Page 7 of Secrets Of Blackwood
I nod, understanding the unspoken promise in his words. Damien Blackwood might be wrapped in enigma, but it’s clear he’s just set himself against one of the academy’s most influential figures—for me. And though I know I should fear the complexity he represents, all I can think about is the unexpected softness in his touch, the protective glint in those stormy eyes.
“Will you be okay?” His question lingers between us, offering a connection I’m not sure we should explore. But the truth is, I already know the answer.
“Yes, with you here,” I admit, and the world falls away, leaving nothing but the dangerous possibility of what lies ahead.
The courtyard’s cacophony fades to a distant murmur as Damien and I stand there, the remnants of adrenaline still crackling in the surrounding air. The sun hangs low, casting long shadows that drape over the cobblestone, and the scent of autumn leaves mingles with the faint trace of his cologne—a storm just waiting to erupt.
I’m aware of every breath he takes, the rise and fall of his chest against the tight black shirt that does little to hide the contours of his muscular frame. His eyes, the color of a tempest sky, hold mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine, and for a moment, it feels like we’re the only two people in the world.
“Damien,” I start, my voice steadier than I feel, “what happens now?”
He steps closer, and I fight the urge to lean into him. “Now, we wait.” His words are a vow, each syllable etched with the promise of protection—and something more, something dangerous and thrilling.
“Wait for what?” My heart races, not just from fear, but from the uncharted territory that lies before us, thick with the tension of a forbidden desire.
“For Sinclair to make his next move. For you to realize that this is just the beginning.” There’s a shadow in his voice, a darkness that speaks of his past, of secrets yet to be revealed.
I swallow hard. The thought of Alexander Sinclair plotting in the shadows is enough to make me want to run, but then there’s Damien—enigmatic and alluring, pulling me into an orbit I never planned to enter.
“Thank you for standing up for me,” I whisper, letting my gratitude spill over into the space between us.
“Nobody messes with what’s mine,” he says, and though the possessive edge in his tone should scare me, it doesn’t. Instead, it wraps around me like a protective cloak, fierce and unyielding.
“Yours?” The word lingers, a question loaded with implications that neither of us is ready to confront.
“Figure of speech,” he replies, but there’s a challenge in his gaze that belies his casual dismissal.
My pulse skips. The notion of belonging to someone like Damien Blackwood is both exhilarating and terrifying. He’s a tempest, beautiful and destructive, capable of both salvation and ruin.
“Be careful, Lily.” His hand lifts, hesitates, then retreats without touching me. “Sinclair isn’t the only danger in this place.”
“I know.” My reply is a whisper lost to the wind, but he hears it, understands it. And as the academy buzzes around us, students oblivious to the storm brewing in their midst, Damien and I share a silent understanding that binds us together in the most unexpected way.
There are higher stakes now, and the game has been altered. In the waning light, with shadows dancing at our feet, we stand on the precipice of a world that is as intoxicating as it is perilous. And I can’t help but wonder if falling into the abyss with Damien is worth the inevitable crash.
As the last bell rings, signaling the end of another day at the academy, Damien turns on his heel and strides away, leaving me with the echo of his warning and the heat of his gaze still burning on my skin. The love triangle is set in motion, and there’s no turning back.
3
Chapter Three
LILY
Whispers of my name, tangled with scorn and mockery, still echo through my mind like a relentless ghost. The memory of the bullying incident grips me, an icy hand around my heart; their laughter haunts me in the silent corridors of the academy. And then there’s Damien—mysterious, brooding Damien Blackwood—whose presence alone can set my pulse racing yet leave my thoughts scattered. The tension between us is a palpable force, a whispering promise of something more, a dangerous dance on the edge of a blade.
Slipping away from the prying eyes of classmates and into the sanctuary of the library, I find solace among towering shelves and the musky scent of old books. My fingers graze the spines as I wander deeper into this labyrinthine world of knowledge and stories until I reach our hidden spot. It’s a secluded alcove, veiled by shadows and the heavy silence that only comes with the weight of many words left unsaid.
The dim light filtering through the stained-glass window casts a kaleidoscope of colors onto the floor, creating a cocoon of intimacy. Here, in this hushed corner, the rest of the world ceases to exist. The dust motes dance in the air, and the only sound is the soft rustle of pages turning, as if the books themselves are breathing, living entities.
My heart thuds against my ribcage, a frantic rhythm that quickens when I sense his approach before I see him. Damien, the enigma, with all his quiet intensity and smoldering gaze. He stands before me, tall and imposing, the very picture of dark allure. His chiseled jaw is set, and he seeks my eyes with his piercing gray gaze, an emotion that I can’t quite decipher—one that exposes and makes me feel vulnerable, yet draws me to him.
“Damien,” I whisper, my voice audible amongst the sea of silent words surrounding us. I watch him, waiting for a sign, a clue to what churns beneath his stoic exterior. An overwhelming sense of fear washes over me as I sense the charged energy crackling in the air between us, igniting a fire that I’m too afraid to fan.
“Here, away from them all, it’s just you and me, Lily,” he says, his low tone reverberating through the stillness. His words wrap around me, a comforting blanket, yet they carry a weight that threatens to pull me under.
I try to steady my breath, but it catches in my throat as he steps closer, each movement deliberate and full of purpose. Our private world, nestled within the heart of the academy, becomes even smaller until it feels like we’re the only two beings in existence.
“Are you alright?” he asks, his concern genuine, breaking through the last remnants of doubt that cloud my mind. It’s a simple question, yet it opens a floodgate of emotions I’ve kept bottled up—the fear, the longing, the undeniable attraction that has been building since the moment we first collided in a storm of circumstance and fate.