Chapter 22
Evelyn
I’m not sure we’re both going to fit? I wanted to smack my forehead like the idiot I was.
Ambrose’s mouth stretched to form words, but I could only assume that he, too, was overcome by my stupidity.
We needed a safe topic, one to eradicate the fact that we were in this tiny room together for the night.
One that could burn away the image my mind conjured of our limbs tangled together in the bed.
A lock of auburn hair fell over his face as he ran his fingers through it again. The ring of gold in his hazel eyes appeared to be thickening—shifting. His eyes held a fire that I hadn’t seen before. Then, his body went rigid as the gold ring contracted.
My veil cat chose that moment to perk up. If I were in my animal form, my tail would be ticking back and forth, keeping time. Ambrose’s hand flexed at his side before he balled it into a tight fist. And finally, I understood what was happening.
He was fighting his wolf. I hadn’t seen it from this side, but the tension in his body was so obviously an attempt to control.
It surprised me that this—the shared room, the shared bed—set off his wolf.
Hadn’t he said he rarely lost control anymore?
Was he so affected by the idea of a room shared with me?
I couldn’t help but consider how my veil cat reacted to Ambrose. The animal is never wrong. Fine. I knew deep down it wasn’t only my veil cat’s reaction. Her goal was to be near him; she found peace with him—comfort—and I acknowledged that, lately, I did, too.
If he experienced something similar, we needed a topic to de-escalate this tension in the air between us.
My mind served up the perfect idea on a silver platter: Research. No one got into confusing, sexually charged situations while talking about research. Right?
I charged forward before I could mentally contradict myself.
“When I shifted today. When you … touched my chest…” My cheeks heated. This was not headed in the direction I’d intended. The words got away from me, like they were two steps ahead, and I was jogging to reach them before the next ones slipped out.
Ambrose’s spine straightened, and his knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists at his side.
I cleared my throat and tried again. “When you touched me, when you were explaining the shifting magic, my fire magic flared as if it knew what you were trying to tell me.”
His head tilted, and he seemed to inspect both me and the bed, probably trying to understand how this story connected to our current predicament.
It didn’t, but Ambrose was sharp. He’d catch up eventually.
“I’m sorry. I thought it was only me.” Ambrose cleared his throat. “It must be an effect of the blood magic connecting us, something our skin-to-skin contact sets off.”
I shook my head. “That’s not…”
Wait. Did that mean his magic flared when he pressed his palm against me in the woods? I set that piece of information aside to obsess over later.
My mind had wandered again. Ambrose waited for me to continue. “That’s not what I meant to imply,” I said. “It was good that you touched me.”
His eyes widened.
Belatedly, I heard the words, but it was too late to take them back.
I’d said what I said. As with our attempt to break the magic connecting us, the only way out was through.
“When my fire magic flared, it flared toward you. It was almost like…” Here I was somewhat exploring the feeling verbally.
I hadn’t tried to describe it to myself, so I wasn’t sure what words to use.
It had been strong, something solid that wouldn’t break, like Ambrose.
It had also been flexible, fitting the shape we required.
“It was like a rope … of fire, leading toward you.”
I didn’t think he was breathing. “A rope,” he repeated.
“Yes. Have you felt it?” I asked. Really, I just wanted to hear him speak a complete sentence.
He shook his head. “It has to be the magic connecting us … What Lord Arctos described.” His hands were in his hair again.
“I’m so sorry, Evelyn. I don’t know why it’s presenting that way for you.
The last thing I could have possibly wanted was for—” He straightened his spine and cut himself off.
“We’ll get rid of it. I’ll put my entire focus on it. ”
I stepped into his space to halt his hands from further tousling his hair. It had fallen in a perfect swoop across his forehead. I liked it just the way it was.
When I looked up, I realized how close we were. I held both of his wrists in place, and mere inches separated us. I craned my neck to meet his hazel eyes. The gold ring around his pupils had receded to its usual size, but the flecks hidden in the green came alive in the lamplight.
“You’re missing my point,” I said. “I was sharing this because I think it’s an interesting development for our research. There was a physicality to the magic. Maybe with time, you’ll feel it, too. Either way, the more tactile the magic is, the more possible it is to break.”
A breath swept from his lips on a heavy exhale. His relief was palpable. His breath skimmed the top of my head, reminding me once again of our proximity and how much space he took up in this small room.
“I have no doubt you’ll understand it better soon,” he said.
I didn’t have to look up at him to imagine the way his lip curled into that almost-smile. I did anyway. When I had seen this one previously, I assumed it was a condescending smile, one that said, You’re trying, and I can’t bring myself to tell you all the ways that you’re wrong.
Maybe this was the work of the magic, but my time spent with Ambrose had made me realize that wasn’t quite right.
This was the smile he gave me when I mouthed off to Lord Arctos.
Or when I came up with a new lead on a project, even when Landon told me it would never work.
If I was willing to admit how long I had cataloged Ambrose’s smiles, I might also have said it was the first one he gave me, the one in the Records Office when I’d told him which books he needed without being asked.
With what I knew now, I wondered if this smile said something closer to, You’re amazing, and I can’t quite bring myself to tell you.
We’d been staring at each other for too long.
If I had hoped to use talk about research to diffuse the weighty feeling in the room that pulled us together like a gravitational force, I’d failed miserably.
I still held his wrist in place, and I found my fingers outside of my control as they slowly crept up his arm, pausing to fan out around the breadth of his biceps.
Seriously, does he do a thousand curls a day with the books in the Great Room?
His eyes tracked the movement of my hand. The gold in his irises thickened again, but this time, he didn’t look tense—he looked focused. I moved slowly, giving him plenty of time to get away. But the way his eyes tracked me, I wondered who was the predator and who was the prey.
I found I didn’t care, and for once, my veil cat didn’t, either, as I raised onto my tiptoes.
The distance between us closed, but he was too tall for me to reach his lips without his help.
I stood there like an idiot again, fearing I’d miscalculated.
He had to meet me here if he wanted this particular development between us.
Seconds before I gave up and dropped back to my heels in mortification, his lips met mine.
A spark caught in my chest at the first press. It lit like tinder when he pulled me closer and nipped my lip in exploration. I didn’t require encouragement as he coaxed my mouth open so his tongue could sweep inside.
The groan that built from my chest urged him on. As with our work together, he rose to my challenge. Our tongues tangled. It wasn’t a battle of wills but a partnership to achieve the best results in this experiment. Whatever test we were conducting, I wanted to repeat it over and over.
He seemed to agree. His lips dropped to my neck, and explored the column of it as he trailed open-mouthed kisses against my skin.
My head fell back, granting him all the access he needed.
His arms moved from my waist to the backs of my thighs as he hoisted me up.
I wrapped my legs around him like it was the most natural move in the world.
On slow, steady steps, Ambrose walked us in an unknown direction.
I didn’t care so long as his lips were on me, especially on that space right behind my…
And then we were falling backward.
Ambrose caught us with a strong arm against the plush surface. His bicep flexed against my side. He’d tipped us onto the bed, his weight braced above me. For a moment, we stared at each other. Our hearts beat rapidly in time.
We were on the bed. The bed in our shared room for the night.
His gaze was hooded with desire. In this moment, I knew Ambrose Yarrow wanted me. If the way he tracked my every movement wasn’t enough, the solid length pressed between us through his trousers was another giveaway.
I smiled as his large hand swept a loose strand of dark hair from my face. The touch sent that flare of fire between us again. I wanted more.
The thought was like a bucket of ice water poured over me.
Wanting things never ended well for me.
Something must have shifted in my face with my thoughts, because Ambrose’s weight left as quickly as it had fallen against me. He cleared his throat and adjusted himself as he looked toward the washroom.
“My apologies, Evelyn.” He could barely make eye contact. “Truly. I’m sorry. I think the … magic … got a little carried away.”
A pit opened in my stomach as I made sense of his words. He thinks the blood magic between us controls our emotions. This isn’t real to him. Somehow, that made it worse.
“Ambrose.”
He waved me off. “No—”
I took a deep breath and tried again. I couldn’t have him think this was some magical entanglement on my side.
That wasn’t fair. “Ambrose, I kissed you all on my own.” I spoke clearly and directly, willing him to understand.
“I think you’re right, we shouldn’t continue, but I won’t have you thinking I was overcome by magic. ”
Momentarily, he looked startled. I wasn’t sure if it was my directness or if I’d completely misread the situation. That didn’t feel right. I might have started it, but he had kissed me, too.
Maybe he only thought he wanted you because of his misinterpretation of the magic.
The magic was not controlling our feelings. That wasn’t what this was. Mutual attraction was neither of our intents.
But if he didn’t know that, it wasn’t any better than if the magic were controlling our emotions.
My cheeks heated, and I was suddenly exhausted, lost in the circles of what Ambrose might or might not have believed about what drew us together. It was better than the alternative, thinking about how much I had wanted things to continue.
I wiped my hand down my face. “I’m sorry, too.” And before he could respond to that, I continued, “We should get some sleep. I’ll take the floor.”
His eyes narrowed at me. “If anyone is taking the floor, I will.”
Stupid. Insufferable. My hands balled into fists at my sides.
“Let’s just share.” I took matters into my own hands and propped a pillow in the center of the small bed, like a line in the sand between us.
Then I curled on my side, leaving him plenty of space on the other half.
I turned away from him, unable to witness his indecision.
It took longer than it should have to hear the groan of the mattress as it sagged under his weight. He, too, rolled onto his side to keep as much space between us as possible.
“Goodnight, Evelyn,” he whispered.
I blinked into the darkness. My body still felt aflame from his touch, his kiss. It was a problem I would contemplate the rest of the night. I wiggled to try to find a comfortable position because there was no way I’d get a wink of sleep.