Chapter 14 #2
“Habit,” he admitted, rubbing his arm in mock injury. “Come on, let’s talk. I was in my study, reviewing painfully dull documents for my father. If you don’t mind joining me, I’ll tidy them up.”
She followed him through the halls to his study, a stark and utilitarian room.
Papers were scattered across his desk, and a bookshelf in one corner was sparsely filled with a few well-worn adventure novels.
A lone plant perched on the windowsill, its vibrant green standing out against the otherwise drab surroundings.
“Not much for decor, are you?” Evelyne teased, noting his slight discomfort as she scanned the room.
“I don’t spend much time here,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “I get my work done and leave. I promise I’m more interesting than this room suggests.”
She already knew that—they’d known each other since childhood, after all.
“Well, the plant adds some life,” she smiled, taking the seat he offered.
As he tidied his desk, Evelyne’s eyes fell on his hands. One bore a fresh scab and bruised knuckles.
“Your hand…” she began cautiously. “Is that from the market?”
He paused, glancing at it briefly. “Just a scratch,” he said dismissively.
She hesitated, unsure how to broach the topic further, but Alaric shifted the conversation.
“You look better,” he observed. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Better, yes, but I’m not sure all right is the right word.”
“I have not spoken a word of what transpired in the alley,” Alaric said evenly. “Though I would not object to seeing the scoundrel receive his due. Still, I thought it best to leave the matter in your hands, so that you might decide how it should be addressed.”
Evelyne drew in a trembling breath. “I feel utterly humiliated,” she said softly.
“There is fear, yes, and anger, but more than that. He touched me in a way no one ought to. He hurt me, not only in body, but in a way I can hardly name. It feels as though he left me hollow… like he claimed something that was never his to take.” Her throat tightened as she spoke, and though part of her longed to turn away from Alaric’s sorrowful gaze, she didn’t.
She held her ground, though her eyes dropped to her lap, fixed on her trembling hands.
“And I don’t know if I can face him anytime soon,” she added quietly.
“I know,” Alaric murmured after a moment, exhaling heavily as if her pain weighed on him too. “You may count on my presence at the ball tomorrow. And should he have the audacity to attend, I’ll ensure he keeps his distance.”
“Thank you,” Evelyne whispered. “For everything you did for me that night. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
Alaric nodded, but she couldn’t let it go. The question had lingered in her mind ever since.
“Alaric…” She paused, gathering herself. “How did you know where I was? How did you find me in the market?” She shook her head, her disbelief still fresh.
He exhaled slowly, his hand settling at the back of his neck.
“I had no idea you were there,” he said, his voice quiet.
“It was a feeling I can’t quite explain.
Something urged me forward, like a tingling at the nape of my neck that refused to leave.
” His gaze turned distant. “It wasn’t reason or chance.
It just… felt like instinct. As if something within me pushed me toward that alley.
And the moment I turned the corner… I heard you.
” He shrugged, though doubt flickered in his expression. “Maybe it was a coincidence.”
She gave a faint nod, but her mind wrestled with the meaning behind his words. He seemed to sense her unease, and quickly shifted the conversation away, sparing her from having to dwell on it any longer.
When he asked about Cillian, Evelyne felt her chest lighten just a little.
While the subject was still heavy, it was easier to talk about her brother.
Her worries tumbled forth in a rush of words as emotion surged past the careful guard of her nerves.
Alaric listened closely, offering a quiet reassurance that no matter how broken she felt, she wasn’t alone in facing it.
“I want to help him,” she admitted. “But all he asks is for me to wait until he’s ready. He doesn’t think it’s an illness, but what else could it be? The visions, his actions… None of it makes sense.”
Alaric rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Did he mention anything else?”
“He said he keeps seeing a woman… and symbols. But he doesn’t know why. And he said it feels like something is inside him, like it’s waiting. But what could cause that? And where would it even come from? I’ve never heard of anything like this.”
Alaric’s gaze drifted toward the bookshelf. After a brief pause, he stood and pulled down an old, dust-covered book. “Maybe we can help him figure it out, or at least find someone who can.”
He flipped the book open, revealing pages filled with maps and handwritten notes.
“These are trade routes,” he explained. “My father insists I study them, though I swear I’ve memorized every territory by now.
Still…” His fingers traced one of the faded lines.
“There might be something noted here that can help us understand what’s happening.
Or a region known for healing…” His voice trailed off as he continued to flip through the book.
Evelyne was taken aback by his willingness to help her brother and could only watch, moved by his kindness.
Alaric glanced her way. “If you want, you can look through the others. There might be something useful. I’m not sure where to begin, but it can’t hurt to learn more about the land.”
“You would really help me find answers?” she asked softly, her hands trembling at her sides. A sting of tears pressed at her eyes, but she blinked them back before they could fall.
He looked up from his book, like he was startled that she would question such a thing. “Of course, Ev.” His gaze locked intensely on hers, and for a moment, she could only see him.
Gods, he was handsome. The vibrant blue of his eyes seemed to glow against his sun-kissed complexion, holding her captive as they bored into her. When he looked back down at the book, a strand of dark hair fell over his brows, adding a touch of softness to his striking features.
What had she done to deserve such a friend?
Her attention shifted downward, tracing the contours of his forearms braced against the desk.
The sleeves of his gray button-down were rolled neatly to his elbows, revealing the taut strength hidden beneath his clothes.
She swallowed hard, her eyes lingering on how his muscles tensed ever so slightly before daring to look back at him.
He caught her staring. He knew she was taking him in. And he let her. Those brilliant eyes remained fixed on her now, watching as her lips parted slightly, her teeth grazing her bottom lip out of nervous habit.
He noticed that, too, because the moment their eyes met, he slowly closed the book and stepped out from behind the desk. His gaze did not waver as he crossed the room toward her.
Her hands still trembled, but not with fear—with anticipation.
She wanted him to come closer. He reached out, his hand wrapping gently around her elbow, the warmth of his touch grounding her even as it set her pulse racing.
With the softest tug, he urged her forward.
She followed without hesitation, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
His tone deepened to a husky whisper. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Evelyne. Especially when you look at me like that.”
His eyes dipped to her mouth once more, and she drew in a quiet, shaky breath. She’d never heard him speak to her like this before, and the low, intimate rasp of his voice sent a thrill through her.
Her thoughts scattered as his other hand slowly trailed up the back of her neck, settling to cup her head—a touch so tender and full of desire.
She wanted him to know she felt the same, so she tilted her head, her eyes fluttering shut.
With one arm now wrapped around her lower back, he drew her close, his lips hovering just over her neck.
Her heart pounded fiercely, and she wondered if he could feel the rapid rhythm of her pulse.
Then, his lips brushed against her skin, featherlight, before trailing soft kisses down her neck.
Her breath hitched, and a low moan escaped her lips.
The sound seemed to ignite something within him.
In a swift, fluid motion, he turned her, pressing the back of her legs against the edge of his desk.
His hand at her neck tightened slightly, anchoring her as she opened her eyes to meet his.
His gaze burned with a vivid, electric-blue intensity, leaving her transfixed.
He paused for a heartbeat as if giving her the chance to decide.
But she didn’t need time. Her hands were already threading through his hair, pulling him closer.
And then his mouth was on hers, igniting a spark that swept through them both.
She had no idea what she was doing, but everything felt right.
Her center heated as he grazed his tongue against her lips, and she opened her mouth slightly to allow it to sweep in.
He groaned against her mouth, and it had her tugging firmly at his waist. He gripped her hips and effortlessly lifted her, setting her down atop his desk, then nudged his waist slightly against her knees, a silent request to part for him.
Just as he fit his body between her legs, she pulled his head closer to hers to deepen the kiss.
Her body felt like it had been set free, a rush of liberation flooding her veins.
For the first time, it felt like she could breathe.
Like every stressful thought melted away, swirling into oblivion as his touch grounded her in the moment.
All she wanted was to feel—his hands, his lips, his body.
To touch, to kiss, to lose herself entirely in him.