Page 21 of The Sorcerer of Shadowholde

Her head was woozy, and she needed sleep, needed to get away from this man who exuded danger. She attempted to raise her leg over the sill, but lost her balance and stumbled backward.

The High Consul caught her with that same speed from earlier, righting her back on her feet.

“I’m fine,” Vita said, trying to believe it as she attempted to conquer the window once more.

Before she could stumble again, he grabbed her by the waist and sat her on the edge of the windowsill in one swift motion, stepping in close, his body fitting neatly between her splayed legs. Vita grasped for his shoulders as he brought a hand to her face, sweeping his thumb across her lips and her scar in that now familiar motion.

“High Consul…” she breathed, dizziness overcoming her.

The penetrating gaze was enough to send a shiver down her spine, arousal attempting to overcome inebriation even as her head spun.

“Renatus,” he said. “I thought I told you to call me that.”

“Are you going to kiss me?” Vita blurted out, immediately reddening at her own statement.

Gods, she would never drink again.

“Is that what you want, Vita?”

Her heart raced, and she felt faint. Was she swooning? Or was that the ale? Whatdidshe want?

“I’ve already been kissed today.”

Her eyes widened again, horrified at how loose her lips became around this man. He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, his white hair glimmering in the moonlight.

“Oh? Your friends at the city guard?”

He smirked, though she sensed the tension as he gripped her waist.

“No. Praetor Amulius,” she whispered. She wanted to look away, but found herself unable. “He came to me this morning. He was upset about what happened at the feast. I-I didn’t want him to, but he did.”

The words tumbled out as they always seemed to around the High Consul. He considered her statement, nodding to himself, his jaw clenched.

“That just won’t do, now will it?” The threat was apparent in his hushed voice.

No, he wouldn’t hurt the Praetor, would he? That would be wrong. Yes, it was wrong to wish pain on people, even if there were some who deserved it. Though, perhaps it wouldn’t beso badif something unfortunate happened to Amulius, something that freed her from her servitude.

Vita was woozy, her mind racing with confused thoughts, incoherent babbling, but racing all the same. She slumped forward as the faintness overcame her, and the High Consul was there to catch her.

Vita awoke in her bed, still wearing her clothes from the tavern.

Ad Noctua.

Oh, she had made a fool of herself, and in front of Verian. How had she gotten home?

She shot up, eyes wildly glancing around the room, and there he was.

Renatus.

Darkness enveloped the room, though the High Consul must have lit one of her candles. The warm glow brightened his pale skin as he stood near her desk, thumbing through a book. Not a book, but one of her journals.

No. No, no, no. Gods, no.

“Are you feeling better, darling?” he asked, without looking up.

Vita felt around under her pillow and immediately knew which one he had in his hand. When she didn’t answer, he looked over at her.

“This is quite the story you have here. What an imagination you have! The handsome princeps on his knees for the beautiful girl in the rose garden. Tell me, Vita, do you want me between your thighs? My tongue against your cunt and my fingers inside you? Or is there something else you’d prefer?”

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