Suddenly, his eyes widen, and I move before I’m aware of it, catching him around the waist as his knees buckle. My legs engage as the full weight of his body sinks against mine.
Panting, he stares at the threadbare rug, shock having frozen his features.
“The venom?” I ask.
He nods, just once, and gasps out, “Help me to a chair.”
With his arm tossed over my shoulder, we shuffle toward the armchair he vacated earlier. The fireplace roars behind the metal grate.
I deposit him onto the cushions, and he emits a low oath as he runs his hands up and down his legs, massaging the stiff muscles. Perching on an adjacent chair, I consider how best to manage the kink in our plan. “How bad is it?”
“It’s already passing.” He lifts his head, manages a small smile. A worthy attempt, to be certain, but bleakness stamps shadows over his expression.
It was the same during our trek to the Estate. Every few hours, numbness claimed his legs, dragging him to the earth. He told me the waves would hit with increasing frequency over time. Eventually, the numbness would remain, a paralysis of unfeeling permanence.
“Let us not think of this,” he says. “Yakim should be arriving any moment. Until then, let us enjoy ourselves.”
Nodding in agreement, I settle back, fully assuming Zephyrus will do the same. Instead, he perches on the arm ofmychair, body angled toward me.
“Don’t you want your own chair?” I suggest with a strained smile. “It would probably be more comfortable.”
His mouth curves fiendishly. “Am I making you nervous?” The shadows from a moment ago have vanished, as though he has beaten them into submission.
I will not give him the satisfaction of affirmation. “Isn’t this inappropriate?”
“To you, maybe. To the fair folk, this is positively chaste.” His hand slips beneath my hair to curl around my nape. The touch is a shock. “Imagine we are meeting for the first time.”
His knee bumps my outer thigh, and I startle, clambering for my bearings.Imagine.What a treacherous word. He asks me to experience, for however long, a life that is not mine, but that perhaps I yearn for in some darkened corner of my heart.
“I arrive here on business and spot a woman I’ve never seen before.” Against my nape, his thumb skims upward, tracing the sensitive tendon. “I wonder who she is and where she comes from. I ask myself why she is here.”
He pauses deliberately, allowing me space to respond.
“I am here to visit my sister,” I say quietly, though I have no siblings.
He nods in encouragement. “Go on.”
I swallow with difficulty. Thornbrook is all I know, all I’ve ever wanted to know, but the West Wind is a force, and helplessly, I’m swept downstream.
“While I wait, I decide to eat dinner. During my meal, I notice a man staring at me from across the room. Our eyes meet, and I feel…”
What I’d feel then is what I feel now. Namely this: overcome.
“Tell me,” he coaxes in a tone I know well. It is deep-rooted, old. It demands I listen.
“Seen,” I relent. “I feel seen.”
Catching my chin, he angles my head so I’m forced to meet his eyes. They brighten the gloom with emerald warmth. Though it is a story, it’s too similar to reality for me to pretend otherwise.
“You are,” he whispers. “Seen.”
My tongue slips out to wet my lips, and Zephyrus eases forward a fraction.
A bell chimes, and he drops his hand, turning toward the front door. “Right on time.”
I follow his gaze to a tall, lanky man wearing a maroon vest tucked into the waistband of his trousers. In one hand, he carries a leather briefcase. In the other, a scarf, despite the balmy temperature.
“Don’t let his manicured appearance fool you,” Zephyrus whispers. “Yakim is ruthless. Remember that.”
