The Wicked Born

Chapter 19

Rain began to patter slowly on the window pane as Tabitha sunk deeper into the overly-plush couch in the office of her aunt. She hated the ostentatious displays that the Matriarch always seemed to have a flair for. The entire castle was cloaked in only black furniture. Proud portraits of human slaughter hung on each wall. They'd passed two separate skulls just on the short walk to the office--one of the previous Matron of the coven and one of some random soul that her aunt had killed--both of which made Dacre nervously shutter behind her. She'd been forced to hold her tongue tightly between her two rows of teeth to keep from laughing out loud at his aversion to what her aunt considered decorations.

Her aunt had walked out of the room minutes before without warning, just as they'd walked in. Tabitha knew that she would be back, so she decided to just take a seat and wait out her return in order to give Dacre some time to adjust rather than chase after her. She was glad for the choice she made once she caught a glimpse of his pale features. Tabitha opened and closed her mouth several times, not knowing what to say or do to comfort him. After a long, painful moment of going back and forth with the consequences of what she was about to do next, Tabitha relented.

She carefully placed her palm over the back of his hand as it rested on his thigh. An electric shock jolted her skin at the contact and she felt him stiffen beside her, but she made no move to remove her touch from his. She stared absently at the connection between the two, afraid for the first time in her life to make eye contact with the man that sat next to her.

Her power to hold out against looking at him wilted, however, whenever his hand nimbly turned around and expertly intertwined her fingers between his own. She heard his heart begin to thrum loudly in his chest and the air emanating off of him smelled of a deep passion.

Too late did she realize that the scent of arousal that filled the air around them was coming from her own being. When Tabitha braved herself to glance up from their interlocked hands, she nearly winced at the intensity of the eyes that stared back at her. Dacre was looking at her in a way that she never thought possible. A harmonious symphony of emotions filled his green irises, the small flecks of brown that she'd first noted outside of a tavern glinting at her in the waning light of the dying fireplace.

Fervor for her was housed in his eyes, along with equal amounts of an unspeakable tenderness and warmth. But the most dangerous emotion she saw there was also the most thrilling--a savage, hungry lust.

Tabitha sucked in a breath as she watched Dacre's eyes trail slowly to her parted lips and stay there, as if transfixed by the sight in front of him. She allowed herself one achingly delicious moment of looking at his own lips, her own heart beating viciously in her chest at what she found there.

Dacre's tongue darted out and nimbly swept across the bottom lip, leaving a light sheen in its wake. She briefly considered bridging the gap between them and taking that same lip between her own, all while feeling her way up his bearded jawline with both hands. She quickly pushed the thought of running her hands down his face from her mind due to the fact that that would require her to remove her hand from his hold. She somehow knew that once she did that, the moment would be over. They'd be required to come to terms with who and what they were: two people that couldn't be together.

But she allowed herself to fantasize about what a kiss with Dacre would feel like for much, much longer.

Her own animalistic, predatory desire hit her like undulating waves. She had to physically force herself to stay put and not ravage him in the way that all of her instincts demanded of her to. Tabitha didn't think he'd mind, though, if the sexual desire that he was radiating was any indication.

"Tabitha," Dacre rumbled, drawling in a ragged breath. The sound of his voice made her bite her own lip, fighting against every savage instinct in her body that told her to claim him as hers. She came so close to caving, to throwing herself at him and letting every innate drive take over, when she heard her aunt's thundering footsteps closing the distance between herself and them in the hallway.