“I can see that.” He rounded the desk and strolled toward her. Easy. Unhurried. Unbothered. “What sort of book, Starweaver?”
“The kind…” She swallowed. “Where…”
Where you take me a thousand different ways and I unravel every time.
“Where?” he prompted, closing the distance between them, overwhelming her personal space.
“Where things happen,” she finished pathetically, her voice barely audible in the stillness.
He moved closer and she plastered herself to the bookshelves at her back. Her palms were damp, her chest heaving with each passing second.
“Interesting.” Kjeld snatched the book from her grasp and opened it, his pupils expanding when he caught sight of what she’d been “reading.”
The glow of the lamp flickered over his features, dousing half of him in light and shadow. Where the golden spill of color hit, that was the Kjeld she knew, the one she continued to love. But in the darkness, in the crawl of shadows where the light did not reach, that part of him she did not recognize. That Kjeld was powerful, aggressive, and a little wilder.
He snapped the book shut with a flick of his wrist, then straightened, leaning in to grab the shelf near her head, barricading her against him. “This, my lady, is not the kind of information we’re trying to find.”
Was he angry with her? Teasing her? She couldn’t tell. His expression was too even, too impassive for her to read. His tone wasn’t sharp, but there was also no mockery in his eyes.
Caelian tried to steady her breathing to no avail. Kjeld was simply too close, too much. It was like the closet all over again. The solid wall of his chest was shoved against her breasts, making it impossible to find air. There was only him and his intoxicating scent. Cold pine. The rush of a frozen river. The tang of the sea. She drowned in him, melted into him. Her kneessoftened, her nerves flared to life, sparking at his nearness, silently begging for his touch.
“Of course not.” She couldn’t stop looking at the rugged planes of his face. The shadow of scruff lining his strong jaw. That beautifully jagged scar cutting down his thoroughly kissable lips. “I was…I was just about to put it back.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “I think you’re lying.”
Caelian scowled. How rude of him to verbalize such a thing, even if it were true. “I most certainly am not.”
“Oh, you are.” Kjeld’s voice was decadent, rough like gravel yet smooth like honey, and it made her body quiver with need. “I know for a fact.”
That she found incredibly hard to believe.
She canted her head to one side. “Prove it.”
“Very well.” When he smiled, it was vicious. “If you insist.”
Kjeld dropped the book, and it slammed against the hardwood floor, shattering the quiet of the study. His hand molded to her hip, the other sliding around the back of her head, exposing her neck. He dipped low, the warmth of his breath drifting over her skin, sending a shiver of apprehensive delight racing down her spine.
“I can taste your pulse on my tongue.” His whisper made her dizzy. Her mind went foggy, incoherent, as he licked the base of her throat where her heartbeat thundered. Longing coiled through her, tightening, until it was ready to snap. “It flutters, it pumps.”
He shifted, his hardened length nudging against her lower stomach.
“Your heart owns me. It muddles my mind. Its constant beating rushes in my ears and causes my blood to hum.” Kjeld sealed the area his tongue laved with a feathery press of his lips. “Every moment I spend in your presence is utter agony. But Ihave my own battles. There are things I…I must learn to accept, to overcome, before?—”
He clamped his mouth shut, and she wished he would continue. For a part of her knew this conversation, whatever it may be, would be pivotal in rebuilding their relationship. The words that remained unspoken between them were essential, they were carefully laid bricks, each one gradually forming a bridge. A connection. A bond.
“Before what?” she asked, the anguished whisper ripping from some desperate place in her soul.
“Shit.” He pulled back, his gaze darting between the lamp and the door. “The queen. She’s coming this way.”
Caelian couldn’t help it, her jaw dropped. Impossible. There was realistically no way Kjeld could know such a thing. Holding her breath, Caelian kept herself pressed against the bookshelf and listened. Strained to hear something.
“How do you know?” she hissed, more annoyed than anything that their moment had been ruined.
“Her perfume. I tracked her the minute she stepped out into the courtyard. Violets and rainwater.” He glanced at the lamp, concern marring his brow. “Too late to snuff it out, the stench of smoke will give us away.”
A bubble of indignation swelled in Caelian’s chest, flamed by jealousy. Frustrated and now seething with envy, she planted her hands on her hips. “And I imagine you make it a habit to know what every female smells like?”
Kjeld rounded on her. His large hand closed around her neck. He applied no pressure but pinned her to the shelves. “Every sense of mine has been magnified infinitely since the day I turned fae. It’s why I know exactly where you are in House Celestine, every hour of every day. It’s why I’m so attuned to the beating of your heart. It’s why, even now, the tempting scent ofyour arousal makes me want to bend you over that desk and fill you with my cock.”
