Right below stop wanting things he couldn’t have.
She laughed—not the guarded sound she used with his court. The sound sent an ache through his chest, made his shadows pulse with an emotion he had no business feeling. Pleasure. Warmth. The kind of joy he'd thought his nature had burned away long ago.
He pulled out the chair across from her before he could reconsider, settling into it with the excuse that he needed to see thediagrams properly. Not because her evening research had become something he anticipated. Not because finding her here—absorbed in study with firelight catching in her hair, her clever mind dissecting his realm's magic like she was dismantling a lock—had become the best part of his endless days.
Not because she'd claimed this space as her own, and some part of him reveled in seeing her make herself at home in his domain.
Absolutely not because of those things.
His shadows curled around her chair legs, restless things seeking proximity to her. He let them, just this once, just for tonight. Tomorrow, he'd reinforce control. Tomorrow, he'd remember why distance was necessary.
Tomorrow.
She bent over the new text, bottom lip caught between her teeth. His gaze dropped to her hands as they moved across the page. His mind wandered to what else they could do before he caught himself and redirected. Forcibly.
But he didn't look away when she glanced up and caught him watching. Couldn't quite manage it, even knowing he should. Even knowing every moment like this was a step further down a path that led nowhere good.
"What?" She touched her face self-consciously, and the gesture sent a tightness through his chest. "Do I have ink on my nose or something?"
"No." His voice had gone low and rough. "You're thinking. I can see the gears turning."
"And that's worth staring at?"
Yes. She had no idea how much.
"You approach problems differently than anyone I've trained." True, if incomplete. "It's notable."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and he could see her trying to determine if he was mocking her. The distrust never entirely left, even after weeks of training. Perhaps mainly because of the training. Intimacy bred wariness in someone who'd survived by trusting no one.
Clever girl.That caution has kept you alive.
"Notable," she repeated. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should."
Color crept up her neck. She looked away, but not fast enough to hide it.
He wanted to lean closer. See if the flush went deeper than her throat.
He needed to control himself.
"The mathematical section." He tapped the book, drawing her attention back to safer ground. Something that didn't involve noticing how her breathing had changed, or the way she held herself very still when he spoke in that particular tone. The tone that affected her. Except she never ran. "Start with chapter seven. The notation is archaic, but the principles remain sound."
She looked down at the page, and he watched the moment she forced herself to focus. The effort of will as she pushed past whatever had just passed between them and refocused her mind on the work. Discipline, he recognized. The same kind he employed every moment to maintain control over his nature.
Stronger than she looks. Stronger than she should be.
This mortal thief looked at him and chose to stay. Chose to curl up in his library like she belonged here. Decided to laugh at his dry humor and challenge his assumptions about magic with the audacity of someone who'd never learned proper fear.
Or perhaps she had learned it and learned it thoroughly. And decided he wasn't the thing to fear.
That thought did things to him. Warmth. Foolishness. Something that felt terrifyingly like hope.
She’s mortal. Fragile. And he was death itself, wearing the shape of restraint.
But watching her work, seeing intelligence spark in those eyes as she parsed the notation...
Enough.He'd indulged this weakness long enough.
