Aeromancist - The Beginning (Seven Forbidden Arts 2)

“Would you like to touch them?” he asked in a soft voice close to her ear.

She put a bit of distance between them and dared to glance at him. “You’d let me?”

He opened a drawer under the cabinet and pulled out a box of white gloves.

“Here.” He handed her a pair.

She tried to pull them on, but his disturbing effect was taking its toll and her hands were shaking, making it difficult to fit her fingers. Taking her hands in his, he finished the task with the utmost gentleness.

For a moment, she was too shaken to speak. When she finally found her voice again, she only managed a breathless, “Thank you.”

His eyes sparked with warmth, that strange golden color almost glowing as he held her gaze a fraction too long. “You’re welcome.”

She cleared her throat and quickly turned back to the books. “Which titles are these?”

“Old verses about magic, some of my favorites.” He placed her palm on the page, his big hand covering her gloved one.

Her heart and breath did funny things. She should’ve only wanted to lift the book from the padded interior, to turn the pages, and to hear the crackling of the paper, but all she could focus on was the tall Russian who manipulated her hand, working her fingers to turn the pages. Her body turned hot and her mind fuzzy.

“Why the interest in old books?” she asked in an attempt to hold a normal conversation or maybe to pretend how he was touching her had no effect.

Gripping her chin, he turned her face toward him. “Do you always talk your way out of uncomfortable situations?”

Her eyes widened at his arrogance as well as the accuracy of his observation. She opened her mouth to tell him she wasn’t uncomfortable, but she couldn’t utter the lie.

Thankfully, he let her off the hook by dropping the subject.

For a while, they looked at the books in silence, Lann waiting patiently until she’d had her fill.

When she returned the gloves, he left them in a basket marked with for washing on the side, and said, “Come. I want to show you something.”

“There’s more?”

She followed him to a narrow staircase in the corner. At the bottom, he turned to give her a smile, a gesture that almost seemed encouraging.

“What’s up there?” she asked.

“My den.”

She couldn’t help but be curious. He led the way to the top level where a landing broad enough to walk on ran around the shelves. A door was hidden in the corner. As she waited for Lann to unlock it, she had the feeling of being Alice in Wonderland, about to pass through a secret door.

It was so low even she had to bend to pass through it. It made her expect something small, maybe a tiny storeroom with more books, but it was a big, comfortable room with a slanted ceiling and a skylight framing the dark sky that was sprinkled with sparkling stars. The walls were covered with wooden panels and lined with shelves full of books. It was fitted with an oversized desk, a leather sofa, and a four-poster bed. The carpet was white like a cloud and the bed linen light shades of blue. Cushions were scattered everywhere, even on the floor. It looked like the perfect place to read—a den, just as he’d said.

She smiled. “This is cozy.”

“It’s the vault. It’s fireproof. This is where I keep the most precious books.”

She looked at the skylight. “Even with that?”

“It’s fitted with a metal shutter that closes automatically when smoke is detected.”

Her gaze flittered to the bed. “You sleep here?”

“No. Sometimes I read here, until late, but that’s what the sofa is for. The bed is for sex.”

Her insides scrambled. Her body flushed. He stepped up, standing very close to her now. If she took a deep breath, her breasts would brush against his chest.

She shook her head, making her curls tumble over her shoulders. “Why are you showing me this?”

“Why do you think?” he asked softly.

She stood very still as silence stretched between them. Lifting a hand, he traced the curve of her breast with a finger.

Desire and fear knotted together, making a confusing mass of both her body and mind. She stepped back, escaping the touch. “I have to go.”

He tilted his head. “Maybe, but do you want to?”

She’d never been propositioned so directly. The social rules of dating didn’t seem to apply to Lann. “Yes,” she said, putting assertiveness into her tone.

“I don’t think you do.”

Surprise made place for indignation. “How would you know?”

“Your breathing is shallower.” He took her hand in his, tracing the lines of her palm with a thumb. “Your palms are sweaty.” His eyes lowered to her breasts. “There are other signs also.”

She gasped in horror, because he was right. “It’s nothing but a reaction to your boldness.”