Page 27 of Fate & Monsters
And I’d gotten to her first. I flushed with pride to think of it.
A door closed, and my head snapped up. I recognized the cadence of her elegant steps seconds before silvery blue hair rounded a lofty bookshelf. My heart kicked higher, and my tail coiled with anticipation.
Her lashes fluttered, her stare almost dreamy as she faltered at the sight of me. She flicked her glimmering sapphire eyes over my crossed ankles, up my black trousers, to my arms, crossed over my chest, and finally landed on my face. Pink tinted her cheeks, and she averted her gaze.
“You’re here,” I said as a way of greeting.
She cleared her throat. “Yes, it appears I am.”
“Having second thoughts?” An insensible chuckle escaped me.
“No!” she blurted. “No, not about learning to read, it’s—” she held her hands close to her chest as she side-eyed me, chewing her plump bottom lip as she did, “—well, I suppose I had strange dreams.”
“Anything of note?” My ribs clenched around my erratically beating heart. I inhaled slowly to retain my composure. I pulled a chair out from the secluded table at the back of the library. We wouldbe perfectly alone in the comforting embrace of shadows, books, and the permeating warmth of a fire in the nearby fireplace.
She avoided my eyes as I pushed the chair in for her. I took the opportunity to admire the column of her neck curving into her shoulder and the threads of hair splayed there and down her back. What I wouldn’t give to reach out and brush those strands from her shoulder. To feel her skin and watch her pulse skip at my touch.
My fingers twitched, but I refrained. Barely.
“Nothing,” she answered quickly. “Strange things I wouldn’t know how to describe, anyway.”
A heady scent rose with her normal smell. That sweet-musk perfume of desire I’d grown familiar with in the darkest hours of the night. My eyes widened as I stared down at her, still close enough to touch, to feel her gentle warmth. Had she dreamt of me? Was she aroused just being in my presence as I was for her?
A hesitant smile turned up at me, and I realized I’d been standing over her, gulping in her scent like a deranged fiend. I settled myself into the adjacent seat and swallowed the cloying hunger on the back of my tongue. I needed to pull myself together if we were going to survive these reading lessons. My eternal damnation sat beside me, and I was barreling closer to the edge with each passing moment. A vacuum of longing, and with those sapphire doe-eyes looking up at me, I wasinevitably sucked in.
A civil interaction was needed to classify the lessons, or our time together, as a success. A woman of her caliber needed to be wooed, and I believed I could endear myself to her. She had a wise innocence about her, something about the ageless, fathomless depths in her eyes… I shook myself free of my spiraling thoughts.
A few moments passed as I arranged parchments and books, all the while aware of her staring at me. Her brows were slightly pinched, mouth pursed, as if contemplating an unsolvable puzzle. I felt like the specimen of her conundrum.
When we locked eyes, she blinked and fiddled with a loose sheet of paper at the edge of the table. Her lips parted as if searching for words to say. Instead, she pinched her mouth and stared off into the swaying fire, watching embers spit and flicker in the air. A tension hung between us like a fog, rife with uncertainty and unknowns.
“Before we get started, I was thinking,” her head snapped up, tipped sideways as she observed me, “we should start with something simple. One of the first things most learn when reading and writing is how to spell your name.”
Her expression fell and her shoulders slumped. “But I don’t have a name.”
“Right.” I stroked my chin, pretending to think as if I hadn’t agonized over this suggestion all night. “What if I provided a name for you?”
A light blazed in her eyes. Like a supernova erupting, morphing into thousands of newgalaxies. My blood sparked in my veins and a burning flush doused me from head to tail. Her innocent and eager expression purified my desire to name her. It was only because she was mine, because she belonged to me. It was only right that I named her.
“A name of my own.” Yet her voice drifted off. She stared over my shoulder at the wall, unseeing and distant. With one simple suggestion, she had abandoned me as her mind drifted to another life, another world. She had gone back to wherever she came from and left me in darkness.
“Yes.” Her hair felt silky after her morning bath. She smelled like the floral soaps the imps bathed her with. A shudder trembled through her as I brushed her hair over her shoulder. Her breath caught when my fingers lingered at the base of her neck. “How do you like the name Astoria?”
A maudlin smile curved her lips upward. Not quite a genuine show of joy, but appreciative. She nodded before dropping her attention to the parchment on the table. “It seems I will never be what—who—I was before. Then I must be Astoria from now on.”
Chapter 10
Sylph.
That was my name. That was my designation, my honorific. All the world knew me, and there was never a world in which I wasn’t known. All my life, I knew exactly who I was. And even when I was alone, I knew there were others. Sylphs had always been, always were, and we… they lived forever.
A rift existed within me where I once existed. A chasm where I had been stolen. A well now filled with an overflow of misery. Containing the tide was like holding together a fracturing dam with bare hands. A lesson in futility.
A voice like the distant rumble of thunder drew me from the mire of my thoughts. “You know, I must admit, I’m astounded at how quickly you’re learning.” Mavros had met me in the library each afternoon for the past few days, instructing me on the basics of letters.
“Careful, my lord, that edged close to acompliment.” Our eyes met, and I noted the dilation of his pupils. His irises were riveting. Like living flames staring back at me from a black canvas. My cheeks prickled with heat under the intensity of his gaze.
He scoffed, a rumbling growl of a sound, as he sat back in his chair. His mouth quirked as he watched me. “I’ve never given a compliment in my life. I don’t think I’ll start now.”
