Page 96 of Every Shade of Shadow

You were exquisite tonight, as I knew you would be. Do not feel ashamed for embracing your desires. They are a gift, meant to be explored.

You will join me for dinner this evening.

Yours,

D.D.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Seriously. Fucked. Up.

That’s the only way to describe what went on last night, but still I find myself seated at the dining table in Darkwood’s chambers.

There’s no grand feast of aphrodisiacs tonight.

“You’re mad at me,” Darkwood says, scrutinizing a bottle of wine that looks like it’s older than time itself. Satisfied, he starts pouring me a glass beside the table.

I remain silent.

“You think it was cruel, what I did to Cassandra?”

I swallow, playing with my hands in my lap. “I think it was…unnecessary.”

He places my glass down, the aroma from the wine pungent and earthy. He picks up his own glass and seats himself beside me. “But some part of you enjoyed her watching, no? Enjoyed her watching the way I filled you out.” He shifts in his chair, breathing in the wine. “I can still feel the tightness of your ass around my cock, you know. You can’t possibly imagine how much I enjoyed taking it.”

I hang my head. “I suppose that makes two of us.”

Hot guilt rises up my throat at words. The simple fact is Cassandra didn’t have to be there.

The Professor lifts his hand, two plates floating from the shadows to settle in front of us. “Tonight’s meal is simple,” he says, observing his plate. “Filet mignon served with a truffle demi-glace and side of toasted brioche with balsamic reduction.” He nods left, two smaller plates floating down to the table. “Seasonal vegetables from the castle garden. As I said, simple, but best not to overindulge given tonight’s activities.”

“Please,” he gestures at my plate, which looks far from simple, “eat. You’ll need your strength.”

Which sounds unduly ominous.

As expected, the food is exquisite. The steak is tender and juicy with a flavorful crust.

“Did you prepare this yourself?” I ask between bites.

The Professor stops halfway through his steak, emerald eyes turning to mine. “Yes, though aided by less mechanical means than your regular chef.”

“It’s strange to be in a place where magic is so prominent,” I tell him, “so intrinsically part of everyday life.”

He nods. “Inais has its charms, too, but yes, practice does ease the everyday—provided one knows what they’re doing.”

I wonder if there’s a warning there, but I resume eating.

The wine is also excellent, if a little heavy for my palette. Whatever it is, it’s fucking potent. This is not the tiny glass of port Gran used to pour us before bed. This is seriously strong stuff. My head’s already buzzing.

We finish, another wave of the Professor’s hand sending the plates floating off.

Damien leans back, admiring the garnet cocktail dress that mysteriously arrived on my bed earlier. “This color suits you.”

I look down, running my hand over the silky fabric. It’s not unlike the Dior. “I don’t usually wear red.”

“Unless you’re meeting strangers at a ball?” He smiles, that wicked grin of his forcing my thighs together.

I sip on my wine. “Were you following me?”

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