Page 23 of Of Withering Dreams
The library was tranquil. Kaden could doubtless hear the drum of my heart as it accelerated.
“Thank you,” I whispered, still staring at the leather spines before me as if I had forgotten how to move my own.
From the side of my vision, Kaden’s biceps contracted, and then his fingertips touched the back of my hand, which was frozen in mid-air. He gently skimmed them over my wrist. My arm. My shoulder. Goosebumps tracked his touch. My fingers gripped the edge of the shelf, steadying myself as my knees quivered.
His heart thumped against my spine, bringing it back to life. My arm fluttered back to my side as I tilted my head to the left. A faint, shaky chuckle escaped him.
“Anytime.” He brushed his palm over my shoulder, gently gathering my hair and placing it over my left shoulder. His palm returned to the curve between my bared neck and shoulder. The wide expanse of his hand branded me motionless, as if he was memorizing the feel of our skin touching in the buzzing silence.
I turned into his touch, achingly slow. Our breaths mingled, hitching in time with each other in little gasps. His hand lingered, slipping along my skin as I faced him. His palm now rested on my collarbone, fingers cupping the other side of my neck under a curtain of dark-red curls. My back pressed into the shelved books, acting as my vertebrae and offering me stability in a tilted world. I closed my eyes as his thumb circled leisurely over the hollow of my throat.
My eyes fluttered open, dragging upward to meet Kaden’s smoldering gaze. His clover-colored aura simmering around him, melding with his radiating heat. My chest was heaving, trying to break free from the bodice of my kirtle.
He stepped closer, placing his other hand on my waist, squeezing gently. As he leaned down, the air caught in my throat. My hands flew forward, gripping the front of his tunic. I wasn’t sure if I was urging him toward me or holding him still. He paused, his full lips hovering a breath away from mine. If I licked my lips, my tongue would run over his, tasting him.
“It would seem …” he murmured, his words flitting over my mouth, “all our stories are put away.”
“I … I hadn’t noticed,” I breathed.
“I noticeeverything, Seryn.”
“Kaden,” I whimpered.
All at once, both of his hands shifted, his fingers burrowing into the curtain of my hair and cupping the back of my neck and head. His lips crushed into mine, and he groaned. The taste of salt and mint danced in my mouth.
My hands clenched the fabric of his tunic, pulling his weight against me. The shelves dug into my back, but I barely felt their bite.
I lifted onto my toes, pushing our lips together more firmly. I was dazed. I was ravenous. I needed …
“Library’s closed!” Mr. Burlam’s voice boomed down the aisle, startling us as we jumped apart, our breathing erratic. Kaden’s eyes bore into the side of my face, and my gaze whipped toward the cranky librarian. My face burned brighter than the sun.
“Uh, yes. Yes, of course, Mr. Burlam. We’re leaving now. Thank you!” I stammered.
I rushed down the aisle, away from Kaden, as he called my name. I flew past Mr. Burlam, ducking my head and dashing past the endless rows of novels.
Hurrying through the doors, I sped through the winding halls, not looking behind me to see if anyone had followed. At the sight of my bedroom door, I moaned. My leather slippers slapped against the stones, echoing along the corridor.
I shoved my door open and tumbled into the safety of my room, slamming the door shut and smacking my palm against the blue gem in the wall. Derya wouldn’t mind bringing me something to eat in my room tonight.
As I counted my breaths, calming the frenzied pace of my heart, the fog cleared from my thoughts.
Bollocks.
I had left my spine in the library among the others, after all.
12
THE HEART: A FICKLE CREATURE
“All right, so what if I kissed my best friend? It’s no big deal.”
I was talking to myself in bed the next morning. Out loud. The sun had risen, spraying fractured rainbows around the canopy, but I’d awoken hours before, restless and annoyed with myself. Accepting I needed to get on with my day, I shoved the quilt off me, huffing. After quickly bathing and dressing, I joined Letti for breakfast in the dining hall.
She was right; eating was something to do. It seemed like almost everyone ate at mealtimes. While trapped here, why not enjoy a little indulgence? It was a time to connect with others. Well, not the Elders, of course. I deduced they wouldn’t join us for meals in the future since they hadn’t done so yet. Why would they bother sharing a meal with us lowly minions?
I shifted on the bench, the wood grumbling under me.Oh, shut up, bench,I thought, gazing at the fresh muffin on my plate. We could all use these moments to distract us from the fact that we were not physically here in Surrelia. That our bodies were in ember-induced stupors—in terrifying black tombs, dreaming against our wills. All the while, our world continued its death march without us.
“Are you okay, Ser?” Letti stared at me wide-eyed. Her brows furrowed as she scooped a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth. I glowered at her as she chewed in an aggravatingly slow manner.
