Page 78 of Gifted Destiny

“I’m not exactly sure how to respond to that,” she admits with a shy giggle; it’s delightful rather than annoying. “But this reminds me that I haven’t thanked you yet. Kodi might have achieved solidity himself, but it could have taken years. I’ve loved him and imagined him in that way for so long that I could have waited.” She shrugs. “Thanks to you, I didn’t have to.”

The way she looks at me reminds me that I should kiss her. Even though she’s referring to having sex with someone else, it barely registers. My visions never suggested that I’d have her to myself.

I lean forward, tired of fighting the desire to be closer to her. A more rational part of my brain insists we should be creating fire and saving the world, but kissing her is more important. I want to feel her lips against mine again and see her cheeks turn red. I want to know if she wants me as much as I want her. I don’t want to kiss her because I’m supposed to. Iwantto.

The mere graze of my lips against hers starts a fire within me that could destroy a million evil spells. I’ve kissed her before, and it’s the same but different. It’s the same because her lips taste like strawberries and remind me that she is Zosia – my mate, my love, my destiny. I despised kissing every woman I’d been forced to be intimate with; they tasted of cosmetics andambition, and their sounds of pleasure rang falsely within my ears.

The kiss is also different, though, because we’re alone and we can do more than kiss. I ignore the niggling voice in the back of my mind that reminds me we’re supposed to do more because that doesn’t matter. Zosia kisses like she eats, with an unfeigned pleasure and hunger that implies neither of us is doing this because it’s expected of us. Arthur Ashe said, ‘The doing is more important than the outcome,’ and it’s perfect right now.

Filled with renewed intention, I lean forward to increase the pressure of my kiss for just a second before I pull back slightly and nip at her bottom lip. I want to see how she reacts. Her indrawn gasp and the moan that vibrates through her body aren’t contrived. Neither is the way her legs suddenly clench together, trapping my hand between her warm thighs. Her reactions are carnal and honest and evoke the same within me. My need throbs within me, increasing the pace of my heart, and a tight groan of hunger escapes my throat.

Although I push aside all thoughts of forging a bond because it’s our duty, I feel obligated to explain my reticence before we continue. I pull away just far enough to see her eyes. It’s not far enough that I don’t feel the brush of her full breasts and taut nipples against my chest with every shuddering breath she draws. The scent of strawberries and sweet, honeyed yogurt almost makes me forget my confession. It’s physically painful to ignore her right now.

“Completing the bond because it’s expected of us isn’t the only reason I’ve stalled so long. I’ve been afraid ….”

Zosia’s wide eyes are more gold than blue, and the color is further evidence of her arousal and desire. “Afraid of what?” she whispers.

“I’ve been scared that my visions were wrong or just presenting me with what I wanted to see. I used to escape intothese visions of the future as a child. I would get lost in them sometimes, just like you would get lost in your stories. Ever since I arrived, I’ve been waiting for you, the library, and the other guardians to disappear and reveal that I’m not actually here. I don’t want the visions I’ve seen of the future to be false hopes.” My words end on a harsh croak as I recall the hypnotic trances I used to sink into. Addington’s fury had been immense every time, and Garrett had been angry too. My brother’s anger had been hiding his fear – that I’d found a way to escape and left him alone.

My beautiful companion absorbs my confession, and her eyes glimmer as her beautiful mind finds the best answer. I need her to tell me that this is real and that she is real, but my mind could fabricate that, too. She shifts toward me and strokes her fingertips along my jaw and down my neck with equal measures of hesitance and confidence. The skin she touches shivers, and every hair on my body seems to tingle as it rises.

“I believe a wise man said just a day ago that the future doesn’t matter,” she whispers. For a brief second, my brain tries to attach the quote before I remember that I said that after my talk with Fin.

“This moment is the most important, and this moment is real.” She leans toward me, presses her lips teasingly against mine, and swipes her tongue across my bottom lip. “Can you feel me? Do I feel real?”

My eyes close, reluctantly depriving myself of her beauty, as I concentrate on the sensation of touch. Her shifted position brings my legs alongside hers, with one of her thighs between mine. Although I no longer feel the painful graze of her nipples against my chest, this position is more difficult for her. It requires vulnerability and trust. My palms slide up the toned muscles of her arms slowly, noting the trail of goosebumps and shivers they create.

“You feel real,” I whisper.

Her breath fans across my lips, and I breathe in deeply. Under the scent of our late lunch, she smells of feathers and fur in a way that isn’t unpleasant. She also smells like books, ink, and possibilities. Although I don’t have the enhanced senses of a shifter, the increased pace of her heartbeat echoes through the breaths between us. The taste of her is still on my tongue. These sensations didn’t appear when I had visions of the future, even when I pretended like I was already there. This isn’t a dream, or a vision, or anything but reality.

“You are the realest thing I’ve ever known,” I breathe and rest my forehead against hers. I’ve seen the gesture on screens, but I’ve never wanted to mimic it. Her eyes are so close that she appears to only have one, and her lungs fill with the air I exhale.

“You feel real to me, too, Bren. Let’s not think about the future or fire or anything but that.”

I nod without releasing her gaze and feel the bond click into place in our chest. It’s nearly complete – perhaps a kiss or another heartfelt conversation will complete it. I don’t want to admit this, though. I want her. I want to explore intimacy with someone who truly knows me – someone I desire. I want to experience carnal love, and I want to forget everything but the feel of her. Her sighs and moans will be all I hear, and her golden eyes and beautiful body will be all I care to see.

We exist as if time has stopped and nothing else matters. This is our reality, and we shape it with our decisions and our attitude. We choose to be with one another freely.

Chapter 36

Zosia

Bren’s attractiveness no longer intimidates me. The vulnerable insight into his nature has revealed that he’s as lost as I am, regardless of the semblance of outer perfection. He is as faceted as the rest of us, and I sense the insecure youth alongside the all-powerful weather mage.

The sudden shift in my chest and mind, like a key opening a lock, reveals that the bond is complete. His emotions trickle toward me, but they don’t reveal anything I don’t already know. If we stop at this second, we’ll be fully bonded.

Neither of us wants to stop. Our continuation isn’t because of the bond, the fate of the world, or the library. Destiny is giving two lost souls a gift. When our lips touch again, it isn’t for the future or the union of the last sphinx with the cosmic mage. It’s for Zosia and Bren, and it offers a victory over those who wronged us with cruelty and pain.

My philosophical musing becomes less beautiful when I consider the logistics of having sex on the roof. We aren’t technically alone because of the gargoyles, but they’re faced the other way. Ansel is hidden by the dome. He might be a gargoyle now, but he’s technically my father as well. I couldn’t do this in front of – behind – him.

Bren’s emotions don’t reveal any concern as he stands and nudges his chair behind him. When he kneels between my still-parted legs, I want to protest and question, but he never releases my lips.

With his knees on the hard stone, his neck tilts awkwardly. He holds my head still, but his kisses are a delicate trap. He’s a teasing kisser, retreating and resuming with small nips and licks. He never keeps his mouth in one place for very long, seeming to want to explore every centimeter of the small area. It makes words impossible.

I forget our position and more practical things as his frustrating teasing becomes too much. With a growl, I grasp the back of his head and force his lips to be still. My tongue strokes along his, plundering and conquering, and the sensation of control is pleasantly exhilarating. I might have missed the satisfied tilt to his lips if his emotions didn’t radiate smug approval.

I’m so focused on his lips that I barely notice when his hands leave my arms. The slide of his palms at my knees and slowly up my thighs causes a reflexive jerk, but the gentle, even pressure overcomes the brief discomfort. The nerves of my legs are hyper-aware, and his intense attention causes me to dissolve into a puddle of boneless sensation. Pain is the farthest thing from my mind, but I realize that Bren is still alert for any sign.

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