This kiss was feral, as Ciaran pushed us further into the stacks. My palms found the plane of his chest, savouring the contact—the solid warmth of him. His hands landed on my hips, touching the same spot on my back where his hand had rested during our card game all those weeks ago. I shivered, my body reacting in the same way it had then; damp heat spread through me. My back slammed into books, and Ciaran’s hand gripped the shelf beside my head. He broke away from my lips for a moment, his teeth lightly grazing down the side of my neck; I arched into the touch, giving him access to my neck, my collarbone, my breasts, whatever he wanted, as my hands grappled with the buttons on the front of his pants.
When I was in the viscount’s thrall, I had truly believed that I would never have the chance to make things right between us. I thought I was going to die, and that the last thing I ever said to him was that I never wanted to see him again. Being in his arms now felt more like a dream than anything I had experienced during my extended somnolence. I savoured every touch, every kiss, every point of contact. I clawed at him with ferocity. It would never be enough—never close enough.
“This is very inappropriate of me,” Ciaran said, growling into the spot where my neck and shoulder met, eliciting a fresh wave of shivers down my spine, “but I find I don’t particularly care.” He hissed and swore as my hand slid down the front of his pants, making contact with the already hard length of him. “I’m going to fuck you in the library, Seraphina.”
It was a statement, not a question.
Of course I could refute it, but I didn’t want to. I whimpered in response. To the bluntness: Ciaran was never one to mince words. But Ciaran still looked at me expectantly. He wouldn’t do anything—wouldn’t move forward unless he got an answer.
“Goddess, yes.”
And so he did, pulling my leggings down around my ankles, not even letting me step out of them before he hoisted me up. He pinned my back against the stacks, reaching between us. I was more than ready for this, and all I wanted was for him to slide into me. For us to reconnect on a physical level. But even in this frenzied state, Ciaran made sure it was going to be good for me first. And when I was limp and pliant in his arms, biting down on a cry and clenching around his fingers, he finally notched the head of his cock to my entrance.
Ciaran rolled his hips rhythmically, rocking into me as my back slammed into the stack again and again. I really hoped this library was deserted; I was much too far gone to actually care, though. I tried not to cry outtooloudly as Ciaran pushed all the way in, hitting a sensitive spot that caused me to clench around him. At this angle, I had no control; all I could do was hold onto Ciaran’s shoulders as he pushed in again and again. His strokes were hard—punishing—and I savoured every single one.
“Seraphina, I’m going to…” Ciaran groaned, his voice sounding strangled. “I… I’m going to…”
I had to bite my lip as he hit that spot again, my own release building, cresting, almost breaking… almost…
“Me too.” My voice came out husky as I arched back into the bookshelf behind me, my hands scrambling for purchase along his shoulders. Ciaran reached between us once more, circling my clit with intent—I went barreling headfirst into release.
“Fuck.” He shuddered as his orgasm slammed into him. I broke too, clenching around him, my fingertips digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders.
It had been so fast and hard, clawing and desperate this time. Not like the languid lovemaking from a few days ago. But with what we’d been through since then… I didn’t expect anything else. And as Ciaran breathed into my neck, I knew he wasreassuring himself that I was here, that this was real, that we were safe.
“I love you.” His whispers were barely audible. “Seraphina, I fucking love you.” So I pressed kisses into his hair, breathing in the familiar scent of him, reassuring myself of those same things as well.
Minutes later,Ciaran carefully untangled our limbs—our bodies—and placed me back on solid ground. We tried to right our clothes, and I took in the mess we’d made around us. Several books had fallen from the poor shelf that had the misfortune of being in our way at such an inopportune moment. I fixed my leggings and my shirt, which had become twisted under Ciaran’s roving hands. There wasn’t much more chance for cleanup here; we were slick and damp and sticky from both of us. Ciaran crinkled his nose too, silently apologizing for the mess.
I giggled and stuck my tongue out, feeling lighter than I had in so many days. Weeks, maybe. Acceptance. That’s what I finally had. I was going to have a real life here. With Ciaran. And Elena and Mal, and Fionn and Rory. There was a future for me. A future that I could decide—I could choose. I could dance. Or I could sing. Hell, I could do both. Without the threat of exposing my magic, I didn’t need to worry about breaking my oath to my mother anymore.
I could train that magic, too. Never a shell of a woman like Seff’s mother, never playing second fiddle to anyone. I could be myself truly. And for the first time, I wasn’t looking to someone else for answers, or trying to do what Ishoulddo. Life Beneath Lutesse was waiting for me.My life.And I was ready to take it on, no walls, no lies, no compromises.
But as I bent down to pick up a book that had fallen open, I noticed an image on the faded, yellowing page. It was a crude drawing; it couldn’t even come close to capturing the true awe-inspiring terror of her. But it was all there. How, I wasn’t sure, because I had truly never seen her before that dream. The thick curling hair. The taloned feet. The crown of worn animal horns. The wings. Those eyes, black as a moonless night. The Goddess of magic wielders and fey, whose image I had never seen before she terrorized my dream: Ishtar.
CABARET
Three Months Later…
Iwas almost late for rehearsal again. This time, I couldn’t quite take all the blame. I had my shit together for once, but there was a large, hulking, very needy presence stopping me from running out the door.
“Ciaran! Please. I’m going to be late. I can’t leave without my shoes.” I placed my hands on my hips and pouted as he dangled my heels nonchalantly above his head.
“Oh, I know. That’s the point.” He gave me a lazy half-smile, the same one he’d given me on the rooftop all those months ago. It still made my stomach twist with pleasure.
It was nearly 10:30 and I was running late for rehearsal. I had auditioned just as Mal suggested. I didn’t expect to make it my first time auditioning. I was no stranger to that kind of rejection. But to my surprise, I was selected to be a part of Mal’s cabaret dance company. And we had our first show tomorrow. We were doing a full blocking rehearsal at the speakeasy today, and if I was late, well, Mal would flay me alive.
“Ciaran.” I jumped up, trying to grab the shoes. Goddess, he was so much taller than me. There was no way I’d ever get them unless he let me.
“It will cost you.” His smile turned feral as he lifted the shoes even higher and bent his face to mine expectantly.
I sighed, rolling my eyes. Even as he leaned in, I still had to rise up onto my tiptoes to reach his lips.
And even though we’d been together for almost every hour of every day for the past three months, Ciaran’s kiss still knocked the wind out of me. His scent, his warmth, enveloped me. His lips pressed to mine, gentle at first, and then hard and insistent. I groaned. Letting go of this man was not a particular strength of mine.
“Okay, okay, okay. Can I go now?” I pulled away, breathless already. Damn him.
“Do you have to?” He frowned, dark brows knitting together.
