Page 55 of The Sorrow of Shadows

I push into him and wind my fingers through his hair, tugging sharply on the strands. His length hardens against me, and I roll my hips into his. I don’t know what I’m doing, just going with what feels natural. Being pressed against him, his lips covering every inch of my skin in kisses, feels so incredibly natural.

Suddenly, he pulls back from me. Our chests are rising and falling rapidly as he looks me in the eyes. I can see the desire swimming in his, but it’s been eclipsed by something somber.

He pulls away from me, putting some space between our heated bodies.

“Elijah—” I start, a feeling of confusion crossing my face. My brows furrow as I try to read his expression.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” My voice is soft, unsure.

“Don’t start to question yourself or if I want you. This space has nothing to do with you or anything you did.”

“Then why?” I struggle to believe his words.

He grabs my hand and does something I don’t expect, pulling it down to cover his painfully hard erection. My eyeswiden as he asks, “Does this feel like me not wanting you? I want you so badly it hurts. I want to bury myself inside you and draw more of those delicious sounds from your lips. And don’t mistake me, Ophelia, I will do that. I don’t even have a problem taking you right here, in the hallway where anyone can see.” My cheeks heat at that statement, but he continues. “But my best friend’s head was just delivered to my other best friend in a box. I’ve wanted you for a while, but if I seek comfort in your arms for the first time right now, you will question if I truly want you or if I was just trying to erase my pain with your pleasure. The first time I have you, there will be no question in your mind. I will not have you questioning why I’m burying myself in you.”

I take a deep breath, trying to process his words. I realize he is probably right and that’s not how I want it to be between us.

My eyebrow quirks slightly before I ask, “Wanna get a drink?”

“You’re speaking my language, doll.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

BREYLA

It’s dark as I enter the cold, abandoned graveyard. The moon hangs low in the sky, mostly covered by thick clouds. There’s just enough light to make out the crumbling headstones and overgrown plant life that has overrun the graves. Burying our dead is something that hasn’t been done in centuries, the common practice now being a funeral pyre. Still, the bones of our ancestors sleep beneath my feet. A slight melancholy strikes me as I think about how neglected the resting place of our forefathers has become, forgotten by the world.

I’m not entirely sure what has called me here, but I know I must heed its summons. I feel it tugging in my gut; I can’t ignore this. My bare feet travel the crumbling stone path through the center of the cemetery. It should be painful, but weeds and moss have grown over most of the path, giving it a soft cushion. The hazy moonlight serves as a guide, and I quietly make my way to the back of the area. It’s the oldest section, the stones mostly crumbled to dust and completely unreadable. Yet, as I reach the corner,I find a freshly dug grave. The dirt is piled high with flowers thrown on top.

I glance around the pile to find a pristine tombstone marking the grave. A breeze smelling of fresh rain and hints of leather tosses my hair and causes goosebumps to pebble the flesh of my bare shoulders. There are no dates, no great epitaphs on the stone, just a name. Julian Tanda.

That can’t be right,I think. Running my hand through the loose dirt, I try to puzzle out why my second in command would be buried here. I fail to make sense of it as panic sets in. Julian must be under this dirt, but the last time I saw him he was leaving to gather intel on the movements of Lord Seamus. Has someone trapped him under this earth?

I dig my fingers into the cool soil, shifting the dirt aside to reach my suffocating friend. It cakes my fingers, nails ripping and tearing as I move quickly to save him. My heart rate increases as I move layers and layers, frantic to reach him. I’ve nearly hit the bottom when my fingers touch something hard.

Perplexed, I brush the dirt aside gently, revealing the white of bone. It’s a skull.

“Oh, there you are, Julian.” I smile with relief. “I was so worried about you, but I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Of course, I’m safe, B. Why wouldn’t I be?” Julian’s skull questions, amusement and curiosity thick in this tone.

“No reason, I guess. I just wasn’t sure what you were doing under this pile of dirt in an abandoned graveyard.”

“Seemed as good a place as any to finally get some rest,” Julian sighs. The skull in my hands starts to shimmer and shift. Flesh starts growing where it was once just bone, and after a moment Julian is standing before me.

He’s clad in the leathers I last saw him in, sword strapped to his side and a smile plastered on his face. What a beautiful face it is. The clouds must have shifted, because the moonlight nowglows brightly against his mocha skin, and the gold in his hazel eyes sparkles.

“That’s better,” I giggle. “I like you much better in this form.”

“What form is that?”

I gesture to him, waving my hands up and down. “This one, the one where you look like my Julian. My fearless second.”

“Oh, my dear, Breyla.” His smile turns sad. “I’ll always be your Julian. Yours, and Elijah’s, and Jade’s. But I can’t be your second anymore.”

Confusion twists my face. “Why not? I need you. There’s something coming, I feel it.” Couldn’t he see how much I would need my second? How much I would need him?

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