Shadow Touched

29. GREY

*Content Warning: The following two chapters contains scenes of a sexual nature*

It's after midnight, yet sleep eludes me. The draught of somnus firgidus sits untouched on my bedside table. It's been nearly twelve hours since I saw Naima. Eleven and a half since I nearly ripped her arm out of its socket. Shame washes over me in waves. It was stupid of me to bring her here. To place her in such danger. Selfish.

And Finch. He's so loyal. More than a best friend—my brother. Yet, I keep putting him in these impossible positions. Forcing him to choose between his loyalty to me and the King—the country.

I am pathetic.

I'm desperate to speak to them, to beg their forgiveness and ask them not to do anything crazy—not for me. I don't deserve it. This title I was born with doesn't make me worthy of their love. It doesn't make me worthy of anything.

At times, frustration overwhelms me. I can't leave my room. My father's mages have seen to that. A blood right to enter and exit. I tried to leave. Took a dagger and sliced my finger. I figured my father's blood runs in my veins, so it should circumvent the magics. It would have, too, only my blood isn't quite mine anymore. No, the Blight has infected it too. My life source runs dark and shadowy. I suppose that's something, though, now we know that whatever the Gloaming is, it's definitely not human.

The thought of my poisoned blood makes me shudder as the future I envisioned for myself slips further away.

My body is as restless as my mind. Even though the shadows that run through my veins are slowly killing me, the strength they've given me leaves me feeling unstoppable. I feel like I could tear the solid wood doors from their hinges if I really wanted to.

I go back to counting the swirls that decorate my ceiling. My eyes cross as I attempt to peel the intricate design apart. I'm tired of being bedridden. Incapable of resting when I know that somewhere she—Naima—lies in this castle. I'm certain my father placed her in rooms as far from mine as possible.

If I could speak to her, what would I even say? I'm sorry I turned into a demon of darkness and shadows? Please forgive me for nearly devouring you in a haze of lust and possession. Fancy a snog?

The idea is laughable; it leaves me scoffing at my stupidity—my hubris.

"Now that's a sneer that could put one of the good Captain's sighs to shame."

Naima.

Naima is standing in my room, only a few feet from my—now open—balcony doors. A light breeze snakes into the room, moving the velvet drapes surrounding my bed. The breeze twists in her hair, which she's left down. It picks up a long curl, making it dance in its wake.

She is breathtaking.

She stands there, letting me take her in. She's relaxed in a light short-sleeve shirt and her preferred black slacks. Her brown skin glows in the candlelight.

"I've long thought a sneer was the more brutal noise of the two," I reply.

"Against a Finch sigh? Impossible. A Finch sigh could knock a god from the heavens if he tried hard enough."

I laugh. A real laugh. Not the sad, pathetic laugh I caught in my throat moments ago.

I watch her standing before me. Her full lips curve upwards. I want nothing more than to taste them. To taste her. It's almost too much. I've spent years trying to forget her. Burying myself in my duties each day and at night, drowning myself in booze and women. My room was a turnstile of one lover after another. All pale imitations of her. No matter how beautiful, how desirable, no one could bring me that moment of release. Only thoughts of her. My need for her. My desire for her.

After all these years, here she is in my room.

"Hi." She says casually as if we hadn't just been talking. As if we both don't know why she's here.

"Hi," I respond, my voice huskier than usual. I pull myself up and out of bed. Her hand comes up to stop me, but I ignore her. Steadier than expected, I step toward her. My heart is racing. My body aching.

"You shouldn't be here, Naima." My heart clenches painfully as I speak. As desperate as I am to see her, to have her near, I am a danger to her. The truth of that scares me more than knowing I'm Shadow Touched.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." She says it so matter of factly as if we're discussing the weather.

I run my hand through my hair, the thick strands sliding between my fingers. My mind screams at me to make her leave, to push her out, to be cruel to keep her safe, but my treacherous, selfish heart screams to keep her close. My hands itch to reach out to her.

She shifts uncomfortably on her feet. I think she's worried I will kick her out. Naima is not used to rejection, and if she's feeling even half of what I'm feeling, to do so would shatter her. It doesn't matter; she has nothing to worry about. The battle between my mind and heart was short-lived.

"Drink?" I ask, gesturing towards my sitting room. She gives me a long stare. Drinking me in.

"No." She says. It's barely a whisper.

I take a step towards her.

"Grey," she admonishes me, worry etched across her beautiful face. "Maybe you should take a sea—" I don't let her finish. As she speaks, I close the space between us. Once she is in front of me, I let my hands slide up and around her back, pulling her closer until she's pressed against me. I feel her small intake of breath as I press my mouth to hers.

Our lips touch, and it's soft and gentle. It takes me back to the very first kiss we shared. I remember its sweetness and the tentative nature of the whole experience. Despite her outward brashness, she was so shy that first time. Surprised even, as if she couldn't believe I would want to kiss her, the memory makes me smile.

I pull back. Her eyes are still closed. She looks so soft and warm and inviting. As her eyes flicker open, I lean back in, taking her lips again.

This time, I allow the kiss to build. My hunger for her grows stronger and wilder. My hands shake slightly as they move from her back to her neck, finally tangling in her hair.

Her arms wrap around me. There's urgency in her grip. She's as desperate to feel and taste me as I am her. My tongue glides across her lips until they part, and her tongue meets mine. The kiss grows in intensity. My hands pull at her hair, breaking the kiss and forcing her head back. Her face flushed. My grip on her tightens, and her eyes widen; the look is one I've seen on her face before. She's egging me on. Wanting to see how far I'll take it. At this moment, I am not dying. I am not the scourge of some magical disease that ravages my mind while making my body too strong, too powerful for the heart encased within it—a heart that beats for her alone.

I reach down and tug at her shirt, untucking it and then hastily pulling it off her, exposing her stomach, her smooth skin—my hands move over her, cupping her full breasts. I run my thumbs over her nipples and listen for the hitch in her breath that tells me she likes it.

I pull her back to me, crushing my mouth to hers as I move her body toward my bed. When the backs of her knees hit it, she lets herself go limp, and I let go, watching her fall back, her hair floating on a non-existent breeze. Her full lips, even fuller from our brutal kiss, slightly parted as she hits the bed.

~*~