“You could’ve mentioned the little monsters trying to eat me.” I pointed at the line of snatchkins.
He crossed his arms, and that heat rose within me again. “Sorry, little thief, I was too busy dying.” His voice still sounded strained and I felt bad I was so snappy. “Now come back in. We need to talk.”
He disappeared into the Folded Tower. I glanced at the tiny nightmares retreating to the woods, my heart still racing, and followed him inside.
Daphne
The Anchor
He was stretching on the bed like a big, lazy cat when I entered.
“You wanted to talk?” I asked and glanced away from this shameless and distracting display.
“Yes,” he purred. “What happened in the catacombs left my powers… fractured.”
I raised a brow. “Oh. You seem to be all right now.” And made the mistake of looking again.
He was leaning on an elbow in the bed, shirtless, eating grapes that had appeared from God-knows-where. Every movement was sinfully slow, every stretch deliberate.
“Mhm. This place heals my kind,” he said, gesturing to the room around us. “But a part of my power is still within you, little thief.”
I had guessed so. “So, what is the plan now? We can go back and try again, right?”
“Yes. That’s the plan. There’s our first problem, Miss Daphne. Going back.” He tossed a grape up in the air and caught it with his lips.
I crossed my arms at my chest, trying to look unbothered, though alarm bells were ringing in my mind. “What do you mean? Can you not get us back the same way you brought us here? Not straight into the claws of those monsters in the catacombs, but—”
He shook his head. “Returning requires… more skill than bringing us here. More magic.”
“So what do we do?”
He stopped chewing, and his face became serious. “There might be a way, but it requires your help.”
“Oh.” I didn’t like the sound of this, not one bit. “What should I do?”
“The real question is: what will you let me do to you?”
His voice dropped—low, dangerous. And damn the heat that rolled through me like a tide.
We were alone. No one would ever know.
The thought of what we could do to each other set something wild in my mind.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “What do you mean?”
“I need something to anchor me back to your world, little thief. Something to guide me through the threads.” He was on me in a blink, eyes blown wide—black as midnight. “Would you let me kiss you, Miss Daphne?”
Damned be my body. My bones turned into jelly, but that was not the worst. The worst was that hunger inside me, that cursed curiosity.
No way I’d show him how I felt. Instead, I lifted my chin, looked him straight in those black, devilish pupils, and said, “Funny. You didn’t strike me as a man who’d ask permission.” His lip curled up, and he leaned in. The scent ofnight mint, pinewood and distant rain—like a storm about to break, wrapped around me, emptied my head.
His fingers trailed my jaw, and he chuckled. He leaned closer, his bare chest rising rapidly, his lips just inches away. “Is that a yes?”
How could I resist such a temptation? Slowly, never breaking eye contact, I lifted my hand and cupped his face.
Beneath my fingers, his skin was warm, his stubble rasping against my palm. His breath hitched. He leaned into the touch as if starved for it, closing his eyes.
And then—
