Page 31 of Rook

“Why?” She tilts her head, a frown creasing her pale forehead. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but slow isn’t really my forté.”

“Look, you’re dealing with a lot right now,” I say, feeling the weight of every word. “And I want you, God knows I do. But not like this. Not with everything else that’s going on with you.”

Her mouth opens, then closes, and she pulls back. I fight the urge to close the distance again, to erase the space between us with the heat we both know is there.

“Is it because of Gunnar? Oberon?” Her voice trembles, and I can hear the layers of what she’s not saying. “You know…Oberon supports it—us, I mean—“

That comes as a bit of a shock, but I shake it off.

“I’m not even gonna ask about that—not right now—but yeah…it’s partially because of Gunnar,” I admit, shoving my hands into my pockets to stop them from reaching out to her. “I don’t want to be just another complication, Aisling. You deserve better than that. And if we see him in Oasis…”

She nods slowly, those stormy eyes of hers searching mine for something. Maybe for the assurance that she’s not just another notch. That she means something more.

“You’re right,” she whispers, and there’s strength behind that single word—a promise that she understands, even if she doesn’t like it. “With everything going on…now’s not the time.”

“Look, Aisling,” I start, scratching the back of my neck, feeling the prickly sweat there. “Life’s thrown you into the deep end without so much as a ‘how do you do?’ and you’re swimming hard.”

She chuckles, but it’s hollow, like the sound of gunfire in an empty alley. “Feels more like drowning sometimes.”

“Can’t argue with that.” I shift on my feet, trying to find solid ground. “But you—I’ve seen you. You take on everything head-on, no half measures. It’s…” I trail off, searching for the right word that isn’t too soft or too sharp.

“Reckless?” she offers, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

“Brave,” I correct her. “You’re brave, Aisling Faye.”

“Even when I don’t feel it?”

“Especially then.” I take a breath, wishing it didn’t have to be laced with this kind of honesty. “And I want—fuck, I want things with us to be right. Not rushed, not another storm for you to weather.”

“Rook,” she says, her voice a whisper that could topple empires. “I want—“

“Slow. We do this slow.” I interrupt before she can spill words that might make me break every resolve I’ve built up. “I’ve watched you get into everything so fast, dive in headfirst without checking for rocks. And it kills me because I want to be different for you.”

“Rook,” she repeats, softer this time, and it’s a punch to the gut how much I love hearing my name on her lips.

“Jesus, being noble sucks,” I mutter under my breath, but she hears it and her laughter, real and bright, fills the space between us.

“Welcome to my world, Rook,” she teases, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from her skin.

“Trust me, I’m just visiting. Noble’s not usually my style.” I grin, despite the mess we’re in.

“Good,” she says, “because I’m not looking for a knight in shining armor. Just…you.”

“Then me you’ll have. All in due time.” I promise, and the weight of it settles between us—solid, tangible, something worth waiting for.

Chapter fourteen

Aisling

I blink awake, the taste of stale midnight gaming on my tongue. My head’s heavy on Rook’s shoulder, his breathing deep and even. Dawn’s light hasn’t got the memo to be gentle; it barges in through the windows, no apologies given.

“Ugh,” I groan and sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The digital clock on the wall confirms it’s an ungodly hour to be conscious. Our hands abandoned the controllers at some point, now lying lifeless in our laps like dropped guns after a duel.

“Morning, sunshine.” Oberon’s voice comes from the kitchen, laced with that permanent smirk of his. He clinks around, probably fixing something that smells a hell of a lot better than my mouth feels right now.

“Is it?” I mutter, pushing myself off the couch.

Rook stirs next to me, a low rumble in his chest as he shifts into a more comfortable sprawl. I leave him to his slumber, padding across the room toward the promise of caffeine.

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