Chapter Sixty-One
Blair
Blair woke refreshed, remembering not to step out of line of her scholarly path. She’d brought that mindset with her into the next research session with Lorkan.
The fire never ceased, Lorkan’s firewood restocked. Librarian aids delivered food throughout the day, and Blair never ran out of tea either.
Lorkan read with his spectacles resting at the tip of his nose, and though they’d said little to the other, that peacefulness of just being together hugged them all around.
Blair had found a few interesting terms in her readings—the One, the Three, and an interesting term she had spent the last fifteen minutes trying to translate.
The first was only a few letters, m, o, and ending in r.
The center word was the most difficult, practically impossible, while the third was simple enough, reading darkness.
“Mother,” Blair breathed after her fourth attempt at figuring out the word.
“What did you say?” Lorkan whipped his head up.
“The Mother of Darkness,” Blair said, reading all the words together. “It’s the closest title to the Blood Goddess I’ve come across so far. It’s reminiscent of the prophecy, too, a mention of darkness we’re supposed to defeat.”
“This text includes the term, too.” Lorkan grew closer to her, pushing the book between them and caging Blair with his arms as he stood behind her. “This illustration survived.”
Depicted in a drawing, a beautiful woman stood in the chaos of the battlefield.
An army of demons stood behind her while a row of glowing figures—gods was Blair’s guess—marched from the other side.
At the top of the page, the illustration was labeled The Mother of Darkness.
She thrust a sword in the air like she led the demons into battle.
“Blasted books,” Blair hissed.
“What?” Lorkan said, peering down at her.
She hadn’t meant to say anything out loud, and she nibbled her lip, trying to come up with an excuse, a lie of some sort, but Lorkan’s gaze dropped to her mouth.
The tension between them rose, crackling with the fire.
Blair had daydreamed of nights like these.
Almost entangled in one another’s arms, reading books and theorizing.
Just like their teenage years. The separation between work and pleasure, a fragile line, thrummed in the air like a plucked bow string, and the fact she’d tasted him days ago made it all that much worse.
Blair fought the instinct to lean in, to press her lips to his, but the burn on her palm itched, reminding her that this wasn’t their small hiding spot in the Drengr Village, and the fate of their homeland rested on how soon they figured out how to break the curse.
Besides, she belonged in this spot, with a book in hand and researching, not falling for the whims of her treacherous heart, so hel-bent on dragging her from the path fate had laid out for her.
She cleared her throat, severing their intense connection, and pointed to the goddess’s sword. The hilt was the line of three moons.
Just like her burn.
“I’ve seen the shape before,” she said.
Not a lie, but not the full truth, and she kept her wrapped hand underneath the table, out of sight.
Lorkan blinked and studied the illustration. “Wait, so have I.”
“Really?” Blair blinked, mouth drying.
Lorkan rushed to his bookcase. Blair’s legs moved of their own accord, and she followed, trailing behind him as he ran a finger over the spines.
“Here,” he said, pulling out a small, dainty book no more than twenty pages. “It’s a werewolf fable related to the cycle of the moon, and the three stages are called the Mother, Crone, and Maiden.”
“Three . . .” Blair said, leaning into Lorkan’s space to trace her fingers over the symbol etched into the leather cover. Lorkan flipped through the pages, and the symbol continued on throughout it.
“Bizarre,” Lorkan mused. “That ‘One became Three’ is written along with the Mother of Darkness . . .”
Blair’s mind ran wild. “Who would be the maiden and the crone?”
“If I had to guess, the maiden is the Sun Goddess, right? Life, light, joy, and abundance, but the mother in this fable doesn’t align with the Blood Goddess.”
“This would also suggest they are one and the same, no?” Blair shook her head. “Like the Blood Goddess and Sun Goddess were once ‘One’ and the second?”
“But who is the third, the crone?” Lorkan said, eyes distant.
Blair considered, and the mark on her palm ached.
What was the connection between her burn, the symbol in the werewolf fable, and the Mother of Darkness’s sword’s hilt?
Blasted books, was there a connection between her and all these elements, or was it simply the properties of the bloodstone?
Yet, the ring rested on Lorkan’s bare chest, not bothering him at all.
Blair crossed her arms, teetering between admitting the burn, but would her connection to the Mother of Darkness damn her again?
They were finally working together, and she didn’t trust that the truth wouldn’t set back their progress, not when she was getting so close to having something worth reinstating her tarnished name.
Chrome lettering snagged her attention, and Blair pushed past Lorkan to a set of books—no, not a set, an entire shelf, dedicated to her published works.
“I don’t understand . . .”
Lorkan didn’t respond behind her, and Blair turned, inch after inch, finding him so close that if she reached out, her hand would land on his chest. His honey stare zeroed in on her, and heat flared to life in the pit of her belly.
Blair wasn’t sure how Lorkan could appear so cutting and dark yet have the light of a thousand suns shining in his eyes—a pure contradiction.
She’d be lying if she said that wasn’t one of the reasons she’d been drawn to him all those years ago.
The dark allure. Manhood clung to him in sharpness and angles now, dark strands flicking over his forehead, and his perfectly thin nose.
Blair had always hoped her attraction to this male would fade with time, and yet, her yearning for him was worse than ever.
He studied her, his eyes so ensnared, she wasn’t sure what he was looking at—her or her soul.
Lorkan stepped forward first, and instinctively Blair matched his step backwards, her shoulder blades coming flush against the bookcase.
She was trapped. Not only under Lorkan’s hungry, appraising stare but also against the shelves holding her upright.
Neither of them said a word—what was there to say?
The thread that pulled them together could no longer go ignored.
The air between them had grown increasingly hot.
So much so, Blair was sure she couldn’t breathe.
Tonight felt different. This moment, this time.
Perhaps it was the late hour, the dimmed light in Lorkan’s office.
It was just them. Two beings pulled together by something they didn’t understand or know how to sever.
They stood inches apart, their breath mingling together.
The scar across Blair’s heart pulsed, yet another sensation rested on her shoulders like the weight of a thousand boulders. But she was tired of fate’s rigid perimeters. Her heart burst to be set free, and Blair obliged, screwing consequence. She grabbed Lorkan’s tunic and dragged his lips to hers.