Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
I slip into the hidden chamber beneath the pantry when no one’s looking. My footsteps are silent as I descend the stairs, candlelight flickering across the damp walls.
Alderic is already there, leaning over the table, sleeves rolled, shirt half-unbuttoned, hair mussed from running his hands through it one too many times.
A map is spread before him, corners pinned with mismatched cutlery and a chipped porcelain vase of drinking chocolate, still steaming.
Beside it is a plate of ripe strawberries, thick cream, torn hunks of bread, aged cheese, and golden honey.
He doesn’t look up right away. Which means I get a full, unguarded moment to look at him.
My stomach dips, low and aching, like I’ve stepped off the edge of something I can’t quite see the bottom of.
My skin prickles. My mouth dries. He looks…
edible. Like every dark, aching thing I’ve ever wanted.
And suddenly, all I can think about is how I need to feel that mouth on my throat, his hands gripping my hips, the weight of his body pressing me down as he—
“Are you mentally undressing me?” Alderic glances up, and that slow, self-satisfied grin spreads across his face like he already knows exactly what I was thinking. Which, unfortunately, he probably does.
My whole body jerks, and my face flames. “I—no,” I sputter, flinging the coat out between us like a shield. “I brought your clothes.”
His gaze drops lazily to the coat, then back to my flushed cheeks, and I know he’s cataloging every detail of my mortification. “You only brought a coat?”
I clear my throat and straighten like I’m presenting a quarterly report instead of resisting the urge to climb him like a tree. “And a shirt,” I say, flipping the velvet over my arm to reveal the rumpled linen button-down. “And pants.”
His lips twitch. “Just pants? No underthings? How bold of you.”
I narrow my eyes. “Do you want your clothes or not?”
He tilts his head, gaze sweeping down to the bundle of fabric, then slowly dragging back up to me with deliberate hunger. “I’d rather there was no fabric between us,” he murmurs, “but I suppose this will do.”
He takes the bundle, brushing his fingers against mine in the exchange. It’s nothing, barely a whisper of contact, but it slides through me like silk pulled slow across bare skin.
We hover there—coat limp in his hands, a current of heat thrumming between us. His eyes drop to my mouth, linger. When they rise again, there’s something molten in them, something that dares me to keep pretending I don’t want this. Don’t want him.
He steps closer. Just an inch. But it’s enough to make the air feel thinner, tighter. The warmth of his body spills over me, skimming the exposed line of my collarbone, stealing the breath from my lungs.
I want him.
God, I want him.
Even now, with the memory of his deception still jagged in my chest, with everything he’s kept from me still coiled beneath the surface—I want him.
Because there’s magick. Because there’s the Lovers card. Because from the moment I found him in the woods, naked and endearing and mine without even knowing it, something’s been pulling me to him.
Maybe it’s magick. Maybe it’s destiny. Maybe it’s both.
But here, in the eye of the storm, with danger pressing in on all sides and nothing certain beyond the next breath, I want something real—something I choose.
If this is the edge of a cliff, then let me jump knowing I felt something before the fall. Even if it’s selfish. Even if it’s reckless. Even if it’s only for a moment.
He moves closer. Close enough that I feel the tremble in his exhale, the hesitation. Close enough that the world narrows to the shape of him.
His fingers rise slowly, giving me every second to pull away. I don’t.
His thumb traces the edge of my cheekbone, a featherlight touch that lands like lightning. My breath stutters in my chest. My pulse kicks, too loud in the quiet.
“Gemma.” My name is a raw thing in his mouth. Not a question. Not a plea. Just a truth he can’t keep inside any longer. His gaze finds my lips again, and he exhales. “I may not know how the Tower works or why its magick chose us. Maybe I’ll never understand it.”
He leans in, forehead brushing mine, our breaths mingling in the narrow space between us.
“But I know this.” His voice drops, steadier now, full of something that makes me ache. “Whatever force pulled me to you—whatever split the sky open and set this in motion—I’d let it break me a thousand times over if it meant I’d find you again.”
My throat tightens. My heart melts against my ribs.
“I’ve walked through kingdoms where my name meant everything. I’ve sat on a throne and felt nothing. I’ve had riches, power, adoration.” His hand finds my mine, wraps gently around it. “And none of it—not a single crown, not a single victory—made me feel alive until I met you.”
I’m not breathing. I don’t think I can.
“I don’t want this because the Tower says I should,” he finishes, eyes burning into mine. “I want it because you are the only thing in this entire realm—this world—I can’t live without.”
I feel the crack form. A hairline fracture through everything I’ve tried to hold together. The part of me that’s been standing guard, that’s been clinging to anger and logic and reason—it falters, collapses.
I let out a shaky breath and try for levity, something flippant to counter the way he’s made me feel like the center of the universe. “I thought I said no grand gestures.”
His lips tip into a smile. “That wasn’t a gesture. That was the truth.”
And then he leans in, impossibly gentle, impossibly sure, and kisses me like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.
And I let him.
Because maybe it is.
His tongue glides along the seam of my lips, teasing, coaxing. His fingers tangle in my hair, threading through the strands with just enough force to tilt my head back.
A soft gasp escapes me, and he takes his opening, his mouth slanting over mine, his tongue sweeping inside, claiming, devouring. Chocolate brushes my tastebuds as he licks into my mouth, the sweetness mixing with something deeper, darker. Something that tastes like home.
A groan rumbles in his throat, vibrating against my lips, and it sends a hot rush straight through me. My nails scrape against his chest, and he shudders, his breath coming faster, rougher.
“You taste like chocolate,” I murmur without thinking.
His hands slide down my back, gripping my waist, pressing me flush against him. “Then keep tasting. Until I’m the only flavor you remember.”
I don’t have time to think before my fingers are fisting in his shirt, and his breath is on my neck. The space between want and ruin has never felt so thin.
He doesn’t rush, doesn’t demand. Alderic just watches me unravel beneath the weight of my own hunger.
And then, like he can hear my every secret thought, he turns toward the platter beside us.
His movements are unhurried and sinfully confident as he plucks a strawberry from the plate next to the chocolate.
He dips it into the goblet, coating the fruit in thick, molten sweetness, then drags it slowly across my bottom lip.
“Open,” he says, his voice rough with want.
My breath catches. Heat coils low in my belly, pulsing between my thighs. I obey, parting my lips, the molten chocolate smearing over my skin.
His gaze burns as he slips the berry into my mouth, his thumb grazing the corner as I close my lips around the fruit.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “I didn’t think you could look more delicious.”
The taste is decadent—rich, dark, sinful.
The chocolate curls over my tongue, its warmth spreading through me.
I hold his gaze as I take a slow bite, the sweetness bursting between my teeth.
A single drop of chocolate slips down my chin, and before I can wipe it away, Alderic leans in and catches it with his tongue.
His moan is low, wrecked.
“Chocolate and you—two of my favorite things together,” he breathes, dipping his fingers into the sweet dessert and dragging them across my collarbone.
I shudder, breathless, as he follows the path with his tongue, licking the chocolate from my skin.
Alderic pulls back just enough for me to see his face—his skin flushed, his lips swollen from our kisses, his pupils so wide they swallow the blue of his eyes.
He stares at me as if I’m something he was never meant to have but can’t bear to let go.
As if he’s memorizing me, committing every inch of me to his soul, knowing that even eternity wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.
His fingers tremble where they press into my skin, the only sign that he’s barely holding himself together. That if I ask for it—if I so much as whisper his name—he will fall apart for me.
His fingers drift over the curve of my hip before skimming lower, gripping me just enough to make me shiver. Then, he plucks another strawberry, dipping it deep into the chocolate, letting it coat the surface before bringing it to my mouth again.
This time, I don’t just take the fruit. I lean in and catch the tip between my lips, teasing, before sinking my teeth into the juicy flesh. The noise that slips from Alderic’s throat is almost feral.
Before he can say another word, I grab his collar and pull him to me, pressing my mouth to his, letting the flavor spill between us. He doesn’t hesitate. His tongue sweeps inside, tasting, devouring.
His grip on me tightens as he walks me backward, his lips never leaving mine, until my back collides with the cold stone wall. The shock of it sends a gasp tumbling from my lips, and he takes advantage, his tongue licking deeper.