Chapter 14 Aurelie #2
the image of the somnia on the other side of Easton Hall’s doors came back to her. She’d tried not to think about it, because every time she did,
she became a little less certain about accepting Everard’s proposal. A little less certain that she wasn’t consorting with demons, considering she had one sleeping in her laboratory at that very moment. Right now, Lieutenant Whitlow
believed he was mistaken about her. But what if he was right? Should she tell him about the somnia that spoke to her? Was she putting others at risk by not telling him?
If she did, that would be the end of her inventing, at least for the foreseeable future. The Iron Guard would probably put
more guards on duty at Wisteria University, and she’d be under particular scrutiny. Mephisto would have to be kept hidden,
which would not be easy. Though she often thought of the little creature as more companion than demon, she knew no one else
would see it that way. Except for Kiara, and even she refused to touch it.
Before she could make sense of her jumbled thoughts, Des leaned forward with his hand outstretched and Aurelie froze, her
mind a complete blank as to what was happening. He swiped his thumb against her forehead, sweeping her fringe aside, and she
only managed to stifle her gasp by biting her lip. His face was inches from hers, but his eyes were focused on her forehead.
“Are you hurt?” he asked softly.
Aurelie had stopped breathing. Des had lifted out of his seat slightly and was bracing himself against the wing of the chair with his left hand, caging her in, while his right continued to gently probe her forehead.
She could feel the soft puff of his exhalations on her skin, a stark contrast to the roughness of his hands.
She’d never been this close to a person since her parents died, let alone a man.
She told herself he was a guard, that this sort of proximity between men and women was perfectly normal in his world. He and
Daisy regarded each other as equals, likely doing everything together, from eating to training to sleeping.
The thought made her blush, and yet she didn’t move. He lowered his right hand. His eyes, which had been fixated on her forehead,
suddenly flicked down to hers.
Warmth flooded Aurelie, her blood rushing in her ears. Her stomach, or something just below it, did an odd swooping thing
that she’d heard Kiara describe as butterflies.
Oh, she thought, with all the surprise of a scientist realizing, suddenly, that their hypothesis had been entirely incorrect.
Oh, my.
He was so close that she noticed his eyes were not gray or blue, but something in between that reminded her of the soft silver-green
of lamb’s ears. There were several small scars scattered across his face, as though from shattered glass. She felt the strangest
urge to touch them. Ten minutes ago she would have described his mouth as stern, but now—
He glanced at his thumb. “Ah, just charcoal. I thought it was a bruise,” he murmured.
She blinked, recovering herself, and was grateful when he sat back all the way. A few more seconds and who knew what she might
have done. “That happens a lot.”
“A hazard of the job,” he said.
She breathed a laugh, not entirely sure if he was mocking her. A part of her wished he would leave so she could refill her
teacup and ponder what in the world had just happened to her. And another part of her wanted to test the hypothesis further.
“So you’re all right, Miss Blake?” he asked.
“I . . . What?” She shook her head to clear it. “I’m fine. And please, call me Aurelie.” Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug.
“If you’d like.”
“Then call me Des. It’s less of a mouthful than Lieutenant Whitlow.”
“Des.” It was the first time she’d said his name out loud. “Is it a nickname?”
His eyes flicked down to his hands, which were braced against his knees. “My full name is Destrier. But again—”
“Destrier? As in a warhorse?”
He tilted his head in an offhand manner. “The Iron Guard took me in when I was an infant. What can I say, they had high hopes
for me even then.”
“An infant?”
“Yes.”
She studied her ink-stained fingers for a moment. “Is it true that all guards were orphaned by demons?” She’d heard the rumor
before, but it seemed impossible that so many children could have been affected in that way, considering how uncommon demonic
deaths were these days.
His nostrils flared as he gave a tight nod. “Yes. We’re brought from all over Wisteria.”
A wash of shame came over her. “I didn’t realize.”
“Few do.”
“My own parents died when I was seven.” She hadn’t planned to say it, but it felt wrong to leave him alone in his vulnerability.
“A carriage accident. I don’t remember much of it, fortunately.”
“You were there?”
Aurelie nodded. “We were coming to the university that day. Just for a visit. I didn’t realize my uncle worked here. I certainly
didn’t expect that I’d never go home again.” She swallowed the knot forming in her throat. “The only thing I remember was
my mother screaming my father’s name.”
Des was quiet for a long moment. Judging her, she imagined. His parents died and he found himself being raised by the Iron
Guard, while she ended up in relative luxury.
He surprised her when he said, “I’m sorry. I suppose I’m fortunate not to remember my parents’ deaths.”
She exhaled. “I’ve never found it particularly useful to search for blessings in misfortune. Terrible things happen to good
people. Good things happen to terrible people. Trying to make sense of it all could drive a person mad.”
What was she blathering on about? Des was staring at her as though she truly were mad, and she felt her cheeks go hot. “I’m
sorry. I—”
His words were so soft she scarcely heard them. “I know exactly what you mean.”
Their eyes met. Aurelie felt as electrified as a raw nerve under his gaze.
Her lips parted, though she had no idea what she wanted to say.
Except, perhaps, that she was grateful for his honesty.
The moment stretched on, the butterflies in Aurelie’s stomach migrating south as she fought the urge to . . .
He rose, breaking the tension she’d been nearly consumed by. “I should get back to the fort.”
“Yes, of course.” She nodded and rose, her legs as unsteady as a newborn foal’s. She couldn’t understand why her body would
react to Des this way, when she was attracted to intelligence and ingenuity, not burliness and brawn.
Wasn’t she?
“I suppose I won’t see you again,” she said when they reached the door, finding herself oddly disappointed by the thought.
“That is, I have no plans to leave the grounds in the near future.”
He gazed down at her. “Who knows. You must get demons here from time to time.”
She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. “Not lately.”
He arched a brow as he turned on the threshold, and for a moment she was sure he could tell she was lying. She wasn’t even
sure why she had lied. Two seconds in the presence of a man and she’d lost control of her faculties. It was a good thing she’d dedicated her
life to scholarly pursuits and eventual spinsterhood.
“In that case, goodbye, Miss Blake. Aurelie,” he corrected himself, before she could. “Good luck with your studies.”
“Good luck with your hunting, Des.”
She waved and closed the door behind him, still feeling a little floaty and lightheaded. It wasn’t until she had returned
to her seat and taken several deep breaths, trying to decide if she was still certain she hated Destrier Whitlow, that she
reached for her sketchbook.
The top page was gone.