SWNOVELS Phantasma: Chapter 22
It turned out that the corridor wasn’t very large. Just a hollow, stone room.
“There has to be something more,” Ophelia muttered from one end while Blackwell examined the other. “Why would there be a secret passage to nothing?”
“Here,” he called.
She rushed over to see what he had found, and he tilted the candles toward the wall to reveal three tally marks carved into one of the stones.
“Hmm.” She squinted as she ran her fingertips over each of the grooves. Once. Twice. Three times. Blackwell didn’t rush her, quietly waiting for her assessment. “I wonder if…”
She pressed on the rectangular brick and the rock scraped back noisily. Her breath hitched with anticipation, but when they looked around, nothing else happened. A moment later, the stone shifted back into place like it had never been touched.
“Three lines,” she realized once the brick was fully reset. The locket around her throat began to hum to life as excitement pulsed through her veins. She turned to Blackwell and instructed, “Start searching for others with the same sort of markings on them!”
They got to work on opposite ends, scanning the stones in the dim light of their candles. Ophelia was grateful for her above-average height during this task, able to stretch her arm high enough to see the stones that lined the ceiling. It didn’t take long for Blackwell to find another marked stone and seconds later she found a third.
“Five lines,” he declared.
“Two,” she returned. “Which means we’re missing numbers one and four at least.”
A beat later, he said, “Four.”
They checked every single brick several times over, but all they came up with were stones numbered two through five. Ophelia was growing more exhausted by the minute and was just about to suggest they give up for the night, until she stepped on something in the center of the room and felt it move. She looked down, swishing her skirts out of the way to see the floor beneath. She sighed at the mark in the center of the tile beneath her feet.
“Now we press the rest in order,” she instructed when Blackwell crouched beside her to inspect the shifting plate on the floor.
“Does it feel like it can go down further?” he asked.
She lifted herself up onto the balls of her feet to bounce her full weight down a few times and, sure enough, the button was able to go down further. Blackwell stood and pressed himself closer, until the front of his body was completely flush with her back, to use their combined force on the tile. She wobbled a bit as it sank into the ground, lowering nearly half a foot, and Blackwell placed a steadying hand at her waist before she tipped to the side.
“Quick!” she implored as they stepped out of the shallow hole and made their way over to the next numbers. She retraced her steps to relocate stone number two and shoved it inward. “Two is done!”
“Three… four…” he counted aloud as he pressed each one.
She met him at the final brick, and he waved for her to do the honors. Smiling, she proclaimed, “Five.”
The room began to shake. Ophelia rocked back into Blackwell, and he wrapped an arm around her waist as their gazes darted around. Rocky debris rained down from the ceiling and clacked to the ground. They looked up to find the roof was now pocked with small holes.
Odd.
“Is that it?” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder to gauge Blackwell’s reaction.
He lifted his chin to point at something a few feet ahead. “Look.”
She traced his gaze until her eyes landed on an opening at the bottom of the wall. It was about five feet wide, but only three or four feet tall. Still, plenty of space for them to crawl through, though she really wasn’t looking forward to doing such a thing. They ambled over and lowered themselves to the floor to peer inside. She couldn’t make out any distinguishable details. Only a deep, dark abyss.
Darting her eyes over to Blackwell, she quipped, “Rock, paper, scissors on who goes first?”
He snorted and began to unbutton his ruined overcoat. Discarding the heavy article of clothing, he started on the cuffs of his shirt next, loosening them until he could roll the expensive material up to his elbows on each arm. She watched with what was surely too-rapt attention, but he only lifted a brow at her in amusement as he finished by removing the cravat from around his neck.
“Much better,” he murmured. “Now I’ll be able to—”
Something dripped down from the ceiling and splattered on the now-exposed skin of Blackwell’s forearm, interrupting his thought. His skin turned an angry, blotchy red in an instant. Blisters bubbled beneath the mysterious substance, and though Blackwell didn’t indicate that he was in any pain, just looking at the way his flesh boiled churned her stomach. An instant later and the wound melted away, his fair skin unblemished once more.
“Ophelia,” he said as his form flickered from its corporeal state to its transparent one. “Move. Now.”
The gravity of his tone felt wrong to her ears. And when every hint of amusement slid from his face, her chest began to tighten. She tilted her head back to peer up at the ceiling.
That’s when the onslaught began.
Blackwell turned solid just long enough to shove her toward the tunnel. She scrambled forward on her hands and knees, barely ducking her head and shoulders out of the room in time before the acid began to pelt down. The burning liquid singed holes through her bodice and skirts, but fortunately the layers helped keep it away from her skin. Blackwell cursed as he transported himself into the tunnel just ahead of her and grasped onto each of her biceps in order to drag her headfirst through the crawl space with him.
Blackwell let her go just long enough to kick in the small wooden door at the end of the passageway before hauling them both into another pitch-black space.
“Hold on, angel,” he reassured.
She worked to gulp in breaths of air, trying to push away the panic settling into her bones at their near escape. Blackwell snapped his fingers and two brass candelabras appeared in his hands. He hastily set them both down so he could see what he was doing.
“We have to get that dress off of you before the acid touches your skin,” he told her.
Not even a second after the words were out of his mouth, something began to burn at the small of her back. She hissed and he moved into action.
Kneeling behind her, Blackwell expertly unlaced her corset, pulling the ribbons free and loosening the boned contraption enough to tug it over her head and throw it off to the side. Next, he tore at the linen buttons down the back of her chemise, sending the small pieces clattering over the floor. The dress was discarded with the corset, as well as the remaining threat of her flesh melting off her bones. Cool air hit her exposed skin, and she sighed in relief. A glint of gold flashed in her peripheral vision, and she noticed the first level’s star tattoo had been joined by another for the second level.
“Thank you,” she said as she twisted around to face Blackwell, watching the candlelight dance over his grim expression as he hovered above her. “What’s wrong?”
“I should have been able to transport you away. But I wasted too much energy on revenge,” he admitted.
“On Cade, you mean?”
He shifted his eyes away from hers as he nodded. “I won’t make such a mistake again, don’t worry.”
She tilted her head. “You got me out of there. It could have been worse.”
“You don’t get it,” he said, gaze locking back on hers. “Every time I allow you to get hurt, the bond unravels a little. Eventually, it will make it harder to hear when you summon me. That could have been catastrophic.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “Why didn’t you tell me that little detail before?”
“I should have,” he admitted. “Especially considering your ability to find trouble.”
She once again fought the urge to stick out her tongue at him. “No more mistakes, then.”
“No,” he agreed, firm. “Which means I should take you back to your room before we trigger any more fatal traps—”
“What? No,” she argued. “I did not risk getting rained on by acid to quit now! We have to see where this leads us.”
Blackwell lifted his eyes to the ceiling with exasperation but didn’t bother to refute her request as he leaned over to snatch up one of the candelabras to illuminate more of the room. The space was half the size of where they had come from, and unlike the room before, the ceiling and walls were paneled with planks of dark, knotted oak. On the far side of the room was a single bookshelf.
“I’d venture a guess that leads us back to the library,” he remarked.
“Damn it,” she fumed. “All of that for nothing? Just one big path to nowhere? I fucking hate this place!”
A small smile found its way back onto his lips. “Welcome to the club.”
She waved her hands with conviction as she spoke. “All of that pain and effort and it’s just an ugly, bare room? No. I am going to rip every single one of these boards up if I have to.”
“Angel?” Blackwell murmured.
“I swear I will burn this forsaken place to the ground,” she went on as if he hadn’t spoken.
“Ophelia.”
“What?”
A familiar wicked gleam lit up his emerald irises as he mused, “As much as I’m enjoying this rant, perhaps it would come off more threatening if you weren’t practically nude.”
The realization that she was sitting there in only her undergarments hit her like a freight train. A squeal choked out of her mouth as she hurried to fold her arms over her torso.
“Turn around!” she ordered.
He lifted a brow. “I think it’s a bit too late for modesty, don’t you?”
“Says the one who isn’t almost naked!” she threw back.
His smile turned into a full-on grin now. “I could change that if you’d like.”
“You are such a thorn in my side.” She glowered. “Honestly, I’m surprised you got my corset off so easily in the first place.”
He leaned in close enough that the tips of their noses nearly touched as he spoke. “There’s no article of clothing I don’t know how to take off efficiently.”
A shiver ran down her spine at the sensuality laced into his words, and her eyes flicked down involuntarily to his infuriating mouth.
“You know, I’m still waiting to know exactly what happened with that imposter during the trial earlier, angel,” he drawled. “I’ve been wrought with curiosity to know exactly what experiences I need to replace in your mind.”
She flushed but tilted her nose up at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.
“If you don’t want to tell me, I’ll just imagine my own version of events. I’m sure it would be more creative anyway.”
She narrowed her eyes and said, “Okay. Go ahead.”
A spark of shock flitted over his expression, chased by wicked determination.
“Well?” she prompted. “Let’s hear it. How would things have gone if it had really been you and not an illusion?”
“Are you sure you want me to tell you?” He shifted until their lips were practically touching. “Or would you like me to show you instead?”
Ophelia wasn’t sure what was coming over her. His intoxicating proximity, the last three days of near-death experiences, or maybe it was the fact that witnessing so much lust tonight made her realize she’d never once come close to feeling that way about anyone. She desperately wanted to feel passion, even if it was only for a moment. And the way Blackwell set her nerves on fire made her certain he’d be the perfect one for the task.
“Show me,” she implored.
If he was shocked by the conviction in her voice, there was no indication. And as soon as the permission fell from her mouth, he was moving. Capturing her lips with his own, no hesitation, no timidness. As if this had been inevitable to him all along.
She let her eyes flutter closed and sank into the feeling of his mouth against hers.
Electrifying.
His lips were warm, unlike the illusion’s had been, and her toes curled as the static she had grown to associate with him zapped through her entire body, searing her from the inside out. When he pressed closer to deepen the kiss further, her hands came up of their own accord to plunge into the soft tresses of his moonlit hair.
The kiss, the utter earnestness of it, knocked all the air from her lungs. She didn’t know if his ardor was real or if he was just an incredible actor, but she didn’t care. Never had she felt something so raw before. It was as if he had suddenly woken her and made her realize just how untouched she’d been all this time and now she would starve without his hands and mouth running over every inch of her skin. Hunger burned in her core as his tongue expertly tangled with hers, and she had to pull back for a moment, gasping for air. Blackwell changed courses seamlessly, letting her catch her breath while he dipped his head to press a line of scorching kisses into her collarbone. She felt one of his hands slowly slide down to the back of her thigh, the other drifting up to gently cup the back of her head.
In one fluid motion, he shifted forward and pressed her back against the ground so he was hovering above her. He lifted up her leg and hooked it around his waist, while using the hand behind her head as a buffer against the hard stone floor.
“At any point, if you want to stop,” he said, his voice thick with his arousal, “we stop. Understand?”
“Yes,” she confirmed, tugging gently on his hair to bring his mouth back down to hers.
Their lips slammed together once again, and their moans were swallowed with equal fervor. For once her head felt crystal clear. No intrusive voices or thoughts of danger and violence. There was only Blackwell and the sensation of his weight pressing into her, his hands tracing their way down her sides as his mouth learned the shape of her kisses.
A deep, primal sound came out of his throat when she gently nipped his bottom lip, something between a moan and a growl, and it ignited a need deep in her core. She could feel the slickness between her thighs grow as she arched her chest up into him, desperate for friction. He responded by dragging a hand between their bodies, rubbing his thumb over one of the tight buds poking from beneath the shear lace camisole she still wore. It was her turn to moan.
She felt him hum in satisfaction at the breathy sounds coming from her throat and gently rolled her nipple between his fingers, making her entire body writhe beneath him with pleasure. Her hands began ripping at his shirt as she broke their kiss, panting. She wanted it off. She wanted to know what his bare skin felt like when they moved together like this.
He huffed a laugh at her eagerness and snapped his fingers. The shirt was gone before she could blink.
“That is incredibly convenient,” she noted.
He smiled down at her with an alarming amount of mischief. “As is this.”
He snapped again and her camisole disappeared, letting the cool air hit her chest and send a ripple of goosebumps across her skin. Then she watched as he slipped out of his corporeal form and felt her own body become lighter than air. Before she understood what was happening, she found herself straddling his lap, his back propped against the wall for support.
“What—?” She blinked, placing her palms flat against his pectorals to hold herself upright.
“Transporting can be disorienting,” he told her as he angled her body back against his raised knees so he could have better access to her bare chest. “Give your head a moment to clear.”
“You’re really making that an easy task right now,” she retorted as he leaned in to press a kiss on the underside of her jaw.
She felt his smile against her skin, but he didn’t stop his ministrations. His mouth just continued lower and lower and lower until she felt his breath against her nipple. When he didn’t immediately press his lips there, a sound of annoyance hummed in the back of her throat.
“Exquisite,” he remarked as his eyes roamed over her bare body.
She followed his gaze to glance down at herself. The dusty pink of her nipples was stark against her ivory skin, even though she was flushed with arousal. She had always wondered what it would be like to have the voluptuous curves she thought were so lovely on her sister, but the way Blackwell was looking at her right now eradicated any thought of self-consciousness from her mind. She let herself unabashedly take in every inch of his body as well, the way his muscles were so well defined, the chiseled planes of his abdomen.
The self-satisfaction on Blackwell’s face at her gawking made her want to stick her tongue out at him. She had never been so affected by someone’s attractiveness as she was his, and it drove her wild that he seemed to know it. She was surprised to find herself bolder, more confident than she imagined she might be in this moment. But something about the frenzy she currently felt overrode any modesty she might have had before. Not to mention the fact that she’d never see Blackwell again after this week anyway.
A pang of something she couldn’t quite name shot through her at that last thought, but it was gone a second later when Blackwell’s tongue flicked against one of her nipples.
Holy shit.
He gently grazed his teeth over the rosy bud of her breast, sucking it into his mouth and wringing a blissful gasp from her lips. She wriggled in his lap, looking for pressure where she needed it most, and immediately felt the length of him straining against his trousers. He worked his way over to her other breast and repeated the spine-tingling swirl of his tongue until her skin became so heated with pleasure, she worried she might combust.
When he brought his mouth back to hers, he threaded his hands into the long tendrils of her hair, tugging on it affectionately as she continued to writhe against him. He lifted his hips ever so slightly to grind the hardness in his trousers against her own movements and before long both of them were becoming more and more unwound. Her underwear was utterly soaked between them.
His hands never stopped moving. Brushing over her pulse points, tugging at her hair, rubbing circles into places on her body she didn’t realize could bring her such delicious sensations. She whimpered as she pressed herself into his length even harder, and he met her with a thrust of equal fervor.
“Good girl,” he murmured as he licked and nipped at the sensitive skin behind her right ear. She preened at the praise. “Let go.”
The words snapped something loose inside of her. It was all too much. Too intense, too hot, too good. And soon there was a sharp, carnal sensation tightening deep inside her core, climbing, and twisting until it reached a crescendo and she came crashing down in a wave of pleasure.
Her chest heaved as she blinked open her eyes to find his smug face peering back at her.
“I imagine that’s right about where you would have lost the trial if it had really been me,” he told her. “And that was barely a taste.”
“I think I might hate you,” she said, but it didn’t come out with nearly as much heat as she wanted it to. “That was… Does it always feel like that?”
His brows shot up. “Have you never—”
“I’ve had a lover,” she interrupted before he could jump to any conclusions. “But he never made me do that.”
“Then he was useless and a waste of your time,” Blackwell told her as he tightened his arms around her waist and lifted them both from the ground. He slowly lowered her to her feet—as if he had pleasured her so intensely, he was worried she wouldn’t be able to stand on her own now. She huffed and stepped away.
Then she did hesitate. “Wait, did you—?”
“No. That wasn’t for me,” he told her as he picked up his shirt and tossed it over to her. “Here. Let’s get you back to your room. I’m sure you need to rest.” He winked as she slid her arms into the button-down, and she shot him a disparaging look.
“There will be no living with you after this,” she muttered. “That… That can’t happen again.”
He lifted a brow. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself of that, angel?”
Myself, she thought, but aloud she insisted, “I’m serious. Our relationship is complicated enough what with the blood bargain and all.”
He tilted her chin up with a single finger until she was looking directly into his eyes. “Whatever you say, but don’t be surprised when you find yourself having to resist begging me for more.”
She glared at him.
“I will never beg you for anything,” she said.
He grinned. “Famous last words.”
She ignored him as she gathered up her discarded clothes, very careful not to touch the side that had been ruined with the acid. When she backed up a step to make sure she had grabbed everything, she accidentally knocked over one of the candelabras. Rushing to pick it up before she actually made good on her promise to burn this place to the ground, she noticed something strange where it had landed. Etched into the oak flooring were several words. The first was unreadable, having been scratched out so many times there was a deep gouge in the floor, but the ones beneath were crystal clear.
And Gabriel Forever.