Chapter 12
C H A P T E R
T W E L V E
what lush eden
Lightning flashed on the other side of the window in steady pulses. Cal watched it reflect off the crystal of his glass, turning it this way and that to admire the way the bevels caught the light.
I shouldn’t have let her think she was free, Ben had said, and Cal was rather disgusted to realize that he finally understood what his brother meant. Knowledge truly was the forbidden fruit, and far from being sweet, its poisons lingered bitterly on the tongue.
He sipped his drink and turned a page of the book he couldn’t bring himself to read. The fiery warmth of the liquor burned his throat pleasantly. It was his second glass and was just beginning to take effect, the flocking pattern of the wallpaper only now starting to blur at the edges.
When the pale specter of Nadine appeared in the doorway, he thought it was his imagination come to taunt him.
Except, in his imagination, she was usually wearing far less.
“Hello, little sparrow,” he said heavily. “Are you another shade come to torment me? You did promise me torture, after all.” And from you, I would welcome it.
Even at this distance, he saw her wince.
That’s right, darling. I will hurt you. I don’t even have to touch you to fucking hurt you.
She was wearing a little white nightdress, sheer enough that he could see the shadowy outlines of her body as she moved. Her eyes, lit by the glow of her solitary candle, were restless, flicking to him and then away. Cal leaned back to offer up a better view.
This was dangerous—but he had never shied from danger, and her sweet, guileless wanting was like a hit of opium to the blood. It made him desperate to corrupt her. To preserve that sweetness and turn it dark.
To make her his.
“Mm.” He slung an arm over the brass backing of the sofa, with a smile he didn’t bother to soften. Why should he? This stormy night was for lightning flashes of brutal honesty, for truths uncovered. “What’s that look? I think I like it. Come here into the light so I can see it better.”
“That fairytale I know,” she said bluntly.
Cal laughed cynically. “I’m a raven, darling. Not a wolf. Though as far as you’re concerned, I suppose they are very much the same.”
She watched him take another drink of rum.
“How long have you been in here?”
He swallowed, wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. “Long enough.”
“Did you stop by my room?”
The question sent a chill arcing across his bare shoulders as the metal frame kissed his skin.
He wanted to ask what had brought her to that conclusion, but couldn’t figure out a way to do so without frightening her more than she already was.
He set the glass aside, letting his eyes fall to her bare legs.
“Mmm. Should I?”
“Someone tried.” Her fear cut through his desire like a heated blade. “That’s why I came in here. I didn’t feel safe in my room. I thought—”
“Nobody would find you in the library?”
“I was scared.”
She didn’t normally let herself sound so helpless in front of him.
He could see the way fear commanded her posture, keeping her tense and rigid.
That brightness in her eyes—it was more than just the reflection of the wavering candle she clutched to her breast. Whatever she’d seen in her room had brought her to the brink of terror.
“Well, don’t shout up the house. Someone might hear—and you wouldn’t want that.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Close the door.”
Nadine shut it with a loud creak, hesitating in front of it for a beat before halting just outside of the circle of candlelight that surrounded the settee. Closer to him this time. Close enough to see her throat work as she swallowed while looking at him.
“I’m leaving,” she announced.
“You’ve put yourself on the wrong side of the door then.”
“Not from this room. From the house. From Argentum. I think something bad is happening.”
“Fuck.” He was hit with a flash of her sister approaching him in this very room, the same apprehension in her eyes. The fates really did love to torture him, didn’t they? But he deserved it. He always had. “Don’t go making me feel sorry for you, Nadine. I’m not naturally disposed towards guilt.”
“Why are you in here?”
“It’s my house and I can’t sleep, and I suddenly find myself far less inclined to.
” He rose from the settee in a graceful swoop, causing her to take a large leap back that had her pressing up against those massive bookshelves.
But his poor, doomed little sparrow didn’t run from him now, and when he blew out her candle, he heard her shaky exhale. “Why are you here?”
“I had a nightmare. A bad one.”
She’d told him that she didn’t remember her dreams, but in his nightly sojourns he’d seen how she tossed and turned. Fighting battles against things she couldn’t see.
“Oh?” he prompted softly.
“There was a dead deer. Someone was touching me in the dark.” She glanced up at him and then away, making it clear what kind of touching she meant. “There were people watching. And then—” Her cheeks darkened.
“And then?”
“I—I don’t remember. But it didn’t feel like a dream.
Especially not when someone came to my room.
” There was terror in her eyes; it aroused him, even as it left him with the urge to press her close.
“I miss my sister. I tried so hard to find her, but I want to leave. I hate myself for it—but I want to leave. I just can’t do this anymore. ”
“It’s too late to leave, I think.” He smoothed his hand up her waist. She drew in a sharp breath when his thumb circled her nipple. “And this isn’t because of your sister.”
She pulled away from him as if struck, colliding with the bookshelf and sending up a cloud of dust. Her desire crackled like lightning between them.
“Tell me about your dreams,” he whispered.
“No.” She barred her arms over her chest. “Dreams aren’t real. What do you mean, it’s too late to leave?”
“Dreams are real enough. Real enough to propel you from your bed at this early hour. I’m sure people in town have warned you enough about me and my brother.
About all the things we do to women.” When he tilted his head, she tracked the movement.
“Myth makes might, darling. Even in dreams, apparently.”
“I never said you were in it.”
“I think you just did. Do you dream of me often, little sparrow? Am I gentle or rough? I’d love to know.”
“What’s a sparrow?”
“I told you not to ask me.” Gripping the shelves over her head, he leaned down until their faces were level. She was tall enough that he only had to lean in a little to put himself close enough for a kiss. “If you really are leaving,” he breathed, “none of this matters, does it?”
“You said it was too late.” Her voice was scarcely above a whisper. “You said I couldn’t.”
“Poor lost little Nadine. So alone . . . so afraid. You can’t run to your sister for your bad dreams anymore, so now you want to run to Daddy.
” She blinked at the last word, lost in his eyes.
Hypnotized. They all come to you. “You want to run, Nadine?” Taking his hands from the shelves, he gripped her firmly by the hips as he pulled her forward. “Run to me.”
His mouth crushed against hers. Nadine made a sound, a small one; he felt the vibration of it, even as he plundered her mouth. For a moment, she was stiff as stone in his hands. Then she wilted into him, her breasts a soft weight against his bare chest.
“Don’t worry,” he told the quivering woman in his arms. “I’m here now.”
Nadine moaned as he thrust between her legs.
With a growl, he bent to her throat, grinding himself against her as he kissed a path down her collarbone.
He wanted her desperate, writhing up to a feverish state where she would give him anything he asked.
“The things I want to do to you.” He bit her throat, sucking hard enough to mark.
“You poor fucking thing. You beautiful little misery. I’ve been waiting so long. ”
He dropped to his knees, covering her peaked nipple with his mouth and biting her through her clothes.
She nearly lost her balance at the first hard stroke of his tongue, clutching at him desperately as he began unfastening the little white buttons that seemed to elude his fingers.
He thought she might have said his name. If she hadn’t, she soon would.
Breathing hard, he let the hem of her nightshirt fall, now parted. She tried to cover herself but he snatched her hands away, bringing them up behind her back. Nadine looked up at him in alarm as the dress fell open around her body, the candlelight infusing her skin with a golden luminescence.
Nadine squirmed in his grip, trying to hunch her shoulders and make herself smaller even now, when the sight of her had him about to lose control.
“I wish I could clothe you in candlelight,” he said, rising, but not to his full height.
He kissed her again on the mouth, reaching back to encircle her wrists, sliding his hands down until their fingers were clasped.
Then he pulled he forward, until they were flush from hip to chest and she was looking at him with glassy eyes like she was drunk and reason had eluded her along with her senses.
Her heartbeat thrummed against his skin and he thought she looked a little surprised when he swung her around, causing her open dress to flare out just as a vein of lightning arced beyond the paned glass window.
No more running, Nadine.
Without any further pretense, he scooped her up by the backs of her thighs and dropped her on the settee. The cushions sank beneath his weight as he crawled on top of her, releasing a sweet, cloying fragrance of dust and decaying brocade.
She touched his face, fingers grazing his jaw. But there was pressure and intent in those slender fingers, so he took her hands away and pinned them over her head.