Object. Guardians of the Night. The tower. I’ve deciphered them all save one—the room with the painting of boats.
“Yes?” Damion prompts. His hand wanders to my breast.
“I think it might be a place,” I say, reaching up to kiss him.
He moves on top of me, and I accept the weight of him. His hands slide down my body and mine push down the broad expanse of his back. His tongue makes small explorations in my mouth.
There’s a knock at my door. I push Damion off me, panicked.
“The drapery!” I whisper.
He hides behind the drapes as I quickly arrange myself. I perch on my bed, a book in hand.
“Come in,” I call, and Mrs. Jones enters. “Good evening,” I say, turning the book right side up. I can feel the flush on my cheeks. My heart thumps in my ears.
“A parcel has come for you, miss.”
“A pa
