Page 35 of A Song in the Night

I scowl. “You keep looking at me like—”

Noah steps so close our noses brush, and when I retreat, he follows until my back meets the wall. “Like what, princess?”

I can’t breathe. Noah is everywhere. I close my eyes when his hands drop to my hips as he presses into me.This isn’t going to end well.I know that. I do, so why am I grabbing the front of his shirt and tugging him closer? The moment our lips meet, it’s game over. I lose myself in him, and he growls against my mouth until my lips part and his tongue dives in, grazing mine. My head spins, and I push my fingers into his hair, damp with sweat from our training. He drags his tongue along my bottom lip, nipping it, and I suck in a breath before pulling back enough to breathe.

Noah presses me into the wall, his mouth is on my neck now, licking my skin and making my entire body shiver. He makes quick work of pulling my shirt over my head and unhooking my bra, then running his hands around to the front to cup my breasts, his fingers twirling over my pert, eager nipples. I moan and instinctively arch my back.

He bites, hard, into the tender flesh where shoulder and neck meet, making me gasp with pleasure and surprise. Just as Noah reaches for the button on my jeans, his cell phone rings. “Fuck,” he growls.

“Ignore it,” I say, breathless, and Noah groans into my skin. The sound vibrates through me and makes my toes curl.

The shrill sound fills the air between us, mixing with our heavy breathing. Just when I think he’s actually going to ignore the call, he pulls away, cursing again as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

“What?” he snaps, his eyes still locked on mine. There’s a moment of silence and then Noah backs away from me and, in a blur of motion, flies up the stairs.

Frowning, I put my bra and shirt back on and walk upstairs to the office. I sink onto the couch with a sigh. As I wait for Noah to return, I find myself reaching into my bag and pulling out the conch. I hold it in both hands, brushing my thumbs along its smooth surface. In an absent, restless gesture, I raise it to my lips and give a halfhearted blow. A dull sound emerges, almost like the braying of a donkey. Nothing as lovely as I’d hoped. I glance at the door, hoping Noah didn’t hear that, and quickly put the conch back down.

I lift my head, my heart rising with anticipation. He moves so quietly.

But the door isn’t open. Instead of Noah, a water nymph stands in the corner—the same one I saw at Rowan’s. Water streams down her blue shoulders and drips onto the floor. The instant I see her, any lingering remnant of desire gives way to wariness.

It creeps into my voice as I say, “Why are you here? What do you want?”

I don’t really expect an answer, and a shock goes through me when the stranger says, “My name is Zaleria. I am here for vengeance.”

She meets my gaze. She has no pupils; her eyes are covered in a milky sheen. Despite this, I see recognition in her expression.She knows who I am. My heart beats harder as my survival instincts begin to shriek.

Before I can ask any more questions, the faucet in the kitchenette bursts. Water begins to spray everywhere. I make an alarmed sound and rush to the sink, covering the opening with my hands. This does nothing, of course, but send the water in new directions. It splashes into the walls and drips to the floor.

“Noah!” I shout, fumbling for anything I can use to staunch the flow.

He bursts through the door, and his sharp green eyes take in the situation with a single glance.The nymph is gone, I note with faint surprise. No time to think about that now. The water coming at my face is freezing and it’s not slowing. Noah moves toward me, shouting something over the chaos.

One of the walls explodes. I scream at the same time water flies through the air, drenching Noah’s desk, the couch, and the file cabinets. He shouts again, but the screaming pipes and burst faucets drown out the words. The door slams shut, and I spare a glance toward it, wondering if Noah left to get help.

But he’s standing in front of the shattered wall, reaching inside with one hand while the other holds his phone against his ear. I see his mouth moving, and my attention flicks back to the door for an instant, wondering why he took the time to close it.

Then the wall beside Sylvia’s desk explodes.

The water is coming so hard, so fast that it’s already up to our ankles. Hopefully there are no live electrical currents, or we’ll have bigger problems in a few minutes. I abandon the sink, knowing that holding my hands over it is pointless, and run to Noah. “Tools!” he’s shouting. “Get the tools! They’re in the bathroom!”

The bathroom?There’s no time to question it. I slosh my way over to the door. Though the knob turns, I can’t pull it open. I try once, twice, three times, using such force my arm protests. With every attempt, my mounting alarm makes it difficult to think. It’s as if someone is standing there, putting all their weight against the door. I try again and again, resenting my weakness, hating the human blood that runs through my veins.

Noah bellows my name.

“It’s stuck!” I shriek back.

The water is to our waists now. It’s unnatural, how quickly the room is filling, and we both know it. Noah keeps looking around as if he expects to see someone else in here with us.

Finally, wearing an exasperated expression, Noah wrenches away from the wall—I catch a glimpse of a pipe and realize he must’ve been trying to bend them with his bare hands—and storms up to the door. I move back, giving him room. The muscles in Noah’s arms stand on end, but no matter how hard he pulls, he can’t get it open. I’m too panicked for snide thoughts.

Noah’s kicking the door now. The rising water level makes it difficult to gain any real momentum.

I need to stay calm, I know that. I stand still and try to remember our training sessions. I tell myself that we won’t drown in here, even if we don’t get the door open. There’s always the windows, and the water couldn’t possibly fill this entire room, anyway. Right?

Wrong, my fear whispers. It’s to my shoulders now. The filing cabinets are almost completely submerged—if only I’d been able to finish digitizing the files sooner—and every other piece of furniture is underwater. Noah swims over to me and grabs hold of my waist, yanking me close. He puts his lips close to my ear and shouts, “The weight of the water will make the walls collapse!”

“What if it doesn’t?” I shout back.

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