Page 54 of What Whispers in the Dark
With no children of his own, Ozrin had taken on a fatherly responsibility when they were alone. Not only speaking with Garrik as a father should, but when Garrik’s mind had drifted toa place of surrender and entertained the idea of begging the stars to kill him, Ozrin spoke words of wisdom and encouragement. He would always center Garrik, asthe voicedid. Always offer support in a place that only sought to damage him further.
Ozrin was an anchor to the sick and wounded, connecting them to this realm and refusing to submit to the death that circled their weak forms. He was the only one to see to his mother’s wounds—and to attend Aiden. The only healer Garrik would ever trust to heal his Dragons. The only one who would dare call him such a thing and it be accepted by a small flutter of the High Prince’s heart.
Garrik’s dull eyes seemed to glisten as he surveyed his knuckles, then turned to the door. “Thank you, F—” he cleared his throat and straightened, “Ozrin.”
It wasn’t that touch that had her moaning. Washing over her in one blissful wave. It certainly wasn’t the reminder of Garrik’s hands in the throne room, brushing along her skin while the princess scowled, hovering over her every drunken thought.
At least she tried to convince herself of such.
No. Right now, it was the very fact she was floating in a near-perfect pool of a Stars Eternal dream.
That bath…
It should be a sin to have something feel so extraordinary.
This bonus chapteris set at the end of Chapter Thirty-three after the Shadow Order suffered their first dinner in Kadamar. There, they encountered the forward Princess Erissa and Garrik’s rival, Prince Ezander, the eldest male heir to Land and Growth. Alora is back in her rooms, feeling a little tipsy after Garrik saw her safely returned.
Buttery warmth worshiped her skin while mounds of bubbles—scented as the most delicate flowers Kadamar offered—misted and popped.
Alora closed her eyes and drowned out Miwa finishing her bedtime preparations in the bathroom. The steam from the bath tickled her face almost too pleasantly as she danced her fingers through the water.
Even engulfed by floral and citrus scents from shampoo vials, Alora could still smell Garrik’s leather and metal scent. Still picture him leaning against her doorway, looking so …
She scoffed—he had no right to look likethat.
How every piece of Garrik’s clothing seemed to be tailored perfectly for his body alone. The outline of muscles. That perfect V extending to his waistline. The way he seemed carved from marble.
Heat flushed her cheeks.
She shouldn’t have drunk so much wine;heshouldn’t have escorted her back to her room.
Starsdamn him.
“Do not open this door for anyone,”Garrik’s voice, a memory, echoed.
Unable to control the shiver across her skin, Alora sank lower under the bubbles.“Anyone butyou, of course?”she’d toyed, watching his eyes darken. Wondering if he’d even known how often they did so. How his head would cock slightly to the side or how his jaw would tighten. She knew and saw it all. Every flicker and twitch.
Alora closed her eyes, imagining her doorway.
Garrik squeezed the top of the threshold and leaned just barely inside. She wished he would take that step inside. Knowing he wouldn’t. “Especially not me,” he warned with an edge of certainty.
Why had it seemed like a challenge?
Closing her eyes, Alora brushed her fingers along the silky skin of her leg, up her hip.
”What is that look for, clever girl?”
Alora only hummed, a sound entirely menacing and scheming as she leaned her hip against the tall back of her waiting room chair. Scanning him. Scanning every swell anddip of muscle. Wondering … “Dance with me?” They hadn’t found the chance all evening. And then with Erissa …
For a moment, amused disbelief stole his features. Garrik pulled his hands from the top of the threshold and crossed his arms over his chest. The movement, wholly treasonous as it appeared his muscles would tear through his tunic fabric at any moment. “I believe that to be the very opposite of what I said.” He lifted a brow.
A feline grin. “Since when have I listened to you before?”
Garrik lightly chuckled—a real one—the sound like a gentle caress to her cheek and just as inviting. And it was about all she could imagine besides that smile accompanying it; his hands on her skin. Holding her. Swaying to some made-up melody she’d compose. Gazing into eyes that resembled polished, molten steel and burned just as scorching when he looked at her.
“Dance with me,” she offered again, pushing from the couch and taking a step toward him, meeting the heat of his stare. Mesmerized by it, Alora half-stumbled, nearly knocking into the table between them.
Maybe making a dance floor in the middle of her room while overcome by wine wasn’t the best idea.
