Page 39 of Unraveled
I jolt at the sound of Ash’s voice and freeze when he shrugs off his shirt to reveal light golden skin wrapped tightly over his sculpted chest. The washboard of muscles in his stomach flexes as he discards his soiled shirt to the side.
I follow the dark feathers fanning down his abdomen, lightly covering the distinct V-shape below his navel, right before they get lost under the waistband of his black trousers. My throat dries instantly, and whatever cold I felt before is replaced by a sweltering sensation that rushes through me like wildfire. Something wicked unravels inside my body, and my stomach flips as heat unfurls between my thighs.
I can’t even hear the wind rustling the leaves of the gods-damned tree in this room, let alone think, over the thundering beat of my heart. Except, I hear the distinct sound of a throat clearing, and when I lift my eyes to meet Ash’s, I feel like I’m going to die. Of embarrassment and desire.
It’s a spell, surely, because there is no way I’m feeling this intense attraction to him naturally. My enemy. A beast.
Ash lifts a brow, and his eyes dance with amusement like he can read my every single mortifying thought on my face. “Do you see something you like?”
“You wish,” I scoff. Well, I try, but the words come out breathy instead. “I don’t know about fae customs, or how long you’ve been living here alone, stuck as a beast, but it’s improper to undress in front of a stranger... At least warn me first.”
“You didn’t strike me as a maiden, Monster.” A dark chuckle filters into the room. “Is that a requirement to be a—librarian?”
I get the distinct impression he’s trying to distract himself from the pain he’s feeling right now by teasing me. His wound isoozing dark gold blood. Blue and purple veins fan out from three small punctures between his pec and shoulder.
Had Nera struck two inches to the left, she would have hit his heart. The fight leaves me at once, and I press my lips tight as I step closer to him to get a better look at what he’s doing.
“Romantic entanglements are discouraged, because they cloud a person’s judgment and can make protecting the grimoires a secondary priority,” I parrot the head librarian’s words from the first day we ascended to be Librarians.
In the back of my mind, I know I shouldn’t share something so intimate with him, but keeping Ash distracted with something as trivial as my sex life—or lack thereof—seems like the right thing to do.
Something else nags at the back of my mind as I mull over what I just said. If the powerful stolen grimoires belonged to the fae, were they keeping us from making connections with others so we wouldn’t share what we found there? So no one would suspect Penumbra stole something we shouldn’t have?
“Didn’t it get lonely?” Ash moves to the bed, picking up a brass box of medical supplies on his way. His eyes fix on me with burning curiosity as he sits on the edge.
Sometimes it did, but I’m not about to admit that to him. “I’m not one for one-night entanglements, even though Irene keeps encouraging it.”
“Ah. The sister,” he says, looking away from me right before he empties a clear vial of liquid over his mottled skin. He hisses in pain, clamping his jaw tightly as if to suffocate a scream.
The wound may no longer be bleeding as profusely as before, but Ash is looking sicker, even though he’s talking a lot more. I don’t think that’s a good sign.
“How far is Finley’s room?” I ask.
“Near yours. It’s an absolute nightmare. I wouldn’t know where to even start searching for the potion.” Ash pulls a needle and a spool of black thread out of an emerald velvet pouch.
Dread claws at my throat as I watch him clean the sharp object with a trembling hand. Then he attempts to thread the needle, but the hole is too small and his fingers don’t hold still.
“Here, let me do it,” I say, and reach for his hand. His skin is cool to the touch.
“Are you sure you can do this?”
“It can’t be that difficult if you can do it...”
The corner of his lip twitches, and he lets go of the needle as I examine the purplish skin once again. Dark feathers hug the sides of his ribs and shoulders, getting thicker as they hide behind his back and blend with his majestic wings. Ash’s legs ease around me as I step closer. His scent envelops me. Pine, leather, frankincense, and a hint of mint all blend with the heavy fragrance of alcohol and blood.
I take a deep breath and focus on the three wounds I must close, hoping Nera will be back soon with that potion, so I can put some distance between us and then obsess over everything that happened today alone in my room.
I lower the sharp object to his wound but his hand shoots up, stopping me before I pierce his skin. “Wait.”
The minute his fingers touch my hand, electricity rushes through me from the point of contact. It takes my breath away. Ash’s face morphs with horror, and he snatches his hand back, like he felt it too.
He swallows deeply and turns toward the spirit resting on the bed. “Naheli.”
The wolf shoots up. Her four eyes blink at different times, and then she hops off the bed, fairy dust trailing behind her, and trots across the room toward a cabinet on the other side.
A bar, I realize, when the light of the fireplace catches the crystal bottles on top. The spirit stands on her hind legs and picks up a bottle with her massive mouth. Like this is something they have done before.
One second Naheli is by the bar, the next she’s a blurred shape of stars and swirls of darkness, and then she’s beside Ash. Drool stretches from the top of the bottle as he takes it from her. His nose wrinkles, but he quickly wipes the bottle off with his trousers, opens it up, and takes a healthy swig of the smoky-smelling whiskey.
