Page 69 of Goldrage
First things first. Water for this desert in my throat. Clean clothes to face whatever fresh hell today brings. And somehow, some way, I need to meet with Aurelia without anyone noticing.
Because last night’s visit cannot happen again.
No matter how much we both need it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
AURELIA
My fingers trace the leather spines; each book holds its own secret. The estate’s library has become my refuge, though not for the reasons anyone watching might assume. Most of these books haven’t been looked at in years, making them perfect hiding place for Valentine’s notes.
Yesterday’s note, tucked inside a first edition ofWuthering Heights, was brief:Another Consortium party tomorrow tonight. J and L to attend.
Relief had flooded through me at those simple words. Julian and Lady Harrow are gone for the night and I can breathe again. I can wear Adrian’s gift without fear of those manicured claws ripping it from my throat again.
The emerald necklace rests against my collarbone now. I’ve kept it hidden in my room since the day I took it back from Lady Harrow. But tonight, with the monsters away, I’m free to let it sparkle against my skin.
I can feel Adrian’s love with me.
As I wander the library, a slim volume from EmilyDickinson catches my eye. Actually, the way it sticks out just a bit from its neighbors. It’s subtle but I know what it means since no one else touches these books. My pulse quickens as I slide the book free, tucking it beneath my arm with another one. Then I move outside to the garden.
Crickets have already started singing as I wander the winding paths. The perfume of flowers mingles with the scent of fresh-cut grass, creating an almost narcotic sweetness. I choose a secluded spot near the fountain, then I check Valentine’s note that’s in the Dickenson novel.
Tonight. Midnight. His room. 20 minutes.
My heart flips. Twenty minutes. God, twenty whole minutes with Adrian. I can’t believe Valentine got us so much time. I’m so grateful. But also… why? Does Adrian need to talk about his plan? I bite my lip and grin as I stuff the note in my bra.
Or maybe… Adrian is already trying to break our agreement.
The thought of him unable to resist pulling me into his arms sends heat pooling low in my belly. We’ve been careful. Stolen glances across the dinner table. Brushing each other lightly if we pass in the hallway. The constant, gnawing ache of wanting someone just out of reach.
Either way, joy bubbles up like champagne. Twenty minutes. I’ll take whatever scraps of time the universe grants us.
It’s 11:55 p.m. when I slip from my room. Silk whispers against my skin. I chose this nightgown specifically for how it clings and flows, how the pale fabric turns almost translucent. With bare feet, I tiptoe through the mansion, avoiding any guards thanks to Valentine’s instructions.
Everything goes smoothly and soon I’m outside Adrian’s door. I open the door silently, and the sight that greets me makes my heart flutter again.
Adrian stands by the window, bathed in moonlight like some shirtless fallen angel. He’s gorgeous. He’smine. At least, for 20 minutes.
“Aurelia.” My name on his lips sends goosebumps along my skin
His eyes devour me, tracking from my bare feet up my legs, lingering where the nightgown clings to my hips, my breasts, before finally meeting my gaze. Heat flares in those dark depths, quickly hidden but not before I catch it.
I move forward, every cell in my body screaming to close the distance, to lose myself in his solid warmth. But our agreement—that goddamn agreement we made to keep our distance—stops me like an invisible wall. I won’t be the one to break it. He started it, so he has to break it first.
The space between us thrums with unspoken need.
His gaze drops to my necklace, and that familiar smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. “So you regained it?”
I catch my bottom lip between my teeth, nodding.The gesture feels oddly shy, like I’m fifteen again and he’s noticing me for the first time.
“How are you feeling?” Adrian asks, settling into the chair by the window. Always putting distance between us. Always the responsible one. “You look… you look beautiful.”
“Better now,” I say, sitting on the edge of his bed. The mattress dips beneath my weight, and I resist the urge to lie back, to stretch out like a cat and see if his control would crack. “I’ve missed talking to you. Really talking, not just glances.”
I study his face in the moonlight. The sharp angle of his jaw. The way his hair falls across his forehead, begging for my fingers to push it back. The subtle tension in his shoulders that tells me this distance is killing him too.
I could just lean back… spread my legs and…
