Page 40 of Shadowed Fate

Under the mattress?

Too obvious.

I open the polished dark wood wardrobe standing in the corner, the hinges creaking. Shoving aside my lovely new clothes, I feel along the bottom. There—a slight give in the wood.

I pry it open, revealing a small hollow space below. The book slides in perfectly, like it was made for this spot. I replace the wood, arranging my shoes to hide any evidence.

As I close the wardrobe doors, I have a moment of doubt.

What am I doing? Stealing from a magical library, making out with Fae royalty, hiding forbidden books...

"You wanted answers," I remind myself. "This is how you get them."

I collapse on my bed, exhausted and nowhere near ready for another day at Grimstone Academy.

Chapter 19

Brigid

"Come on, love, show me what you've got!" Rory says, his playful baritone carrying down the field. Sweat trickles down my back, soaking the shirt I've had on under my discarded jacket despite the autumn chill in the air.

I feign a jab to his left, then duck and strike at his right knee, but he's already there, taking hold of my wrist in his warm grip. "That's better. But you need to commit, Bri. Don't let them see your moves coming."

I glare at him, cheeks flushing. I know he's right. Tiernan's meditative approach feels like another lifetime ago. Here, with Rory, it's all about instinct and power. The two of them have taken it upon themselves to tutor me every day after classes.

He grins, and it makes my insides feel like they’re dropping right to my feet. Rory is built like a Greek god and his smile has more star power than any Hollywood actor. I wonder what it'd be like to feel those strong arms around me, holding me close. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. No, Brigid. Bad. You have enough to worry about.

"Let's try it again, and this time, mean it, yeah?" Rory's accent lends his words an almost musical quality, which only adds to his charm. I square my shoulders, inhaling the scent of whiskey and pine that clings to him.

"Fine, but don't blame me if I accidentally deck you one." I joke, trying to hide the butterflies in my stomach.

Rory laughs, the sound like liquid gold. "Oh, lovely, I've faced worse. Now, come at me."

I take a deep breath, channeling my frustration and desire into my next move. This time, I don't hold back, aiming a kick at his chest. He snags my foot in his hands and holds me there a beat too long before allowing my leg to return to the ground.

"Damn, Brigid, you've got some power there." He smirks, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Tap into that, and you'll do grand in the Harrowing."

I blush and look away, tucking a stray strand of damp hair behind my ear. "Thanks, Rory.”

“Now, try and come at me again, love.”

I do as he says and launch into what I think is a pretty sophisticated set of moves that he obviously sees coming a mile away, going by the way he’s trying to hold back his laughter.

“You're no good at faking, do you know that?” he says, smirking.

“Shut up, Rory.”

I raise my fist, determined to land at least one punch, when my foot trips on the air, or a blade of grass, or something equally ridiculous, and I'm tumbling forward—

Right into Rory's powerful arms.

His scent envelops me immediately. My breasts are pressed against his hard chest, my heart hammering. His warmth makes me feel like I’m being held against a blazing inferno, and for a moment, I don't want him to let go.

We stare at each other for what feels like eternity, what little space is between us charged with electricity. My nipples harden against the fabric of my shirt, and I'm sure he can feel my arousal. I'm about to apologize and pull away when Rory's face lowers to mine.

Our lips meet in an urgent, desperate kiss. His tongue slides past my lips, claiming mine. One of his large, calloused hands palms my ass, pulling me even closer to him, while his other hand roams up my shirt, finding its way to my breast. He cups my swollen nipple through the thin fabric of my bra and shirt, sending shivers.

My body melts into his as his mouth moves down my jawline, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses along my neck. My mind screams at me to stop, to regain control, but my body has a mind of its own, arching into him, begging for more.

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