Page 16 of Betraying the Beast

Their lips nearly touched. But just before contact, he pulled away. “You’re not ready,” he said. “And neither am I.”

“Auren,” she said again, carefully. Intentionally.

His breath hitched.

“Do not say it unless you mean it.”

She met his gaze. “I wouldn’t.”

He got to his feet and disappeared into the orchard, leaving her alone among the trees that whispered her name and pulsed with knowledge she did not yet understand.

Ceryn exhaled, trembling. She had come for answers. But in the orchard’s quiet glow, she had found something far more dangerous.

Hope.

And something perilously close to longing.

Vael’Zhur stared at the dancing flames in the grate of his library, the mug of wine in his grasp all but forgotten as memories flooded his mind. Flashes of the past, of betrayals, of the long years of his life, haunted him, his regrets and misdeeds reminding him of who he was now and how his past was lost to him forever.

Dinner was many hours past. He had avoided Ceryn and the meal, even as he had demanded she not hide in her room for meals. Instead he was the coward who avoided her since the intimacy of their time in the orchard that afternoon, unable to face her, unwilling to answer what was sure to be painful questions about his past. The moon had risen, casting shadows outside. It was almost full now. Ceryn was sure to be asleep by now. He could leave the sanctuary of his study and answer the inextricable pull towards her, checking on her from the secret passages used by the once-living servants in the castle, now overgrown with webs and dust.

“So this is where you hide. Your castle was determined to keep me away from you tonight.”

Her voice came from the door behind him and he sighed heavily. “I’m not fit company tonight. Go back to your rooms and leave me in peace.”

She walked around until she stood in front of him, blocking the fire from his view. “After what I went through to find you? I think not. Now, pour me a glass of that wine and stop being an ass.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Most people are afraid of me, you know.”

She reached for the decanter and poured a generous portion into the second glass that appeared on the tray. Even his castle obeyed her wishes, ignoring his desire for privacy.

“Then you’ll have to remove me yourself. I dare you.” She eyed him, a hint of challenge in her eyes, and deliberately took a sip of her wine.

He grunted and resumed staring at the place where the fire should be, only he was left looking at her deep green velvet skirts with gold embroidery. She had changed from the more casual trousers and top she’d worn earlier into something richer, more formal—deep green velvet with gold embroidery that caught the firelight. The castle had provided it, no doubt. His home had always had a meddlesome will of its own. After a moment, she settled in the chair next to him. He tensed, waiting for her to speak, but she said nothing.

The silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable as it should have been, but oddly peaceful. The crackling fire and occasional clink of her glass against the side table were the only sounds. Her scent—forest and female and something indefinably her—teased his senses, more intoxicating than the wine he’d barely touched.

“You showed me the orchard today,” she said finally, her voice soft in the stillness. “You revealed secrets I suspect few living souls have witnessed.”

Vael’Zhur’s claws tightened around his goblet. The afternoon spent walking among the silverfruit trees, explaining their nature, watching her face as she understood the magnitude of what Aldaric truly sought had left him feeling exposed in ways violence never could.

“Knowledge is a double-edged blade,” he replied, still not looking at her. “What you choose to do with it will determine whether it cuts you or serves you.”

“And which would you prefer?” she asked, leaning forward slightly in her chair.

This time he did look at her, finding her eyes intent upon his face. Only curiosity and a hint of heat were reflected in her gaze. No fear, no revulsion, no pity. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of Ceryn. It had been far too long since a woman had looked at him with anything other than disgust.

“What I prefer ceased to matter centuries ago,” he said.

“I don’t believe that.” She set her glass down and regarded him steadily. “If your preferences truly didn’t matter, I would be dead. Or locked in a dungeon rather than drinking your wine in your private sanctuary.”

Vael’Zhur’s lips twitched despite himself. “Perhaps I simply find you more entertaining alive than dead.”

“Is that all I am to you? Entertainment?”

The directness of her question caught him off guard. In his long centuries, few had dared speak to him so boldly, even before the curse, when he had been merely a man. Powerful, feared, but a man nonetheless.

“You are...” he began, then paused, searching for words that would not reveal too much. “A curiosity. A puzzle I have not yet solved.”

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