A Throne of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 2)

“What’s happening?” Hadriel asked, following behind me as I reached the section on magic and magical types.

“I’m looking for a book.”

“You are pumping power out all around you, and it’s waking up my wolf, and it feels really great, but he is incredibly frustrated and confused at being trapped.”

“Is he an asshole like mine is?” I put the book back and kept looking.

“He’s not an alpha, so no. He’s more helpful than anything. I never knew what it was truly like to be alone until he was suppressed. I think that was the hardest to bear at first. And now…there are other things to fill the gap.”

“Like gardening.”

“Exactly like gardening. And looking after you, doll, which is not proving to be the easiest task I have undertaken.”

“Milady?” Leala walked into the library. “Oh!”

I glanced down as she turned toward me, smiling.

“I wondered if you wanted dinner delivered to your room?” she asked. “Or, if you leave now, you could sit for it, if you like.”

In all the time I’d been in the castle, I had never sat at a table and eaten dinner like a normal person. I’d always been racing the clock, trying to get everything done before the demons came out. And while I was about ready to take a stand regarding that, tonight wasn’t the night. I wanted to get to bed early so I could be up at the right time to harvest.

“Up to my room would be great, thanks. I won’t be too much longer.”

“Yes, milady.” She gave me a fluid curtsy and walked from the library.

I took down another book to read the synopsis.

“Well. If you don’t need me for anything?” Hadriel stepped away.

“No, you’re good. What sort of party is on for tonight?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m exhausted. I brought up that book on gardening earlier, and I’m going to read that before I hit the sack.”

“Quite the fuddy-duddy lately, Hadriel.”

“Thankfully.” He hefted the book I’d given him. “I’ll drop this by your room.”

“Thanks.”

“Yep.” He headed off, leaving me alone. I continued to peruse, finding two more books of interest, and made my way back to the lower level. Night was brushing against the windows. Soon the demons would emerge, ready to cause mischief and feed on the emotions of their prey.

I took a last wander through the stacks, thinking about going into the hidden room for one more book. I still had the one that I’d planned to write notes about for Nyfain. I hadn’t finished, having kept so busy these last few weeks, and didn’t really want to. I actually didn’t want to think about romance at all at the moment.

As I turned, a faint whiff caught my attention. A hint of pine infused with lilac, sprinkled with honeysuckle.

My head snapped around so fast that I thought it might fall off. Two golden eyes looked at me from between the plant and the tapestry. Suddenly Hadriel’s flat expression and Leala’s surprised “oh!” made all kinds of sense. He’d been here the whole time. Why hadn’t I checked?

He didn’t speak. I lifted my chin, not planning to, either. But, damn it, curiosity got the better of me.

“What are you reading?”

He glanced toward his lap, where he surely held a book. “Destined Hearts. From my mother’s book room.”

My muscles locked up. I’d been ready to head out of the room, but now I wanted to see what the book was about. Curiosity got the better of me again.

I crossed to him with brusque movements, moving around the tapestry. He lay on the lounger with a throw blanket over his legs, pulled up past his waist. His customary T-shirt was black today, faded from years of use, with little holes dotting the seams in the shoulders. The blanket tented over his cock.

“It’s steamy, then?” I put out my hand for the book. He held out his free hand for the ones I was holding.

I rolled my eyes, but I made the exchange.

“No,” he answered, that delicious voice scrambling my thoughts. “No on-page sex in this one. It isn’t the book that has caused my hard-on. It’s you. My cock has been like this since you entered the library.” He said it matter-of-factly, no opinion on the subject.

I took the cue and didn’t engage, reading the back of the book. A sweeping love story of two people from different worlds.

Fantastic. Nice reminder.

“Your mother’s garden has a problem with the soil,” I said. “You’ve been singing in it, right? Lamenting her loss?”

His jaw went slack. He looked like a man who’d just heard a fortune-teller reveal a secret that no one knew. Confusion bled through the link. Unease.

“If you want a real thrill,” I said, “grab a book about Syfloras. You’ll find it in the gardening section. You might pick up a new trick or two.”