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So, I took his hand, my fingers wrapping around his. “Then let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
I didn’t wait for him to agree as I tugged him toward the exit, afraid I would lose my nerve. But as soon as we were in the corridor outside the ballroom, I paused, uncertain where I should take him. I’d spent more time at the Avalon than in the actual court, and this place was a veritable labyrinth.
“I might get us lost,” I warned him.
He laughed—not quite warmly, but it was a good sign. “Come on.”
My heart pounded as our footsteps echoed through the hall, and I wondered where he was taking me; if he’d had enough of waiting, too; if I would find myself in his bed. But he led us through the winding passages and down a set of spiraling stairs, into a conservatory crowded with towering plants and vines and riotous blooms. Its greenhouse walls were rounded, curving into a glass dome overhead. Moonlight glimmered through it, reflecting off the glass like a celestial crown and casting its sparkling light over the velvet petals and dappled flora surrounding us. The scent of damp soil and florid perfume hung in the warm air, so sultry that I felt sweat bead along my forehead.
Lach continued forward, through the plants, and led us out a set of doors at the far end. He released my hand as we stepped onto a stone balcony. Night wrapped around us, the sky overhead a sheet of inky black without a star in sight, making the sliver of moon at its center all the brighter. He walked to the railing and looked into the endless dark stretching before us.
I moved next to him, curling my fingers over the stone balustrade as he had done. He stared into the darkness with haunted eyes. This was more than brooding. His mind was somewhere else, even though he was right in front of me.
“I’m sorry that I overstepped with Channing.”
Surprise turned my head, and I studied him. The ethereal light caught the sharp angles and soft curves of his face, leaching the color from his skin. He looked like a masterpiece carved from the night, a man as constant and ever-changing as the moon itself. My mouth went dry as I considered how much more of him there was to discover, but I forced myself to swallow. “I let Channing down.”
“By being involved with me.” I knew he didn’t mean the bargain but rather the undeniable attraction we’d been fighting since the beginning.
“By not keeping my word,” I corrected him. “Channing and I promised to stay away from your family, but that promise was based on fear and gossip and hate.” I brushed my pinky along his. It twitched, but his hand didn’t move to take mine.
“And actions,” he gritted out. “You made a promise based on my reputation.”
“I didn’t know you.”
He cast a glance at me. “And you do now?”
Yes, but I wanted to know more. I wanted to hear the stories that shadowed his face. I wanted to memorize his body at night and wake up to his thoughts. I didn’t want stolen nights. I wanted every day.
I braced myself and nodded. “I think I know why you helped Channing.”
“I wanted to make something easier for you,” he said after a moment.
Something fluttered in my stomach. “I don’t need things to be easy.”
He finally laughed, even if it sounded mildly irritated. He peered across his shoulder, eyes softening. “I know that, princess. I know you don’t need things to be that way, but I want that for you. I want something to be easy. I know it never has been.” He swiveled slowly as though afraid he might spook me. A shaft of moonlight caught his hair, but his face fell into shadow. “I want to take care of you. I know you don’t need that,” he added, preempting my usual arguments. “But someone should take care of you. You take care of everyone else.”
Lach and I weren’t so different after all. We gave everything—every ounce of ourselves—for the people we cared about. The realization curled through my body, warm and real and unexpected but not unwanted.
He cared about me. It wasn’t just a bargain. It wasn’t just a trick. And, in that moment, I realized that at some point I’d started caring about him, too. I drew a trembling breath.
I brushed another finger along his, something electric bolting through my skin. His eyes flashed to mine, his chest rising slightly. But still, he didn’t take my hand.
“Why don’t you like handfasting?” I asked.
“That’s a long story.” He tilted his head—an offer to tell that story. I’d spent the last few weeks wanting him, craving him, but resisting. Next to him, I couldn’t remember why I’d fought those feelings. And when that resistance had vanished, so had the desperate, frantic urgency I’d felt after the Midnight Feast. I didn’t have to steal as much of him as I could before he demanded the same of me. Not that the craving had dissipated. It was still there. The moment he touched me, it would return, as forceful and undeniable as ever. But I no longer wanted pieces of him. I wanted all of him.
The night had cooled, and I shivered slightly. Lach frowned and waved a hand. Instantly, the air around us warmed, as though he’d placed us within our own private, perfect bubble.
“Thank you,” I murmured softly. He blinked, relief flashing across his face, as if he’d half expected me to argue to freeze to death.
“I’m really hard to put up with, aren’t I?” I asked with a laugh.
“No.” He answered too quickly.
“That’s a yes.” I took a deep breath and offered a confession of my own, hoping it would encourage the same. “It’s hard for me to depend on people.”