Page 19

I strip out of the clothes I wore in that awful, iron room, pulling on a fitted sweater and a pair of dark pants from the bags Vesper bought me. The soft wool settles over my skin, but my blood is still boiling.

I stride out of my bedroom, heading straight down the curved staircase toward the lower terrace. I push through the massive doors and step out into the wild rose garden.

The freezing air hits my face like a slap, carrying the bitter spray of the Pacific Ocean and the sharp, piney scent of the redwoods overhead. Sea fog rolls off the cliffs in thick waves, wrapping around the towering crimson rosebushes like liquid smoke.

I breathe it in deeply, letting the cold rain slide down my cheeks. The fire burning in my veins doesn’t die down.

I march past the roses, my boots crunching against the wet gravel pathway, heading straight for the iron gates at the edge of the property line. Past those iron bars, the dark, dense forest stretches out toward the coast.

Freedom.

I reach out, my hand closing into a tight fist as I reach for the heavy latch. The moment my fingers come within an inch of the gate, a blinding wave of translucent shadow magic flares up out of the stone archway. A wall of dense pressure slams into my chest, knocking me back two full steps. The air crackles with something electric. Something unseen, singeing the hair on my arms.

Fuck! I stumble, catching my balance on the wet gravel, glaring at the invisible barrier hovering.

The magical boundary ward.

A sudden, suffocating wave of claustrophobia climbs up my throat. No. I hit the barrier with the palm of my hand, feeling the solid, cold buzz of Vesper’s magic push back against me.

“What the hell?” I whisper, my voice shaking with anger. “Damn you, asshole.”

He gave me access to the gardens and unlocked the terrace doors. But it was never about freedom. It was a pretty lie.

Frustration boils over inside me. I spin on my heel, turning my back on the gate, intending to march around the other side of the estate to look for another way through the perimeter. I take five steps along the stone terrace before the shadows on the wall shift.

Vesper’s liquid darkness detaches itself from the stone pillar, spilling across the terrace in a thick wave. It stretches across the archway leading toward the east wing, thickening into a solid, dark barricade that blocks my path entirely.

I stop short, my boots skidding against the wet stone. “Fucking move.”

The shadow wall ripples, forming a dense, flowing barrier that physically nudges against my thighs, steering me back toward the center of the terrace. Back toward my own wing of the estate.

It behaves like a certain territorial hound and firmly, stubbornly refuses to let me pass.

“I said move!” I snap, kicking out at the liquid darkness near my feet. My boot passes through the top layer of mist, but the solid magic beneath it holds firm, completely blocking my path. “Stop playing your pathetic little magic tricks on me, Vesper!”

A dark, velvet chuckle purrs through the air around my ears, seductive and teasing. “My shadows seem to be a little protective of you,” Vesper’s voice echoes from above.

I snap my head up toward the high stone rafters of the terrace roof. I can’t see him. The fog and heavy drapes of ivy conceal his physical form, but the suffocating heat radiating off him is unmistakable. His scent floats down on the breeze. I hate that I inhale it like a damn addict.

“They’re blocking my path!” I shout up into the fog. “You said I could explore the grounds.”

“I did. And I allowed you to walk through the rose garden,” Vesper says smoothly, his voice sliding over my skin like warm silk. “But I didn’t say you could leave. Gregory’s search parties are crawling through the trees about two miles down. If you wander out onto the open cliffside, his men might catch a glimpse of you through their binoculars. I’m saving myself the hassle of having to slaughter them early.”

“I don’t need your shadows pushing and herding me around!” I glare at the dark wall hovering in front of me, my chest heaving.

Just a few weeks ago, I would’ve shrunk back. I would’ve locked myself in my room, terrified of what the monster in the dark might do to me. But something shifted in that containment room. Something shifted when he pinned my wrists and looked into my eyes with that starving, possessive hunger. Like I was his whole damn world, and he wanted to explore every fucking inch.

He wants me. He’s completely, hopelessly obsessed with me. I know it. Somehow, I can feel it. I can’t explain how I know; I just do. Realization dawns on me. If he’s obsessed with me, that means I have power.

Instead of backing away, I take a deliberate step forward. I plant my boots right at the edge of his living shadow wall, leaning my upper body into the liquid darkness. A smirk, defiant and intentionally provocative, curves my lips.

“If you want to keep me in your fancy little cage, Vesper,” I call out, my voice dropping into a smooth, flirtatious purr. “You’re going to have to do better than sending your magic to hold the door. Come down here and block me yourself.”

The terrace is silent.

The living shadows blocking the archway freeze instantly, pooling flat against the wet stone floorboards. Above me, in the rafters, a low, dangerous growl vibrates through the air. It’s a deep, primal sound. Part high demon, part ancient cryptid. It rattles the stone foundation beneath my feet and makes the fine hairs on my neck stand on end.

The air around me dips.