Page 38 of Dark Angel

She can’t fight the smile forming on her lips. “I would love that.”

He leads her into the drawing room where a slightly smaller painting of an Oxford market hangs. This one is brighter and livelier. Stalls selling fruits, breads, fabrics, homewares and jewels fill the canvas. People dressed in fine threads purchasing goods or laughing together. Oil lamps hang on strings across the middle walkway, illuminating the space teeming with merchants.

Jordan stands inches away from her, their shoulders almost touching. She can feel his energy vibrating against her own, their closeness making her pulse quicken and blood warm.

“So, what do you think of this one?” he asks without looking over at her.

“It’s charming. It reminds me of the Marked Market here.”

“The Marked Market?” he asks questioningly.

Kora nods in response. “Down by the docks. It’s a market only us Marked kinds can enter and trade.”

“I guess most markets look similar, though.”

She can hear the grin in his voice. “Most cities are alike. But not London. London is special.”

Now he looks down at her, intrigued. “And why do you say that?”

“London is unique. It vibrates with life, music, and excitement. The streets are always busy here. The taverns are filled to the brim every night of the week. Children are always playing in the streets and parks. I just think there’s something about this place that people love and thrive off of.”

“That is true. It’s the first thing I noticed when we arrived. This city seems more vivacious than any other I’ve travelled to.”

“Do you miss living in Oxford?” Kora rotates to face him.

“I don’t think I ever enjoyed it enough to miss it properly. I miss our estate, and all the memories there. But the city itself, I never felt at home while being there.”

“And do you feel at home in London?”

His jaw tightens as he thinks over her words for a moment. She watches his throat work, light stubble sparking like glass underneath the oil lamp shine. Turquoise eyes bright even in the dimness.

He’s taller than her. Not towering, but tall enough to make her lift her chin to look up at him. Shoulders broad and built from his hours of training. Even through his clothing, she can see the definition of his muscles.

“I do.” He answers finally.

Kora smiles before lifting her flute to her lips and sipping.

“I have another one I think you’ll like.”

Taking her up the staircase, they come to the small hallway leading down to their quarters. Kora hasn’t been this close to any male’s quarters before, besides Clarence’s.

Jordan stops in front of a landscape of a beach. Not just any beach, but Southampton Beach. She’d recognise it in any painting. The colour of the water, the light sand and sun-drenched plants surrounding the water’s edge. “I love Southampton.” She blurts out while observing its beauty.

“My mother grew up there. This one is her favourite,” he pauses to the add, “and mine.”

“Why this one?”

“Just reminds me of a simpler life. While I enjoy living here in the city because it’s fast-paced and lively, I do also enjoy the quiet and unbothered life people have down south.”

Kora smiles, biting her bottom lip with her teeth. “Thank you for showing me these, Jordan. I adore them all.”

“My pleasure. You seem like someone who appreciates fine art.” his brows wriggle as he sips his drink. “I did also want to apologise to you in private for the other night at the soiree. I didn’t mean to walk into you like that. Believe me, I would have preferred introducing myself in a better way to you.”

Her lips purse together as she fights a giggle. “It’s perfectly fine. I wasn’t watching where I was going either, so it was my fault as well.”

He takes a sip of his drink, turning his attention back onto the painting he has glanced at many times, yet none of those moments have been as delightful as this one with her beside him. His body itches to be closer to hers, to know her more. It’s a foreign feeling for him. He’s never felt this connected to any girl before, but he wants nothing more than to make her smile.

“You don’t need to apologise,” Jordan admits, his throat working before he adds, “a beautiful girl should never have to apologise.”

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