Page 147 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

He hadn’t let go of me once. My pulse was no longer calm—it was climbing, fast enough that I was certain he could feel it through my hand on his arm. My body was trying to warn me that something was about to happen.

Without pausing our walk, Owain turned his head and barked, “Dismissed.” The word cracked through the corridor. “Return to the family wing.”

The leading guard nodded, and as one, they turned on their heels, stepping away as a unit.

When Owain turned us toward a narrow door and pushed it open, I realized we were entering the same closet I’d first emerged after braving the underground tunnel. The door shut behind us with the creak of barely used wood.

“Am I a secret again?” I asked, the words tumbling out ungracefully, too raw with the threat of fresh sting to soften. I felt ridiculous before I’d even finished speaking.

Owain went still. His attention pressed in with heavy certainty. “Never like what you mean.”

My eyes traced the lines of his face, a strange ache blooming in my heart. “Then why—”

The question died as he moved, and I understood half a heartbeat before it happened that he wasn’t going to answer me with words.

He closed the distance between us in a single, decisive step. His hand came up to hold the back of my neck at the nape. The next instant my back met the stone wall with a breathless jolt as he pressed in, his body flush against mine.

“Owain—”

The rest of his name dissolved into a soft, startled sound as a rush of dark magic surged through the narrow space. I heard the dull thud of shadows forming a bar to seal the door. It was already dark in the room, but now the scant light filtering through the tiny window on the other side was all we could see by.

My pulse raced in my ears.

His other hand braced beside my head, caging me in without quite touching. His forehead hovered just shy of mine, his breath warm against my lips.

“You’ve been looking at me like you intend to undo me—” He stopped to drag in a shaky breath. His voice was ragged in a way I’d never heard before. “—even more than you already have.”

My heart gave a sudden, frantic thump. The stone at my back was cold. But he was on fire. The contrast made my skin prickle with an almost overwhelming awareness.

“I—” I didn’t even know what I meant to say.

His gaze dropped to my mouth. “And holding my hand under the table.”

Heat flooded my face. “That was hardly—”

“Lunette.” My name, spoken like a warning. Like a promise.

Whatever fragile protest I had collapsed because he wasn’t wrong. Every glance. Every small, deliberate brush of contact. Every moment I’d allowed myself to lean just a fraction closer.

I wanted him.

“I couldn’t wait until we made it back to my room.” Owain’s hand gently urged me closer.

With a certainty that stole my breath, that first kiss sealed our fates within that dark closet. It was heat and pressure and the explosion of something held back for far too long, violently released.

A soft, helpless sound escaped me as my fingers fisted in the front of his shirt. I was just as eager.

He answered it instantly, angling his head, deepening the kiss with a ferocity that made my knees dangerously unsteady. For the first time, I leaned into him without holding part of myself back.

He felt it. His control slipped another fraction, and the hand braced on the wall joined the one behind my neck to force me even closer. A shiver of anticipation, laced with hedonistic thrill, ran down my spine at his unexpected roughness.

Didn’t know I liked that.

Each time our hips brushed, I felt the unyielding hardness of him pressing against the leather fastenings of his trousers.

“I need to taste you,” he said, without explanation—as if his very soul depended on it. His blown pupils bored into me with something close to mania rampaging behind them. Even still, I knew, with absolute conviction, that if I said “no,” he’d pull back in an instant.

My gaze flicked to the door and back to his. Safe. I was always safe with Owain.