Chapter 16
Jane
The liquor churned hot and sour in my stomach. I squeezed my eyes shut, counting my breaths. The corridor tilted beneath me. I reached for the wall and felt cold stone bite into my palm.
I didn’t follow Joy to the infirmary. I didn’t return to our room. I drifted instead, seeking for somewhere empty and quiet, at least until I could forget those images flaring behind my eyes.
A mantel cracking, mucky floorboards groaning beneath my weight. Three faces looming above me, mouths pulled wide with hate. I had been so afraid.
Cold sweat slid down my spine as I remembered it, though my skin felt alight with heat. I pulled the sweater over my head, letting it fall to the floor, my chest painfully tight.
“Breathe.”
I heard the whisper in my ear and turned, pulse leaping as something brushed my back.
Reagan stepped away, realising he’d startled me. But it was only him, away from the meeting. I exhaled, letting myself rest against the wall, chest still heaving.
He kept his distance, his voice quiet as he said, “I promise you, Varian will pay. It will take some patience and restraint, but he will.”
I wetted my dry lips. “He was lying. He didn’t know if I’d recognise Madden.”
“I know,” Reagan murmured.
“The scar on his face…” I swallowed. “How did he get that?”
Reagan moved closer. “The first time I saw Varian after he confessed to Ashenagth’s court, he said he fell on something sharp. It was an accident. Or at least, that’s what he tells people now.”
The scar crossed his cheek, similar to the one Caius had carved into mine, but longer. It looked like a wound not mended by a healer.
My breath steadied as I leaned against the wall, contemplating Reagan. “Not that much restraint, then.”
A subtle cedar wind brushed over me like a caress, easing the nausea.
“Believe me,” Reagan murmured, a hint of rueful warmth in his voice, “that’s more restraint than you think.”
A quiet exhale left me.
Reagan’s hand rose, fingers cupping the back of my neck until he tilted my head to meet his gaze. “I want to take you somewhere.”
“I’m too tired.”
“It won’t take long. I’ll bring you to the infirmary after, if you want.” His thumbs brushed my cheeks so gently that I nodded just to keep the contact.
Warmth spread through me as Reagan’s gaze stayed fixed on my face, penetrating and troubled.
Just then, I became aware of my own want, stirring to life as if from some dormant sleep.
The last days had been a blur, full of worry and uncertainty to leave room for anything else.
But now, with him holding me as though I were the centre of his world, I wanted him, needed him.
Needed to draw that impossible sense of safety from him.
He gave a crooked smile, eyes drifting over my clothes. The maroon undershirt, the dark green skirt. “How about some air, Jane love?”
He spoke so easily, so naturally, like he had no doubt in his mind. Reagan’s love felt like a rare kind of reverence. And perhaps that was why I dreaded letting him see more of my weaknesses.
He slid an arm around my back, bracing us to fling. I set my hands on his broad shoulders, level with my head, and looked up at him from too close a distance, at the hard planes of his face. I lifted a finger to trace the line of his jaw, as slowly and steady as my pulse was now.
“Jane, don’t look at me like that,” he murmured.
My lips parted. “Like what?”
“Like you can’t decide which part of me you want to touch. Like a minx.”
I blinked, my mouth curving despite myself. “A minx? Really?”
“Yes,” he said with a low chuckle, leaning closer. “You’re looking at me and licking your lips like you want to be kissed.”
“Is that what I’m doing?” I asked. “Maybe you’re seeing what you want to see.”
Everything else fell away. There was only the warmth of his body, the weight of his attention. The gleam in his eyes told me he noticed exactly how easily I would welcome the distraction.
“Perhaps, I’m just desperate for you to look at me like that.” His mouth brushed my ear. “I’m hoping you’re trying to seduce me.”
There was no more nausea, no more effects of the liquor. Only him and the warmth coiling low in my stomach.
“If I wanted to seduce you,” I whispered, “I would do this.”
I rose onto my toes, brushing my mouth against the hollow of his throat. My lips traced the line of his neck, tasting him. He always tasted the same, woody and warm and unmistakably masculine.
Reagan drew me closer with a sharp inhale. “You should be careful with that,” he said, his voice rough and low. His ice-blue eyes gleamed with equal parts amusement and hunger as my hands slid over his chest.
“Careful?” I echoed.
“Yes,” he murmured, a challenge threading his voice. “Careful. Or ready for the consequences of testing me.”
His hands tightened on my hips, pressing me against the wall, his leg easing between mine. My pulse skittered for a whole different reason, heat blooming where I could feel him.
I wanted more. More skin, more of him. Wanted to forget the meeting and the nightmares. To let it be only this.
“Maybe I’m ready for those consequences,” I breathed, noting the way his eyes dropped to my mouth.
My hands drifted lower, tracing familiar lines beneath the waist of his trousers until I found the solid bulge under my palm.
Reagan’s breath broke against my skin. I stroked him, savouring the low sound it drew from his throat, half groan, half breath, before his hand closed around my wrist and stilled me.
“Curses and Blessings.” Reagan rested his forehead against my neck. “As much as it pains me to stop this, I need to speak with you first.”
“Oh.”
The word landed like a bucket of ice, cooling all the heat inside me. This day was getting worse by the minute.
“No,” he murmured, studying my face. “Don’t do that. You know better. When I’ve said what I have to, I might just get on my knees if that’s what it takes to continue with your plans.”
A tiny laugh slipped out. “I might make you.”
He smirked. “I might go willingly.”
The next moment, the world vanished. Cold air rushed around us, sharp with pine. Stone met our feet, and I turned in his arms, my breath catching as I took in where he had brought us.
Far below, the city gleamed with yellow lights, scattered like pinpricks beneath the black sky.
Even in spring, Mountheim was never truly warm, yet the wind should have been stronger out here on the ballroom balcony.
Instead, the air curled around us, and I realised he must have been shielding us from the worst of it.
Faint notes of a piano drifted through the open doors behind us.
Reagan extended his hand.
My eyes narrowed, and I wondered if he knew I had been slipping out here at night alone, but I took his hand regardless, setting my other at his nape. He drew me in by the waist and began to lead.
“When you arrived here, you weren’t treated properly,” Reagan said, voice low. “You were isolated. Afraid. And most of that was my doing. I wasn’t patient, and I didn’t treat you the way I should have.”
I frowned, trying to understand why he was raising this now. “That was months ago.”
“I know,” he replied. “But I never asked for your forgiveness. I never tried to help you adjust or explain what you were walking into. You were dropped into Mountheim without any real transition. Not like the one you’re trying to give Joy.”
I hummed. It wasn’t untrue, though neither of us had chosen how it had happened.
“You had more pressing concerns than the human you were stuck with,” I said quietly.
Reagan guided me outward, our arms arching wide before he drew me back in and his breath brushed warm against my temple.
“I did,” he admitted. “But my point is, you had to adapt alone. You learned to deal with being torn away from everything familiar and face a lot of things by yourself.” His voice dipped lower.
“And I’ve been wondering whether you feel well enough now to tap your access, or if something in you is still holding back. ”
His gaze held mine, unflinching and searching.
“I don’t need you to hold my hand,” I murmured. “I’m fine.”
“I know you don’t.” He sighed. “Think of it like what you do for your sister. She doesn’t ask for help, but you’re there anyway.
” His hand tightened at my waist. “If you’re feeling lost, then come to me, Jan.
I’m here. I want to be here. There’s nothing more important than this.
And you don’t have to deal with all of this alone.
I’m trying to understand what you need, even when you’re not asking for it.
But you will need help. I rely on five people to keep going. ”
I let him guide our steps, easily figuring out four of the people he meant. Yet he said five.
“Say you forgive me.” Reagan pressed his nose to my hair. “And tell me you understand.”
“I understand,” I murmured, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “And you’re forgiven.”
He squeezed my hand, drawing me out again before turning me back into his chest. His arms circled my waist, his warmth a solid presence at my back. The city spread out before us.
For reasons I didn’t quite understand, his words left a sting behind my eyes. I knew what he wanted to know, but I didn’t know how to say it, spent too long deliberating over how to phrase it.
But Reagan wouldn’t flinch or pull away if I stopped guarding my words, my expression, my tone. He understood pressure, understood responsibility, recognised the strain etched across my face.
A memory surfaced in my mind then. The dance studio in my hometown, and my lone reflection in the mirror-lined walls, where I could look at myself honestly. That was what he was asking to see.
“How was the session with Kellan for you?” Reagan asked, his breath brushing my ear.
“I don’t know. Confusing. Enlightening.” A brief spasm crossed my lips. “Joy is still scared, and I don’t know how to help her.”
Reagan’s hum vibrated against my neck as he nuzzled there. “Elaith will help her. That is why he is here.”