“How do I get us through?” she asks, disrupting my thoughts.
I lower my hand. “You use your mind to sift us through, which takes some work since you don’t know where we’re going. Or I bust through.”
She lets out an exasperated sigh and drops her head to the side, staring up at me like I’m an idiot. “And then what? Do we leave it open and exposed? I don’t think so, wolf.”
I lean my shoulder against the wall and cross one foot over the other, folding my arms over my chest. “Fine. Then work your magick, witch.”
“You’re a terrible teacher,” she scolds. “You know that? You could be abitmore explanatory on how I’m to get us through asolidwallto a place I’ve never seen.”
I shrug. “You need to focus on the magick on the other side. I’m certain something in your witchy arsenal will allow you to feel the power permeating through this wall. Just latch on to that and sift. Try not to make it more complex than that.”
When we end up standing inside the pitch-dark room, I’m even more stunned than when we arrived outside earlier. With her heartbeat thudding in my ears, Nephele glides her hands down and rests them on my chest. Enjoying the closeness, I grip her waist, her warm breath so close to my lips, her scent like roses and rain.
“Hmm.” I press against her. “Remind me to take you in a blacked-out room when we reach Winterhold. This is erotic.”
“Do youalwayshave an erection, wolf?”
I crook a grin, smelling her instant desire. “When you’re around, yes.”
“I’m going to be around a lot. Get used to it. Besides, you had your chance today. You didn’t take it. So I hope that big hand of yours feels good because you’ll need it.”
Before I can quip back, violet-tinted light splits the air between us. I blink against the unexpected brightness, watching a swirling orb hover over Nephele’s palm between us.
“Well, that’s handy. You see,thisis the kind of shit gods have to deal with. Watching you witches have all the fun.”
She rolls her eyes and holds her hand toward the room as she steps out of my grasp, the orb growing brighter as she directs it around the small space, turning in a slow circle, revealing every nook and cranny, of which there are hundreds.
“Oh, my gods,” she breathes, taking it all in.
Rowan Bloodgood’s room is not a tidy space. Rather, the walls are lined with crooked and cluttered wooden shelves, each brimming with objects of all manner, along with random stacks of mismatched books. Crates sit around the floor, too, overflowing with absolutely ancient wooden-cased scrolls and what appear to be dozens of rolled maps. On the far wall, the wall where there would’ve been a window had this room been given one, sits a wide oak desk, also cluttered, but with dusty ink pots and quills, and a matching chair.
I nudge one of the crates with the toe of my boot. “Was your father an antiquities dealer?”
“Not that I’m aware of. But then again, it seems my parents were many things I knew nothing about.” She moves to one of the shelves, leaving the orb of light hovering behind her. I poke it with the end of my finger, amazed when it roils at the contact.
“Whatisall of this?” Nephele asks. “I don’t even recognize some of these things.”
I turn and move to her side, careful when I touch a few of the objects. “This is an amphora from Persei.” I pick up a dusty yet obviously ornate vase and rub my thumb over the painted art. “They’re known for this very glasswork.” I set it aside and pick up another object, one shaped like a horn, though it still bears some of its tell-tale green stain. “Ah. An old bru pipe.”
She frowns. “A what?”
“A bru pipe. From Mapor.” I open the chamber at the end, sliding the disc that covers the place where the weed goes, and take a sniff. Any evidence of the hallucinatory plant is gone now. “You haven’t relaxed until you’ve smoked some bru from a pipe like this. I once smoked one with Mapor’s goddess for ten days and nights in her sex hut.” I grin at the memory and set the pipe back on the shelf. “That was a fun time.”
Out of nowhere, Nephele jabs her elbow into my ribs. Hard.
I clutch my side and lean away from her. “Ow, what was that for?”
She cocks a brow. “There are just some memories you need to keep to yourself, wolf.”
“My, my. Are you jealous, little bird?” I can’t help but grin again.
A look of absolute irritation twists her pretty face. “Let me put it this way. Would you like me to tell you about Joran fucking me against a tree after a lovely outdoor wedding? Or all the times and ways I slept with Colden? I have a few more names on my list if so.”
The territorial wolf in me quickly rises and readies its claws. “First of all, I wasn’t so descriptive. So thanks for putting those images in my head. Second of all, no. I would not like to hear about that, but you obviously already told me. Point taken.”
“Thank you,” she replies, reaching for an artifact that seems to have caught her eye.
Needing to shake the wolf off my back, I let her examine it for a moment, twisting the small weapon in her hand, studying the antler hilt and the rusted steel blade.
