," I mutter, more focused on the way Brigid's body brushes against mine in the tight space. The scent of her hair fills my senses. It's like an aphrodisiac, making it hard to focus on anything else.
We climb higher, the air growing less stagnant with each step. Relief mingles with a creeping sense of unease in my gut. Something about this feels too easy, too convenient.
There’s nothing at the end of the passage, just more stone, until Marius pushes against a small section of the wall.
Suddenly, we emerge into a familiar room.
The towering shelves stretch towards the ceiling, rising into darkness as if reaching for the secrets of the world. Each shelf is filled to the brim with books of all sizes, some thick and heavy, others slender and worn. Rolled up parchments peek out from between the covers, their edges curling with age. Strange artifacts sit atop the shelves, their unknown purposes adding to the mystery of the room. Every surface is covered, leaving only narrow pathways for us to navigate through the clutter.
The old archive. Dust motes dance in shafts of light filtering through the high windows. The musty smell of age-old esoterica fills the air.
It really can’t be that easy.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. There's a charge to the air, a weight of expectation. Like the room itself is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Brigid's sharp intake of breath draws my attention. Her eyes are wide, fixed on a point just beyond my shoulder. I start to turn—
I freeze mid-turn, caught between curiosity and caution. Brigid's face has gone pale, her lips parted in shock. Whatever—or whoever—she sees has her utterly transfixed.
"Brigid?" I keep my voice low, not wanting to startle her or alert whatever's lurking in the shadows. "What is it?"
She doesn't respond, doesn't even blink. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
The others have noticed now, tensing around us. Marius takes a step forward, his face darkening with hostility or possessiveness—I can never tell with him.
I follow Brigid's gaze into the depths of the archive. At first, I see nothing but shelves and shadows. Then—a movement. A figure materializes from the darkness.
“You.” Brigid’s voice, when it finally comes, is barely more than a whisper. “How?"
I hear a voice reply, and it's a twisted thing that makes my blood run cold.
"Hello, girl. I've been waiting for you.”