CEDRIC POV
He stopped just a breath away.
Close enough that I could see the rapid pulse at his throat.
The slight sheen of sweat on his skin.
That pulse—God, why did it draw me in like this?
It was like a drumbeat, steady and insistent, calling to the darkest corners of my soul, the parts of me I usually kept locked away, buried under layers of control.
I wanted to reach out and touch it.
Feel it throb against my fingertips.
To press my lips to that warm, tender spot and drink him in.
My mouth watered with the thought, my senses overwhelmed by his scent—honey, cedarwood, and something tantalizingly sweet.
I could almost taste it.
Taste him.
Lady Harriet's throat cleared with a delicate cough, breaking the spell, but only just.
She hovered at Keir's side, her presence a pale shadow compared to the living fire between us. "Lord Keir, may I introduce the Marquess of Cyewood, Lord Cedric," she announced.
A smile—a thin veneer of civility—pulled at my lips.
But beneath that smile, a storm raged.
Primal urges, dark and feral, clawed at my insides, desperate to break free, to claim what they wanted, what I wanted.
Him.
My fingers twitched with the need to touch, grab, and possess.
But I wouldn't let them.
I couldn't let them.
I was Cedric, the Marquess of Cyewood, a man of discipline, of restraint.
A dominant among men.
Not some beast driven by instincts.
Or at least, that's what I told myself.
But damn it all to hell, up close, he was even more intoxicating.
And flawed.
Thank God he was flawed.
Those freckles, speckled like stars across the bridge of his nose, were a gift. They were proof that he was human, that he could bleed, that he could be broken.
It made him all the more desirable, all the more tempting.
My breath hitched, caught somewhere between a growl and a sigh.
"Lord Cedric," he murmured, his voice soft and melodic, with a hint of something foreign, a lilting accent that rolled off his tongue.
My name on his lips sent a shiver down my spine, straight to my core. I wanted to hear it again.
I wanted to hear him whisper 'Cedric' in the dark—breathless and pleading.
"And I believe, my dear, you've already been introduced to the Earl of Eane," Lady Harriet continued. Her words sliced through the haze, bringing Eamon back into the periphery of my awareness.
Keir's eyes shifted briefly to Eamon, acknowledging him politely, but they quickly returned to me. As if drawn by an invisible thread, his gaze locked onto mine again, and I felt the weight of it—steady, searching.
Lady Harriet seemed to pick up on the tension between us, the unspoken electricity sparking with every second Keir and I held each other's gaze.
Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she spoke again, her tone light and casual though tinged with a knowing undertone. "You know, Eamon and Cedric have been friends for many years—quite the pair and a bit of a menace to society."
Eamon chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "The truth, my dear Lady Harriet," he interjected smoothly, "is that I'm Cedric's only friend. It's a sad state of affairs, but someone has to keep him from brooding himself into an early grave."
I rolled my eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips despite myself. "At this moment, 'friend' feels a bit too generous."
Lady Harriet, clearly enjoying the moment, offered a knowing smile as she continued to speak. "Well, I suppose it's true what they say—boys will be boys, no matter how old they get."
I let out a soft chuckle, though my attention remained on Keir. There was a spark in his eyes, a flicker of something dancing out of reach, teasing me.
"And you, Lord Keir," I began, my tone deceptively light, "where do you call home?"
Keir's lips curled into a small, almost mysterious smile. "Oh, here and there," he replied smoothly, his eyes never leaving mine. "I've lived in various places."
"Various places?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow. "That's quite vague. Surely, there must be one place that feels like home."
His smile widened slightly. "I suppose."
I narrowed my eyes, "And your accent?"
Keir tilted his head, the smile never leaving his lips. "I'm surprised you caught that."
"Scottish, I presume?"
"I thought I had lost that. My accent, that is."
I frowned—he hadn't agreed or denied that his accent was Scottish. He'd simply sidestepped the question altogether, leaving me with more questions.
"What brings you to London after all this time?" I asked, hardly believing I was engaged in this verbal sparring match with the omega—but here I was, drawn in deeper with every exchange. "There must be something—or someone—that made the journey worthwhile."
"I heard England is beautiful in the spring. I thought it might be nice to see for myself."
Beside me, Eamon barely stifled a laugh.
I shot him a sharp glance, but it only seemed to fuel his amusement.
Lady Harriet, too, watched us with a keen interest, her eyes alight with curiosity as the exchange between Keir and I unfolded.
It was clear they were both enjoying this little dance of words far more than I was.
"You traveled from Scotland?" I raised an eyebrow. "Just to take in the scenery? You must have a remarkable appreciation for gardens."
He chuckled softly, the sound warm and unbothered. "One must appreciate beauty wherever it's found, don't you think?"
I bit back a sigh, refusing to let him see how much his evasiveness grated on me. "How long have you been in England, then? Long enough to appreciate all it has to offer?"
"Long enough to know my way around, but not so long that I've seen everything."
I scowled, the type of frown that usually sent people scurrying away, but Keir didn't flinch.
Instead, his smile grew, his eyes sparkling, daring me to react.
"You seem quite frustrated with my answers, Lord Cedric," he observed.
"That would imply you've answered any of my questions," I shot back, annoyed that he could easily rile me up.
"Your questions feel somewhat like an inquisition," he replied, his gaze still steady, unyielding.
"Inquisition is a strong word," I countered. "I simply wish to get to know you better."
He tilted his head slightly, considering my words. "Quite a few people seem interested in getting to know me better."
"You're a difficult man to get a straight answer from."
Keir chuckled again, a soft, knowing sound, then leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to whisper. "Or perhaps I'm just waiting for the right person to ask the right questions."
The teasing lilt in his voice caught me off guard, and for a moment, I felt the ground shift beneath me.
I wasn't used to being the one unsettled, to having the tables turned so effortlessly.
A spark of irritation flared in my chest, mingling with something darker, a need—
—a need to close the distance between us, to wipe that damn smile off his face with a kiss that would leave him breathless.
Keir's smile wavered, his eyes flickering to something—or rather, someone—behind Lady Harriet.
I turned slightly, just enough to catch sight of his aunt across the room.
Her expression was stern, a deep frown cutting across her face as she watched us, her disapproval clear as day.
Keir's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he spoke, his voice soft but tinged with a hint of something else—something almost regretful.
"It seems my aunt is ready to depart."
Without thinking, my hand moved of its own accord to catch his, holding him back with a gentle and possessive grasp, like I had any right to stop him.
His skin was warm under my touch, and before I could think better of it, I brought his hand to my lips, brushing a soft kiss across his knuckle.
"It was a pleasure, Lord Keir," I whispered, my voice dropping to a low, intimate tone that seemed to wrap around us.
His eyes widened, and I saw the faint blush that spread across his cheeks, blooming like a rose under my gaze.
But as quickly as it came, it slipped away.
Keir pulled his hand back, the moment dissolving like mist in the morning sun.
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