Page 221 of The Bone Season

Now I was cradled to his chest. My fingertips came to the front of his doublet, circling one of the fastenings. His other hand came to the back of my head.

And I wanted to touch him where I had before, when he was injured. I wanted the comfort of being held. I wanted to search for his scars from the first time.

I could not ask for any of this from a Reph.

Except the golden cord was echoing my need. Even if I didn’t understand the link I shared with him, our spirits were connected now.

Warden moved to meet me, still supporting my head, sparing my neck. I gripped his arms, partly to keep myself from falling backwards.

‘Paige.’

When he touched me under the chin, I looked him in the eyes, forcing myself to think only of this moment. To clear my mind and see.

‘I know this can’t mean anything,’ I whispered.

Now he was cupping my face with both hands. Slowly, I understood that he was giving me time to think, to change my mind. He had seen me running blindly to the flash house in that memory.

I nodded, not breaking his gaze. He nodded back.

Rephs might not even do what I wanted from him. He might not have a clue what he was doing. A moment later, he taught me otherwise.

Who moved first, I’m still not sure.

I had always known there was no heaven. Jaxon had told me so. There was only the outer darkness, then light – a final rest, an ending. Beyond that, who knew.

Warden leaned in close. In that first moment our lips touched, I wondered if Jaxon was wrong.

And then I cast all thoughts of Jaxon Hall out of my head, and there was only Arcturus.

He wrapped an arm beneath mine, tipping me back a little. I was being held up by the æther itself, touching it with my bare hands. As I grasped him, drawing him closer, my mind fractured with realisations.

He was kissing me.

Arcturus Mesarthim, consort of Nashira Sargas, kissing an Irish thief in the dark.

Straight away, I knew that it was nothing like the night with Reuben. My body, my spirit, my dreamscape – every part of me knew Warden. The cord trembled with sensation, matching his touches, the chills his kiss raised. His lips were firm and warm on mine.

Don’t stop.

It was all I could think, all I could breathe. I needed this embrace to last.

Kissing a giant was no easy task. Warden took me by the waist and hitched me up, sitting me on a crate. He was still taller than me, but not by such a long shot. At once, I framed his face and brought it close.

Warden let me look at him. I searched his eyes for the glazed look I had seen before. His gaze was sharp and clear. As his nose touched mine, he brushed the stray curls behind my ear, pressing our foreheads together. My dreamscape scorched. He set fire to the poppies.

For a sweet moment, it was slower, softer. I took the opportunity to dislodge my shoes, which fell to the floor with the ribbon and pins. My hand found his jaw, then slid into his tousled hair. With the other, I took hold of his nape, and he kissed me again, lips nudging mine apart.

Not like us, yet so like us.

He must have felt how cold I was. Now he pressed me close, so my bare arms were tucked between his chest and mine, sheltering them from the chill. I used the opportunity to start unfastening his doublet, working the stiff buttons. I had never felt anything like this in my life – this rising in my chest, this need to touch.

Stop, the voice of reason said.

Someone was going to find us and realise. This was reckless. I was gambling with far more than coin. I broke the kiss, and a word escaped me – maybeno, maybeyes. Maybe his name. He stopped at once. We looked at each other, both dishevelled, curls sprung loose from my chignon.

Only a moment passed. I looked at him, and he looked at me. A moment. A choice. My choice. His choice. I kissed him again, deeper. His arms came back around me, tighter. And I wanted it, all of it – too much, so much. I couldn’t help myself. His lips brushed my eyelids and cheeks. He slipped a sleeve off one shoulder, placing a soft kiss there as well, then did the same to the other.

My hands went straight back to his doublet. I got some of the buttons loose and parted the black linen – only to find a shirt underneath. Without a word, he unlaced it. He swept up a thick handful of my hair, loosening a few more curls, and lowered his lips to my neck.

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