Page 59 of The Reign of Blood

“A table isn’t necessary, but something that won’t burn when I’m done with it would be handy,” she breathes as she drops to the floor, crossing her legs as she unclips the lid on the jar.

I grab what she needs and place it in front of her. She doesn’t look, though; she’s too engrossed in the sand to pay any attention to anything else.

Stepping back, I lean against the wall, watching her every move as she scoops out a handful of sand. I’m mesmerized as her hands start to move, red and orange hues dancing between her palms as she uses her magic. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Her eyelids are at half-mast, and her hands move on their own as she brings the sand to life. All too quickly, she places the newly made glass down on the heat-resistant plate I put before her and smiles down at her masterpiece.

At first, it looks like a simple vase, but as I peer closer, I notice the intricate design etched into the glass throughout. It’s like small, thin vines intertwine up the sides, embedded in the glass.

“What’s that old film my mom used to make me watch?” I murmur, and she blinks at me, her eyebrows pinching together.

“How am I supposed to know that?”

I wave her off. “Obviously, you don’t, but I’m sure you will. Where the guy was dead, but he helped her make something with the clay. I can’t really remember much about it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do, for sure you do. I think he was a ghost. Wait, is that what it was called?”

Her nose scrunches. “That sounds weird.”

“It was, but she loved it,” I reply with a snicker, the memories flooding me, but I stop the thoughts before the heartache sets in.

“Loved it?”

“Hmm.” I glance away, running my fingers through my hair as I turn my attention back to her.

She runs her tongue over her bottom lip as she turns back to the vase. “How is this similar?”

Before I can think better of it, I drop to the floor, planting my legs on either side of hers before intertwining our fingers. “In the movie, they molded the clay together. A song was playing in the background, making it all cute and shit.” I run her hands over the vase, my heart hammering at our close proximity as her back presses against my chest.

She sighs, the weight of it vibrating through her body and resonating in my own. The sweet floral scent of her hair intoxicates me as she shuffles slightly, getting comfortable enveloped in my limbs. Before I can think better of it, I inch closer, running my lips over her neck. She shivers, tilting her head, encouraging me to press a kiss to the same spot.

Her back arches, inviting me further in as I bring our hands to her waist. Still intertwined, I run my thumb along her stomach, hating the t-shirt that sits between us. My mouth has a mind of its own, trailing pathways in every direction as her head tilts to the side, offering me more access.

Fuck.

Releasing one of her hands, I tug at the back of her cloak, searching for the fastening before it cascades around her waist. The outline of the kiss of amethyst is visible through her t-shirt and I can’t stop myself from revealing the delicate purple gem.

Her skin is raw and sore around the edges where it’s clawed at her flesh. Running my finger around the edge, she stiffens. “I might not be able to remove it, but I can soothe the broken skin,”I explain, quickly muttering the chant quietly. She softens, her tension easing as her head lolls forward.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime,” I promise, pressing a kiss just above the offensive object digging into her flesh.

She tugs her hand from mine and I immediately feel the loss. Before I can heave a sigh of disappointment, her hand is on my cheek, fingers splayed as she peers deep into my eyes. She shifts so we’re facing each other, and my hands immediately fall to her waist.

There’s uncertainty in her eyes, uncertainty over me, I’m sure. So, I hold my position, waiting for her to be the one to make the move. I want this more than anything, my cock bulging against the cotton of my boxers, desperately seeking her, but this has to be her decision because we both know she’s aware of what I desire.

Her.

She inches closer, our breaths mingling together as I hold her gaze, watching her pupils dilate just before she lets her eyelids fall closed and her lips press against mine.

The feel of her fingers against my face as she claims my mouth is all-consuming, and I’m moving before I can even think about it. Standing with my hands fixed on her waist, I hoist her into the air while our lips remain connected.

I take the three necessary steps to my bed before lowering as gently as possible. Her hands stroke down my neck and latch onto my shoulders as her legs wrap around my hips.

Fuck.

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