“You haven’t been down here yet, right?” he asked. He probably wanted to take her mind off that near disaster, but she doubted anything ever could.
“No.”
“This is the basement. The door on your right is the arena—well, it’s what we call it. We train with swords and other weapons. Just be careful when you enter this zone, our powers can sometimes bleed out when we fight. It’s okay if we get hurt, but not you. So always check through the view window first—” he broke off. “No, scrap that. Just don’t enter when there’s a training session here. On the left is the weights room. A gym if you want to use it.”
She nodded, barely paying attention.
A moment later, he stopped and pressed the elevator button on the wall. The door swished open. Once they stepped inside, he watched her with those pale eyes that never seem to miss a thing.
Reaching out, he removed the pencil she’d used to anchor her hair. “It will be all right.”
Right. Darci inhaled a shaky breath and pushed back her tumbling mane. Blaéz wasn’t kidding when he said he had dangerous enemies. A few weeks ago, she’d just wanted to meet a guy she had more than a physical attraction to, get married, and have a family. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected this—drawn into a deadly, supernatural world.
She paced to the elevator door in two steps then veered back to him. “It’s not only downright scary that someone can just pop up anywhere, at any place, and kill me, but extremely overwhelming.”
“No one will touch you.”
“Yes, as long as I don’t leave the castle.” What was she supposed to do? She chewed her lip. “Blaéz, if I leave work, I’ll go mad with inactivity.”
He frowned as the elevator stopped and the door slid open. “If work is what you want, come on. There is something.”
Her brow rose in skepticism. But deeper, hope took hold. “A job for me? Here?”
He nodded. With a hand on her back, he led her down the long corridor, through another lengthy passage and past several armored statues.
“Where exactly are we going?” she asked. Then added in a drawl to lighten his somber mood, “Does Hedori need someone to mop the floors, and you’re showing me just how many hallways there are?”
His mouth quirked, the hint of a smile chasing away his brooding expression. He turned into another part of the castle. At the end of a short corridor, he pushed open an enormous arched, double door and waved her inside.
Curious, Darci entered. The smell of ancient parchment, old pages, and leather filled her nose. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Her mouth dropped open. She spun around in awe. “You have your own library.”
The looming bookshelves, some cloaked in shadows, stood like erect sentinels guarding the library’s ancient secrets. A slant of morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows, emphasizing dancing dust motes. Above, on the domed ceiling was a stunning mural of knights, angels, and ladies set in a bygone era.
A light flicked on, brightening everything and revealing the impossible beauty surrounding her. Two floors. The top level had a gallery with a spiral staircase in the corner connecting them. Ladders leaned against the shelves. Books from leather-bound ones to hardcovers and paperbacks stacked the shelves, beckoning her to explore them.
On the ground floor, between two stained-glass windows, an enormous fireplace took up space with fat armchairs facing it. Adjacent to it stood a large desk and leather chair. This area appeared to be used, but the rest bore an untouched look. The librarian inside her cried out to rescue and lavish care on the neglected books.
Darci did another gawk of the room. “If I could just move my bed in here—”
“It can be arranged.” At his droll comment, she turned. “I imagine it would be a bit awkward when others need to use the place. But, if you don’t mind an audience—fine with me. We’ll sleep here.”
He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and watched her with those burning pale eyes. His sexual intensity drew her like a moth to a flame. So what if she burned, at least she’d die happy knowing passion, the kind she’d only read about and hoped to experience with him, if his kisses, his touch were any indicator.
Still leaning against the frame, he held out his hand and waited. His intense gaze skimmed over her as she made her way to him.
“This is all yours to do with as you see fit.” He reached out and drew her to him, his hands locking her hips against his. His jean-covered erection, a hard tempting length pressed into the V of her thighs. “Read, catalogue, do whatever it is you librarians do.”
A wave of desire flowed through her as she reached up and pressed her lips to his. “Thank you.”
“No. That is not the thanks I want—thisis what I need.” He took her mouth in a hot, drugging kiss. The man made love to her mouth, the way he did everything else—slow and seductively. He teased, tasted, and explored every inch. His hands caressed her body, down her hips to squeeze her bottom, leaving a blaze of heat in their wake.
He broke the kiss and murmured against her lips, “This morning, with you sleeping in my arms, your thigh pressing against my cock and no ease in sight, I needed that swim in the ocean.”
Breathing hard, she pulled back. It took her a moment to form coherent words. “You left because I tempted you?”
He stroked her lower lip with his thumb. “You had a traumatic night, it didn’t seem fair.”
“I wish you hadn’t left,” she said. It would have made her forget her horror faster.
