Page 8 of Secrets Of Blackwood
We stand there, two souls caught in a dance of desire and trepidation, our story unfolding with the turn of each page in this quiet corner of the library. In this moment, nothing else matters but the connection that binds us—a connection that promises both salvation and ruin.
I press closer against the wall, clutching a tattered volume like a shield. Can I trust the intensity I find in his gaze? Is it a concern or another cruel game?
“Are they still out there?” I ask, my voice barely audible.
“They’re gone,” he assures me, and the sincerity in his tone sends a shiver through me, not of fear, but of something far more dangerous.
My heart flutters, betraying me, as I wrestle with the confusion of his kindness. Damien Blackwood, the enigma who haunts the halls with a reputation that precedes him—a reputation that should send me running. Yet here I am, caught between the urge to flee and the inexplicable pull towards the warmth I see flickering behind his guarded exterior.
“Thank you,” I breathe out, surprised at how my body leans into the space between us.
“Damien” and “safety” are words that shouldn’t fit together, yet in this moment, the world beyond our hidden enclave fades, leaving just him, me, and the possibility of comfort in those muscular arms. But the memory of his past cruelties lingers, a specter that won’t be silenced.
My mind wars with itself, logic dueling with the raw emotion that Damien stirs within me. The collision of our two worlds—his darkness to my light—is both terrifying and exhilarating. Can I allow myself this solace, knowing it could be the very thing that destroys me?
“Damien,” I whisper, testing his name on my lips, “Why are you being so nice to me?”
His eyes lock on mine, holding me captive. The answer to my question lies there, somewhere in the depths of his gaze, but I’m uncertain I’m ready to unearth it. Not yet.
I’m perched on the edge of a worn-out armchair in the academy’s corner’s library, a world away from prying eyes. The dim light filters through towering bookshelves, casting long shadows that dance across his chiseled features.
“Most people wouldn’t find solace among dusty tomes and forgotten lore,” he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing cadence that seems out-of-place coming from him.
“Maybe I’m not like most people,” I reply without looking up, but I can feel his presence looming over me like an impending storm.
He crouches down in front of me, forcing me to meet his piercing gray gaze. “You’re nothing like them, Lily. You’re…” His words trail off, and for a fleeting moment, I see something flicker in his eyes—a raw, undisguised pain.
“Damien?” I prompt, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
“Back at home, there was no escaping the shadows,” he starts, his voice barely above a whisper. “My father… he made sure I knew I was nothing more than a pawn in his games.”
I hear the agony laced within each syllable, and it tugs at something deep within me. The surrounding air grows thick with unspoken words and shared pain.
“Is that why you—” I begin, but falter, unsure if I want to finish the question.
“Is that why I became the person everyone expects me to be?” He completes my thought, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. “Survival instinct, I guess.”
Our gazes lock, and I glimpse the boy beneath the armor—the one who knows hurt just as intimately as I do. My breath hitches, and his does too, as if we’re two halves of the same fractured whole.
“Your eyes,” he breathes out, reaching a hand towards my face but stopping mid-air, his fingers trembling. “They remind me that there’s still beauty in this twisted world.”
“Damien,” I say, my voice hardly audible, “you don’t have to wear your mask with me.”
For a second, neither of us moves, suspended in a bubble where time doesn’t exist. Then, almost imperceptibly, he inches closer, and I feel the heat radiating from his body. The magnetic pull is undeniable, the charged space between us crackling with silent promises and forbidden desires.
“Being near you feels like breathing after being underwater for too long,” he confesses, his breath warm against my skin.
“Then breathe, Damien,” I urge, surprised by my audacity. “Just breathe.”
The intensity in his eyes darkens. A stormy sea threatening to pull me under. And I want to drown in it, to let the waves of our mutual attraction crash over me and wash away all semblance of reason.
“God, Lily,” he rasps, his voice laced with a desire that mirrors my own. His nearness is overwhelming, intoxicating, and terrifying all at once.
“Damien,” I whisper back, my heart pounding against my ribs. Every fiber of my being screams to close the gap, to taste the danger on his lips, yet I’m paralyzed by the enormity of what this means.
We are fire and gasoline, and I know achingly that one spark could set us ablaze.
His hesitation is almost imperceptible, but I catch the tremble in his outstretched hand before it steadies. Fingers warm and gentle, he cups my cheek, and I’m anchored to the spot by the intensity of his gaze. His thumb caresses my skin, a silent language that sends shivers down my spine.