“I was worried,” I said, my voice more breath than sound, my gaze lifting to meet his.
Reagan’s eyes gleamed, his head dipping until he was just an inch away. With one swift hand cradling the back of my neck, he pressed our mouths together, stealing the breath from my lungs.
So damn quickly, I lost myself in his kiss, as if every thought had fled. He seemed just as eager as I was because his lips were soon tracing a path along my jaw and down my neck. My breath turned ragged at the feel of his mouth.
“Will you let me stay?” he asked, hot breath against my skin. “I promise to be gentle with you.”
His hand glided lower, gripping the curve of my bottom, our bodies pressed flush.
Reagan didn’t just kiss—he tasted my neck. His arms slid under my legs, lifting me until I curled them around his waist.
I didn’t know what I was doing. I shouldn’t let this happen again, shouldn’t let myself get this close.
He turned to the bedroom door, reaching for the knob. My heart raced, uncertainty surging hot and fast.
“Wait,” I said, gripping his shoulders, my breath hitching in my throat.
He froze mid-motion, his posture stiffening before he leaned back to look at me.
“Why? You don’t want this?” His brows pitched together, just barely.
“I can’t,” I said, stretching one leg, and Reagan set me down.
His gaze fell to the floor as I adjusted my nightgown, my lips raw. I focused on slowing my breathing, forcing the pounding in my chest to quiet as I tried to gauge his expression.
He averted his eyes, chest lifting with heavy breaths. His hand raked through his hair.
I wished I’d thought about it before. Wished my heart hadn’t leapt as though it would burst out of my chest if we went through with this. I was on edge and not thinking, yet the words to explain it wouldn’t come.
“You’re right,” he finally said, meeting my eyes again, hands resting on his waist. “We shouldn’t do this if you’re still unsure. If you can’t see what your instincts are telling you because you’re too afraid of making a mistake. So I’ll wait. Until you’re ready to make up your mind, because I know what your decision will be.”
Without waiting, he turned around and flung out of the corridor.
CHAPTER 21
The sky was a deep, unbroken black, illuminated by a full moon and millions of stars. The snow-capped mountains encircling the city of Mountheim painted the landscape, their white peaks reflecting the moonlight as the city below glowed with its own golden lights. I couldn’t believe how the air was cosy and warm in the open courtyard beyond the castle walls, now transformed into a celebratory space filled with rows of towering candelabras. Their candles flickered in the open air, casting a kaleidoscope of colours over the lush green grass and pines. The trees surrounded the east and west sides, while the south contained the gates that connected the castle to the city.
But the candelabra weren’t the only source of light. Tiny, ethereal wisps clung to the tree trunks and to the bushes that formed aisles throughout the courtyard. They glimmered in hues of pale blue, yellow, green, and soft pink, creating an enchanting spectacle.
Snowflakes drifted lazily through the air, as if lifted from the ground rather than falling from the sky. The courtyard carriedthe crisp, invigorating scent of fresh pine and cool spruce, mingled with a faint sweetness of liquorice and a metallic tang.
The Aurora Rite was already bustling with people, with more arriving through the open gates leading to the city. They spread out across the vast space, though most gravitated toward the centre, where a towering oak—the only one of its kind here—stood majestically still. Its sprawling branches and leaves stretched over like a dome, sparkling with the same bright wisps.
Nearby, long banquet tables overflowed with delicacies: pink, orange, and deep red drinks shimmered in glass goblets alongside platters of cheeses, bite-sized shrimp pies, sliced fruits, glittering chocolate confections, and intricately crafted treats.
But the absolutely best part was the sound of flutes, banjos, and guitars playing the most animated, whimsical notes.
“Your second-in-command did an amazing job of organising this Rite, Reagan,” Alameda remarked over the rim of her drink, the sleeves of her rose gown with golden beads billowing as she glanced around.
“You should tell her that,” Reagan answered dryly.
“I suppose I don’t need to congratulateyouthen,” she shot back in a snide tone. “You probably don’t deserve any credit for it.”
Coriander laughed, one arm wrapped around his bonded’s waist as she stood in front of him, her short stature doing little to conceal his bright, velvet purple suit. “You’ll get us thrown out of the party, dear.”
She shrugged, but smiled widely at me.
“I didn’t plan the decorations. I have other talents,” Reagan said, sounding a bit defensive.
