Page 44 of Bound By Crimson
Shadows bent and folded around her, but she could see the glimmer above.
The pull.
She climbed slowly, hand trailing the cold, smooth railing. Every step made her pulse louder.
Then—she smelled him.
That same dark, molten scent that haunted her dreams.
Smoke.
Musk.
Something ancient.
Her thighs tightened.
Her mouth parted.
He was here.
Waiting.
She moved like a woman entranced.
Somewhere in the distance, faint music played—low and melancholy. A piano. Just a few broken chords, drifting like the last breath before a kiss.
And then—silence.
It fell thick as velvet.
Her own heartbeat filled the void, loud and wild in her ears.
Down a long, narrow corridor lit only by flickering sconces, she moved.
Breathless.
Burning.
Forward.
Like a moth to a flame.
The hallway opened into a room—a bedroom, though even that word felt wrong.
This was a temple of seduction.
Hundreds of candles flickered across every surface—mantels, windowsills, candelabras.
Their glow painted the walls in shades of gold and sin.
Crimson velvet drapes lined the windows, pooling into puddles of blood-red folds.
Shadowy mirrors covered two entire walls, swallowing her reflection and spitting her back, wide-eyed, breathless, undone.
Red and black roses spilled across the floor like offerings.
A grand piano sat against the far wall, its lid closed—but she knew it had been him.
