She smirked. She kinda liked their new dynamic. He was cute when he was grumpy.
No.Nope. She wasn’t going there. Nothing about the Necromancer wascutein any way, and he’d probably string her up in his dungeon if she called him that to his face.
Still, she was too restless to wait any longer. She could use her dwindling food supplies as an excuse if he got mad.
Decision made, she left her chambers and climbed the stairs. She pushed open the library door but came up short when she saw that Murmur’s workspace was empty. She stepped farther inside, scanning around, and then blinked.
Murmur sat on the wooden floor in front of the fireplace, abright fire crackling in the hearth, his back resting against the ratty old claw-foot sofa. It seemed odd that he would sit there instead of on the couch, but then, the couch looked like it was probably less comfortable than hard ground.
There was a teetering stack of grimoires beside him, and he was intently reading one open in his lap, legs stretched out in front of him. As always, the faint black shadows of his souls could be seen drifting around his form.
He tapped the edge of the book with a claw while he read, and his brow was creased with concentration. His long braid was pulled over one shoulder, and the orange firelight cast dancing shadows on his gray skin. His tail lay relaxed on the floor, the end flicking occasionally.
Why the hell was he suddenly so attractive to her?
She had a clear memory of thinking him hideous when she’d first arrived here. But try as she might, she couldn’t see it anymore. His creepy eyes, pale skin, black claws, proud horns … all of it just looked stunning to her now.
I am a brainless idiot.
He glanced up suddenly, noticing her arrival. His eyes briefly traveled down her body, and her heart skipped a beat. She cursed herself to Hell, and then reminded herself she was already there.
“Good, you’re here,” he said. “Let’s begin.” When she didn’t move, he beckoned her over. “Hurry up. I haven’t got all night.”
She frowned. Did he not realize that eight hours hadn’t passed? She looked over at the sigil, and her frown deepened. Nothing looked different about it than before—No, wait. An entire section had been wiped clean.
He’d somehow madereverseprogress.
“Murmur …?”
Should she even ask? She wanted to help him, but—
“I found this book of mine,” he said, looking at the volumein his lap. “I interpreted Gamigin’s notes in my own words. I thought it might make more sense to you, but now that I’m reading it, I’m thinking I’m as mad as he was. Maybe worse.”
She laughed.
And just like that, she thought,Fuck it, and went over to him. He seemed to be in one of his rare sharing moods, and she was ready to learn. She wasn’t going to waste this opportunity.
She sat down at his side, back against the bedraggled sofa, and leaned in to look at the book in his lap. She felt the cold caress of his souls against her legs, but she was growing used to their presence now. No matter how diligently she scolded herself for her newfound attraction, it sparked to life in close proximity to him.
“Here, I was trying to explain more concisely the correlation between a soul’s evolution and the demon’s development of consciousness. Generally, younger demons are more simpleminded than older ones, but with time, their intelligence grows. And according to Gamigin’s discoveries, it continues to grow until they develop morals and a conscience.”
Despite her intense interest in the subject matter, she couldn’t help but notice the way Murmur’s rough, gravelly voice made her skin prickle with awareness. Then he pointed to a line on the page, and she found herself studying his hands. His fingers were long and slender, but they were also graceful, and the way the tips faded from pure black to pale gray was mesmerizing.
“Obviously, that isn’t a steadfast rule because, as mentioned here, there are plenty of highly intelligent demons that make no effort whatsoever to be good. But that leads one to question—did they skip the development of a soul, or do they have one and just choose to ignore it?”
She inhaled slowly, and her eyelids fluttered. Damn, he smelled good too. Like smoke and frankincense, mixed with that unmistakable manly musk that made women everywheremelt. Maybe it was his magic she was scenting, because she highly doubted he wore cologne, and that shit was potent.
He looked up suddenly, and she realized how close together they were. Their gazes met, his ice-blue eyes flicking between her dark ones.
All coherent thought ground to a halt. All of a sudden, she was unbearably attracted to him, to the point where she couldn’t concentrate on anything else, and she didn’t know how to turn it off.
“Are you listening?” he asked, frowning.
He even looked good making that annoyed face at her. His brows were these perfect, sculpted black arches. His lashes were so thick and long, and they framed his colorful eyes like liner.
She shook herself. She couldn’t believe she’d lost focus so easily. “Yeah. I’m listening.”
His eyes narrowed like he didn’t believe her. She’d once found the dark shadows around them eerie against his whitish skin, but now it all just looked like a masterpiece.
