Page 98 of Court of Aether and Shadows

"Our home," he corrected gently, taking the seat opposite me. "Though you may not remember it yet, this place knows you. Welcomes you."

I reached for one of the strange fruits, trying to distract myself from the overwhelming urge to close the distance between us.

The moment I bit into it, flavors exploded across my tongue — sweet and dark and somehow familiar, like tasting a forgotten dream. A small sound of pleasure escaped me before I could stop it because it was that outstanding in flavor.

The best way to describe it was like taking a bite of something you’ve been craving for years and finally getting a taste.

Lord Aetheron's eyes darkened at the sound, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly on the arms of his chair. The shadows in the room deepened in response to his reaction, making the star-lights seem brighter in contrast.

I tried to ignore it, but goodness, it’s hard to ignore a being so handsome and profound in power. Maybe it was his added dominance matched with the casual elegance he carried that really made him different than most of the men I’ve been around my entire life at the Underground.

"The food here," he said, his voice rougher than before, "responds to your true nature. Your essence recognizes what your mind has forgotten."

I took another bite, watching how his eyes tracked the movement.

The heat that had been simmering under my skin since I awoke intensified under his gaze. The silk gown suddenly felt too confining, too warm against my sensitized skin.

"It's so hot," I murmured, shifting in my seat.

The movement caused the golden fabric to ripple, sending cascades of light across the material.

His expression shifted, becoming more focused.

"The garments you wear," he explained, rising from his chair with fluid grace, "are designed to contain and channel your power. They're necessary, for now, until you learn to control it yourself."

He stood and moved behind my chair, the grace in his movements hypnotic in nature. I felt the air grow thick with tension as he closed in.

"Though there are... exceptions," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "Times when the garments must be removed."

C’mon Sparrow…don’t think…naughty…

"Such as?" I managed to ask, hyper-aware of his presence behind me.

"Bathing, of course," he said, his hands coming to rest lightly on my shoulders. Even through the fabric, his touch burned like sweet fire. "And other... intimate activities."

I swallowed hard, watching in the reflection of a nearby mirror as he leaned down, ostensibly to adjust the drape of my bodice where it had slipped slightly. His fingers brushed against my collarbone, sending shivers of electricity through my entire body.

"Other activities?" I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper.

The air between us felt charged, heavy with potential and ancient memory.

He was close enough now that I could feel his breath against my neck — could see in the mirror how his eyes had taken on an almost predatory gleam.

He doesn’t answer my push for further elaboration, and I guess it’s very obvious what he means by “intimate” activities, and yet I still wanted more. To learn if the activities we did in the depths of my dreams were deemed “allowed” in this world of unknown territory.

"Moira said you might be like this," he murmured, one hand sliding up to cup my jaw, turning my face toward his.

"Like what?" I asked, though part of me already knew the answer, and could feel it in the way my body yearned for his touch.

His thumb brushed across my lower lip, the touch so light it was almost reverent.

"Unable to resist," he said softly. "Just as I find myself unable to resist you. The wise woman was right,” he murmurs as if he lost some sort of bet made with the stars. “Some bonds transcend time and memory."

I meant to ask him for more, to maintain some semblance of control over the situation, but then his eyes met mine. Their molten depths with what felt like centuries of longing — waiting — with love so deep, it defied explanation.

It didn’t need any with how raw and intense all these emotions were.

"What do you mean?" I managed to ask, even as I felt myself leaning closer to him, drawn by something more powerful than conscious thought. I hate feeling lost — feeling vulnerable with the lack of knowledge — but this was giving me the opportunity to keep talking.

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