by Oates, Carol
Candra smiled too, although she didn’t feel it. She was too focused on the way he had settled her foot on his thigh and the tips of his fingers, which were ghosting up her calf, shooting bursts of heat through her body. She closed her eyes and bit the inside of her lip to stifle the whimper trying to escape. Then she felt the smooth surface of the small curleax pass over her skin. The feeling was like a searing flame that didn’t burn or hurt at all as energy passed through Sebastian to her. It was overwhelming, maybe because now she knew how it felt to heal and be healed. Healing someone meant sharing a small part of yourself, giving yourself over to the power of your own life force and allowing some of it to pass to another person. There was something deeply emotional, almost spiritual about it.
Candra felt something soft against the place where the small cut had been and opened her eyes to see Sebastian’s head bent and his lips pressed to her leg. Her breath caught in her throat sharply and came out as a gasp. He pulled up quickly and looked at her as if trying to gauge her reaction. Shock, delight, amazement, joy, excitement…there were too many emotions overpowering Candra for her to register just a single one.
Sebastian’s wings were opened slightly and bent in at the joint, the golden-tinted edges barely touching the floor, and the room was filled with his scent, his presence taking over the space as if he had always been there. Candra felt as though she couldn’t remember a time anymore when he wasn’t there. He carefully placed her foot on the floor next to his knee, trailing his fingers over her ankle. Shivers rocketed up her spine. When Sebastian’s eyes met Candra’s again, they possessed a dark quality, a deep need…a ravenous hunger. It made her heartbeat quicken once again. The room was thick with silence, only punctuated by halting breaths.
Sebastian reached up, his long fingers cupping Candra’s neck just under her ear, and his thumb grazed her cheek. Unintentionally, her lips parted and left a quiet sigh floating in the air between them. Any lingering doubt she possessed that Sebastian regretted their kiss was obliterated when in one swift movement he pulled himself up onto his knees and pressed his mouth to hers with a deep groan resonating with surrender.
Chapter Fifteen
The door of the elevator slid open ominously, or at least it felt that way as Candra swallowed down the enormous lump in her throat. Ananchel stood, arms crossed, pushing her ample breasts upward in the leather bustier she was wearing. She looked Candra up and down appraisingly with her ruby lips pursed. Candra was concerned about the way Draven seemed to be able to read her like a morning newspaper; surely he would see the difference in her today. She could see he suspected it last night, and she was sure today he would be able to confirm his suspicions. He would know her feelings toward Sebastian had changed.
The door pinged and began to close, yet Candra couldn’t make herself move forward. A black stiletto heeled boot stopped the movement, and the door slid back again.
“This is an unfamiliar side of you, Candra,” Ananchel observed as Candra hesitantly exited the doorway. “I don’t recall every seeing you so unsure.”
“You don’t know me very well then, Ananchel. I’m unsure about everything.”
Flame-hair hummed in contemplation and released the door, making Candra jump when the thump of metal meeting metal echoed through the long corridor.
“Jumpy too,” Ananchel mused.
“Was it you?” Candra asked accusingly, walking beside her to Draven’s quarters. Ananchel glanced at her sideways, not answering, and it only succeeded in aggravating her. “Please, Ananchel, don’t treat me like I’m stupid.”
“Then don’t behave as if you are.”
Candra glared at her, enraged, but Ananchel simply shrugged. “I remember a time when courtship was so much simpler. There were no games, no pretense. Everyone knew what was expected of them. There was order, balance, a modicum of decorum. Did you really think Draven would allow you to walk around unprotected?”
“I have protection.”
“Yes, so I heard.” Ananchel smirked. “But no, it wasn’t me.” She stopped at a door and waited.
“Aren’t I meeting Draven?”
Ananchel shrugged nonchalantly. “He said bring you to the library, I brought you to the library.”
“What a good little pet you are,” Candra retorted snidely. She didn’t know what possessed her. There was just something about Ananchel that got on her nerves. She always gave Candra the feeling she knew more than her. It was like Ananchel was in on a secret that Candra wasn’t allowed to know about.
Ananchel’s eyes tightened, and the flecks of red-gold sparkled like kindling bursting to life, but she very quickly controlled herself, rolling her shoulder back and standing tall. “He’s waiting,” she informed Candra emotionlessly, before turning and walking away the way they came.
Candra turned toward the ornately carved door and took a deep breath, hoping Ananchel didn’t just walk away so easily because she knew Draven was waiting on the other side of the door to deal with her. It wasn’t as if she had broken any rules; she was free until the ball. Candra’s blood ran cold at the idea: after the ball she was no longer free. It seemed she had so much more to lose now than ever before. Sebastian had spent the night in her bed for the second time, the first being the night she’d healed him, and that wasn’t really the same. This time there had been a lot more touching and kissing and chemistry that sparked and sizzled. Candra had eventually fallen asleep lying against his solid chest with his arms wrapped around her like iron vices. When she’d woken and looked up to him, he was already awake and watching her intently. They’d very quickly picked up where they’d left off until it was time for Candra to leave.
Sebastian’s whole demeanor had shifted, becoming remote and detached. He’d left without a word while she’d been in the shower. She still hadn’t told him how she felt.
The library, Ananchel had said. That didn’t sound too bad. Draven was hardly likely to burst into flames of rage surrounded by his favorite books. Candra took a deep breath and turned the heavy brass door knob, listening to the creaking and groaning of the mechanism to distract herself from her own nervousness.
She didn’t know why she expected anything other than grand. So far the only rooms in the building that she’d seen that didn’t resemble something from a castle or a seventeenth century estate were Draven’s rooms, which were large, modern and elegant rather than the grandiose paneled rooms with elaborate carvings and filled with antique furniture. This room was no different. High walls covered in dark wooden shelves housed what must have been thousands of volumes. There were two intricately carved desks facing each other with brass reading lamps casting an eerie light over what looked like work carelessly discarded. In fact, there were a few lamps dotted around the room, next to wingback chairs and the long studded leather sofa by the fireplace.
The only natural light came through two arched leaded and stained glass windows, and reflected off the polished wood floor like muted jewels had been scattered there. Candra chose to not look too closely at the images depicted in the glass, preferring ignorance to having another image like the one of Brie on the battlefield seared into her memory. The walls that weren’t covered with shelves held paintings. Some were modern and blockish with dazzling bright colors, frameless and out of place with the décor. Others were oil paintings, older and faded a little, with delicate strokes and textures. They all held a shared characteristic—wings. They all depicted wings.
Draven stood in front of one of the images, loading a black disc onto a gramophone. The box was old, the wood aged and darkened over time, but polished to a gleaming shine, and the brass cylinder looked like a golden flower, opening and blooming toward the sun.
“Thank you for coming,” he greeted Candra formally.
“I said I would.”
“Yes, your honestly continues to surprise me.” He lifted the arm of the player and placed it over the record, filling the room with the crackling sound of piano music Candra didn’t recognize. Draven took a
step back and turned to look at her, holding out his hand in invitation.
Candra had a sudden, brief moment of panic. She had never dance with a man before, at least not in the formal way suggested by the music flowing through the room. She walked toward him slowly and slipped her hand into his. The atmosphere between them that had begun to relax was once again strained. Candra tried her best to loosen up, telling herself yet again that she had done nothing wrong. It was difficult seeing the disappointment in his navy eyes when he ran his thumb speculatively across her lower lip that she knew was slightly swollen from hours spent kissing. She darted her eyes away, feeling the blush rise in her cheeks as he took her free hand. He placed it on his shoulder and settled his own at her lower back, before leading them in a slow dance.
“There will be dancing at the ball,” Draven told her by way of an explanation.
The heat of his fingers penetrated through the fabric of her shirt, warming her skin. She didn’t answer, keeping her eyes on her hand at his shoulder. They needed to talk, but Candra wasn’t sure where to begin. The ball was coming closer, and she needed answers. She needed to know what to expect…besides dancing and flying, obviously.
“I trust that you haven’t changed your mind?” he asked lightly, and she saw him swallow stiffly in her peripheral view.
“Have you?” she asked, already knowing the answer. “Will you give up? Will you release me from obligation?”
“No.”
“I won’t walk away.”
“Others would—” he sighed, turning her again “—under the circumstances.”
“I’m not others,” Candra said decisively, finally meeting his eyes.
His body seemed to relax, and his lips widened into an easy grin. “No, and I’m very glad for that. You will see, Candra, that this is the way it was meant to be.”
“I’m not sure I will,” she disagreed in a voice barely above a whisper.
“You will,” he promised, turning her again.
There seemed little point to Candra in discussing what had happened with Sebastian. Draven’s concern only appeared to extend to her keeping to her side of their deal. He was utterly convinced she would eventually come around to his line of thinking. She didn’t have much experience with falling in love, but what she did know for sure was the physical spark she felt between them was diminishing as her feelings for Sebastian grew. But for now, she still felt it: the ghost of a thrill to be in Draven’s arms, the heat that radiated outward from where they touched, and the desire that sparked every time she looked in his eyes.
The worst part for her was that she still couldn’t think of Draven as being a bad person, despite what was happening. Draven wanted to protect those who looked to him, and he believed that by having Candra with him, that would happen. It was admirable in a bizarre way. She could identify with that aspect of his personality. They both only wanted what they thought best for those around them.
“You’ll probably spend quite a bit of time in this room,” Draven commented, casually glancing around them.
“Why is that?”
“Well, it the most conducive to study, I think.”
“Study?” Candra asked, stopping and pulling back.
Draven tilted his head to the side innocently, as if he didn’t know very well what she was talking about. “I presumed you would want to finish out the school year?”
She wasn’t falling for it. She knew he was trying to appease her; he was trying to win her over with something he knew she wanted. School was a carrot, one of many Candra suspected she would soon be offered.
“Of course I want to, but I thought…”
“You thought I would make you give up everything,” he finished for her, his tone flat and dejected, indicating she had hurt his feelings. Draven returned to the gramophone, picking the arm up, and suddenly a heavy silence descended on the room. “That’s not what I’m about, Candra. You will only give up what you have to. I want us to be friends.”
“Friends.” Candra raised an eyebrow.
“In the beginning, at least.” He grinned cockily. “We can move on, once you are finished school here. With me, you can study anywhere you wish. You can be anything you want to be. I want to make you happy, and I don’t expect you to give up everything.”
Candra frowned and turned from him, making her way over to one of the couches. “Except for my family and the one I love.”
“Ah.” Draven nodded slowly. He moved to sit on the arm at the opposite end of the couch and pulled his feet up to the seat. “So you’ve told him?” he asked inquisitively. The tightness had returned to his jaw.
Candra crossed her legs and sank further back into the corner. She shook her head, pressing her lips together.
“I’m sorry this is the way it has to be,” he said sincerely, resting his hands in his lap and weaving his fingers together, but leaving no room for debate.
Candra sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly, looking around the room—anything to avoid the weight of his depthless eyes on her. “The paintings in here are beautiful,” she commented graciously in an attempt to change the subject.
“Thank you.” He beamed, clearly pleased, and slipped down onto the seat, sidling up beside her. “Maybe I’ll paint you too, one day.”
“You painted these?” Candra asked, surprised and impressed, darting her eyes around for another glance. She had always loved art and wanted to try her hand at painting. Her few attempts were pitifully amateurish, more like a schoolchild’s finger-painting efforts.
“Yes.” Draven chuckled modestly. “I’ve tried many styles but haven’t found one that suits. I tend to keep a studio wherever I’m living.” He shrugged. “Someday I hope it will come together. You know, when inspiration meets talent?” His eyes widened briefly, almost like he was dubious of it ever happening. “So far, I’m told my paintings display one or the other, never both together.”
Another thing Draven was good at, even though judging by his sentiment he lacked faith in his own ability. Again her mind screamed at her that she should hate him. She wanted to, for what he was making her give up, but she couldn’t.
The seat beside her shifted, and she felt Draven’s warm breath exhale across her cheek. When she turned her face to him, he was only inches away, leaning to her. She had no doubt of his intentions when she looked into his dark, hooded eyes and found herself inclining away from him, pressing further into the corner or the sofa. Candra’s hands trembled in her lap, and she squeezed them tightly into fists. Maybe this was inevitable if she and Draven were to be together, but she wasn’t sure she was ready yet. She’d just spent a good portion of the night before and the morning kissing Sebastian. It was his mouth she wanted on her now, his hands.
“Tell me why you and Sebastian are the way you are? Why can’t there be another way?” Candra was stalling for time. Draven knew it, and she knew it.
His nostrils flared at the very mention of Sebastian’s name.
Her heart rate picked up, and her traitorous stomach tumbled with butterflies of excitement at the idea of Draven’s full, soft lips on hers.
He brushed Candra’s hair away from her face and skimmed the edge of his little finger along her heated cheek. “He refuses to listen, and if he won’t, none of the others will.”
“I don’t understand,” she breathed, aware her chest was rising and falling rapidly.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” Draven warned in a seductively calm voice. “Close your eyes.”
Candra did as he asked, ignoring the stab of guilt she felt drive through her chest. This was a betrayal, plain and simple. She hadn’t told Sebastian how she felt about him yet, and here she was prepared to kiss another. All thought faded when Draven’s warm lips pressed to the corner of her mouth, and she felt his minty breath on her skin. Her finger clawed the fabric of her jeans because she didn’t want it to feel nice, but it did. Then his lips brushed slowly and carefully across hers, and she felt a spark in the pit of her stomach. His fi
ngers trailed down her cheek tenderly, over the line of her jaw, coaxing her lips to part. The soft, moist, grainy flesh of his tongue touched hers delicately, and his finger slipped down her throat, winding around to the back of her neck and pulling her to him. Without conscious decision, Candra’s hands released from her jeans, one smoothing up the ridges of his defined back over his ribs and the other slipping around his waist, bunching his T-shirt in her fingers. Everything about it felt exciting and yet at the same time wrong.
Her fingers passed over the spot on his back where the bone thickened, her other hand had already wound into his hair when she finally came to her senses. It was wrong; it was all wrong. He wasn’t the one she wanted.
“Wait,” Candra pleaded, pushing Draven away.
He moved easily, compliantly, licking his lips and gazing at her like a starving man seeing food for the first time in days. He was still near enough to only need to shift his weight and he would be kissing her again.
“I can’t,” Candra whispered in a ragged voice. Her heart, her body, her mind…they were all screwed up, conflicted about what she was feeling and what she should.
Draven scrunched his eye shut tight like he was fighting against himself and then moved away from her, sitting back heavily. “It’s okay.” He frowned tensely.
“I’m sorry,” Candra apologized. “I just…I can’t. It doesn’t feel…” She tripped over her words, trying to get them out.
“I said it’s okay,” Draven repeated sternly, running his fingers through his hair. He stood up quickly, spinning away from her so that she couldn’t see his face. “Don’t embarrass either of us by making excuses, please.”
Either of us? He’s embarrassed. The idea confused Candra a little. Draven, who was normally so confident and in control, sounded flustered. She was about to call him out on it when a commotion in the hallway made them both look toward the door.
Lofi burst through moments later. She was pale with red-rimmed eyes as though she’d been crying. Her normally immaculate hair was mussed up, and she was wild-eyed and angry.
