Chapter 31 The Unexpected
THE UNEXPECTED
My breath faltered the moment my eyes found him.
The throne rose at the far end of the room, obsidian and bone fused into a structure as deliberate as it was severe. It was not designed to impress. It was designed to rule, and seated there was its master, the embodiment of that authority.
Not in the tailored business suit he had worn earlier, but neither was he entirely the ancient warlord depicted in the painting I had seen in the gallery. He was more like a fusion of both.
Black fabric cut with the precision of modern tailoring hugged his torso. The lines were clean and immaculate, interrupted only by the dark armor fitted over one shoulder. Its muted metal glimmered like something forged for much more than simply sitting on a throne.
It wasn’t bulky or cumbersome, but sculpted, as though grown from shadow and metal combined. A thick strap of black leather lay against his chest, subtle but unmistakably symbolic, disappearing beneath the lapel of the jacket.
And as usual, his posture was relaxed, which was the complete opposite of my own. Especially when his eyes found me instantly. His gaze did not wander or falter, it fixed on me with a certainty that felt almost physical. And, in that moment, everything else in the room receded.
The distance between us felt longer than it was.
I was acutely aware of every step required to close it.
Of the way the emerald silk brushed against my legs, and the steady click of my heels against the floor.
The composure I had so deliberately constructed in the mirror cracked beneath the force of his focus.
He didn’t smile immediately. Instead, he studied me. A slow, leisurely scan of my body from the top of my head, down the curve of my shoulders. His eyes lingered just long enough at my waist to make heat coil low in my stomach before they returned to my face.
There was hunger there, and I felt my mouth go dry. Like he was undressing me with his intense gaze, speaking without words of things to come.
But it soon became clear that he had exhausted his patience with waiting for me. So, with a subtle curl of two fingers toward himself, he summoned me forward, the gesture small but unmistakably commanding.
Torin’s voice was low at my side, barely more than breath.
“It’s not wise to keep my lord waiting.”
The reminder broke whatever invisible line I had been hovering at, and I forced my feet forward once again.
The crowd parted more distinctly now as I approached the raised platform, the air growing heavier with each step.
But it quickly became obvious that my nerves were getting the best of me, as I faltered in my steps, despite Torin’s warning.
And he saw it.
Of course he did.
Instead of getting angry or frustrated, he released a calm sigh and rose from his throne. The movement was fluid and unhurried, yet the effect was immediate… and not just with me.
Every muscle in my body tensed, the conversations around the room stilled.
The pulse of the music softened around us, as though the space instinctively adjusted to him being no longer seated, but now standing.
His commanding presence cutting the distance between us.
And with every inch he closed, the memory of standing before him here, for the first time, returned in vivid detail.
The fear. The quiet panic. The sharp edge of uncertainty.
Yet, this time, layered beneath it, was something far more treacherous.
Desire.
He stopped close enough that I could feel the heat of him before he touched me.
Up close, the blend of tailored businessman and ancient warrior was more dangerous, as though two versions of him occupied the same skin.
The armor at his shoulder caught the red light, throwing faint reflections across the sharp line of his jaw.
His eyes glowed faintly, not fully ignited, but edged with something otherworldly that made my breath hitch despite myself.
His gaze lifted for a heartbeat, finding Torin standing motionless next to me. Oblivion then jerked his chin to the side, telling him silently to leave us. Torin bowed his head before stepping away, leaving us alone… or as alone as we could be in a room full of people.
“Inanna,” he murmured, his voice low enough that it belonged only to me, though I knew the room likely strained to hear.
His hand extended toward me, not to claim but to invite. Because he didn’t grab my hand but instead chose patience over trying to rush me into a decision. The choice was mine, and I felt it as I slid my hand into his, letting him curl his fingers around it only after I had given it.
He turned it slightly, examining the delicate fabric that covered my palm before lowering his mouth to brush his lips against my knuckles. The gesture was old-fashioned, but more than anything, it was intimate. Possessive in its restraint.
“You are exquisite,” he said softly, and the compliment struck harder than it should have. Bo’s warnings began to fade with every passing second as I allowed myself to sink into the intensity of his gaze and the singular focus of his attention.
Behind him, I sensed the shift in the crowd.
He straightened slowly, his thumb brushing the back of my gloved hand once again before releasing it.
For a fraction of a second, the softness lingered.
Then something in his expression changed.
It was subtle enough to make me question if I had imagined it.
A flicker in his gaze that sharpened rather than warmed further.
Then he glanced past me briefly, toward the edge of the room, as though confirming something unseen. When his eyes returned to mine, they no longer held only admiration but also intent. As if he was planning something, it suddenly put me on edge.
“Thank you for joining me,” he said, the formality returning like a veil falling back into place, giving me enough cause to frown.
“There is something I wish to show you,” he told me, the words settling between us, deceptively calm. But beneath them, I felt the ground shift. There was something in the way he said it that made me want to retreat. As though the air itself had shifted around his words.
“I thought you asked me to join you for the evening?” I replied carefully, forcing my voice to steady despite the way my pulse had begun to climb. A faint curve touched his mouth at that, though the warmth that had softened his features moments earlier didn’t fully return.
“And I am most pleased that you accepted,” he replied smoothly, releasing my hand before stepping past me rather than remaining in front of me.
The movement was unhurried as he came to stand directly behind me.
My instincts were now on high alert, knowing something was off with him.
It was as if I was being lured into a trap, one I couldn’t retreat from when I felt his hands rise, settling lightly at the tops of my arms. A grip that wasn’t bruising, yet it was firm enough to make it clear that stepping back would require permission.
His hands were warm against my bare skin, and his touch possessive enough that it told me I was going nowhere.
His presence at my back was a solid line of heat along my spine.
“And the evening can now fully begin,” he stated, and the room around us seemed to lean inward without physically moving.
“What do you mean… Oblivion, what’s going on?” I asked, unable to keep the fear out of my tone this time.
“Tut, tut, little beauty, I told you to call me Wyr,” he reminded me in a hushed, playful tone, before going on to say in a far more commanding voice,
“You came here searching for something, and it would be discourteous of me to pretend otherwise,” he said, his voice carrying far enough that those closest to us could hear without it becoming a spectacle.
A thread of unease slipped down my spine at that. I didn’t like the implication beneath it, nor the way he framed my body from behind. As though my reaction was something he had already accounted for.
“I don’t understand,” I admitted, and he leaned closer so he could whisper in my ear,
“You will.”
I looked back at him over my shoulder in time to see his gaze dip briefly toward the stone floor, before lifting again with quiet resolve. The snap of his fingers cut through the low hum of the room and I flinched, holding my breath.
At first, nothing changed, and for half a heartbeat, I wondered whether the gesture had been purely symbolic.
But then the pale silver veins threading through the black marble beneath our feet began to glow.
It was faint at first, like distant lightning trapped beneath stone.
The light intensified quickly, spreading outward in deliberate arcs that traced patterns I didn’t recognize, but I instinctively knew they certainly weren’t decorative.
Symbols emerged in looping curves and sharp angles, chasing one another in widening circles that enclosed a section of the floor several feet across. The glow sharpened from white gold to an eerie, fiendish green, casting harsh upward shadows that distorted the faces of those watching.
A murmur rippled through the crowd, and the demons nearest the forming circle stepped back in unison, widening the perimeter without being told. My heartbeat thundered in my ears as my whole body tensed against him.
“What are you doing?” I asked before moving away from him.
However, I didn’t get far as his arm circled my waist in one smooth motion. Firm, unyielding muscle halting my attempt to escape as I tried to step away from him. The contact was immediate and controlled, his hand splayed low against my abdomen as though anchoring me physically to where I stood.
“Ah-ah… oh no you don’t,” he murmured near my ear, his voice no longer threaded with something playful but now edged with something colder, something protective and possessive all at once.