Chapter 34

Thirty-Four

Kyrith

T he Arcanaeum tugs me out of the stacks and into the Rotunda with little warning. I appear right as the parriarch of Clan McKinley—surrounded by at least two dozen of her family—reaches out to touch the bell at my desk.

“Librarian.” Halinor McKinley withdraws her hand and inclines her head, but I don’t mistake the harsh glint in her eyes as she takes in my appearance. “I’ve come to retrieve my nephew.”

She leans heavily on her cane, and her upper back is hunched, both legacies of her youth as a magiball scorer. She could fix them with magic, but Halinor is not the sort of person to waste magic trying to delay the inevitable.

The silver-twisted brown of her hair is bound tightly in a bun at her nape, complementing the deep mustard yellow of her plaid shawl and the blue of her eyes.

I can’t see much of a resemblance to Jasper. In fact, most of the men and women behind her are the polar opposite to the gentle healer upstairs.

The only exception is the slight girl tucked protectively behind her scowling mother, who both share his Eastern Mediterranean complexion and soulful brown eyes, and the man beside them might have the same fair colouring as his Orcadian brethren, but he has Jasper’s height, bone structure, and bushy brows.

It’s impossible for them to be anyone other than Jasper’s sister and parents.

Halinor is still waiting for an answer, and I sigh quietly to myself. Jasper is more in demand than I am, but this show of strength from the most isolated of the six families is oddly less intimidating than a handful of Carltons would be. Concern radiates from the group, and more than one of them is peering into corners like Jasper might be hiding there.

“I’ll ask if he wishes to see you.”

“Wishes to see us?” His mother steps forward, her accent just as strong as Halinor’s, presumably as result of three decades spent living with the clan. “He’s our son , and he’s coming back to Kirkwall. Today.”

“He came here claiming Sanctuary.” I don’t bother raising my voice to match hers. “Which means neither yourselves, nor the many Carltons who tried before you, may compel him to leave the Arcanaeum’s protection.”

Halinor’s eyes sharpen. “So it’s true, then. House Carlton was responsible for his kidnapping?”

The group behind her bristles, fists tensing and posture straightening.

“He was rescued from a cell in their basement by one of my collectors who came across him while searching for a book on the Arcanaeum’s behalf,” I answer carefully.

If I outright accuse Carlton, the Arcanaeum will end up in the middle of a war. Better to only state facts, despite how thin my claim to neutrality is right now.

With a last nod at Halinor, I leave the Rotunda, merging with the fabric of the Arcanaeum, consumed with thoughts of what this will mean for us and how Jasper will react to the news. I’m so distracted that I pop directly into the room the two of them share, only to freeze.

The arcanist in question is reclining on the lower bunk with his eyes closed, his boxers shoved down, and his hard cock gripped firmly in his fist.

The light from the window plays across his hip bones where they’ve raised from the mattress, his arms straining, and his jaw clenched in an effort to stay silent. Sweat beads on his brow as he strokes himself from root to tip, thrusting his head back into the pillow as he speeds up.

I must make some noise, or perhaps he senses the chill I bring to the air, because his eyes fly open and lock with mine.

There’s an instant where both of us do our best impression of startled rabbits, before we snap out of it.

I start to stammer out an apology, backpedalling towards the door. If my cheeks could burn, they’d be on fire. I try to fix my gaze anywhere else. Like that will help.

Every inch—and there are plenty of inches—is now etched into my memory like a brand.

“Stay?” he breathes, his hips lowering back to the mattress.

I freeze again, caught in those magnetic brown eyes. I should open my mouth and tell him about his family. Or at least, mention that he has guests. But that look chases all thoughts of the gathering downstairs away.

The uncharacteristic boldness from him is ruined by the self-conscious flush gracing his angelic cheekbones and the way he won’t meet my eyes for more than a few seconds.

“I can’t,” I whisper. “I can’t touch…”

“Can you touch yourself?” he asks, seeming to regain a little confidence now that I’m no longer retreating.

I can, but it does nothing without the ability to perceive sensations. My self-control slips as I cast my mind around for a way to turn this back to him. Try as I might, I can’t stop my traitorous eyes from dipping back to his still-hard cock, grasped in the white-knuckled grip of his right hand. The head is red and angry, and a trickle of white has already spurted free, running down and over his fingers.

Can I…? I can’t touch, but maybe…

Sucking up every iota of control I possess, I reach for the Arcanaeum’s magic and the grimoires in the Vault, directing the manipulation spells in the same way I do to interact with everything else. He’s not a pen or a book, but I can exert pressure.

As long as I keep a cool head, and my touches light…

Jasper’s lips part as my phantom fingers traces a delicate line down his sternum.

“Keep going,” I order, drifting forwards to lean against the bedpost in some semblance of a casual pose that keeps me safely out of his reach.

Distance and control. That’s the only way I can do this.

Should I even be doing this? First Lambert, now Jasper? This is guaranteed to make a mess of things but…

He asked me to stay.

Jasper’s hand moves, slower than before, but the way his hips jerk tells me he was already on the edge before I interrupted.

“Are you close?” I ask, wanting to hear him say it. “Answer me.”

“Aye, Mistress.”

Once again, he freezes, watching with barely concealed panic for my reaction, and I can’t help but arch one eyebrow at him.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “It’s automatic. If you don’t?—”

“I wasn’t complaining,” I assure him, voice dropping an octave. “But I didn’t tell you to stop.”

If Jasper likes someone else taking control in bed, I am more than happy to provide that. Five hundred years of loneliness and smut have given me plenty of opportunities to fantasise.

I swirl my magic along his ribs, following the ‘T’ of hair across his pectorals to circle one nipple. His abs really are a work of art, and they flex under my touch, his breath hitching.

Keeping myself glued to the bedpost, I continue taunting him as he strokes himself. It’s satisfying to watch the way the magic trails through the hair on his chest, then down to skirt around his crotch before starting again at his calves.

His wrist twists, the tendons in his forearm flexing as his hand briefly comes up to cover the crown before retreating once more. The movement makes him shudder, muscles trembling, and I suck my lower lip between my teeth at the sight. His eyes fix on the captured flesh, then dip down to my breasts.

I brush my magic across his mouth and cup his balls at the same time. In my head, I imagine I can taste him, and that the kiss I grant him is soft and sweet. I fool myself for a second into thinking I can feel the weight of his balls, sense the barely leashed violent tension beneath his skin. His strokes lose their rhythm, and in a moment of inspired genius, I murmur a spell for warmth under my breath.

“Come for me,” I murmur, just as I unleash it over the crown of his dick.

Jasper obliges with a whimper. Throwing his head back as ropes of white seed spill out to catch in the dark fur of his abdomen. The light from the window seems to dance in the droplets as his abs rise and fall in soft gasping pants. All of the strain on his face melts away, leaving only an exhausted and replete fallen angel with hair plastered to his forehead.

Beautiful. Mine.

My fingers clench as the foolishness of the thought hits me.

No. Not mine.

His future isn’t here. This was just an inevitable and onetime-only consequence of the attraction that has been simmering between us. It was probably extremely unethical, given that he was once my patient, and he still hasn’t recovered his memories. Not to mention, he relies on me for sanctuary, which makes it an abuse of power.

Magic, what was I thinking?

With my own self-reproach ringing heavily in my ears, I retreat, passing through the furniture on my way to the door. Jasper’s still catching his breath, his eyes still closed as he reaches blindly for me, tugging at heartstrings that should’ve known better than to expose themselves.

This was…

I don’t want to say it was a mistake…but it certainly wasn’t sensible.

It only gets worse when I float through the door without looking, and then realise I have an audience.

Dakari and Eddy are both playing a game of chess in the snug beyond, and when they catch sight of me, they break out into knowing grins.

I barely resist the urge to float back into Jasper’s room. I’ve not spoken to Dakari since that night when I broke down and begged him to accompany me into the Vault. It’s been two days, but he gives no sign of offence at the distance I’m carefully rebuilding between us as he scans me before settling back into his seat with a lingering smile.

“I take it the sock rule wasn’t a thing back in the fifteen hundreds?” Eddy asks, giggling, as she gestures to where one has been placed over their doorknob.

“Sock rule?” I squeak, hating the pitch of my voice. “What in magic’s name is the sock rule?!”

Does she know what we just did in there because of this obscure code?

It’s a rhetorical question, but evidently, she feels the need to deepen my humiliation.

“Universal sign that someone’s having either a wank or sex and doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

Oh. Oh . I see. She thinks I walked in on him and hastily left… To be fair, that was what I planned to do. It’s definitely what I should have done.

But he asked so nicely, and he’s leaving soon, and I just…

“Not that universal, evidently,” I grumble, turning away so they can’t see my guilt-laden expression. “Isn’t it a little early in the morning for such impropriety?”

“It’s not like there’s a lot of other stuff to do.” Eddy shrugs, gesturing to the board between them. “No offence, but chess? Really? Are you sure we can’t have electricity in here?”

“That won’t lessen the amount of wanking,” Dakari comments, then turns to me, a twinkle in his black gaze that gives me pause. “I collected the book you requested.”

Book? “What book?”

Surely not Ackland’s grimoire?

He shrugs. “The desk assigned me a new job.” He slips something out of his coat pocket, and I accept it automatically. “Although, I didn’t know the Arcanaeum had a romance section.”

It…doesn’t. The only romance books here are my own personal and very private stash. I’ve even kept them hidden from Eddy.

But there’s no denying that the man-chest covered paperback belongs to the genre. And, unhelpfully, the subtitle proclaims it a magical reverse harem. The Arcanaeum rushes forward and grabs the book from my hands, adding it to the collection before I can dismiss it. Then the stupid building tucks it safely away.

On my nightstand.

Far below us, the tiled floor of the Rotunda rattles with laughter, and I shoot it a quelling glare.

“Back to the internet,” Eddy says. “I’m dying without access to my games, and my phone has been out of charge since I got here.”

“It wouldn’t work here,” I remind her. “And we have draughts, and darts, and if you’re bored, then there’s always something that needs dusting, or you could try interior design. I’ll let you start out in my office, but if you have flare, we could?—”

Jasper opens the bedroom door—fully dressed, unfortunately—cutting off my list of activities. He looks flushed, but otherwise decent, and altogether far too tempting in the soft V-neck and jeans he’s pulled on.

There’s a gentle hope simmering in his eyes as he looks at me, and I know it can’t be allowed to develop. He has a life that he needs to start living. His family is downstairs, right now, ready to take him home and love him.

No matter my own traitorous, fruitless longing for more, I refuse to steal any more years from him with useless promises.

So I blurt the one thing I know, without a doubt, will shut down any discussion of what just happened.

“Clan McKinley is here for you.”

Everyone goes quiet, and Jasper stills, wringing his hands together in a subconscious tic I doubt he’s aware of.

He doesn’t meet any of our gazes as he finally asks, “My parents?”

“They’re here, along with your sister, parriarch, and plenty of others. They’re cluttering up my Rotunda and making it impossible for other patrons to reach my desk. I’ll be glad to get rid of them, if that’s what you want.”

It’s his choice. Personally, I don’t think he’s healed enough to leave—and no, that’s not a cover for some selfish ulterior motive. His magical well is healing but slowly. His memories haven’t returned, and the one time they came close, he had a seizure.

The longer the silence stretches on, the more unsure I become.

He…he’ll stay, right? It’s not safe to be outside of the Arcanaeum when the Carltons snatched him so easily before. He has no way to defend himself without causing more damage to his well, and?—

“I’d like to see them,” he whispers. “Only…what if I’m not…? It’s been ten years .”

His eyes flick to Dakari, who shakes his head. “Your family searched for you all that time. They won’t care, Jas.”

“Do you want us to come as backup?” Eddy offers. “Or not. If you want privacy, that’s cool, too.”

“I’d appreciate the company,” Jasper says, though the way his eyes flick to Dakari makes me think he’s just inviting her along to be polite. Evidently Eddy thinks the same, because she waves them on.

“Actually, you guys go ahead. North said I was better off staying away from the wizarding family drama.”

So her twin does have some common sense, after all. Although I wish he’d stop calling us wizards.

Jasper shoots Dakari and me a questioning look, and I’m nodding before I realise what I’m doing.

“I’d be remiss if I allowed you to meet them alone. We still don’t know how you were taken before.”

He was a teenager, so it’s not entirely impossible that the Carltons simply waited for him to go somewhere alone and seized the opportunity. But it’s equally likely that he was taken on their behalf by someone he trusted.

Dakari stands, silently offering his presence as well.

“I’ll meet you both down in the Rotunda,” I say. “Take your time.”

I linger above the gathered McKinleys while I wait, hoping to hear something, but they have the good sense to keep their thoughts to themselves and the discipline not to speak until Jasper steps into the room.

His mother is the first to break ranks.

She shoves past the others, eyes wet with tears as she throws herself at him. The second she touches him, she breaks. Her sobs fill the room, her hands fisting in his clothes as she holds him like he might be stolen again if she lets go.

“My boy,” she whispers over and over. “My son.”

Jasper looks alarmed at first, glancing back over his shoulder at Dakari before wrapping his arms around her in return.

“Hey, Ma.”

She breaks down in another sob, and his father joins them, wrapping them both up in an embrace while his sister looks on, a little awkward in the way teenagers often are, before she’s dragged into the huddle.

Jasper belongs with them.

I don’t realise that I’ve lost my hold on my invisibility until Halinor turns to regard me.

“You have our gratitude for his safe return, Librarian.”

“It’s not me you should thank,” I reply, evenly, inclining my head to where Dakari lingers.

“A Talcott?” Halinor’s brows rise.

I say nothing, uncertain of whether Jasper wants his friendship with Dakari to become common knowledge.

Halinor hums under her breath, watching with me as Jasper’s father gently peels away his wife—who’s started mumbling words of love in both English and Turkish—and pulls his son into a hug. His sister hangs back until their mother drags her forward, murmuring words too softly for me to hear without being intrusive.

“He’s not safe,” I tell Halinor. “Nor is he healed. The Arcanaeum will provide Sanctuary as long as he requests it.”

Her neck straightens at the implication, and I grimace as I remember the fierce pride her clan is known for.

“We’re more than capable of caring for our own.”

I have the irrational urge to warn her about the Carltons building alliances, but it’s not my place. I’m impartial, and besides, what is it to me if the houses finally kill one another off?

Except…Jasper is a McKinley. Jasper who has been nothing but unfailingly kind and sweet since he entered the building.

“I’m sure you’ve heard from other sources,” I begin, lowering my tone as I edge closer to her. “But Isidora Carlton was here a few days ago, with both the ó Rinn and Talcott parriarchs.”

Halinor’s eyes narrow. “Choosing sides, Librarian?”

I clear my throat, looking away. “Don’t make it into something it isn’t. Like I said, there were several witnesses.”

She inclines her head softly. “Of course.” A pause. “Clan McKinley owes you a debt.”

My focus returns to Jasper and his family, and the realisation that he’s going to leave hits me harder than it should.

“No debt,” I whisper distractedly. “Just take care of him.”

Logic says I should be thankful for his removal from the Arcanaeum. The risk of another touch is too high with him living here. He’s got to get back to having a life soon. But once he leaves, Dakari will undoubtedly follow. Eddy is too vivacious to stay long, either.

Soon it will be just me, alone but for my books and the building who rarely communicates beyond nudges and gifts. The prospect shouldn’t vex me as much as it does.

Better to get on with it, I tell myself resolutely, drifting towards the Gallery, intent on leaving them to their reunion. There are still jobs to be done. I can redecorate the clock tower. Or maybe I’ll try sprucing up the Vault. Dakari was right, I have neglected it. My tomb should be a little less gloomy, surely?

“Hey, Kyrith?” Jasper calls, freezing me in midair.

I turn to face him, grimacing at his obvious confusion and the subtle hurt there.

This is callous. What we just shared… He put trust in me, and I’m now casting him aside. Just like with Lambert, I should’ve discussed the terms of our arrangement before we were intimate and made sure we were on the same page. Everything was so spontaneous, and something about these heirs robs me of my common sense.

“Mr McKinley.” I force a serene smile. “If you’re worried about your personal effects, I will have them ready for you to collect whenever you wish.”

Those deep brown eyes crinkle in concern. “What? I’m not…”

“You’re coming home.” His mother still hasn’t released him, and I doubt she will for some time. “You’re safe.”

“But I’m not well,” Jasper protests. “I’m still taking the tonics, and?—”

“We have healers.” His father clasps his shoulder. “We’ve missed you, and being home will help you recover.”

“Kyrith will still be hosting magiball nights, I’m sure,” Dakari interjects.

Swallowing away an imaginary lump, I nod. “I shall see you soon, I’m sure. Now that you have a card, you may visit whenever you like.”

Perhaps he will. Perhaps he’ll even join the university and come here for his studies, given his talents. But those visits will dwindle as he gets on with the business of being alive.

Without me.