Chapter 15 Dominic
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DOMINIC
The castle corridors stretched out ahead of us, dimly lit by magical orbs pulsing soft blue-green light.
Sasha had convinced Savory to remain behind with a promise of extra treats tomorrow, though the raven had made her displeasure known through a series of indignant squawks before finally settling on the perch on the balcony.
“The raven who watches over her witch should accompany important missions,” she’d said, Sasha relaying the raven’s thoughts.
“The raven who wants extra treats should trust that we’ll be fine,” Sasha had replied, softening her words with a scratch under Savory’s chin.
Now we made our way through shadows, both dressed head to toe in black.
Sasha had changed into fitted pants and a snug tunic that outlined every curve, and I was trying hard not to notice how the dark fabric clung to her body as she moved.
The strategic part of my brain recognized this was practical attire for stealth.
The rest of my brain was feeling significantly less analytical about it.
I admired the competent way she navigated the darkness, pausing at corners to check for movement and keeping to the deeper shadows along the walls.
My role as guide felt almost unnecessary. She was adapting to the castle’s layout remarkably well.
Nervous energy thrummed through me, part anticipation for potentially solving this mystery, part acute awareness that in about five minutes, I’d be pressed against Sasha in a space barely large enough for one person, let alone two.
We reached the main staircase, and I held up a hand, listening. Footsteps echoed from somewhere nearby, accompanied by a familiar voice.
“No, no, that won’t do at all. The shadows are completely wrong for my complexion.”
Lord Turren.
We slipped into an alcove beneath the stairs, pressing against the curved stone wall. The space was tight, bringing us chest to chest. Her hands landed on my shoulders to steady herself, and she sucked in a breath.
Lord Turren descended the stairs directly above our heads, still muttering to himself. Through the gaps in the stonework, I caught glimpses of him holding his mirror, angling it to catch the light.
“Perhaps if I adjust my hair slightly to the left. Yes, that’s better. Though the midnight blue lighting does add an interesting depth to my features.”
Sasha’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. She bit her lip to hold it back, her eyes sparkling. The urge to kiss her smile nearly overwhelmed me.
Lord Turren’s footsteps faded down a corridor, and I counted to ten before nodding my head, suggesting we leave our hiding place.
“Is he always like that?” Sasha whispered, her mouth close enough to my ear that her breath sent shivers down my neck.
“Worse, actually. That was restrained.”
We continued through the castle, making our way through passages I’d learned as a boy. Each step brought us closer to the kitchen, my awareness of Sasha sharpening along with it.
I told myself to focus. We had a mission. A purpose. A mystery to solve that was affecting my entire court.
We rounded a corner near the east parlor and nearly ran straight into another obstacle.
“My darling, the moonlight through these windows is like a silver pathway to your heart,” Lord Primrose’s voice carried out into the hall from the parlor.
“Oh, my love, your words are like dewdrops on the petals of my soul,” Lady Daphnie said.
We ducked into another alcove, this one even smaller than the last. Sasha pressed her back against my chest, and I wrapped an arm around her waist to steady us both as we squeezed into the shadows.
This was torture. Pure, exquisite torture.
Lord Primrose and Lady Daphnie stood in the middle of the parlor, making flowery declarations of their love. I would’ve found it hilarious if I wasn’t trying not to notice how perfectly Sasha fit against me.
“Should we love each other less dramatically?” Lady Daphnie asked, her fan fluttering. “Would that make our passion more manageable?”
“Never.” Lord Primrose pressed his hand to his chest. “To diminish our love would be like asking the ocean to send fewer waves toward the shore, or the stars to shine with less brilliance.”
Sasha trembled against me, fighting laughter again. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, and the movement pressed her more firmly against my chest. Every small shift sent sparks through me.
I was going to combust before we even reached the kitchen.
Finally, the dramatic couple swept out of the parlor and strode down another corridor, still declaring their eternal devotion. I loosened my grip on Sasha and stepped back, putting distance between us before I did something stupid like nuzzle her neck.
“They’re exhausting,” she said, turning to face me in the shadows.
“They’re in love.”
Her gaze held mine for a long moment before she cleared her throat and tilted her head toward the kitchen corridor. “We should keep moving.”
Exactly. Important surveillance definitely didn’t involve me thinking about all the ways I wanted to touch her.
We reached the kitchen entrance and stepped into the big space made up of polished surfaces and copper pots hanging from the ceiling over the stoves. The rush would begin in a few hours.
The spice room door stood ajar on the far side. We crossed the kitchen, our footsteps silent on the stone floor, and I pushed the door open wide enough for us to slip through.
The space was even smaller than I remembered.
Shelves lined every wall, packed with jars of dried herbs, hanging bundles of plants, and containers of spices. The scent of rosemary and thyme, cinnamon and clove, and dozens of fragrances layered together into something both overwhelming and comforting.
The only part that felt odd was the subtle scent of dirt, but a glance around showed me the room was as clean as the rest of the kitchen.
As we knew, there was barely room for one person, let alone two.
“This is cozy,” Sasha said, her voice dry as she surveyed the cramped quarters.
“I may have underestimated the spatial constraints.”
“No.”
We tried to position ourselves to maintain sight lines to both the main kitchen and the preparation areas. This meant pressing together, Sasha’s back against my chest again, my arms coming around her to brace against the shelves on either side.
This was a terrible idea. A brilliant, necessary, yet absolutely terrible idea.
Her hair tickled my neck as she shifted to peer through the gap in the door. Her vanilla scent intensified, mixing with the herbs surrounding us. Every breath pulled her deeper into my lungs.
“Can you see the main prep area?” I asked.
“Yes. And the tea storage.” She adjusted herself, the movement pressing her against me in ways that made coherent thought nearly impossible. “We should be able to spot anyone who approaches either location.”
“Good. That’s…good.”
Professional. We were being professional. Just two people conducting surveillance in an incredibly small space that required full-body contact. Nothing unusual about that.
A jar clinked as Sasha reached to steady herself, her hand brushing mine on the shelf. That simple touch sent electricity up my arm.
“Sorry,” she said softly. “I’m trying not to jostle anything.”
“It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. Nothing about this was fine. “Just…stay still if you can.”
She froze, which made it worse. Now I was hyperaware of every small breath she took, the slight rise and fall of her shoulders, the warmth of her body against mine.
I tried to think about winter festivals. Our celebration for the spring equinox. Carts for produce deliveries. Anything except how perfectly she fit against me, or the way her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat, or—
“Dominic?” She turned her head, trying to look at me over her shoulder.
Big mistake.
Our faces were not far apart. Her eyes caught the dim light filtering through the door crack. Her lips parted, and I watched her gaze drop to my mouth.
The air between us charged with something inevitable.
If only I could step back. Create distance. Focus on the surveillance we were supposed to be conducting.
Instead, I shifted my grip on the shelf, bringing us even closer. “We should…”
“What?”
“I don’t remember.” My entire world had narrowed to her. “Sasha,” I groaned.
She turned in my arms, the movement making jars clink and herbs rustle. This put us chest to chest. Her hands landed on my shoulders, mine settling at her waist.
“This is a bad idea,” she said.
“Terrible.”
“We’re supposed to be watching for—”
I kissed her.
Or she kissed me. Or we met somewhere in the middle, crashing together with all the pent-up need from days of careful distance.
Her hands slid into my hair as I pressed her against the wall behind her, jars of spices jingling with the movement. She made a small sound in the back of her throat. Heat shot through me.
This wasn’t the tentative kiss we’d shared outside our bedroom doors. This was desperate and hungry and absolutely consuming.
I explored her mouth, and she arched her body into mine. I cupped her face, then glided my hands down her sides, moving inward.
When I pressed my palm against her breast, she gasped into my mouth. The sound undid me.
I was bigger than her, stronger, but she met me with her own strength.
Her fingers slid into my hair, pulling me closer even as I pressed her more firmly against the wall.
The height difference meant I had to bend to kiss her properly, and she had to stretch up, and somehow, that imbalance felt perfect.
A larger jar rattled behind her as my hand slid beneath her tunic, finding warm skin. She shivered, breaking the kiss to gasp my name.
I captured her mouth again, swallowing whatever she’d been about to say. I stroked my thumbs across her nipple.
Her hands moved from my hair to my shoulders, and she stroked me with the same curiosity roaring through me. When her fingers slid beneath my tunic, finding bare skin, I groaned into her mouth.
Reality crashed back in waves.
We were supposed to be watching for suspicious activity. Not devouring each other in a spice room like starving people at a feast.
I pulled back, breathing hard. Sasha stared up at me with dazed eyes, her lips swollen from kissing. She looked thoroughly debauched and utterly beautiful.
“We should…”
“Watch the kitchen.” She smoothed her tunic with shaking hands. “That’s why we’re here.”
“Exactly.”
Neither of us moved.
Finally, with enormous effort, I turned her around and repositioned us for surveillance. Back to the mission.
Except now I couldn’t stop thinking about how she tasted or how I ached to feel her pressing herself against me again. The small sounds she made when I touched her were going to haunt my dreams.
This was going to be the longest night of my life.
We stood in tense silence, pretending to focus on the empty kitchen beyond our hiding spot. But every accidental brush of our bodies sent new sparks of awareness through me. Each small adjustment reminded me of how her skin had felt under my hands.
“I can’t see the tea storage from this angle,” Sasha whispered after several minutes.
“You need to shift left.”
She did, pressing more firmly against me. I bit back a groan.
“Better?” I asked in a strangled voice.
“Yes. I have a clear view of both prep areas and the storage alcove where they keep the pre-measured portions.” She paused. “Dominic?”
“Yes?”
“Your heart is racing.”
“Surveillance makes me nervous.”
“Does it make your cock nervous too?”
My snort rang out. “Not my cock. No.”
She shot me a small smile, then was quiet for a moment. “You make me nervous too.”
“Good nervous or bad nervous?”
“I’m still deciding.”
Fair enough.
We settled into watching, our breathing gradually returning to normal while our bodies found a way to align in the cramped space.
Time passed. The kitchen remained empty, lit only by a few orbs that never fully dimmed.
Sasha shifted to ease a cramp, the movement pressing her backside against me in a way that sent all my blood south again. I stifled a groan.
“Sorry,” she said. “My leg was falling asleep.”
“It’s fine.” Sort of.
She adjusted again, and I couldn’t miss every curve of her moving against me. My hands, still braced on the shelves to either side of her, trembled with the effort of not touching.
“Dominic?” Her voice had gone breathy.
“Yes?”
“I need to reach that jar. The one that’s crooked. It’s in my line of sight.”
The jar in question sat on the shelf directly in front of us. She’d have to lean forward to reach it, which meant pressing back into me even more.
“I can get it,” I said.
“I’m closer.”
Her body shifted against mine in a slow glide that tested every bit of my restraint. Her hand closed around the jar, straightening it, but instead of immediately pulling back, she paused.
I felt the moment she realized my cock was still thrusting against the front of my pants. Her breathing changed and her fingers tightened on the jar.
“Sasha.” Her name came out as a warning.
She released the jar and turned in my arms, her eyes meeting mine in the darkness.
The want in her gaze matched what burned through my veins.
“We shouldn’t,” she said.
“No.”
“This is completely inappropriate when we have a mission.”
“Absolutely.”
“We’re supposed to be working.”
“We are.”
Then we were kissing like the world was going to end if we stopped.
I slid my hands under her tunic and stroked across her belly, moving toward her breasts. She made a small, needy sound that drove me wild.
I gathered the fabric of her tunic, pulling it up to give myself better access. She explored beneath my clothes, gliding her fingers across my chest.
“Dominic,” she gasped when I found a particularly sensitive spot along her ribs.
I nudged her more firmly against the wall. Jars clinked and herbs rustled around us.
I wanted her. Not the strategic witch or the political alliance or the solution to my court’s problems. Just her. Sasha. The woman who laughed at my ridiculous lords and ladies and spoke gently to dying plants and trusted me enough to press against me in the darkness.
I stroked her breasts, and she arched into my touch with a gasp that I captured with my mouth. She dug her fingers into my shoulders, holding on as if I was the only solid thing in a spinning world.
We were losing control, and I reveled in it.
Until soft footsteps echoed in the kitchen.
We froze, our bodies still pressed together, our breathing ragged.
The steps grew louder, and light bloomed in the room.
Sasha’s eyes met mine, wide with alarm and lingering desire.
I eased her to the side and peered through a crack in the door.