His eyes darkened. “They’re pretty, sure. But I don’t like them for their beauty—I respect them for their thorns.”
The statement felt loaded with so much more, and I filed that away with every other detail I’d accumulated on Cillian—plenty at this point. In a way, his answer made me appreciate him on a deeper level, though. So many found it far too easy to fall for pretty things, which was why Damian had been in such hot demand. Except that had never drawn me in.
No, I craved a substance beneath the surface that he would never have satisfied.
Not nearly like the endless mystery of the man before me.
“My favorite gem in this place is this way,” Cillian said, reaching back to offer his hand. I accepted automatically, but when our palms brushed together, my pulse raced. The effortless touch he gave, how tactile he was, surprised me every time. I’d never anticipated it from the ice-cold man I’d first met.
We meandered down the rose path, and I savored our time out here, in the sun, exploring somewhere new. Like this, my troubles were miles away, and I enjoyed every second of it.
“Did you always want to be a librarian?” Cillian asked as we walked along.
“Yes,” I responded. “I used to hide away in the library at school. The librarian there took me under her wing. And books have always been a refuge of sorts.” I cast him an arch look. “Did you always want to be the owner and proprietor of the Spires?”
“Not in the slightest,” he responded, staring out at the expanse before us, the path lined by looming trees and interspersed with lilies of so many different shades and varieties. I soaked them all in with my eyes while waiting for his response. “I wanted to be an architect.”
I tilted my head to the side. A silent thrill rose inside me at being privy to this detail. “Why didn’t you pursue it?”
“My father had a strict path for me to follow. And he wasn’t the sort of man you said no to.” The grimness in his tone told the rest of the story, and I swallowed hard. “But he’s gone. No longer a problem.”
“Then why not now?” I asked.
Cillian shrugged. “I found ways to make owning the Spires mine.”
My eyes widened as the realization set in. “You’re the one who does most of the designing for it, aren’t you.”
He let out a low whistle. “Your sharpness is a constant delight.”
“It would certainly explain the gothic brooding with a side of edgelord in the décor upstairs,” I teased. Cillian’s sharp bark of a laugh was as infectious as this gorgeous day. We strode down the lily-lined path, the thick, velvety petals catching my attention left and right.
“Up ahead,” Cillian said, pointing to what lay farther down.
I squinted, a bright sparkle almost blinding me as the sunlight glinted off the surface of water. We got closer, and the sight before me took my breath away. The pond was huge and still, reflecting the brilliant blue sky above like a mirror. On the far side of the pond lay a white structure with a large overhang, hulled out like an amphitheater. I couldn’t help but wonder whether anyone ever performed there, but they’d have to be exclusive, private situations, since I’d never even heard of this place in all my time in Peregrine City. Water lilies spanned the pond, dots of vibrant green and pale pink against the glossy surface of the water.
Cillian’s hand was in mine, the clutch possessive, and I basked in his touch, in the beauty of the day, in the freedom I experienced in this moment. The past month had taught me not to take time like this for granted. I’d spent years in this city, cycling through the same routine, and when I thought back on it, had I really been free?
Beyond my father, I hadn’t had any connections worth preserving. Those had withered away to dust.
“Worth it, right?” Cillian asked, tilting his chin in the direction of the pond.
The breath snagged in my throat. The sun highlighted the browns in his black hair, and the glossiness, the curve of his regal horns, and the lines of his chin, his neck were so clear I wished I had any drawing ability, just so I could capture them.His skin glowed a rich red, and that solid frame held a sturdiness I craved. But his eyes, when he stared at me with tenderness—fuck, the look curled inside me and settled there.
“Yeah, worth it.”
I wasn’t talking about the gardens.
Chapter 19
We spent most of the day at the gardens, since Cillian had packed food in his car, and the fact we were undisturbed there by other people appealed to me even more. I appreciated my solitude more than most, and despite occasionally getting lonely, that didn’t mean I welcomed crowds. It was the most perfect date I’d ever been on—if it was even a date.
We hadn’t clarified anything about our situation, our relationship, and while I wondered what we were, there wasn’t an urgency to define anything either.
Not when he made me feel claimed and possessed andhis.
“Want to grab a coffee before we head home?” Cillian asked.
“Be still, my heart,” I teased, placing a hand over it. I never in a thousand years could’ve imagined I’d be spending casual time like this with the demon I’d first met in the Spires. He’d seemed as forbidding as the peaks themselves.
