Chapter 34 Aurelie
Aurelie
By Thursday morning, the portal was nearly finished. All of the stones were in place, the metal plates affixed with resin.
Kiara had carved most of the runes on Wednesday while Aurelie continued to work on her translation. They were cutting it close—maybe
too close. But she couldn’t let herself think that way. She was like a horse in blinders, gaze narrowed to the hour, minutes,
seconds ahead. If she widened her view at all, she started to feel the panic creep in—and that was the last thing she needed.
The fact that today was Yule was difficult to grasp. Aurelie had spent every Yule since her parents’ death with Uncle Leo
in his cottage. There was no pine tree this year, no presents beneath it, no dinner with other faculty members who lacked
family or students who were stranded in town thanks to a freak snowstorm.
This year, there wasn’t even Mephisto, who usually received an extra cockroach for Yule dinner. Years ago, Kiara had knit
it a tiny stocking and hung it over a miniature mantel she’d carved out of wood in her father’s shop. Since then, she would
bring a diminutive gift for Mephisto, generally something completely useless, like a Mephisto-sized sweater with eight leg
holes. Aurelie had given up attempting to wrangle the demon into it almost immediately for fear of losing a finger.
At noon, eyes blurring from her translation efforts, she went to the cottage to prepare another pitiful meal, feeling immensely sorry for herself.
Of course, she knew Uncle Leo had it far worse, wasting away in a cage in a cellar.
Perhaps they could celebrate a belated Yule once they were reunited.
She would purchase something special for him.
A new pocket watch or a fountain pen with a crystal inkwell.
Anything he wanted, so long as they were together.
She started a fire and skimmed another crumbling tome on Elder Vansion, struggling to read it while her thoughts strayed in
a thousand directions. The portal, Des, Uncle Leo. So many things had to go right for this to work, when only one wrong move
would lead to utter ruin. When a knock sounded on the door, she dropped the book. Daisy was spending Yule with her cousin.
Jasper and Gareth had friends they were going to visit. Des hadn’t said if he had plans, but she hadn’t dared hope he might
choose to spend it with her.
But when she opened the door, there was Des, wearing his gray Iron Guard peacoat and holding a small, crooked pine tree.
“Happy Yule, Aurelie.”
She could feel herself smiling overly wide, but she didn’t even try to suppress it. It was astonishing how easily Des could
make her forget all her other worries. “Happy Yule, Des.” She ushered him in from the cold, holding the tree while he shrugged
out of his coat and hung it on the coatrack.
“I didn’t know if I’d see you today,” she said as they walked into the library.
Des put the tree in a corner, far from the fireplace. “I hadn’t planned to come,” he said, looking sheepish. “But I knew it
might be our last day together before . . .”
He didn’t need to finish. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She glanced at the tree, which looked woefully naked without any decorations. “I have an idea,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to the closet where Uncle Leo allowed Aurelie to keep one box of Yule trimmings.
Des picked it up and carried it back to the tree, and they spent the next hour placing baubles and tinsel on it, each being
careful not to touch the other, as though they knew the moment they did, the tree would be forgotten, along with everything
else.
When the box was empty, they stood back to admire their work.
“I’ve never had a Yule tree before,” Des said. “It’s pretty.”
The thought that Des had never had a proper Yule made Aurelie want to cry. “Thank you, for bringing it. And for coming.” Their
eyes met. Aurelie’s throat clogged with all the things she wanted to say. “Your promotion!” she blurted instead.
He blinked. “What about it?”
“I meant to say congratulations. How was the ceremony?”
He smiled, though Aurelie couldn’t help feeling it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It was short but good. I’m officially Lieutenant
Commander Whitlow.” He leaned closer. “I expect you’ll treat me with respect now, Miss Blake.”
She grinned. “I expect you know me better than that by now, Destroyer.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, both smiling like fools. She’d never felt anything like this. She was giddy, for crying out loud.
He opened his mouth to speak.
“Shall I make tea?” she asked, overly bright. She didn’t know how long he planned to stay, but she’d do anything to drag their
time out as long as possible.
“I’ll help,” he said, beginning to follow her.
She stopped him with a palm to his chest. “No, stay here. I’m afraid I’ll never finish if you come with me.”
He looked at her with such fondness she felt her heart might break. “Would that be so terrible?”
“Just, stay here, all right?”
He sat down in one of the wingback chairs, placing his hands on his knees obediently. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Aurelie headed for the kitchen, put the kettle on, and then ran like a madwoman to her bedroom. She winced at the sheer volume
of ruffles and bows, but it was absolutely not the time to redecorate. She stood in front of the mirror, assessing her appearance.
She’d worn a green plaid dress today, the most festive thing she had, and put her hair in its usual braid for lack of anything
else to do. She considered taking it down and then thought better of it. She’d let Des do it for her.
Even imagining it made her flush.
By the time she made it back to the kitchen, the kettle had been removed from the fire and the tea was steeping. She heard
a rummaging from the pantry. A moment later, Des emerged.
“I told you to stay put!” she scolded.
For some reason, he smiled. “The kettle was screaming,” he said as he placed a handful of items on the counter. “Where were
you, anyhow?”
“That’s none of your business.” She glanced at the items on the counter and frowned. “What are you doing?”
“I’m baking you a cake. Daisy gave me a recipe.” He held up a small piece of paper covered in flowery script. “Eggs, flour,
butter, sugar, and milk. It seems simple enough.”
Aurelie stared at him for a moment, wondering if she was going to melt into a mass of warm goo or spontaneously combust. Surely the feeling in her chest was a precursor to one or the other.
“Or not,” Des said. “It was just a thought.”
She stepped toward him. “My silence was not an indicator of a dislike for cake.”
Ever so gently, he placed his hands on her hips. “What is it an indicator of, then?”
“Of how much I like you.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, his grip tightening on her. “We could skip the cake.”
She grinned, resting her head against his chest. “No. Let’s have tea, and cake. Let’s sit by the fire and talk. Let’s do all
of it, while we can.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “That’s a good thought, too.”
When the cake was finished—burnt on the outside and somehow still runny on the inside—they sat down by the fire and ate it
with their bare hands.
“It’s terrible,” Des said, wincing. He looked like he wanted to spit it out, but she shook her head.
“It was an experiment, that’s all. Next time we’ll turn the heat down and cook it for longer.”
He swallowed and winced as though he immediately regretted it. “Is that how you handle your failed experiments?”
“Of course. What’s the alternative?”
“Giving up? Accepting the fact that we’re not good bakers?”
Aurelie smiled. “That’s not how science works. And I’m guessing that’s not how baking works, either. How many things in life do we get right the first time?”
Des was quiet for a moment. “The only thing I’ve ever tried to be was an Iron Guard. And I was good at it from the beginning.”
“Hmm. I’m guessing you had a lot of failures along the way, though. Surely you didn’t win every fight, especially when you
were small.”
“I told you, I was never small.”
Aurelie knew that wasn’t true. He may have felt big compared to others, but he’d been a child, once. Someone had held him,
helped feed and dress him. Perhaps he couldn’t remember it, but no one grew up all on their own.
Still, she wished he knew what it was like to be held. She scooted over to him, kneeled behind him, and draped herself over
his back.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his face just inches from hers.
“Holding you.”
He chuckled, a rumbling throughout his entire body. “Hardly. You’re like a heavy blanket, at best. One that only covers a
quarter of my body.”
She sighed and sat back on her heels. “I’ll have to think on this one. There has to be a way for me to make you feel as safe
in my arms as I feel in yours.”
He reached around and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her into his lap. Breathless, she looked up into his eyes, which were
so warm in the glow of the firelight. How could she have ever thought them cold?
Gently, he brushed her hair out of her face. “Aurelie, you do make me feel safe.”
“How?” she asked, genuinely confused.
“No one has ever put themselves in harm’s way for me before. Not even when I was a child. From the time I could speak, it was my sworn duty to protect every citizen above myself. I’m the last line of defense, Aurelie.”
She reached up to cup his jaw. “Not anymore, Des.”
He kissed her with exquisite slowness, and when he finally pulled away, his eyes were gleaming in a way that suggested tears.
At the sight, her heart swelled until it burst, a sensation that felt a little like ecstasy and a little like dying. She kissed
him again, her hand finding its way beneath his tunic to the smooth muscle above his heart. It beat wildly against her palm,
an echo of her own.
Without thinking, she took his hand and held it to her own heart, so he would know how she felt. He sighed into her mouth,
cupping her breast so tenderly that she pressed into him, craving more contact.
And then there was no more hesitancy, though the tenderness remained even as he untied the ribbon at her throat, laughing
in frustration at the tiny buttons down the front of her dress, their lips never leaving each other’s skin as she tugged at
the hem of his tunic, eager to see more of him.
She sat back then to admire him, the way the firelight danced over his skin, highlighting the hard planes of muscle, the shadowed
valleys formed by years of training, nothing soft about him save for the way he looked at her as she shrugged out of her dress.
He looked hungry and a little desperate, as though he might starve without another taste of her.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, rising to his feet.
“Then where are you going?”
Wordlessly, he picked her up and carried her to the sofa, setting her down as if she were as light as a feather. She attempted to pull him down to her, but he remained standing, one knee on the sofa next to her hip, gazing down at her as though attempting to memorize her.
She sat up and began to reach for the hem of her shift, but he stilled her with his hand.
“Let me, please.”
She nodded as he lifted with agonizing slowness, drinking in the pale length of her legs, the curve of her hips, the swell
of her breasts. Even the scratches across her chest received his full attention, and to her relief, he didn’t recoil at the
sight of them. Instead, he bent over her and pressed a kiss to the soft skin where her shoulder met her breast.
She gasped as he explored her with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. She wanted to give him the same pleasure, but the sensations
were overwhelming, making it impossible to concentrate on anything other than this.
“Tell me what you like,” he rasped against her ear, but all she could do was nod wordlessly and reach for his trousers.
He smiled against her throat and allowed her to undo his laces, helping her pull his trousers down his hips. When she saw
him, actually saw him, she froze.
“Des,” she whispered. “I don’t think . . .”
Bracketing her between his forearms, he cupped her face until she looked at him. “It’s like one of your experiments.”
She hooded her gaze. “I assure you, this is not like my experiments.”
He chuckled again, kissing her forehead. “We try things, find what works. Try again. If I’m doing my part right, this will
be very successful. For both of us.”
“Not like the cake, though,” she whispered. “Right? Because that was truly terrible.”
He smiled, but almost instantly his features settled into something more serious, nearly solemn. “Aurelie, above all things,
I promise I will keep you safe. That includes from me, too. If at any point you want to stop, we stop. If you want to stop
right now, we can go to the kitchen and bake ano—”
She pressed her fingers to his lips and put her mouth against his ear. “I don’t want to stop, Des.” To prove her point, she
reached between them and took him in her hand.
His breath hitched. “Aurelie. If you do that, this may be over whether you like it or not.”
“Oh,” she said as realization dawned. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t ever apologize for that,” he breathed. “Now, tell me what you’d like from me.”
She blushed, dropping her gaze. She wasn’t sure how to voice what she liked. “It might be easier if I show you.”
Where he’d once scowled at her as though she were an utter nuisance, Des gazed down at her now as though she were the most
wonderful thing he’d ever beheld. That look alone was enough to undo her. But when he lowered his mouth to the hollow at the
base of her throat and murmured against her skin, good girl, she knew she was lost completely.