Chapter 24
Blackthorn didn’t come to dinner the next night. I went to bed alone and woke up with the sheets cool beside me. I waited for him each night but he did not come. Not the second night or the next. By the fourth night, I began to worry.
“Is Blackthorn away?” I asked Baylen one evening when I sat at the dinner table alone again.
Baylen glanced up from where he was pouring my wine, guilt on his face. “I do not know.”
My lips pressed tightly together. I didn’t know if I believed him or not... or if I would like the answer if they did tell me.
I didn’t eat much, mostly pushed the food around on my plate. I gave my apologies to Baylen for Cookie before excusing myself.
Letting my feet guide me, I walked through the castle.
First to the garden, only to leave moments later when Blackthorn wasn’t there.
Then to the library. I wasn’t much of a reader, but it did look as if someone had been spending their time in there.
None of the signs pointed to whether it was Blackthorn, Fran, or one of the other servants.
I found my way back to the main room, the room I had found myself in that first night. I sank down in his chair and stared at the fire for a long time.
The cold woke me. I had nodded off in Blackthorn’s chair. The fire had long since died out.
Shivering, I stood and wrapped my arms around myself.
Mind set on returning to the bedroom and taking a warm bath, I walked out into the corridor. I didn’t get very far before I heard something that changed my path. My feet found themselves walking up a set of stairs, up and up and up until my head became dizzy with the action.
When I stopped on the landing, I paused.
Unlike last time, Blackthorn’s large dark form filled the small room. No lights were on. Only streaks of moonlight streamed in through the curtains, casting my attention on the changes.
The floors were still covered in dust. Though, a section had been cleared away as if someone how been pacing back and forth across the floor. My gaze shifted back to the stiff back of Blackthorn.
I stepped into the room, my hand on the door frame.
Barely noticeable, Blackthorn’s shoulders stiffened even tighter. I almost turned and walked out of the room. It was clear he was having a moment with his last love. Something forlorn pulled on the strings of my heart, and yet an ugly feeling fought its away in.
Jealousy.
It was me who Blackthorn had taken away to his castle. It was me that the servants now called mistress. Me who slept in his bed and dined with him every night. Not this ghost who haunted this forgotten room. Well, not as forgotten as I would have liked.
The silence was deafening, and I couldn’t stand it.
No matter how much I wanted to think otherwise, I’d become used to my captor being there, day in and day out.
He had been one of the constants since I’d left the factory, and I was reluctant to admit that I missed him.
I blamed that combined with the jealousy swirling in my stomach for what I said next.
“Do you miss her?”
The old me would never have asked such a question.
Too worried for the answer or not wanting to cause him undue pain.
But being here, in this castle, with him, has made something inside of me want to lay claim on him.
To send this woman who haunted us that he was mine.
And for that, I needed to know that she didn’t still hold a place in his heart, beating or not.
Blackthorn twisted his body slightly toward me. “I did... once,” he said over his shoulder.
Emboldened by his words, I took another step into the room, my hand falling away from the door frame. “And now?”
Despite how hard I tried to keep my voice even, I could hear the emotion in my question. Maybe it was the vulnerability in my voice or maybe the question itself, but it had Blackthorn turning away from the portrait on the wall. His dark eyes found me across the room.
“It’s been some fifty years since I closed my home and my heart to another.
” Blackthorn didn’t come closer, standing between me and the portrait of the beautiful woman.
“One time, not that long ago, I had I thought I found someone who would penetrate the darkness in my heart.” He paused and sighed, peering at the portrait once more. “But I was mistaken.”
“The witch?”
Blackthorn’s head jerked back to me. “How do you know about her?”
I shifted in place, not wanting to get Fran in trouble. “I hear things. It’s the witch marrying the prince, isn’t it?”
He stepped toward me, the moonlight casting a beam of light across his face. His jaw tightened, eyes hard. “Yes.”
“And you love her?” I swallowed down my irritation at another woman taking his attention from me. My fingers curled into fists, and I quickly hid them in my skirts.
Blackthorn’s head tilted to the side, his gaze sweeping over my expression. “There’s only one who makes my heartbeat.”
I swallowed at the intensity of his gaze. Blackthorn took a step toward me, my foot stuttered back. I forced myself not to give up any more ground as he closed the distance between us.
My eyes followed his hand as it lifted. The barest touch of the tips of his fingers brushed my cheek, tipping up my chin. I dropped my gaze, hoping to hide the feelings storming inside of me.
“Mara.”
The sound of my name on his lips made my eyes lift. There was a quiet possessiveness in his voice, almost desperate. As if I might fade away before him and he was hoping to hold on to me through my name alone.
The pad of his thumb stroked my skin, brushing along my bottom lip. My mouth fell open, and my hands flexed at my sides, desperate to reach out and touch him. The thumb on my face trailed down my chin along my throat.
I swallowed pushing his hand with the movement, breathing stuttering.
“I have loved princesses and witches. Women who held power within the palm of their hands. They could kill a man with a single word, a flick of their wrists. And yet,” Blackthorn murmured, his breath mingling with mine as he leaned over me, “a small little woman, without title or power, holds more power over me than both of them combined.”
My tongue darted out to wet my lips. “I don’t want to have power over you.”
“Precisely.” Blackthorn’s lips twitched. “For you, I would greet the dawn without hesitation.”
“I would never—”
His hand buried in my hair, and he pulled my mouth to his, cutting off my words. Our tongues mingled together, my hands came up to grasp his shirt. Something inside of me fought between pulling him closer and pushing him away.
Blackthorn decided for me, bending to scoop his arm beneath me, lifting me up so we pressed chest to chest. My thighs parted to allow him closer access, my skirts pulling up as they wrapped around his waist.
Still, Blackthorn held me only by my hair and my backside, pressing me to him. I whimpered and clung to him, needing him closer, and yet all he did was kiss me.
“Blackthorn,” I breathed between kisses, “please.”
“You do beg so prettily,” he growled and then we were moving.
My arms looped around his neck, holding onto him until my back pressed up against the wall.
The hand on my backside moved up to my knee, lifting it higher up on his hip, his fingers burning my bare skin. “I want to hear you saying my name.”
My brows furrowed. “I said your name.”
He pulled back so he could look me in the eyes, his lips curled in a grin. Not a twitch, not a smirk but a genuine smile. “You think my given name is Blackthorn?”
My mouth opened and closed, unsure how to answer.
A boisterous laugh shook him, my hands and legs clinging to him. He laughed for longer than needed, making me scowl and push at his chest.
“If you’re going to laugh at me, then let me go.” I couldn’t hold back the pout in my tone.
Blackthorn, or whatever his name was, held me tight, his body pressing into mine so that I could feel every inch of him. The laughter in his face morphed into something feral, hungry.
“Never.”
I leaned my head against the wall, staring him down.
He pressed his forehead against mine, his lips a hair’s breadth away from mine. “Sebastian. Call me, Sebastian.”
“Sebastian,” I rolled his name around on my tongue.
A deep rumbling growl filled his chest, vibrating against me. “Again, say it again.”
“Sebastian,” I breathed, barely getting the name out before his mouth took mine once more.
Where before his touch and kiss had been gentle almost revenant, now he devoured me, swallowing me down as if he couldn’t get enough. Fingers gripped my thighs, rubbing me against the front of him until I cried out, my hips bucking for more.
Blackthorn’s fingers slipped between us, finding me wet and aching for him. “So hot,” he groaned. “I fear the sun would not destroy me as quickly as you will tonight.”
My mouth fell open in a surprised gasp. Then my eyes caught on the portrait over his shoulder and that ugly feeling roared to life. “No,” I panted, smacking at his hand. “Stop.”
His hand stilled, his body stiffening. “Do you want to stop?”
My face heated, unable to keep my eyes from falling back on the piercing gaze of the woman in the painting. “I... just I can’t... not here.”
His eyes followed the path of mine. When his gaze returned to mine, he lowered me to the ground and stalked away toward the painting. Without warning, he grasped the frame and ripped it from the wall. His fist went through the painting, destroying the image inside until it was irreparable.
Blackthorn tossed the ruined painting away before turning back to me. Within a few strides, he was back by my side. He lifted me into his arms, cradling me to him.
“Nothing and no one will ever stand between us again.”
I clung to him as he walked us through the castle, hoping with all my heart that his words would come true.