Page 6 of Stormhold

The kind of beauty that you would take a moment to admire.

The kind that stops your thoughts and makes you momentarily slip out of reality.

She was that kind of beautiful.

Last night, when my men informed me that we had an invader, I expected a leather-clad, tall woman with a plain face and a nasty sneer.

Not this beautiful creature, barely over five feet four with luminous skin, hair the color of obsidian falling naturally down to her hips, and wide brown eyes encircled with long, curling lashes that elegantly framed her heart-shaped face.

“Arkane Stormhold, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She repeated my words from last night, casually arranging the last of her books before slowly descending the ladder.

“Your present from last night speaks a lot.” Hands in the pockets of my long coat, I leaned against the dark wooden bookshelf and crossed my ankles. Her end of the library didn’t have a soul in sight. Either my security got rid of it, or she made sure to work in this section for that reason.

Deep brown eyes met mine. “That doesn’t explain you stalking me at my workplace.”

“Funny thing to say for someone who broke into my house.” I only let her break into my house because I was intrigued.

“You knew I was there,” she said, lowering herself onto a walnut-colored, leather-bound vintage chair. “Your people would’ve informed you the moment I jumped over your fence. Makes me wonder why you even let me get that far.”

Behind her was a long, cathedral-style stained window, painting a mural of a rose garden. Her desk was plain, almost empty, except for the singular ornate reading lamp, a coffee cup, six pens, and a few stacks of books. Only one was open in front of her, with a rectangular card sticking out of it. It was almost as if she didn’t want to bring any of her personality to work, or maybe this entire section was her personality. Secluded. Safe. Serene.

“Curious.” I shrugged as I walked farther, not leaving her eyes. “Wanted to see the infamous Beauty in her daily life.”

She tried, tried hard not to blink away as I held her gaze—I could tell from the faint blush that started to grow over the high of her cheeks. There was something divinely soft about her. Something about her eyes that made me want to just keep staring at her, like a calm force overtaking my entire body while those dark browns held my entire soul captive. Almost as if none of the outside world—the duty, revenge, or power—mattered.

“You could’ve done that a thousand different ways.” There was a slight shake in her voice as she averted her eyes, and I couldn’t fight the smile that ghosted my lips. “Why are you here?” This time, the frustration was evident in her question. No longer the unbothered calm approach, it seemed.

“Like I said, your present likes to speak.” I paused. “A lot. A single day wouldn’t be enough.”

She raised a baffled brow. “You’re telling me the king of the city came all this way to inform a lowly librarian that you need more time with the prisoner? One of your men could’ve easily done that.”

“King of the city?” It was my turn to raise a brow, but I quickly dropped it when my feet rooted in place right in front of her. “Quite the opposite, actually. I’ve come to offer an invitation.”

She tilted her head to the side, her eyes boring down on me. “An invitation?”

“To my house, of course. You wouldn’t have to jump off cliffs to come see me. Although I must say, no one has gone through such drastic measures to stalk me.”

“I never stalked you,” she mumbled. “So you’re telling me you came all this way because you want me to go with you to your mansion on the cliffs?”

“Mansion on the cliffs? Remind me to hire you next time I want to title my properties or myself, for that matter.”

“Hmm, so the Beast has some humor.”

“So the Beauty says.”

I knew what the city spoke of me. The whispers, the rumors, the stories, I’d heard them. I’d heard them all, and I didn’t give one fuck about any of them. I also didn’t give one fuck about the scar on my face. I preferred to live a private life and hunt in the dark. I couldn’t blame the people if they wanted to script a conceited narrative on that.

“Unfortunately, we aren’t some spin on a fairy tale,” she quipped, her pink lips hiding a smile.

“Good for us,” I replied dryly.

“Why...” She lifted her chin in question. “Why the invite?”

“The present asks for you.”

“And what? You decided to abide by its request?”

“Not really, but it says some interesting things.”