Shadows of Forbidden Desire

Chapter 2

Harlan POV

I couldn’t tear my eyes off Elara as she sat beside me at the dining table, her blonde hair catching the soft glow of Luminara’s crystal chandeliers. At seventeen, she had a vision, those deep blue eyes flecked with silver, her slim frame curved just enough to stir things in me I shouldn’t feel. My name’s Thorne, warlock and Harlan’s shadow since our youth, and tonight, I was a fool playing with fire.

Seraphina prattled on about some arcane council nonsense, her voice grating as I watched Elara pick at her glowing fruit, her lips glistening with ether-wine. The memory of her in that bathroom naked, teasing, her skin warm under my hands burned in my mind. I shifted in my seat, trying to kill the heat rising in my jeans.

“Thorne, you’re quiet tonight,” Elara said, her voice sweet but edged with mischief. She turned in her chair, one knee pulled up, the other stretching across my lap. Her dress rode up, exposing smooth thighs that begged for touch.

I swallowed hard. “Just a long day. Meetings, deals. Nothing special.” My hands itched to move, but with Harlan across the table and Seraphina’s eyes darting between us, I kept them still. “What about you?”

She smiled, that knowing glint in her eyes. “Classes through the ether-portal. Then a bath.” Her tone lingered on the last word, a reminder of her standing bare, daring me to cross lines I knew I shouldn’t.

Harlan didn’t seem to notice, focused on his plate, but I felt the weight of his presence. He’d raised her since she was a babe, pulled from the wreckage of her mother’s magical collapse. We both had, in our way. I’d babysat her, held her tiny hand through nightmares, but now? Now she was no child, and the way she pressed against me three nights ago told me she knew it too.

“Level?” Seraphina asked, her tone clipped, eyeing Elara like a rival.

“Apprentice. Seventeen,” Elara replied, her gaze flicking to me, challenging. My hand moved before I could stop it, cupping her knee under the table. Her skin was soft, still scented with cherry essence from her bath. My fingers traced higher, brushing her thigh, and my pulse roared. Wrong. So damn wrong.

Harlan stood, breaking the spell. “Elara, help with the plates?”

I eased her leg off my lap, fingers lingering a second too long. She rose, stacking dishes with a grace that made my chest ache. Seraphina leaned closer, her perfume cloying. “She’s something, isn’t she?” Her smile was sharp, jealous.

“She’s family,” I said, voice flat. Family, sure, but the way my body reacted to Elara was anything but brotherly. I needed air, needed to shake this off.

In the living room, Harlan and I fell into talk of ether-storms, a safe topic. Elara curled up beside him on the velvet couch, her legs tucked under, one arm draped along the back. Her fingers brushed Harlan’s shoulder, and I caught the way she licked her lips, her eyes darting between us. Harlan’s hand rested on her thigh, casual but not quite. Something stirred in me jealousy, maybe, or worse, desire to be in his place.

“Last storm took out half the northern wards,” Harlan said, oblivious to the tension. “Good thing the guardians reinforced them.”

I nodded, barely listening. Elara’s gaze locked on mine, and I felt it like a spell pulling me under. “Yeah, solid win for the city,” I muttered.

I needed out. “Gotta hit the bathroom,” I said, standing and pointing upstairs. The mansion’s halls glowed with embedded crystals, guiding me to the upper floor. I splashed water on my face, staring into the mirror. Get it together, Thorne. She’s seventeen. Harlan’s daughter, blood or not. But the memory of her body against mine, her moans as I sucked her skin, wouldn’t quit.

Back downstairs, Harlan was still on the couch, Elara nestled against him now, her hand in his. “You alright, Daddy?” she asked, voice soft but loaded.

“Stressed,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You’re an angel, offering to clean up.”

I caught his eye, nodding to Seraphina. “We should head out. It starts early tomorrow.”

At the door, Elara hugged me, her body pressing tight, hips grinding subtly. I kept my hands on her back, fighting the urge to pull her closer. “Good night, Thorne,” she said, waving with that damned smile.

Seraphina’s glare could’ve burned through wards, but I ignored it. “Night,” I said, stepping into the misty night.

The forest whispered as we walked to my carriage, Seraphina’s heels clicking. “She’s trouble,” she said, voice low. “You know that, right?”

“Drop it,” I snapped. I didn’t need her pointing out what I already knew.

Back at my tower, I sent Seraphina home. Her touch wouldn’t fix this ache. Alone, I poured a glass of ether-infused whiskey, staring out at Luminara’s glowing spires. Elara’s face haunted me, those eyes, that body, the way she pushed me to the edge. I’d crossed a line in that bathroom, and she’d loved it. Worse, I wanted more.

My scrying crystal hummed, a message from Harlan. “Need you tomorrow. Picking up that Dodge artifact in Frankfort. Bring Elara?”

I cursed. Another day with her, testing my restraint. I typed back, “Sure. Evening works.” But my mind wasn’t on the artifact. It was on her, on the way she’d rubbed against me, on the promise in her whisper.

A shadow flickered outside my window, too quick to catch. The woods were alive tonight, and not just with spirits. Something darker stirred, a pulse of magic I hadn’t felt since my exile days. I gripped my staff, its runes flaring. If trouble was coming, I’d face it but Elara’s pull was a danger all its own.

What had I started, and how the hell was I going to stop it? Or did I even want to?