Page 94 of Avalon Tower
I glance at his broad shoulders, hating how much I wish he were in the water with me.
As the bath fills, I splash water over my body, cleaning myself off. My fingers run over the place where I’d been stabbed. My skin is healed, smooth. Maybe a tiny ridge, but not much else.
“He was a veil mage,” I say.
“We’ll talk about it later. Just forget him for now, Nia. I’m going to make sure you stay safe. That was fucking…” His voice trails off.
“I’ve never seen you flustered before.”
“Flustered isn’t exactly the word for it.”
It’s so odd, but right now, I can’t remember what the pain felt like, even though it happened a few minutes ago. Blood swirls around the bath water, and I take a deep breath. I don’t want to stay in the murky bath much longer. I stand, letting the water drip down my body in warm rivulets. “Can you hand me a washcloth?” I ask.
He stands and pulls a folded washcloth and towel from a chair, keeping his gaze averted as he hands them to me. At this moment, I almost wish he were slightly less of a gentleman. I want to feel his hands on me again. I want him to wrap me in those muscular arms.
But there are rules, apparently.
With the cloth and soap, I wash my body completely. Fully cleaned, I let the bath drain and towel myself off. I step out of the tub and wrap the towel around me.
Raphael stands and rubs his forehead, still facing the other direction. “May I see where you were stabbed? I want to make sure it has healed.”
“Sure.” I drop the towel to my hips, wrapping it around my waist. He turns around, then drops into the chair like he’s been struck, staring at me. Still damp from the bath, my nipples peak in the cool castle air. Slowly, his eyes rake down my body from my bare breasts to my stomach. He’s sitting, and I’m standing, but he’s so much larger than me that we’re hardly at different heights.
Gently, he touches my waist and traces his fingers down my belly. I feel as if he’s still healing me, his warm magic licking at my skin.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, and his eyes flick up to mine. “You are perfect.”
As he looks up at me, his pupils dilate. My heart hammers. Don’t forget what he is, Nia. Deep down, he’s a heartbreaker who can’t deal with his own emotions.
All it takes is his penetrating silver eyes on me to send molten heat sliding through my veins. And now, I’m forgetting all about the fact that he ghosted me long ago because his touch dissolves any thought of caution. He tugs me closer—just a little. The next thing I know, I’m sitting in his lap again. His hand slides around the back of my neck, the sensation electrifying. At this point, I’ve pretty much forgotten about the dead mage in my room and all the years I spent hating this gorgeous man. I only know that the power radiating from his rugged body is making my breath catch. It’s not just how he looks, it’s him, too, and the way he seemed so completely undone by my injury. It’s the way he’s finally dropped his guard.
I curl against him, the towel still slung loosely around my hips. He leans down, his lips hovering close to mine. His magic strokes my body, a hot rush of power that skims over every inch of my bare skin. He slides his fingers into my hair, tugging my head back. With an agonized sigh, he presses his warm lips against mine, and I come alive with light and warmth. My breasts brush against his powerful chest, and a deep ache fills my core. As his tongue sweeps against mine, I run a hand down his hard abs toward the waistband of his trousers. He moans.
He kisses me deeply, with sensual strokes of his tongue, until I want to rip his clothes off him. One hand is fisted into my hair, the other gently wrapped around my waist, like he’s still afraid of breaking me. Until that hand shifts and traces slowly up my spine.
He nips at my lower lip, then pulls away for a moment, his expression searing. He kisses my throat, and my head falls back, my thighs clenching.
Lightning flashes in the stone bathroom, and a deafening crack of thunder rumbles through the walls. Raphael pulls his lips from my throat and searches my eyes. When we kissed, I tasted whiskey on his tongue.
A little tendril of uncertainty coils through me.
He presses his forehead against mine, his fingers still tangled in my hair, and lets out another agonized sigh. “Nia.” My name is a whisper. His throat bobs. “I should not be doing this. Avalon Tower cannot lose you.” When he meets my gaze again, his silver eyes pierce me. “But I need to keep you safe. You’ll stay in my room tonight. You can have the bed.” His gaze sweeps down my body. “I need you to get dressed, though. Now. Before I forget what the fuck I’m doing.”
My heart twists as I pull up the towel around myself. There it is again. The retreat.
But he’s also right. Tana told me that if I get kicked out, everyone will die. Avalon Tower has no tolerance for romantic relationships, and I don’t want to ruin things for Raphael, either. The stakes are too high to risk it. I can’t erase the image of the encroaching darkness from my mind, that little drop of water being swallowed by shadows.
I twist the towel very tightly around myself. “Just give me a minute.”
He nods. “Of course. The assassin clearly went after you because you’re a Sentinel. I’m going to make sure our other Sentinel is safe.” He looks dazed. “I’m just going to get rid of the body first.”
I lie there, wrapped in Raphael’s blankets while he lights the candles around his room. They glow with warmth over neatly stacked bookshelves, the light gleaming off gold-lettered spines. His bedsheets smell clean and faintly of soap. Everything in his room is in its place. His desk is tidy, his bookshelves organized, the flagstone floor completely clean.
Rain still patters down his tower windows, sliding down the glass panes in little rivers. I shrug off the blanket and stand. I cross to the window, and I peer outside. Lights glow in the distant timber houses of Camelot. Far below his tower room, a stone bridge spans a cobbled street, bathed amber in the glow of gas lamps. I watch as a cloaked woman crosses the bridge in the rain. Two large men with swords flank her.
When she glances up at me, I see her bright red hair, the color of cherries. I’ve seen her before, looking at me. She blinks up at the tower, and something about her tugs at me, as if there’s a thin thread connecting us.
“Who’s that?” I ask.