Aquarius (The Zodiac Queen #11)

Chapter 1

My name echoes through the dark, colliding with the rush in my ears. Dizziness sends my head into a tailspin, and I stumble back until the door braces me, holding me upright as my eyes reject what’s in front of me.

Because my mind is splitting down the middle—one half still drowning in weeks of crushing grief while the other processes the miracle of his presence.

That hoarse whisper shapes my name again, and I know it’s him.

The ghost of Sebastian Stone.

Moving toward me in the darkness.

Flesh and blood.

Alive.

Just as my knees buckle, a small squeak escapes my throat.

“I’ve got you,” he says, catching me before I hit the floor.

His arms lock around me as the world tilts, and the steady thump-thump of his heart drags me back, beat by beat. I can’t get a single word out to question the how or why. None of it matters.

Because Sebastian is alive.

That word loops in my mind as my eyes adjust to the unlit room, bringing his face into focus. Inky black hair falls in disarray, no trace of the blond I used to run my fingers through. Suddenly, the masked man I glimpsed at the ball comes back to me.

So familiar in stature, yet so out of place with that hair color.

“I thought I saw you…that was really you downstairs?”

“It was me.”

“How?”

“It’s a long story.” He buries his face in the crook of my neck, and we hold each other while the unbelievable trembles through us both. I have no idea how long we stand together, fused as one. I only know that everything feels right in my world.

Eventually, he pulls back and cradles my cheeks, thumbs wiping away drops of fragile hope, and we stare at each other.

Soundless and unmoving.

The kind of quiet that hums with life and reunion, bearing witness to souls bound, lost, and found again. I could live forever like this, wrapped in his arms without the clutter of words.

But even forever has a time limit.

An electronic chime slices through our sanctuary, followed by a sharp click as the mechanical lock disengages.

Sebastian’s blue eyes flash.

Someone is seconds away from entering my suite.

With the grace of a lion, he pulls me deeper into the room before slipping into the wardrobe alone.

I don’t have time to gather my wits. Light from the hall spills across the floor, outlining the familiar silhouette of Oliver.

He steps inside, and the door shuts behind him as he flicks on a lamp.

I blink against the sudden brightness, my gaze locking on the man who reshaped the ruins of my life these past few weeks.

Now I wish I could take back every treacherous second.

“You’ve been crying,” he says, reaching me in three long strides. His warm brown eyes track the wet streaks on my cheeks, the uneven rise of my chest, the way my arms hang limp at my sides. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I…” My heartbeat fumbles as I try to think of a believable lie. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” He lays a hand on my shoulder, as if to steady me. As if I might collapse. “You’re shaking. Are you upset about the circle?” His frown deepens. “Did I hurt you?”

I shake my head, eyes downcast, but he won’t let me avoid him.

With a coaxing finger, he lifts my chin. “Then what happened since I saw you downstairs?”

What happened is standing ten feet away, hiding in the wardrobe.

“Nothing happened.” I pull in a breath, preparing to skirt the edge of honesty. “It’s the elixir. I think it’s still affecting me.”

“That’s not surprising. Dr. Morgan designed it to last for hours.” He reaches into the pocket of his dress slacks and withdraws a vial. “That’s why I brought the antidote, as promised.”

The small glass tube catches the lamplight, and something inside me recoils. An hour ago, I would have taken it without hesitation. Now it’s akin to betrayal.

For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. Words of objection, or at the very least, resistance, almost tumble from my mouth. But then he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and my thoughts scatter.

“Open,” he says, stepping closer and lifting the vial to my lips.

God help me, I follow his command.

The antidote hits my tongue, tasting of the power Oliver has over me. For several suspended moments, I hover somewhere outside myself, watching my body obey what my heart refuses to surrender.

His fingers glide down my collarbone to the top of my bodice. Then he dips lower, tracing lazy circles around my nipple, his thumb dragging the silk across the hardened peak. That single touch unravels me faster than it should. Before I can stop it, a shameful whimper slips out.

“There she is,” he says, voice low with satisfaction. “You have a tell, sweetheart. You flush when your pussy needs attention.” His mouth hovers at my ear. “I want the taste of you on my tongue.”

My core heats, a traitor to my heart and mind as I glance at the wardrobe.

Oh God.

The door’s cracked open.

I have to stop this, but I don’t know how without drawing Oliver’s suspicion.

Anxiety grips me.

“Oliver?”

“Hm?” He finds my zipper and draws it down in one smooth pull.

“Isn’t this against Mr. Davenport’s initiation rules or something?”

“I don’t see anyone but you and me in this room, Novalee.”

How wrong he is.

“But—”

He presses a finger to my lips. “Don’t get me wrong. Coy looks sexy as hell on you, but your body’s been begging for it all night, so allow me to oblige.”

Another tug on my dress, and it slips to the floor. He cups my bare breasts, molding them in his warm palms, catching my nipples between his fingers. With a hint of a grin, he pinches just enough to make me squirm.

“Should have brought a set of clamps.” He lets go only to pull me flush against him, hands kneading my asscheeks.

The elixir surges, unleashed by the antidote. My muscles clench, and the world seems to slam to a halt while the inertia of Oliver’s will carries me in its current.

He guides me to the mattress, then sinks to his knees, his possessive grip spreading my thighs open.

Exposing the truth of my need.

Panic mounts. My eyes sting with desire and guilt—conflicting sides of a decision that isn’t fully mine to make.

Oliver lowers his head between my legs, and I feel Sebastian more than see him through the narrow opening of that door. My heart thumps so wildly I’m certain the entire estate can hear it, the rhythm turning ragged as Oliver works me with unhurried strokes.

He savors my torment, confident he can undo me on his timeline.

And he’s not wrong.

My eyes stay fixed on the wardrobe as he sucks my clit into his mouth, nipping with teasing pressure.

A reluctant moan tears free—a sound of betrayal I wish I could yank back.

And that’s when the tears come.

As if sensing the war of my emotions, Oliver pulls back.

“Novalee?” He rises, one hand wiping me from his lips. “What’s going on?”

My throat tightens around the truth. “I’m okay. It’s just…it’s been a long night. I’m still processing.”

The irony lands heavier than he could ever know, with Sebastian hiding in that wardrobe.

Hearing everything.

Seeing everything.

“You’re shaking again.” He cups my cheek, voice thick. “You don’t have to pretend for me. We can stop. You don’t owe me anything tonight.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Do you want me to go?” He hesitates. “I can stay. Hold you for a while?”

“I could use some time alone.”

“I shouldn’t leave you like this. Aftercare is important.”

“I’m fine. I just need sleep.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Uncertainty lines his face as he leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Get some rest,” he says, reaching for a throw blanket on a chair nearby. He wraps it around my shoulders and tucks the edges, and it’s such a thoughtful gesture that my vision blurs all over again.

The room lacks oxygen, swamped by my guilt, making every lungful a battle.

“I’ll check on you in the morning.” With one last caress of my cheekbone, he steps back. “If you need anything, alert the guard.”

“I will.”

He leaves without another word, and I sit frozen as his steps retreat down the hall. The wardrobe door remains ajar, that sliver of darkness both terrifying and magnetic.

Several agonizing seconds pass before Sebastian unfolds from the shadows like a man rising from the grave, his expression indecipherable, even as the blue eyes I thought I’d never see again burn with questions I’m not ready to answer.