Chapter 17 Elodie #2
Thorne must sense my inability to communicate with him because he wordlessly places the pastry bags on the table before taking a step back.
I expect him to keep his head dipped as he backtracks out of the room as if he was never here, but to my surprise, he glances from the stack of books to me and back again three times before he speaks.
“What are you guys doing?” he asks, running the tip of his finger over the fabric cover of one of the books. I shiver at the touch, and it’s not even on my body.
Fuck.
Ocean doesn’t bother to answer before she disappears, making my breath lodge in my throat.
When he blinks at me expectantly, I clear my throat. “Research,” I offer, and he cocks a brow at me.
“On?” he pushes when I don’t immediately take the hint, and I shrug.
“Nothing important.”
He inches closer as though my short and snippy responses are an invitation and not an invisible barrier between us. Why is he looking at me like that? Is that a smoulder? Or can he feel the same heat I can burning deep in my soul?
When he’s a breath away from me, so close that we’re almost standing toe to toe, my breathing comes in short, sharp bursts as I try to stay calm, but it’s impossible. I feel lightheaded all over again, but I refuse to fall into his arms like last time.
“What are you researching, Echo?” he rasps, and I watch as his fingers flex at his sides.
“We’re trying to learn about scythes and anything that will lead us to learning about Elodie’s past,” Ocean answers effortlessly as she reappears at the table, giving away my mild truths without a care, but I don’t have time to glower at her before Thorne interjects.
“You’re not going to find that in here,” he blurts, and I freeze.
“What are you saying?” I murmur, my pulse ringing in my ears as I stare at his lips while I wait for his answer.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, and I run my tongue over my bottom lip as I dare to bring my gaze back to his. Amusement dances in his dark pools, reminding me of just how hot and cold this asshole is. That’s why I’m lightheaded. It’s all of the whiplash he gives me.
“It’s concerning how many times you’ve asked me that lately,” I mutter, folding my arms over my chest, and he tilts his head to the side, his eyebrow still raised in question.
“Do you?” he pushes, making my chest tighten as I relent with a nod. “Good,” he mumbles, lifting his hands at his sides.
Black smoke drapes the room in a matter of seconds as he trudges toward the same wall Ocean stopped at earlier.
With his palm pressed against it, I frown, ready for darkness to completely consume me, but it doesn’t entirely obscure my vision as I anticipate.
He seems to make sure I can see him at all times.
Just as quickly as it came, it disappears, but our surroundings look nothing like they did moments ago.
“What on Earth?” I whisper as Ocean gasps.
“I fucking knew there was something! That’s why my magic drew me to that wall,” she yelps, slowly spinning in a circle in the new room we find ourselves in.
The bookshelves look as if they go on for miles, and they stand twice as tall too.
There are ladders on runners everywhere to aid with the height, but it’s the spot in the center that captures my attention the most. One large table sits dead center, with The Sanctum etched into the woodwork, while above sits the most stunning stained glass I’ve ever seen.
A mixture of pinks and purples swoop into a cloud of pale blues and greens, while the opposite side darkens into oranges and deep reds.
But what I think I love the most are the obnoxiously large signs hanging from the ceiling that detail each section, none of which I’ve seen before.
Pre-Sanctum Era.
Proposals.
Records.
Rebellions.
The Institute Games.
Unwanted Magical Beings.
Weapons.
None of them outright say ‘scythe,’ but it feels like there’s a strong possibility it could be in one of those categories.
“Where are we exactly?” I ask, flexing my fingers at my sides in an attempt to stop myself from running off toward the first row of books.
“In the restricted area,” Thorne explains, making my eyes widen even more as he confirms my suspicions.
“Assholes,” Ocean grumbles before she darts off to the Pre-Sanctum Era section without a backward glance, leaving just the two of us.
Gulping, I build the strength to tear my gaze away from Ocean, but I startle when my eyes latch back onto Thorne’s. He’s back to standing a wisp away from me.
I tuck a loose curl of purple hair behind my ear as I clear my throat. “Thank you,” I mumble, and he shrugs, digging his hands into his pockets.
“Whatever you need,” he states with a new air of confidence, and it makes my heart race.
“Are we doing that hot and cold thing again? Because I’d rather not. You stalked off from the dining hall like your ass was on fire earlier, and now I’m supposed to just guess that everything’s okay?” I blurt, unsure where the words are even coming from.
I might be confident enough to stand up for myself, but that’s my survival mode kicking in. Saying what I think when it feels like my heart is about to rip from my chest is something else entirely.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he agrees, eliminating the final distance between us, and I immediately go lightheaded as my chest burns. His eyebrows gather in just a way that makes me pause, wondering if he’s feeling it too.
It’s like I’m floating out at sea without a raft, ready to succumb to the pain in my chest, and he’s the lighthouse at shore, coaxing me to safety, but the lack of reliability of his offer makes me wonder if the light will stay on the closer I get.
So close, the pain is at its peak, but my heart continues to pound rapidly, pleading with me to eliminate the rest of the distance to soothe the burn inside.
Pressing my lips into a firm line, I slowly lift my hand, watching him watch me as I dare to touch his chest.
The second my fingertips touch his t-shirt, he stiffens, a groan parting his lips as my eyes widen.
As promised, the burn in my chest turns into a different kind of heat.
His jaw falls slack, leaving me desperate to know whether he feels the shift too, but my tongue doesn’t seem to work.
Instead, his hands clasp onto my waist a moment later, his thumbs pressing even more firmly into my hip bone, and I shudder.
The room shifts, my entire focus on him as if nothing else exists. It’s like that exact moment when he saved me from Willow’s scratch across my face all over again.
He’s everywhere and nowhere all at once, and I don’t know what I need to do to satiate my body.
Sensing my internal battle, he lifts one hand to my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine as his calloused thumb swoops across my skin.
He tilts his head forward.
Eyes fixed on my lips.
Another inch disappears.
My palms tingle against his chest.
His heart races under my touch.
Another inch disappears.
My eyes widen.
And my core heats.
Another inch disappears.
Our breaths mingle between us.
His lips are just a breath from mine.
And—
“There are literally multiple books on scythes and don’t even get me started on the rebellion books,” Ocean hollers, jolting us apart as her voice carries quicker than she does.
As she turns the corner, coming into view, Thorne is so far away from me I could swear it must have all been a hallucination.
But the way he sweeps his hand through his hair, his gaze downcast, tells me he’s just as affected as I am.
My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, my mind swirling, but before I can think of a single word, Thorne’s voice cuts through the air.
“Then let’s get to work.”