Page 15 of A Deal For a Kiss

And I don’t want to admit it, but I wonder what that would be like. Forever. That’s more than one lifetime.

His words chased me in my sleep, telling me we’ve loved each other for lifetimes before.

Hesitantly, I put my hand in his. Our fingers slide together like we were meant to hold one another, and my heart twists again, wanting more of his comfort.

“What is it?” I ask. “Is something wrong?”

“Come see what I’ve done.”

I’m not sure what I’m seeing at first, and then my eyes adjust to the low light and the brighter lights within.

There are red candles, thin and tapered and lovely, on a gold tray. This isn’t decorative. The candles have been burned before, as part of a ritual that someone took great care with. Something about the tray tells me that it’s important.

Rose petals surround the candles. This time freshly picked, and their scent carries through the room. A shell on the right side is filled with water and crystals, shining beneath the surface: pink and black and clear. There is a mirror behind it, reflecting the low light in the room and a glass decanter filled with dark red wine. The candle flames dance in the mirror, and that tiny voice saysyou should recognize this.

It feels like something I’ve known forever and yet I do not understand.

All I recognize is how his hand tightens on mine.

“Sit,” he says, and helps me lower myself to the floor, swallowing thickly. It’s warm, which I didn’t expect—almost as warm as the bed and comfortable to sit on. Is he doing that, or is the hard stone making itself better for me? Maybe I’m not as rested as I thought.

My breath comes quicker as I look over the tray from this distance. The gold gleams in the candlelight, and I know howthose candles would feel if I reached out to touch the warm wax with the droplets running down the tapers.

I don’t. I fold my hands in my lap, sitting cross-legged with him beside me, and watch as he lifts the cup from the tray and offers it to me.

“Drink,” he says, the candlelight flickering in his eyes, “and you’ll remember.”

“What will I remember?” I dare to ask him and then stare up into his eyes. The light from the fire in the corner of the room dances in his dark eyes.

“That our love was a gift from the gods. One they could take away,” he says and then lifts the goblet, “and one they can give back.”

I trust him. Perhaps I am a fool. But I’ve never wanted the sweetness of wine so much in my life as I do when he offers it to me. I tell myself again, it’s all a dream anyway. And if none of this is real, if the consequence has no bearing, why should I not give in to my heart’s desires.

I take the glass. It’s heavier than I expected, and I have to hold it with both hands.

The wine is a deep, rich color and I inhale its scent. It smells dry and slightly flowery, and once again excitement makes my heart beat a little faster.

He leans over the cup and kisses me. The heat of his lips on mine steadies me. Tension goes out of my shoulders and my back. He’s a soothing balm. The power he has over me is uncanny.

He breaks the kiss softly, then takes my chin in his hand and turns my head toward the mirror. My hair is a messy halo and my eyes are tired, but together, the two of us, there is beauty.

“Watch the flames,” he says, and just like that, it’s all I can focus on. Those flames twisting in the mirror, multiplying until there are endless copies in the glass.

I watch, letting my eyes roam over them one by one.

He maneuvers himself behind me and lowers his head to kiss that spot on my neck. It must be his favorite spot on my body, he’s always kissing me there. More shivers move down my spine. Shivers of pleasure and desire and a deep longing.

Slowly, so I don’t spill any of the wine, I lift the cup to my lips, keeping my eyes on the flames, and tip it up until the wine meets my lips.

The full-bodied flavor of the wine bursts on my tongue.

I take another sip, and his lips meet my shoulder again, lingering there, pressing warmth into my skin. His hand is on my waist, holding me upright. I know I won’t fall backward. I won’t fall anywhere with him wrapped around me.

Something about the wine calls to me. I’ve tasted the flavor before. IknowI have. If I just taste a little more, I’d know where I drank it, and who I was with, and?—

I want to close my eyes and lean my head against his shoulder, but I don’t. The lick of the flame in the mirror begs me to watch, but it blurs even as I blink and try to keep my eyes focused on it. Is the mirror blurring or is the world blurring? Or is it only my eyes?

Another kiss to the side of my neck sends heat rushing through my body. Heat and possession and something else.

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