Page 12 of The Sorcerer of Shadowholde

Footsteps. Thank the Gods there was someone coming. The High Consul was beautiful, had given her the gift of a dance she’dremember forever, but there was something strange about him, like an internal battle was going on behind those ruby eyes.

Hope turned to dread when she saw who the footsteps belonged to. Her employer.

“Vita?”

The High Consul turned to Amulius with a sneer.

“If there is something you need, Praetor, one of my employees would be happy to oblige.” His words were pleasant enough, but his voice was cruel, mocking.

“I was just looking for Vita,” Amulius said casually, though he clenched his jaw, his hands in fists at his sides.

The High Consul glanced back at her, running his thumb across her soft lips. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach from the intimate touch, so different from the way the Praetor assaulted her.

He spoke to Amulius, but his eyes stayed on her.

“Well, it looks like I found her first.”

Amulius grumbled, his eyes shooting daggers at them.

“Vita, I think it’s time you come back. My wife needs you,” he said, an obvious lie.

She wasn’t sure what was preferable, the known danger of Praetor Amulius or the unknown of the High Consul.

“I will send her back in when I’m done with her,” the High Consul hissed as he took Vita’s hand and pulled her further into the garden.

She glanced back at Amulius, his mouth agape as he watched them walk away. Oh Gods, she would pay for this later.

The High Consul silently guided her through the tangle of roses, one hand on the small of her back. Vita tried to relax, the dual sensation of fear and pleasure rushing through her body.

What did he want with her?

She knew very little about this man, though that was true for most citizens of Shadowholde. He had come to power years ago, and left most decision making to the Praetor and council members, rarely appearing at any city functions as far as she could tell.

The mystery only added to his intrigue.

Vita shot a furtive glance his way, noticing the tight line of his mouth. The sly smirk had vanished, and he clenched his sharp jaw as he walked. But was it in anger? Annoyance? It was impossible to know. His slightly upturned nose complemented his pointed features, as did the whispers of wrinkles under his eyes.

He was truly breathtaking, more elegant than anyone she’d ever met. His hair hung down his back, tidy save for the few tendrils that framed his face. He caught her gaze, and she jerked her head forward, her cheeks flushed. That mischievous smile returned as he stopped near the edge of the garden, a view of the moonlit mountains beyond.

“What do you think of my home?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silent tension.

She saw something in his eyes, something she couldn’t quite place. It was a pained expression, despite the smile and beauty.

“It is incredible, High Consul. Truly. I will be forever grateful for this evening.”

Vita worried she had said too much, but it was the truth. It was like she was in one of her fairy stories, the handsome princeps by her side as they wandered the romantic rose garden.

“My name is Renatus,” he said, turning to her.

“Renatus,” she breathed, shyly meeting his eyes.

She bit her lip, willing herself to stay calm. She had no reason to believe he was going to hurt her, do anything that she didn’t want to do. But what didshewant? She imagined his lips on hers, on her neck, her breasts, her… But no, those were thoughts for later.

Suddenly, his face turned dark, a grimace and furrowed brows replacing the smirk from a moment ago. Had she upset him? He’s the one who asked her to use his name. And what a lovely name it was.

“Perhaps it is time you return to your employer,” he said, and her heart sank.

Of course, she didn’t really think he was going to kiss her, but it was titillating to be around him, her head swimming with dizziness as he exuded raw confidence. She must have upset him, because why else would he lead her all over the garden, just to return her to the Praetor?

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