Page 122 of Our Radiant Embers

“Could get you in my bed every night,” I told Liam after mentioning the idea, between biting kisses that might leave our lips looking just a little bruised. “Wake up with you too.”

“I’m already in your bed most nights,” he said, mouth curving up under mine.

It was true—more nights than not, we ended up at my city flat. In my head, I’d begun labelling the right side of the bed as his. The thought lodged itself sideways in my throat, and I squashed it.

“For the record”—I cupped him through his suit trousers, my voice low—“you look great tonight. And you better fuck me later. Promise I’ll be quiet so your family won’t hear us.”

“Your mouth should come with a warning sign.” Liam’s chuckle was hardly more than a gust of air. Then his magic slid down my back and dipped warm between my arse cheeks. I closed my eyes against the rush of blood in my ears, dropping my head onto his shoulder.

“Christ, Liam.” It came out as a harsh whisper, fumbling for words as I held onto him. “I am this close to begging you to take me right here.”

Liam sucked in a breath. “Bad idea.”

I swallowed and raised my head, just enough light for me to meet his eyes. “I know,” I agreed and sounded like I had no clue what that even meant.

“Terrible, terrible idea,” he murmured, unclear if it was me or himself he was trying to convince.

“I know.”

He sighed and leaned our foreheads together, breath mingling between us, the sweet heaviness of roses and lavender in the air. I love you. The words pressed up against the back of my throat. I swallowed against the sudden taste of metal and stayed quiet. My heart was hammering against my ribs, so loud that I was sure he could hear it.

Somewhere along the path, gravel crunched.

We startled apart, shadows between us. Voices carried on in a murmured conversation, a man and a woman, moving further into the gardens and away from our hiding place.

Liam’s sigh was so soft I almost missed it. “We should head back.”

“We should,” I agreed and reached for him, holding on like he might float away if I didn’t. “You head back the way you came, I take the long way around?”

“Yeah, all right. You may have to let me go first, though.” The words were laced with fond amusement.

“It would seem so.” I held on for a few seconds longer before I loosened my grip and let my magic slide down Liam’s chest in a fleeting caress. He darted in for another kiss that quickly grew deep and harsh, my fingers digging into his waist as though I might drown without him, without this. Stop. Just fucking stop.

“We really should go,” he said, barely enough space for words between us.

I drew back and combed my fingers through his hair, patting it down before I adjusted the suit jacket over his shoulders. “Okay, let’s go.”

Liam inhaled, watching me with the faintest glint of a smile. “I’ll see you in just a few minutes,” he said, and yes, of course he would. But it wasn’t the same—pretending we were friends, having to stay at a casual distance when every molecule in my body wanted to be closer.

God, I needed to get my head straight. I wasn’t a bloody teenager drowning in a puddle of my own emotions, for fuck’s sake.

“See you in a few,” I told him, and maybe it had come out a tad too cool because a brief frown crossed Liam’s face, only just visible in the night. Then he nodded, gave my wrist a quick squeeze, and turned to leave.

Breathe. Focus.

I waited another couple of minutes before I stepped out of the shadows and slowly made my way to the front of the manor, back to reality.

* * *

The grand foyer lay almost deserted now, two waistcoat-clad attendants framing the winding staircases. Floating balls of fire, encased in glass, formed a chain of pearls that pointed the way to the ballroom.

I was halfway to the stairs when Liam and Cassandra appeared at the top, caught sight of me, and waved for me to wait at the bottom. Their steps were measured, but one look at their drawn faces made my stomach pull tight. Something was wrong.

Gale.

Gale and Laurie—shouldn’t they be with them? When I’d left, Laurie and Cassandra had been debating the growing acceptance of romance novels and whether efforts to rebrand the genre, widely enjoyed by women but often belittled, marked a win for feminism. Gale had been listening with quiet interest while Liam watched me leave even as he nodded in all the right places. That had been, what—fifteen minutes ago? Twenty? Surely Liam and I hadn’t been gone longer than that.

I met him and Cassandra at the bottom of the stairs, my voice low so it wouldn’t carry beyond the three of us. “What’s wrong?”

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