Page 2 of The Shadow Heir

He pulled my wrist to his lips and kissed it. “Do you like it?”

I pulled my arm down and smiled. “No.”

His eyes widened, but he pulled me into another kiss. “Now do you like it?”

I placed my hands against his chest, and I could feel his heart beating madly. My own heart rate soared. “You’ll always be handsome to me,” I replied, ready to move to the road and head into town. His affection had grown rather insatiable in the few weeks we’d known each other, and my mind prickled with uncertainty, recalling past mistakes, but my heart urged meonward. Love was meant to be ravenous, unstoppable—who was I to question it when I’d finally found it?

My heart hammered in my chest as I waited for him to take my outstretched hand. Jorge was different than all the other boys. In him, I’d found a love that would surmount all obstacles. A love that would break the curse that bound my life to the darkness.

Twenty years ago, my father had made a rash decision. That decision had shaped every day of my life from the moment I was born. My father and mother had wanted a child, desperately. To stop my mother’s grief, my father had sought out the supernatural—a man he only ever called Oscuro, a creature with incredible power who appeared to be comprised of night itself, like his name implied.La oscuridad, the darkness.He’d promised my father a child, but my father hadn’t been sensible enough to ask what the cost would be. He’d accepted Oscuro’s terms without question, so pleased to finally be able to tell his wife the news that they would conceive.

Only after my father had agreed did Oscuro explain the terms: they would have a child, but after twenty years, the child would have to return to Oscuro’s court. The Court of Shadows.

Jorge’s fingers entwined with mine, and I snapped out of my fearful reverie. I let out a long, quiet breath as I calmed my racing heart, trusting that my curse would be broken when Jorge declared his love. Even my father believed love was the answer, as he’d threatened repeatedly to force me to marry on my twentieth birthday if I didn’t find love on my own before then.

Jorge and I walked hand in hand toward a waiting carriage. The best parties in Leor didn’t start until midnight, after the restaurants finally closed their doors and most of the late-night dinner goers finally went home. We’d be right on time if we left now. Jorge had promised to bring his sister and her husband, both who were eager to meet me. Before we climbed inside thecarriage and lost our moment of privacy together, I pulled on his arm and he swung around toward me, looping his other arm behind my back.

I tugged his head down so I could whisper in his ear. “Tomorrow is my birthday. I’d like you to meet my father.”

Jorge pulled back a little, his arms still around my waist. “You think so?”

A little surprised by his response, I nodded. “I love you.”

His lips broke into a smile as they pressed against mine. “You love me?” His hands began to roam, his touch becoming stronger, harsher.

“Yes, but—”

He angled his face down and went for my neck, but I shoved my hand against his forehead, pressing him back.

“What now,mi corazón?” he cooed, trying again. My palm barricaded him as I recalled other men who’d attempted to win my inheritance with false affection. One other, in particular, who'd left me with memories I'd tried to blot out. But Jorge wasn’t like the others. He pulled my hand aside, and for a moment, I was nearly lost to the feeling of being so desired.

“Do you love me?” I asked, smiling as I waited for his reply.

He stood straight and locked eyes with me. “I want to be with you.”

A note of happiness burst from my mouth, but it was cut short. “You didn’t answer my question.” Everything hinged on his response.

He backed away, a pinch forming between his dark brows. “Zara, you know how I feel about you.”

“How, exactly, do you feel?” I propped my hands on my hips.

Jorge shook his head. He looked handsome in his suit, even though it wasn’t half as nice as those worn by the noblemen at my father’s parties. I’d never cared that his clothes weren’t as fine or his carriage as grand.

“I…I want,” he stammered, running a hand over his short hair. Then he swallowed, as if rallying himself. “Of course I love you. I’d be a fool not to admit it. Come on, Zara.” He grabbed my waist and tugged me toward him.

Heat flared up in my palms and a sinking chill gnawed at my stomach. His confession fell flat, perhaps because of the way he cracked every knuckle in his fidgeting left hand as he stared down at me with hooded eyes. A flash of fear surged in my gut at his look. Two years ago, I’d learned the hard way that some men wanted something other than money, and it had nothing to do with love. I’d been young and uncertain and I’d believed his every word, and it had only left me aching and empty and alone when he’d vanished the next day.

But not Jorge. He was different. He was…

When he tried to kiss me again, I turned aside. Sweat bloomed up my torso as memories jarred my mind. His hands trapped my hips in a strong grip.

“Please stop,” I said as evenly as I could, but my heart was beating between my ears, and I couldn’t think straight. I glanced at the carriage. There were people inside. His ownsisterthat I’d never met. We weren’t alone. Yet the carriage was awfully quiet.

“I’d like to meet your sister,” I said, ignoring the panic rising inside me. Jorge was probably only edgy after his admission, right? Love wasn’t a word one tossed around lightly. He was likely as nervous as I was.

An almost imperceptible chuckle left his lips, and I froze. “My sister,” he said, his forehead tilting down to rest on my exposed shoulder. “You can meet her in town.”

“You said you’d bring her with you.” I ducked out from under him as playfully as I could with all my nerves in knots. I couldn’t be wrong about him. I couldn’t bethatwrong.

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