“Where did you bring me?” I ask, my lips so close to his neck that I can’t resist trailing them across his skin and up to his jaw, grazing them again on his shadowed growth.
“To a hidden level above my cabin.”
I can’t stop my soft smile. “Your cabin is another illusion, isn’t it? Or, at least, the fact that it presents as one level is an illusion.”
“It is.”
Within the cocoon of his wings, I’m even more conscious of his scent, the aroma of a bonfire without the acrid smoke, a pure fragrance. Indicative of his pure power.
“My wolves…” I begin, suddenly aware of the impact of my disappearance on them. “They’ll be worried if they can’t sense me.”
“I understand your concern, but your wolves will trust that you’re safe with me, and they’ll look after Ingrid while we’re gone.”
He opens his wings, the softest brush across my spine, gliding away from the backs of my thighs and feathering my arms.
I lift my head from Roman’s shoulder to see my surroundings.
This new space is a far cry from the earthy cabin beneath us with its woodsy furniture and comfortably cluttered surfaces. Rather, this room is palatial, its two sides divided by a wall with a very large opening in which we stand.
A bedroom sits on one side while a lounge room is located on the other. The walls are polished gray stone, while the floor is a shiny black like smooth onyx with specks of silver dusting its surface. The ceiling soars above us, a lighter shade of the gray on the walls. The bed is covered in pillows of all sizes, the bed linen pure white and with a sheen like silk. A plush bench sits at the foot of the bed, its surface alternating swirls of charcoal and ivory.
The wall above the bed is decorated with three decals made of rays of onyx stone that radiate out from a silver center, giving the ornaments the shape of stars.
The room is as monochromatic as my wolf’s vision—so much so that I take a breath and check that I’m not calling onhersight instead of my own right now.
“This is a replica of one of the rooms in the home I grew up in,” Roman says. “I recreated it to keep my memory alive.” He gives a small shake of his head. “After so many years walking this world, it takes effort to keep my earliest memories from fading.”
I can’t truly understand what it must feel like to walk the worlds for hundreds or thousands of years as Roman has, but I do understand protecting memories. Like the ones when my mom was lucid and truly present. And early moments with my wolves and sisters, moments that get me through the tough days. I have pictures and small artifacts to remind me, and Roman has this room.
“My wolf loves this space,” I tell him, half-wondering why she feels so at home here.
Roman makes a rough sound, like he’s clearing his throat. “That doesn’t surprise me,” he murmurs, his eyes locking with mine until I feel dizzy.
The only light in the room streams through windows placed high on the walls, but it’s muted by the branches of the enormous trees growing outside. Even so, a dappled stream of midday sun slants across us.
Roman’s fingers tangle in my hair again, brushing through the strands as he folds away his wings and, still holding me close, strides toward the bed. “I’ve never brought anyone here.”
He sets me down on the bench at the base of the bed, his fingers brushing along the outside of my thighs and calves as he kneels in front of me and tugs off my boots one by one. With each removal, he strikes a rune and the ache in my feet from all of the time I spent standing and practicing my power today eases immediately.
A sigh rises to my lips as he works his way up my calves, slowly massaging the tense muscles before he reaches the inside of my thighs.
That’s where he stops striking runes. His height has always astonished me, but never more than when he kneels in front of me and remains at near eye level with me.
“I could create a rune right now that would give you more pleasure than you’ve ever imagined, Nova,” he says, his voice a husky rumble. “But I want this to be about your body and mine, not an illusion I create with my power.”
My breathing hitches.
“You’ve created the illusion of sex before?” I ask. “Created runes to give pleasure instead of giving yourself?”
“Many times.” He meets my gaze. “I won’t lie to you, Nova. I’ve lived many lives and most of them were reckless. Dark times when I did everything I could to dare death to come for me.” His gaze becomes distant. “I lost myself in playing games with other demons, trading pleasure for power—games of manipulation and blood. It was a long time before I found a purpose.”
He turns my palms outward, resting the backs of my hands on my thighs, before he drops a kiss to my right palm, his lips brushing across the tips of my fingers, his tongue swirling for a moment that promises every pleasure.
He lifts his black eyes to mine and the visual contact is a deep burn that radiates all the way to my core. “I want all of you Nova,” he says. “If you have any doubts at any moment, I need you to tell me.”
Two days ago, I would have had doubts—smaller than I had when we first arrived—but Roman has opened his home to me, shown me who he really is beneath the hardened Master of Demon Runes.
“I don’t,” I say, leaning forward to capture his lips, tasting his fire and the desire he’s caging. “No doubts at all.”
