Bitterburn (Gothic Fairytales #1) - Ann Aguirre Page 0,24

sort of notion that made my stepmother call me strange and ill-starred. In addition to my prophetic dreams, I also had . . . hunches about various townsfolk. People know things for factual reasons, Amarrah. They know, or they don’t. Enough with your nonsense. You’ll bring the witch finders down on us with such talk.

“Give me a moment and I’ll make you a plate.”

Njål edges closer, teasing the circle of light from my candles. I see his silhouette and, for the first time, I can see he’s wearing a dark cloak. My heart thunders with the desire to set down the wooden spoon and go to him, to forcibly divest him of his secrets.

No, only what’s freely given.

Then he steps nearer still, and I can barely breathe for the anticipation.

9.

“Close your eyes?” Despite the framing, Njål’s tone makes it a request, not a demand, and I trust him enough to comply. “May I touch you?”

I nod without hesitation.

The caress comes light as a dream, smoothing my hair, my throat, just like my dream. My breath catches. “Did you do this before? In the library.”

His hand stills. “I didn’t. Why?”

“Because I imagined this, exactly this. What does that mean?” This isn’t the first time one of my dreams has come true, but it’s the first time it’s been so personal, deeply attuned to my private desires.

He emits a soft groan and pulls his hands away slowly. “Bitterburn has devised a new way to torment me. I didn’t mean to seek you out, but I had this in my head, whispering over and over, until I felt that I would lose my mind if I didn’t touch you.”

Shaken, I almost step back. But that would hurt Njål and, even if he came to me with pictures implanted by a fearsome power, he still paused to ask my permission. In the village, there were many who didn’t, and they didn’t even have the excuse of a lifetime’s isolation. Not that I think Njål’s suffering gives him the right to ride roughshod over my free will. And he hasn’t.

“I don’t understand. Why would Bitterburn put such ideas in your mind?”

“I’m not sure either. But possibly to incite me and make me doubt at the same time.”

The “incite” part I understand well enough. For some reason, the keep wants us together, but I’m not sure about the doubt. “What do you mean?” I ask.

“Simple enough. I’m meant to want you, but not be sure if it’s truly my desire. The whispers and temptation will likely grow over time. I’ll resist. But no matter how I fight, the keep will eventually break my will. You saw how I was tonight. Then—”

“Ah, I see now.” Truly, he’s correct. Bitterburn is the real beast, desiring my destruction in such a way. I am another means to make Njål suffer, and the fact that I will be injured in the process, perhaps beyond repair, matters not at all.

I grasp why he told me not to trust this place, not to wish for too much and not to believe in its benevolence. The goats are a bribe to keep me complacent, nothing more. And that makes me angry. I’ve barely carved out space for myself in this hostile place, and now it’s trying to use me, like everyone always has. Fury burns away my reservations, my caution, like a wildfire raging through a field, burning everything in its path.

“I’m sorry,” Njål says heavily. “Now that you understand the danger fully, you should go, if the keep will allow it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“While I’m aware that you lack options, surely—”

“We can’t be used in that way if we come together of our own free will,” I cut in. “If we don’t wait for the whispers to escalate.”

You can’t take from me what’s freely given.

While I’m not entirely sure that I’m ready for this right now, I am positive that I would have taken this step with Njål eventually. I wanted him enough to touch myself after glimpsing his hand, and the keep-induced chimera of his touch left me stirred and aching. Now that he’s touched me for real, even in desperation, I can admit I want more. Maybe not this fast, but I refuse to yield my power in this way, becoming a trophy to be stolen.

If I am a prize in this absurd game, then I will award myself.

My eyes are still closed, but I catch the soft inhalation. I’ve surprised him, and that fills me with a fair amount of pleasure.