Page 21 of Embers of Fate
“Andyou called,” she adds, a hint of amusement in her voice.
“Yeah. Well, no...” I stammer, my face flushing with embarrassment. Gods, can I salvage any shred of dignity after this disaster? “The phone... I... kind of... dropped it, and it must have dialed your number?” It’s a flimsy excuse, but I cling to it like a lifeline.
“Oh.” Her response is short, noncommittal, but I’ll take it. Anything is better than the alternative.
“So, uh… let’s talk about that tongue ring...” I tease, desperate to steer the conversation away from my clumsiness.
Sam’s laugh is a soft, musical purr that sends pleasant shivers down my spine. “Isthatwhy you called?” she asks, her voice playful and light. I can picture the smile on her face, and it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.
“That alone.” I chuckle, unable to keep the grin from my face. “Yeah...” I sink down onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard as a sense of contentment washes over me.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” she blurts out, the amusement fading from her velvety voice, replaced by genuine remorse.
“Don’t...” I utter, harsher than I intended. “It’s not your fault. Bram should never have stormed into your home like that.” I pause, considering my next words carefully. “I’m just glad he made it out alive.”
“Yeah...” she breathes, relief evident in her tone. “Me too.”
I flinch, surprise and confusion warring within me. “Really?” I mumble. “I thought your lot hated my clan.”
“And we do,” Sam admits. “But... um... Ilikeyou.”
My eyes fly open, my heart soaring at her words. She likes me. A warm, pleasant wave washes over me, and for a moment, I’m certain my heart is melting.
Silence stretches between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence that feels like a shared secret, a moment of understanding.
“Sam,” I say at last, my voice grave and resolved, cutting through the stillness. “I want to see you.”
The words hang in the air, a declaration, a plea, a promise. I hold my breath, waiting for her response, my entire being aching for her.
In that moment, nothing else matters. Not the centuries of animosity between our families, not the impossible obstacles that stand in our way. All that matters is her, and the desperate, all-consuming need to be near her.
I close my eyes, sending a silent prayer to the gods, to fate, to anyone who might be listening.
Please, let her say yes. Please, let this be the start of something beautiful, something real.
I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.
13
SAM
The lights are dim, the gallery purposely cold—a necessary requirement for an exhibition showcasing ancient clothing. I nibble on my lower lip, a nervous habit I can’t seem to shake. If I keep this up, it’s going to burst open. I try to focus on the antique costumes spread before me, a mesmerizing array of velvet and the finest vintage silks, delicate embroidery clinging to the fabric by the frailest of threads. All this beauty surrounds me, and I know I should be captivated by it, but my mind whirls with rattled anticipation, making it impossible to concentrate.
I check my wristwatch for the umpteenth time. It’s not late. In fact, I arrived early, having snuck out of home all by myself. No guards, no entourage. Given the recent craziness in my household, I doubt anyone will even notice my absence. Everyone’s attention is fixated on the Deverauxs, my brother absolutely triumphant about securing that coveted head chair at the witches’ séance.
“The Opera?” a voice purrs in my ear, sending delicious shivers down my spine.
I turn my head, my gaze meeting ocean eyes that never fail to take my breath away. Nik’s lips stretch into a faint smile that slowly broadens, and I can’t stop myself from smiling back, my heart fluttering in my chest. “Do you mean a crowded place where no one will notice us?” I tease, lifting my brow slightly. “Yeah.”
Nik’s warm fingers interlace with mine, sending tingles through my limbs and setting my cheeks ablaze. His touch summons vivid memories of that night at the club... Gods, the magic those fingers created, the way they set my body on fire.
As he draws near, I catch a whiff of his intoxicating cologne, his face temptingly close to mine. “You’re admiring the costumes?” Nik asks coolly, his gaze gliding to the exhibit. I’m immediately grateful for the momentary respite he’s giving to my racing heart.
His hold on my hand tightens, a silent reassurance that sets my nerves on fire.
“I was,” I manage to say, trying to sound casual even as I’m shaking inside, my body extremely aware of his proximity.
We saunter to the central piece in the room, our steps in perfect sync.
