Page 86 of This Dark Descent
“Thank you,” she said.
“Do you want to try it on?” Damien nodded toward the open door of his bedroom. A little thrill went through her, and she nodded.
The enchanted lights inside his bedroom were dimmed, leaving the room caressed in shadow. The windows were draped in dark velvet curtains, the bed pushed against the far wall awash with black silk sheets, still rumpled from being slept in. A book lay open atop one pillow, and a small collection of empty glasses on the nightstand made being here feel suddenly personal.
She closed the door and changed. As she did a series of clasps beneath her arm, music drifted in from the other room. She felt her face flush. Thankful for the solitude and the dark, she pressed a hand to her chest, where the tip of her Saba’s necklace pressed against the sweetheart neckline of the dress, and let out a slow breath.
Then she stepped into the foyer.
Damien surveyed the night beyond the windows, a glass in one hand, the other tucked casually into a pocket. He turned as she entered, his expression slowly slackening as his gaze ran along the length of the dress bit by bit. By the time his eyes returned to hers, Ari had forgotten to breathe.
“You look perfect,” he told her, and she drew the words into herself. Over the last few weeks, the fear that lived inside her had given way to something else, something that burned. She had yet to fully unroot that fear, but she had learned to build atop it.
Setting down his glass, Damien offered her a small black box. “I had this made too.”
She took it, removing the lid to reveal a thin gold band with an insetemerald. For a moment, all she could do was stare. The dress alone was worth more than she’d ever held in her hands, andthe ring.
“The stone is flush with the band and without a back.” Damien slipped it from the box. “It will be in contact with your skin at all times.”
So she could use it to enchant herself at any time. He really did think of everything.
He gave her a questioning look, and she held out her right hand. Gently, he slid the band onto her ring finger. It fit perfectly.
“Do you like it?”
She ran her thumb over the band. “I love it.”
He held out his hand, and she took it without thinking, the same warmth she remembered from before, the same callused fingers.
A steady melody encircled them as he placed one hand on her hip, the other clasped about her own. She set her free one on the solid muscle of his shoulder, her fingers pressing into his back. His body was warm against hers, his fingers lines of fire on her hip. She loved how aware she was of his touch, of him. Things that had once felt foreign to her felt right.
The dance was not quick. It was made of slow, sweeping motions and gentle, back-arching dips. It left little room between them.
As they turned and glided, the press of Damien’s hips and hands guiding her, Ari’s body came alight. Something burned inside of her. She clung to that feeling, to the power that coursed through her body with the understanding that the look on Damien’s face, the intensity in his eyes, meant he felt it too.
The song slowed, then faded. They didn’t break apart.
“If I didn’t know any better, I might think you were trying to seduce me,” she breathed, unable to bring herself to look at him.
“It seems only fair,” he replied, voice low. “For what you do to me.”
The words curled around her like verillion smoke, drawing her in. She closed her eyes, her hand tightening on his shoulder. This wasn’t right. Shedidn’t deserve this. Not after what she had done. This contentment, this happiness—a monster did not deserve those feelings.
“You don’t understand,” she said softly. “My power—” She drew back. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”
Damien held fast to her, closing the distance she’d created. One hand reached out, tilting her chin up so they were eye to eye. “I told you, I am not afraid of you.”
Pressed this close, she could feel his voice reverberating in her chest. “You are magnificent, Arielle Kadar, and I will suffer no contradictions from anyone’s lips, least of all your own.”
Then he kissed her.
It was soft, and surprisingly gentle, like the brush of fingertips. She became utterly aware of the press of his hands against her body, one on her hip, the other sliding around to weave into her hair. Her fingers ran up his sides, curving into the lean muscles of his back. The pounding of the storm against the house drowned the skipping beat of her heart.
When he pulled away, her face felt flush with heat, her breath stilled in her throat. The slate-gray intensity of his stare held her pinioned, a bright desire alight inside them. She felt it too. Without a word, she pressed her lips to his once more, and lost herself to the storm.
SHE AWOKE TOfind herself standing in the foyer.
It was dark, the lights extinguished for the night. Bit by bit, she became aware of the world around her. The dying embers in the hearth. The moonlight slanting in through the wall of windows.
