Page 152 of House of Roots and Ruin
Viktor’s eyebrows furrowed together. “It’s so strange…I’ve spent my life being angry at him. Being angry and hating and loathing him. Railing against our imprisonment, dreaming up ways to make him pay, to make him sorry. But when it comes down to it, when it really matters…I still want his approval. Isn’t that ridiculous?”
Carefully, I laid my hand over the top of his. “Not ridiculous.” I wanted to say more but my words felt too jumbled to lay out in a clean line. “Come on,” I finally said, standing up and pulling him after me. “Let’s go for that walk.”
He smiled, but it wasn’t the sly grin of triumph I’d expected. Instead, he stooped down to grab the candle before gently tugging back toward the passageway.
I paused, envisioning our bodies vying for space in the narrow tunnel, each accidental brush and bump stoking my inner fires until I pushed him up against the wall, pressing my mouth to his while my hands roamed, claiming every inch of him for myself.
The echoes of the world’s scream rang out in my mind, stopping me.
“You first,” I instructed. In the pit of my stomach, I knew I was making a terrible mistake.
“As the lady commands,” he said, disappearing into the darkness.
I made the shutting of the panel into a bigger business than it warranted, anxious to put additional space between us.
These were temporary feelings, I reminded myself. Lust not love, desire not destiny. This wanting would pass, as would Viktor’s time at Chauntilalie. He’d be gone and my equilibrium would return. It was momentary madness, nothing more.
“Did you lock it?”
He turned back as he noticed my absence. The candle threw strange shadows across the slatted wooden walls as he returned for me and I’d been right. The space was too small for the both of us. His scent filled the air, heavy and green and strange, like a stormy summer night, just before the lightning began to fall.
Before the stars fell…
“I did,” I insisted, pressing myself against the beadboard in an attempt to keep my distance from him.
“Careful,” he warned, gesturing to the candle. “You don’t want to get burned.”
I wondered if he knew how much truth his words held.
“Come,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him.
The passage was narrow and it was hard to see much of anything with such limited lighting, but the floor was smooth and flat. I pushed aside any imaginings of daintily twisted ankles rescued by strong, embracing arms. One less thing to worry over.
We came to a fork and after a moment’s pause, Viktor turned to the left.
“Do you know where we’re going?”
“I think. Mostly. I told Julien we ought to be leaving little markings in chalk for ourselves but he insists we leave no trace of our presence ‘upon such cursed grounds.’ ” He mimicked Julien’s disaffected cadence with eerie accuracy.
I traced one hand along the wall and my fingertips came away coated in a dusty grime. “Does he truly think the house is cursed?”
He snickered. “Have you met Julien? I’ve never known a more scientifically driven mind. If you slit open his veins, reason and logic would bleed out all over your best carpet.” He sighed. “You’ve no idea what it’s like living with such a dullard. Though,” he added, considering, “youhavebeen with Alex.”
“He’s not dull,” I defended.
“His bedside table is littered with books,” he said with a snort. “Stacks and stacks of them.”
I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “There’s nothing wrong with reading.”
“They’ll probably smother him one night in his sleep. Maybe you as well. You really ought to call the wedding off.” He glanced over his shoulder, quickly, as if trying not to show his interest.
“I’m not calling off my wedding over a stack of books.”
“Stacks,” he corrected.
“Not even then.”
We went up a short series of steps, five high, then down a long length to another set of them, climbing ever higher in the house. “Whatwouldmake you call it off?”
