The room is long and cool. It is lit by the moonlight that slips through high slits in the thick, limestone walls, along with hissing lamps in niches.
I scrunch up my nose at the scent of papyrus, ink, and cedarwood.
Along the walls stand rows of wooden shelves that hold clay jars of tightly rolled parchment scrolls.
Lanlin is a warrior. An assassin. Supreme Commander of his army.
But he was also raised here as a scholar.
I love this side of him.
I find myself grinning as I rush to run my fingers over the ancient, yellowed parchments that are as delicate as moths’ wings, which are laid on the low table in the center of the room.
My fingers tingle in the way they do when I can sense ancient relics, talismans, and magical artifacts that are worth a thief’s time.
I flick over a parchment to study the beautiful but complex hieroglyphs. “This is how you want to court me…? By giving me a dagger and training me in dangerous magics?”
For the first time, Lanlin looks uncertain. “I had hoped so.”
I give a sharp grin. “Add in those chocolates you promised, and I’ll grade you top marks.”
Lanlin’s shoulders relax. “They are waiting for you in the chamber. I made them wolf shaped and topped them with rose petals. Then I can eat you.”
My mouth dries.
He can eat me in other ways too.
My pussy throbs its agreement.
Lanlin smiles slowly, revealing his fangs.
I shiver.
I force myself to turn back to the papers on the table, which lie between reed pens and ink pallets of smooth stone. The table is ringed with dried ink and the faint smudges of ochre.
I take a deep sniff.
What is that coppery tang? Is blood mixed into the ink?
“Dove would love this.” I rock on my heels. “He has been teaching me rune magic, which is also his special thing. You know, you two would get on; you’d be surprised. As your Omega, I’m telling you that I want both of you.”
Lanlin looks troubled. “Fae are my enemy.”
“But Dove isn’t.”
“And what was his name before he became a pet?”
The skin of my neck prickles with alarm, along with the sense of being circled by a predator, as Lanlin crosses behind me.
I pick up a reed pen, playing with it between my fingers. “Does it matter? Does any of the past?”
Like vampires massacring the Orm Court…
Lanlin is so close behind me that I can feel his hot breath on my neck. I am wet with slick, but at the same time, my brain is screaming danger.
I am frozen, as Lanlin gently reaches to clasp his gloved hand over mine and guide the pen into the ink.
“The past is everything that we are, just as the spirits of our ancestors live with us now.” Lanlin’s chest is pressed against my back. My breathing becomes fast and shallow. “You can’t simply forget or escape it, no matter how much you desire to.”
