Page 57 of Brutal Birthright

Each time she dressed or undressed, there were reminders staring back at her of where his mouth and fingers had been.

“… Symbology and sigils can mostly be found in this section.” A woman’s voice floated towards her, slightly muffled but distinctly close by. Maybe only a couple of rows over from the sound of it. Ri glanced up, and if she crouched slightly, it was possible to look through the small window of space left between the tops of the books and the base of the next shelf above them.

Like a narrow-slitted peek down the many, many lines of hidden secrets held within these pages.

She caught sight of a slender wrist reaching up to point at something up higher. Then, a billowy kind of silk blouse in mint green. A glimpse of coppery-coloured hair falling past the fae’s pointed ears.

But there was another body with her. She only saw his back, but recognised the bulk of his frame instantly.

Her fingers tightened on the leather binding in her hands.

They stood close enough to brush against one another. She watched with a churning in her gut as the fae tucked her hair behind one ear. Felt her heart stall as one of those delicate, fine-boned fingers grazed against the sleeve of his shirt when she lowered her hand.

Ri ducked lower, her eyes desperately searching to see where Rowan’s hands were. Dreading how it might just tear her apart if he was touching her. But the small slit between the books and the infernal bookshelves was too small. His muscled frame and height took up too much of the space in the narrow stacks where they stood.

Ri’s imagination filled in all the details of what she couldn’t see.

They’d be pressed together.

His scent would surround the woman.

Those startling blue eyes would be looking at her.

Suddenly she was caught in a vice of terror. One part of her wanting to know what he was doing here, with a delicate fae librarian who laughed softly and spoke in such hushed tones that she couldn’t make out what was being said. Yet at the same time, she wanted to bolt out the door and not dare look back.

Rowan wasn’t her property. He wasn’t anything to her, other than her very forbidden-to-touch teacher.

Of course, he’d have an abundance of other women lined up waiting for him.

Librarians who liked to be pushed up against the bookshelves while he bit down on their neck and shoved his hands…

Spitting hot jealousy curdled in her stomach, and her cheeks stung like she’d been smacked across the face.

His distinct rumbling baritone filtered through the slim gaps, but she had no hope of making out what was said. And her mind had already descended into a chaotic spiral anyway. Certain that he was whispering filthy things in her ear the way he’d done when they were alone only a few nights ago.

She hurriedly backed away. Ri spun, blindly headed for the furthest end of the stacks and to make her way back to her desk in the library’s main foyer. Bumping the book in her hand against the shelf she’d been spying through as she went to turn around.

Anger and anguish wrestled in her throat.

She had nothing. No one. There wasn’t anybody she could talk to about this feeling that sank like a stone in her chest, and it was all her own stupid fault.

Foolishness and rash decision-making once again coming back to taunt her mercilessly. It had been such a fucking colossal mistake to allow herself to fall under his spell that night.

Ri snuck along the back wall, where narrow, high-peaked windows let in the glow of lantern light from outside and the low seats nestled against the glass overlooked the gardens below. Romantic window seats to sit and read to a lover. Or the perfect place to hide out with a dainty, porcelain-skinned fae librarian.

The image nearly made her choke. Ducking her head, she tried to move as quietly as possible. If she followed along this end of the rows upon rows of books, she’d eventually reach the tables, gather her things, and be gone from here.

“Going somewhere?”

Goosebumps erupted on her arms. Rowan stepped out of the shadows of the long row to her right. Immediately blocking the way forward, with his massive shoulders nearly filling the entire width of space.

No way past the man-mountain surveying her with a scowl on his lips and a pinched brow.

“Let me pass. I’m leaving.” She twisted her lips. Trying to do anything but look at him. Which was impossible. He was everywhere.

Scents of sandalwood and nights spent in the forest clung to him.

“You’re here late.” Fuck this. She wasn’t in the mood for Rowan’s bullshit. If he was pissed at her for interrupting whatever he had planned with the woman, she didn’t intend to stick around to hear it.

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