Page 73 of Librarian

He stands and stretches. “How was the watch?”

“Freezing cold and boring,” I reply. “Enjoy.”

For the last two hours, I’ve been listening to the noise from the hall grow steadily louder and louder from my spot on the wall outside. Now it’s his turn.

To his credit, he doesn’t seem to mind, just glances at the dance floor with one last soft look, then turns on his heel to leave.

Now it’s just me and the Ackland heir.

“Just be thankful Eddy stopped trying to make us all dance before you got here.” North shudders. “And that the fucking bagpipes have been put away.”

True. This whole disaster started as a traditional cèilidh—no doubt, my grandfather was over the moon about that—but now it’s devolved into raucous pop music that hurts my ears.

“Where are the others?” I ask.

“Lambert and Jasper are with Kyrith, dancing,” he says. “And her personal stalker is on your left, revising for his magister exams.”

I glance at the seemingly unoccupied table beside us, and there’s a gust of air like a sigh before Leo’s invisibility spell drops.

The Irishman is hunched over a glass of whisky, and there’s a half-empty bottle by his elbow.

“Revising my arse,” he grumbles. “It’s impossible to hear myself think.”

“Bullshit. You’ve just been busy staring at her like the rest of us.”

“Can ya blame me?”

“No. That dress is…something else.”

What are they talking about? I search the crowd again, sipping my wine.

I need to corner the Librarian at some point for a repeat of what happened on my piano. The phantom taste of her on my lips the next day drove me insane. But when I tried to find her to finish what we started, she was in the library getting railed against a bookshelf by North with his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet.

I catch a flash of brown hair but dismiss it. Kyrith never leaves her hair down; it’s always braided or?—

Fuck. Itisher.

My head falls to one side, jaw dropping.

North snorts. “Told you so.”

The Librarian is liquid poetry, back-to-back with Edlynn as they writhe on the dance floor. Her head is tilted back, lips gently parted, and those spectacular eyes are closed, like she’s in ecstasy. Like the Goddess Hedone reached down and swiped away every single concern that normally weighs on her, and now all that’s left is fluid grace and eroticism.

“I don’t know whether to kill your sister or send her flowers,” Leo mutters. “That dress…”

The dress in question is thrusting her tits up and out like an offering. The ruffled skirt is shorter than anything she would normally wear, and the way the hem rises as she follows her friend’s moves, then drops low to the music is enough to make me raise a brow and take another sip of my wine.

North leans back. “Eddy’s always been good with that girly shit.”

“Why are they alone?” I demand, loosening my top button with one hand because somehow the room is now stifling. “I thought they were watching her.”

“We had to deal with Liam,” Jasper announces, sliding in on North’s other side. “Drunk fucker got handsy with them and asked if they’d make out so he could watch.”

“Does ‘Liam’ still have all his teeth?” North asks, knuckles white on his empty beer.

“Aye, but he’ll be singing soprano in the shower for a while.”

Lambert reappears, cheap beers cradled in both hands. He sets one in front of North and another in front of Jasper. “Apparently we’re no fun, so I guess we’ve got no choice but to moon over her from afar with the rest of you.”