15. The Bliss of His Kiss

fifteen

The Bliss of His Kiss

Alessia

T hat was not your fault.

Seraphina’s words replay in my head with each step I take through my court. Opting for one of the abandoned side corridors, I put additional space between me and the clamor and commotion of the cleaning fae. I need breathing room.

The hallway gradually slopes downwards, delving further into the earth. Eventually, the twisting hallway comes to an end, dumping me in a library.

The air is saturated with the rich, earthy scent of parchment and ancient wood. Stone ceilings soar above me, wooden beams crisscrossing like the ribs of a mighty beast, while the library stands as the pulsating heart protected within. Soft, dark rugs cushion my steps, creating a cozy contrast to the coldness of the stone floor.

Towering bookshelves filled with leather-bound stories surround me. Each wall of shelves boasts a rolling ladder to access the higher shelves.

The far corner of the library beckons me. I stride toward it, finding an intimate setup of leather chairs in a nook. Its entrance is lined with a tied-back velvet curtain. I enter, pulling the cord. The drapes swoosh closed behind me, creating a private sanctuary .

I sit in one of the chairs, and it lets out a gentle creak as I sink into its worn cushion. Soft, flickering light from the sconce beside me dances across the walls, creating a warm atmosphere.

It’s as if I’ve discovered a secret refuge to spare me from the chaos beyond. Or perhaps it’s protecting the world from me .

Closing my eyes, I lean back in the chair and breathe.

That was not your fault .

Eoin’s death was not my fault.

I want to believe Seraphina’s words. Unless she’s a phenomenal actress, she isn’t heartless—perhaps a little lost or conflicted, but not cruel. We have much in common—we’re both trying to navigate a complicated world while looking out for those we care about.

I admire her ability to bounce back and find her strength. Perhaps I wish I were more like her.

But right now, I don’t feel strong.

“You’re not weak; you’re strong,” I mutter, blinking back the tears.

This is not who I want to be—this self-pitying person who runs away and hides. But it’s better than being someone who harms others. And unless I can figure out how to properly restrain my shadow-self, I’m a threat.

We are strong. The responding voice comes from inside.

“Yes,” I whisper. “But we are dangerous.”

Being dangerous is better than being in danger.

“Alessia!” Rainer’s voice echoes through the library, deep and dominant. It reverberates deep within me, summoning a flood of emotions. Warmth blooms in the center of my being and spreads throughout my body, like rays of sunlight piercing the clouds .

The world seems to hold its breath as if frozen in time—I’m suspended here, caught between the feeling of being lost and found.

His hurried footsteps grow louder with each passing second. Breaking the spell, I sit up and gaze towards the curtain, brimming with anticipation.

A moment later, he darts through it in a flurry of unchecked rage.

His dark hair is smoothed back out of his face. Bits of dirt and leaves are stuck to his boots, and his clothes are riddled with fur.

With a sudden surge, the floodgates open, unleashing a torrent of pent-up emotions. The indescribable sensation drowns me, leaving me at a loss for words.

“Rainer,” I whisper. Every fiber of my being exhales, eagerly taking in his presence. My face scrunches as he storms over to me.

With a thud, he drops to his knees, his strong hands tenderly caressing my cheeks. His touch ignites a pulsating deep in my core, bringing me fully to life.

He scrutinizes my face, wearing a mixture of concern and fury. His irises flicker between icy blue and deep cobalt, indicating he’s fighting his protective, animalistic instincts. Time has flown by, and it’s hard to believe it’s been a couple of months since we last saw each other. My heart spasms in my chest, ready to burst free.

“Rainer,” I repeat on an exhale, unable to say anything else.

“Where is he?” he growls, his voice filled with a fierce determination. He drops his hands from my face, gripping my arms gently and flipping them over as he inspects my skin. “Did he hurt you?”

I gape, unsure of what he means. The scent of sandalwood and rose mixed with his natural musk hits me. My insides melt. It’s a fragrance with the power to melt away my worries, leaving me immediately comforted.

His presence is grounding, an anchor holding me down. It’s that sensation of coming home that I’ve been seeking for so long. I’ve been mistaken in thinking the court could provide that feeling of home I’ve been seeking—it’s been him the whole time.

I’m overwhelmed with relief and joy, but it’s tinged with regret and fear. Regret of denying my connection to him and being apart for so long. Fear of the truth of our bond and what it means if we’re truly together. Fear of what might happen if I can’t control my shadow around him.

Suddenly, the gravity of those feelings makes sense to me: it’s not that I fear losing control and hurting someone or losing myself… I fear hurting him , losing him.

He shakes me gently, knocking me from my stupor. “Alessia. Where is he?” he repeats, the ire hardening his eyes.

“Who?” I wrack my brain, trying to decipher if he means Ezamae, or perhaps Tynan.

“The human who attacked you.”

Oh.

I stay quiet for a moment, letting the words settle. As I gaze into his eyes, I see a reflection of my own longing and vulnerability. A silent understanding flows between us. With each passing second, the realization solidifies within me: he is my home. He is my sanctuary.

I close my eyes briefly, taking a deep breath.

He growls, jumping to his feet. “Tell me, now!”

His command is jarring, and it causes a tear to slip free. I shake my head.

“He’s—he’s dead,” I stutter out.

“Are you hurt?” His scowl is sharp and violent as he takes me in. When I shake my head, he begins pacing. He runs a hand through his hair, but his fingers get caught in the knots, and he frowns harder. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. I should’ve stayed.”

Choking on a sob, I wipe my tears away. “I’m fine,” I whisper. “I promise. I’m not hurt.”

He pauses, studying me. “Then why are you crying?” His tone is much softer this time. His shoulders relax, and the rage evaporates.

“I—” I missed you , I want to say. Instead, I swallow it down. “How do you even know about the man?”

“The pixies,” he says flatly. “I was at Terra Court. I would’ve been here sooner if they…” He sighs, stroking his jaw and glancing toward the curtain. “It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t here, and that’s all that matters.”

“It’s okay. I can handle myself,” I say quietly, working to keep my voice steady and confident.

“I know you can!” He throws his hands up in exasperation, his eyes finally mellowing back to their normal pale coloring. “That doesn’t mean I won’t worry about you.”

“Your brother was here anyway, and I don’t—”

“ Tynan was involved?” Rainer’s voice turns stony again.

He sucks in a sharp breath and schools his expression. Stiffly, he walks to the chair a few paces across from me and carefully lowers himself into it. He watches me, his fingers tapping out a controlled rhythm on his thigh. Amber light glints off his rings.

I want to reach for him, curl my fingers through his, and feel the coolness of those metal rings as they bite into my skin. I want to nestle into his side and let him wrap those strong arms around me. It would be so easy to get lost in his touch—to forget everything else.

Suddenly, he goes still. His face melts into a grimace, and he leans forward, resting his forearms on his legs.

“I can’t take this anymore, Alessia.”

My chest hitches as I take a shaky breath. “Take what?”

He springs up from the chair, his eyes locked onto mine with an icy intensity. Before I can fully comprehend the situation, he swiftly leans forward, gripping the armrests of my chair and caging me in. With each deep breath, his chest heaves. He clutches the armrests tighter, and the muscles in his forearms flex as if he’s fighting to hold himself back.

“Can’t take what?” I whisper meekly, finally drawing my gaze up to his. He hovers a mere breath away, a conflicted look pinching his features.

“Feck it,” he mutters, eyes flicking to my lips. His hand finds the back of my head, and he weaves his fingers through my hair. “ This ,” he says breathlessly. “I can’t take this anymore.”

Then his lips are on mine, and I’m losing myself to the bliss of his kiss.