The darkness surrounded Bianca. She couldn’t see a thing, yet she could feel it. Was it dread? She couldn’t say. It seemed to seep into her from every direction, settling beneath her skin.
And before she knew it, she was walking toward the dark, serpentine form.
The pressure on her chest grew heavier as something wrapped around her. She should have been afraid, yet there was something strangely compelling about it, almost like a calling drawing her forward.
Then, in the far distance, a flash of light appeared.
Bianca looked up.
A pyramid hung suspended in the void, slowly rotating on its own.
Dread flooded her.
She tried to draw a breath, but her throat seemed to close. When she looked around, she realized she was surrounded by water. She didn’t feel wet or cold; she felt wrapped. She couldn’t tell whether she was awake or dreaming anymore. Everything felt far too real.
She didn’t want to be there. She wanted to run, to fight, to wake up, but some invisible force seemed to crush her from every direction, pinning her in place.
’Don’t fight it...’
An eerie voice echoed through the darkness.
Bianca fought.
She fought with everything she had, kicking and flailing as the crushing pressure dragged her deeper. Her lungs burned as the darkness closed around her.
Then there was light.
Hot, blinding white light erupted from behind her, brighter than anything she had ever seen.
A shimmering bubble formed around her, sealing her inside it. The crushing darkness vanished, and suddenly she could breathe again.
"What are you doing?"
Peregrine’s voice.
Bianca barely had time to recognize it before the shield around her shattered. Water spilled around her, and a wave of cold struck her from head to toe.
She gasped and looked around.
She was standing in the middle of the pond at Valois House.
How did I get here?
Bianca stared at herself in disbelief. She was dripping wet from head to toe, while the pond around her had almost completely dried up.
Did Peregrine just evaporate the pond?
She turned.
Peregrine stood a short distance away, a ball of fire burning in his hand. The shifting light cast shadows across the scar on his face, making his already imposing features look even more frightening.
And his lips were twisted with anger.
Bianca stared at him, utterly bewildered.
She had been in bed.
How did I end up here? And why is he mad?
"I..."
Peregrine walked toward her. Bianca could feel the heat radiating from him, and the water pooled around her feet hissed and evaporated against the scorched ground. Even the air seemed to grow hotter, as though the flames in his hand were an extension of his anger.
"Stop it!" she shouted.
The heat was becoming unbearable.
"It’s scorching!"
Peregrine stopped.
The blazing anger in his amber eyes fractured, replaced by a raw, naked terror he couldn’t mask. He stood there, completely frozen, his chest heaving as if he had just run across the entire kingdom to reach her.
Then, he took a step forward. Bianca stumbled backward, out of reflex. Peregrine stopped his hand that reached for her, retreating. Without saying a word, he turned and walked away.
Bianca came to her senses.
"Wait!"
Bianca hurried after him. Her long, wet nightgown clung to her legs, and she nearly tripped over the hem. Her leg stuck to the fabric, sending her stumbling forward toward the scorched ground.
Before she could fall, Peregrine turned and caught her.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
His arm was around her waist, holding her securely against him. Bianca’s hands had instinctively caught his shoulders, and she slowly lifted her gaze.
Their eyes met.
The moonlight fell softly around them. A cool breeze stirred her wet hair, carrying the faint scent of flowers through the night, while the warmth of his body surrounded her.
For one suspended moment, Bianca forgot about the pond. She forgot about the nightmare.
She could only feel him. The heat of his body, the steady pounding of his heart beneath her hands, the depth of his amber eyes.
He was so handsome.
And that scent... ash and something that was uniquely his. Sandalwood with a hint of cinnamon.
Bianca wet her lips. Something warm bloomed in her heart and slowly spread through her. She had never been this close to her husband before, not like this, with nothing between them but the thin fabric of her nightgown.
"I’m not cold," she said.
Maybe that was what he had been trying to do. She was soaking wet, after all. Perhaps he had only wanted to warm her and had accidentally made it too hot.
Peregrine’s eyebrows twitched.
"Careful," he said, before releasing her waist. "Go and change."
He turned to leave.
Bianca didn’t like that.
She had liked his warmth far too much. The places where his hands had touched her still tingled, and she found herself unwilling to let the moment end.
Her fingers caught the hem of his shirt.
"Peregrine..."
He stopped.
He didn’t turn around, but he stopped.
"Back then... in my family’s lake..." she began.
It was something that had bothered her for years. When she had been eighteen, she had almost drowned in that lake. Everyone had told her that Julian Pembroke had saved her.
But Peregrine had been there too.
She still remembered the warmth beneath the water. Even now, she could remember how safe it had felt despite the cold, and some foolish part of her had always wanted that warmth to have belonged to Peregrine.
"Was it you?" she asked softly.
Her fingers unconsciously rose to her lips.
For a long moment, there was only silence.
Bianca could see nothing but the broad line of Peregrine’s back. She didn’t see his hands slowly curling into fists at his sides.
"No. You know my aversion to water."
He walked away.
The cold reality struck her like ice. Bianca’s fingers slowly lost their strength, the rough fabric of his shirt slipping from her touch as her hand fell limp at her side. A quiet, familiar hollow opened up in her chest. Of course. It had never been him.
It was not Peregrine.
She stood there beneath the moonlight, soaked and shivering, alone once again.
Just as she had been all her life.
Tears welled in her eyes, mingling with the droplets that fell from her wet hair as the breeze carried them away.
Then, suddenly, warmth surrounded her.
Her feet left the ground.
Peregrine had lifted her.
With a gasp, Bianca instinctively wrapped an arm around his neck. Her cheek grazed his, while her chest pressed against his broad one.
"Wh-what? I can walk..." she protested.
But Peregrine merely adjusted her in his arms and continued toward the house.
Bianca watched him from where she rested against his chest. Her gaze lingered on the left side of his face, the side untouched by the scar. She had never realized his lashes were so long. His nose was straight and sharp, and the cold breeze stirred his silver hair, sending the soft strands dancing around his face.
She leaned a little closer.
His scent surrounded her, mingling with the warmth of his body.
Then she noticed him looking down. Peregrine immediately averted his eyes. That was when realization struck.
Bianca looked down at herself.
The sheer fabric of her wet gown offered no protection against the direct, blistering heat radiating from his chest. With every heavy step he took, her skin brushed flush against his hard muscle. Her breath caught.
A sudden, dizzying warmth curled low in her stomach, and all her carefully practiced defenses completely melted away.
Her wicked imagination awakened at once.
The house was still a long way from the pond, and Bianca suddenly became far too aware of the man carrying her. Her gaze drifted to his lips.
They looked perfect.
Soft.
And...
What would they taste like?
The thought slipped into her mind before she could stop it.
Her heart began pounding. Warmth spread through her body, and before she knew what she was doing, Bianca was slowly leaning toward his lips.