Page 42 of In the Dark

“I didn’t realize professors dabbled in comedy! You manage to pull it off quite well.” Karsia met his humor with a dose of her own, and a silent moment passed between them. A moment where they could simply enjoy each other’s company in the relative peace he’d created for them. “Tell me about you,” she demanded softly, taking a careful breath, hoping this would be one of the few demands to which he would actually acquiesce. “You’re a curious sort of man.”

“No more curious than anyone else. My mother was human. But my father was…more.” Careful, he admonished.

“You aren’t a witch?”

“No. I’m not.” Morgan wished for something, anything, he could sip to break up the sudden clog he felt in his throat while recalling his parentage. Elon’s tea seemed ages ago. “What I am is something immortal with the ability to change shape. At least, I’m immortal until someone kills me.”

“You are old,” Karsia teased.

He pinched her playfully in retaliation for the joke. “I’m old enough to know better.”

She felt him watching her; the hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle. “I want to know something meaty, juicy. Something no one else knows.”

“How about my favorite color? It’s chartreuse.”

“Nice start, but I bet you can do better.” Her fingers walked along his arm.

It pleased him immensely when she snuggled closer yet. “Well,” he began, “I’ve got a lot of siblings. I mean hundreds. We weren’t exactly close growing up but we do well enough now. To some extent. And because of my father, who he is and what he represents, I was given dominion over the dreams of mankind.”

Karsia pushed away and swiveled her torso to stare at him. A thousand questions brewed behind her eyes as she took him in, though only one made it into words. “You’re responsible for every dream? Everything?”

“I am.”

“I thought you were a professor.” The gears in her mind clicked together. A name popped into her head, and she would have said it aloud had Morgan not spoken.

“Can a person not do two things at once?” he asked.

“It seems an awful lot to bear.”

“The burden gets heavy. Usually, I don’t sleep. And I don’t dream.”

Karsia considered the statement. “But everyone dreams.”

“It’s fine,” he told her. “I’m used to it by now. It’s better to be the one who gifts mankind with theirs than to indulge in it myself.”

“Don’t you miss dreaming?”

“You can’t miss something you’ve never had.”

The sadness in his statement echoed her own. Karsia saw herself reflected in the lenses of his glasses, but more than that, a piece of her recognized the same part inside of him.

She trailed her fingers along the solid planes of his face, down to the stubble on his chin. What was between them was completely normal, natural, she told herself, despite the circumstances. Her blood stirred at the thought of him. The way a woman desired a man she found stimulating. How had she forgotten how breathtaking it was? How thrilling?

A change came over him the longer she stared, a slight flush rising to the tips of his ears. She moved into him slowly. She didn’t want to be attracted. She certainly didn’t want the last pieces of her heart to speed up and clang unsteadily against her ribs.

But it was too difficult to control her reaction to a man like Morgan. Especially when he sat there looking as though he were ready to nibble every piece of her and keep going until there was nothing left.

“Kiss me, Morgan.” Too late to go back, she knew. This was another step into the void. She would take the risk without another thought to the consequences. “Kiss me and make me forget.”

His heart warmed. “Gladly.”

This time she took his face in her hands, framing his cheeks, their hearts speeding to beat in unison. He pressed his mouth to hers and moved lightly along those plump lips. Better than any therapy. Better than the tastiest treat. The choicest ambrosia of the gods.

“You taste amazing,” he managed. This was it, he thought numbly. This was what he’d been missing. The softness, the sweetness, the hunger, the fierceness of a hot mouth against his own. She felt amazing beneath his hands. The thrill of having her there snapped through him like a whip.

Whatever he’d felt the first time they kissed was doubled this time around. She was a living flame in his arms, a whirlwind, or a tidal wave. He could only hold on and pray.

“So do you.” Her arms banded around him as she moaned, a rumble of desperate pleasure that erupted out of her throat. Her brain tumbled down to her feet and she forgot everything if only for a minute. “Morgan.”

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