Chapter 28 Permanent Guest #2
However, there were no domestic touches.
No unnecessary cushions or furnishings. Everything here felt deliberate.
Masculine… Powerful. Even with the sheer size of the bed, the room did not feel cramped.
It felt sectional, almost like several rooms occupying one grand space, a place for rest, for work, for thought… For solitude.
Two doors stood set into the far wall. One, I assumed, led to a bathroom. The other, wider and framed in darker wood, likely concealed a dressing room or, no doubt, something far more expansive than my pokey little closet.
“You will stay here,” he said evenly after he silently watched, and I took it all in. The words were said with a quiet authority that made me shiver.
“For how long?” I asked, unable to keep the question from surfacing.
“We can discuss that later,” he replied and before I could argue, he continued as if my question meant little to him,
“You have access to everything you require,” he continued, gesturing subtly toward a smaller door near the corner.
“There is a bathroom through there, and your suitcase will be brought to you shortly.”
I exhaled slowly and glanced around again, taking in the absence of bars, locks, or visible restraints.
“It’s not exactly the prison I expected,” I said lightly, though there was more truth in it than I meant to show. His eyes narrowed a fraction in response.
“I told you that you’re not imprisoned here,” he replied, stepping closer, though not enough to crowd me this time.
“You are very keen to reassure me of that,” I countered, folding my arms loosely, though I remained wrapped in his jacket.
“I am keen to ensure that you understand you are my permanent guest,” he corrected smoothly.
The phrase lingered in the air between us.
“That sounds suspiciously like you’re sugarcoating me being a prisoner.”
“See it as you will,” he replied with a faint lift of one shoulder, his composure unshaken.
“So, I’m allowed to come and go as I please?” I pressed, watching him carefully, and his eyes held mine, unflinching.
Then, after releasing a sigh and a measured pause, he told me,
“If you wish to draw a distinct line, then I am afraid you are not free to leave, no.”
The honesty in it sent a strange ripple through me.
“So, I am right, I am your prisoner, then.”
He didn’t answer directly. Instead, he regarded me with that same steady gaze, the faintest shrug accompanying his silence, as though the distinction mattered less to him than it did to me.
My stomach chose that moment to betray me.
The sound was quiet, but in the stillness of the room, it might as well have echoed. Heat rushed to my cheeks as my hand instinctively pressed against my abdomen. His eyes widened at the sound.
“Moving on to more important matters, I will have some food brought to you.”
“That’s not necessary,” I muttered quickly when his mouth curved faintly.
“I believe your stomach disagrees with you,” he said, the smirk now unmistakable.
I looked away, mortified, though I could feel his gaze lingering, amused rather than mocking.
My attention drifted back to the bed, my fingers brushing once more along the edge of the fabric, tracing the smooth line of it as though it might reveal something hidden beneath the surface.
“You can relax here, Eliza, you are safe,” he said quietly.
“There’s that word again,” I murmured under my breath.
“Which is?” he prompted.
“Safe,” I replied, not looking at him when I said it, and perhaps that was why I didn’t notice him closing the distance until I felt the subtle shift of air in front of me. When I lifted my gaze, he stood directly before me, far closer than before, his presence commanding the space without effort.
I startled slightly at the proximity.
His hand lifted, deliberately slow as if not to startle me, before brushing a loose strand of hair back from my face. His fingers grazing lightly along my temple before tucking it behind my ear. The touch was gentle and close to being tender.
“You will be protected here,” he said softly, as if needing me to understand this. It felt like a promise that settled low in my chest.
“Protected from what?” I asked, my voice quieter now.
“Not what,” he replied, his eyes darkening fractionally.
“Who.” The shift in emphasis made my pulse stumble.
“Protected from you?” I dared to ask, lifting my chin slightly despite the way my body betrayed me with a faint shiver.
For a fleeting second, something flashed in his eyes, a glint of silver that did not belong to any candlelight.
He leaned down slowly, his mouth hovering near my ear, close enough that the warmth of his breath traced along my skin.
“Do you want to be?” he whispered, the question low, almost a growl.
My eyes closed before I could stop myself as I was too afraid to speak, worried about what my answer might be.
Especially when the corner of his mouth brushed my neck.
Not quite a kiss at first, just the faintest press of warmth against my skin before his lips followed a sensual path along my flesh.
A tremor moved through me that I could not disguise.
He felt it.
Of course he did.
Then, just as slowly, he stepped back, and the distance returned too abruptly.
“I will leave you to get settled,” he said, his tone composed once more, as though the moment between us had not just shifted something irrevocably.
“Oblivion,” I said quickly, and he paused at the door, his hand tightening at the frame before he looked back at me.
“I am not Oblivion to you, my sweet little Inanna,” he replied gently, and his voice lured me in enough to ask,
“Then what should I call you?”
He looked pleased by the question, his eyes flashing silver once more before telling me,
“You may call me Wyr,” he said, with that knowing grin of his gracing his lips.
“After all, we will be spending a lot of time together,” he added lightly, and my heart stuttered.
“Oh, is that right?” I asked, though the confidence in my voice didn’t quite match the uncertainty twisting inside me. And it was a challenge he seemed more than happy to rise to.
And in the end, it was a battle of wits he would win when he completely shattered me with one staggering fact.
“Indeed, especially since we will be…”
“Sharing a room.”