Page 25 of Stolen
It’s like she is maybe realizing for the first time that magic is real, and wonder isn’t dead.
“In here, I have books from all corners of Nightfall,” I tell her. “Histories. Mythologies. Grimoires. Adventures.”
She pauses beside a shelf and grins again. “Any romance?”
The question catches me off guard, but I recover quickly.
“You won’t need books for that,Myrrin,” I murmur, meeting her gaze.
She bites her lower lip and looks away, but not before I see it.
The flush that spreads across her cheeks.
The way her breath stutters, just once.
The ripple of awareness that passes between us.
It’s small.But unmistakable.
I find myself wondering at her reaction. I know it’s genuine.
When was the last time someone blushed in my presence?
When was the last time I cared?
I admit, seduction isn’t something I’ve had to practice.
As Alaric,DemonKnight, Lord of Air, keeper of Winds, Guardian of Nightfall,I have never lacked for admirers.
My name and titles carry power, prestige, allure.
But none of them—none—have ever stirred anything more than passing interest.
Until now.
Until her.
Jules Strano.
Human. Mortal. Inconveniently irresistible.
The thought alone has me frowning.
No. This isn’t desire. This isn’t fate.
She is a means to an end.
A vessel. A variable. The key to my ascension. A means to make me Prime.
That is all she is.
Then why do you have to keep reminding yourself?
I clasp my hands behind my back and follow her with careful detachment as she explores the room, still lit with wonder.
She brushes her fingers along a spine—Nightfall’s Golden Age—and glances back at me, uncertain.
“Am I? That is, um, can I touch?” she asks, one brow arched, fingers resting lightly on the worn leather.
