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I thought about it. “He... he stopped Jack from mauling me. When I said I didn’t want to go to the infirmary, he listened to me. He stitched me up and didn’t attack me, though he could have—I mean, we were alone and I was bleeding but he behaved himself. Then he escorted me to the west wing dorms when he could have just let me wander until I met someone less friendly than Professor Valserak. Someone who could hurt or eat me. And I guess… he played along when I kissed him. He could have pushed me away.”
“And then he agreed to date you,” Oleander added. “I don’t think he’d bother if all he wanted was sex. He cares about you, Astrid, even if the sodding bastard doesn’t want to admit it. So, take a deep breath. I doubt he’ll ambush you with a talk about feelings. He’s so emotionally constipated, I think he’d self-destruct if you even brought it up.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. ‘Emotionally constipated’ indeed. I didn’t think Rook had allowed himself to feel anything but anger for centuries.
I felt a little lighter after Oleander’s grudging encouragement. Embarrassing as it was, the talk had actually settled my nerves. I tightened my grip on the stone, letting my hands fall to my sides. Then I closed my eyes, clearing my mind. I’d done this once before. Now, I just had to do it again.
I kept my eyes closed, feeling sweat dew on my brow. I hadn’t been in Rook’s room, but I figured it had to be similar to Morgana’s. Large, with a queen-sized bed and opulent furniture. Apparently being a hostage had a few perks. You got to decorate your gilded cage to your liking. I could picture Rook lounging on that bed, clutching a copy of some ridiculously old book that he’d haughtily deign to explain to me if I asked nicely.
I snorted. Yeah, that sounded about Rook’s speed. I liked him, but even I could admit he was an ass sometimes… maybe even most the time. I rooted that picture in my mind, willed myself to step into the room and face him. Whatever came next was irrelevant.
A chill. The feel of pumpkin guts sliding through my fingers. Laughter as I raced through an apple orchard, chasing faeries. An apple cider donut. A corn maze. A burst of mischief as I hurled myself from a corner and scared the spell out of an unwary cousin. Red and gold glittered behind my lashes. And when I opened my eyes...
I was laying on top of someone.
Chapter Sixteen
Rook froze beneath me, his eyebrows raised in shock.
I’m sure my face looked much the same. The second I allowed myself to feel triumph was the second the stone tumbled from my hand and landed with a dull ‘thunk’ on the carpet.
“Um, Astrid?” he asked, his tone conveying: what in the hell are you doing in my room?
“Lousy, lousy aim,” I muttered. “I never end up where I try to.”
“Were you aiming for someone else’s room?” he asked on a laugh.
“No,” I answered, shaking my head. “I just didn’t think I’d end up on top of you.”
I started to roll off him but he grabbed me around the waist and kept me where I was. “No,” he said and smirked up at me. “You’re exactly where I want you to be.”
“Is that so?” I laughed.
His lips curled up at the edges. “I gotta say I wasn’t expecting you on top of me this soon, but I’m not going to kick you out of my bed.” Then he chuckled and laid a hand on the small of my back for emphasis, pressing our bodies closer. I realized with a flush of embarrassment that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Or pants. Just a bathrobe and possibly a pair of underwear beneath it. Our legs tangled in his bedsheets. Red silk, of course. Vampires with intergenerational wealth couldn’t help but show it off. His hair was still a little wet—no doubt he’d just stepped out of the shower. It looked soft and smelled incredible—like sandalwood soap. I couldn’t stop myself from touching it. His eyes fluttered closed.
“Is this okay?” I asked, still feeling totally awkward about what we were—if anything at all.
Rook shook his head, lips slightly parted. “It’s more than okay,” he said, his voice deep and gruff. “You have no idea... how long it’s been since someone touched my hair. It’s... it’s nicer than I remember.” He sighed then. “I forgot the little stuff.” Then something else seemed to occur to him and his expression changed. “You don’t have to feel obligated—”
“I don’t,” I said quickly. “I like touching you.”
He stared at me, brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Why what?” I frowned right back at him.
“Why do you like it?” he asked. He looked genuinely befuddled, like I’d started speaking a language he didn’t understand. “Having vampire cousins is one thing,” he continued. “A vampire lover though... well, most witches would say that’s entirely worse.”
“I’m not most witches,” I answered, brushing my lips over his. “And you should know that by now.”
“I do know that,” he answered. “For damn sure. But I still don’t understand why.”
“And I still don’t understand what you’re asking me.”
“In the beginning… I thought I scared you. Your heart started hammering anytime I got near you. I could hear it.”
I felt the heat rise to my face. “That wasn’t fear, Rook,” I said simply. “I mean… maybe a little fear, but I liked you, even when you were acting like a jerk.”
“Yet you’re a witch.”
