Page 54 of A Touch of Iron
My face heated and my breathing picked up speed as Alec angled closer. His minty breath fanned across my cheek and I was ready to pounce on him right then and there, but managed to restrain myself. One public outing was enough. We didn’t need to go for round two in an open hallway.
He leaned forward and whispered in my ear. “I told you the next time would be in my bed.”
His words sent shivers down my spine in the best way possible. I peered up at him, unable to contain my excitement. There was something about Alec that did things to me I couldn’t explain. I felt exhilarated whenever he was around.
He took me by the hand and led me down the hall to a black, ornate door that led to his personal quarters. When he placed his hand on the handle, I gulped audibly, realizing this was the first time he'd allowed me access to something so intimate. So many barriers had held us apart, but now there would be no secrets. Alec was letting me see it all.
The door swung open soundlessly. As we crossed the threshold, he waved his hand and an astounding array of candles burst into flame, illuminating his sanctuary with buttery warm light. I clutched his hand tighter and gaped. He chuckledbeside me and released my hand.
What the …
I stood there paralyzed, probably a lot longer than I realized. Had it not been for Alec's touch when he shut my gaping mouth, I probably would’ve turned into his personal statue.
“Don't look so shocked, Vi.”
“I'm sorry. I’ve wondered what your room looked like, but this was nothing like I imagined.”
He wore a wicked grin. “You were picturing my room?”
I gave him a playful shove.“Shut up!” I giggled and walked around thespace, noticing how it was sectioned into different living spaces.
There was a floor-to-ceilingbookcase bursting with leatherbound books. The man was an enigma, and damn, did I want him. Everything screamedAlec.From the black leather settees to the grey walls with pristine chrome accessories. The cold colors should have felt sterile, but they contrasted perfectly with the warmth of books and rich walnut. Candles perched on almost every horizontal surface: the black marble mantle, theside tables, and the large walnut wardrobe. There were even tall candelabras and a chandelier with flickering flames.
The room radiated a masculine energy that was entirely him. Yet, as I stepped further into his quarters, attempting to unravel thesecrets of the man I'd fallen for, I noticed a glint of white and black and gasped in shock.
“Is that—oh my God!” I raced past him, catching Alec's faint laugh in my dash to the artistry that was perfectly placed in front of his balcony doors.
“It's gorgeous,” I whispered in awe at the exquisite work of art. My heart thundered as I glided shaking fingers over the intricate details of the black and translucent lid that replicated the wing of a monarch butterfly.
“The artisan is fae, but he lives in the human world,” Alec explained. “He boasted that creating something that is part machine and part natural wonder was no easy task, but I think working in the human realm allowed him to get it perfect. Don't you think?” he asked casually.
“I didn't know you played.”
I reverently made myway to the ivory and ebony keys. I suddenly stopped dead in my tracks as I noticed the sheet music perched on the butterfly wing stand. He stood behind me, trailing scorching kisses along my neck, not at all concernedthat my heart felt like it had been ripped from my chest as I stared down at the notes that had always called to my soul.How did he know?“Why?” I asked.
I hadn’t played the piano since leaving the human realm, but I used to work at The Black Keys Bar & Bistro, located in Hell’s Kitchen in Manhattan. I waitressed at the dueling piano bar, but on slow nights or after most of the patrons left, I would sink onto the piano bench and be transported to a blissful state by playing Chopin.
“Why what?” He played coy, but his eyes burned with unbridled desire.
“Why this song? Why do you have a piano?”
“You. It's always been you.”
Tears welled in my eyes. Alec was systematically, tenderly undoing the tangled mess of emotions and barriers I’d long ago erected around myself.
“Did you know you can't touch a butterfly's wings?” he asked. I shook my head. “It reminded me of you. That touch of iron on your ankle stifled you—someone so beautiful, someone who should be revered, but was rendered untouchable. But I'm a selfishprick and I had to have something that reminded me of you, even if you werehis.” He wiped the tear that cascaded down my cheek with his thumb and brought it to his mouth, savoring the taste.
“Play for me?” I whispered, staring at his full lips.
He winked. “As you wish.”
The first note was slow, measured, and intimate. I sensed the dissonance between Chopin's poignant work and the man who played it with a velvety soft touch, pleasant to the ears. When he slipped on a note, I placed my hands over his and showed him the keys, allowing the notes to connect us. He removed his hands and I kept playing, transported to a different plane as he kissed my neck and cheek, sliding his hands over my shoulders and arms. The lick of fire he left in its wake ignited my chilled skin, until his lips grazed my ears and he whispered, “Don't mess up, or I will eat you right here until you cry out my name at least three times before I let you go.”
For the love of fae …
No sooner did his wicked command leave hislips, Imissed a note. I swallowed hard, growing wet with the promise of his words.
“Naughty little halfling. I think you may have done that on purpose.” He raised a brow, challenging me to deny it.
