“Here we go,” he said.
“What is this building?” I asked, running my hands over the mottled wallpaper. Huge ribbons had been torn away, revealing several layers of patterned paper underneath, riddled with lewd graffiti.
“It started its life as a workhouse in the 1700s, then it was a brothel during the Victorian era. In the 70s it was a famous squat for artists and radicals.”
Flynn groaned. “This whole trip is going to be one long monologue from our very own walking history book.”
Corbin lifted an eyebrow. “I chose this place because of you, actually. There’s a mural in the attic that might be from a young Banksy.”
Flynn’s eyes shot up.
“What’s a Banksy?” Blake asked, leaping up the stairs two at a time. Unlike the rest of us, Blake didn’t actually own any possessions, so he had only a small canvas tote bag over his shoulder containing a change of clothes he’d purchased off the internet.
“He’s a vandal who pretends to be an artist,” I said, remembering an article I read about him defacing public buildings in New York City. “Daigh would’ve probably liked him a lot.”
“Careful,” Arthur elbowed me. “Them’s fighting words as far as Flynn’s concerned.”
“Woman, you havenotaste,” Flynn huffed. “Banksy uses art as guerrilla warfare in the eternal struggle against the upper classes and centralised power. His work is all about claiming power back. As an Irishman, I can relate.”
Whoa, that was perhaps the most serious thing I’d ever heard Flynn say. I held up my hands. “I’m happy to be proved wrong. Want to sneak up later and take a look?”
“Is the Pope Catholic?” Flynn wrapped me up in an enormous hug.
“While this discussion is absolutely fascinating,” Blake drawled, “could we continue it inside the rooms? My bag is getting very heavy.”
Flynn snorted. Corbin pushed open the door, revealing an enormous living room with high walls, decorated in an industrial style. A row of tall windows lined one side, giving a bird’s eye view of Camden Market below. Bare fixtures hung from the thick wooden beams and a bookshelf made from perforated metal jutted out from the end wall, towering over a black leather sofa set and massive TV. A ladder in the middle of the room led up to a mezzanine level.
“This place is crazy,” I breathed, which was saying a lot, since we came from a castle.
“I thought it might be good to get away from dark medieval rooms for a few days. There are three bedrooms plus a fold out couch.” Corbin threw open a door. “I thought you could stay in here, Maeve. That way you can at least hide certain things from your sister behind a closed door.”
Corbin stepped aside, revealing a room containing a double bed and two singles. Bare Edison bulbs bobbed from an industrial chandelier, and a giant canvas covered in grey and red splodges covered one entire wall. I dumped my bag on the bed. “Agreed. I’ll take this room. Arthur better come in here with me, so Kelly can keep believing we’re a couple. The rest of you can draw straws.”
“I’m not sleeping with the snoring giant.” Flynn pinched my ass as he went out the door. “Even if that does mean I end up on the couch.”
“And miss out on Maeve time?” Blake lifted an eyebrow.
“I can always leave after the snuggling.”
“I’ll take this one.” Corbin dropped his backpack on one of the single beds. Wordlessly, Rowan snuck past Flynn and claimed the third bed.
The room across the hall was really more of a study, but a small double bed had been pushed up under the window. “This is perfect for me.” Jane set down her bag. “Connor won’t wake you up in the night when he’s in here.”
“Blake and I’ll see which bed Maeve’s sister wants when she gets here,” Flynn said, gesturing to the fold-out couch and the mezzanine. “We’ll take the other.”
“Thanks.” I leaned over to give Flynn a peck on the cheek.
Flynn lifted an eyebrow. “Remember my magnanimity in the future, Einstein. I’ve got designs on that sweet ass of yours.”
Back in the lounge I clambered up to the mezzanine level. An enormous king-sized bed took up nearly all the space, with a view out the high windows into the street below. Above it, a mirror hung from the ceiling at an odd angle. A gleaming white tub sat in the other corner – no walls around it, just completely open to the room beyond.
A tiny thrill coursed through me, and the pillar of magic inside me flared to life.
“Now you can see why I chose this place,” Corbin grinned as he hauled himself over the top of the ladder. I leaned over the railing, looking down into the room below where Flynn and Blake were arguing over whether the splodgy artwork was creepy or genius. Corbin came up behind me, pressing his chest against my back and enfolding me in his arms.
I sank against him, breathing deep as I relished the first moment we’d had alone together since I’d returned from Arizona. The smell of musty books and ink still clung to Corbin’s skin, even though we were far away from his library. He drew a line of kisses across my neck, laying them exactly where he knew would make me shiver. I ground my ass against him, feeling the hardness swell through his jeans.
I need you to drive out the pain.
