Page 83 of Kiss the Fae

“You exhaust me. I want to let you go, but I can’t. I want to punish you, but I can’t. I want to take your mouth again, but cursed it all, I can’t. Why?”

I could echo his words. This mess would be easy to clean up, if it were limited to a perverse, hate-fueled attraction. But I hear what he’s left unspoken.

Why did the kiss feel natural?

Cerulean stares at me, bright with confusion. If he expects me to have answers, then we’ve really done each other in. I’m used to swapping tonsils with blokes in Reverie Hollow, but this? This I can’t shrug off like a coat.

Also, I feel bad for the taunt about his species, especially after what he’d said about magic requiring more skill and sacrifice than I’d given it credit for. It makes so much sense, I’m galled I hadn’t considered that while growing up.

I tuck a lock of white behind the lobe. It’s a mighty girlish thing to do, but after having a Fae kiss the shit out of me, I have no excuse. What’s more, my nipples pebble into the film of my nightgown, grazing the planes of Cerulean’s chest.

He notices, his eyes deepening to a glossy, bottomless blue. “Be very careful.”

“Or else?” I hazard.

But he doesn’t need to answer. I’ve got an imagination.

A breeze slinks between our bodies, breaking the trance. We wring ourselves from each other. Yet I feel him every-fucking-where, those instrumental hands engraved on my skin, that wicked tongue tingling my lips.

The sun burnishes the exposed apexes of his ears as he bends to retrieve the caps. I’d gotten everything he said about how this horizon works. It’s about honest questions and candid answers. Must mean it’s about actions, too.

I quip, “The Horizon That Never Lies. With a name like that, maybe we should blame it for this fiasco. Maybe that’s what’s got us so randy.”

“Or perhaps we are the ones to blame,” he says, clicking the caps over his ears. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Meaning this was a fluke? Or a gaffe?”

“Which do you prefer? One, both, or neither?”

“Enough, Cerulean. Stop talking in circles with me. I’m sick of it, and I can’t do it anymore. If we’re on this peak to be real, then let’s be real. Isn’t that why you brought me here?”

“Pun not intended, but in truth? I cannot remember why I brought you here. I’m constantly losing my way around you, yet I can’t help myself. You provoke me to distraction. Be it night or day, I can’t stop thinking about your mortal mouth, nor can I stop coveting that mouth, nor loathing you for it. Is that real enough, pet?”

“We’re back topet, are we? Kissing me must’ve given you the jitters.”

“Me? Afraid of you?” he says with a tart laugh.

I step closer. “Then prove it and kiss me again.”

A monsoon passes across Cerulean’s face. “You’re playing a treacherous game.”

“You started it a long time ago.”

“Oh, my mutinous one. You still have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“And unlike you, I can take the gamble.”

“Can you now? I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a flick of his wrist, a gust lurches toward the Horizon. Minutes later, Tímien reappears, the blades of his wings slicing through the panorama. The journey home is quiet, except for the whistle of wind and the flap of the avian’s feathers.

Cerulean and I part ways without a backward glance. Where do we go from here? No place, that’s where. This doesn’t change anything. It can’t, despite what I’ve learned about his history, despite the likelihood of our pasts being linked, and despite what that could mean for my heart. I took what I wanted while betraying myself, my sisters, my family—my damn dignity.

That’s one kiss too many.

***

Hours later, I toss and turn in the sheet. That episode at the Horizon has warped the dynamic between us. No matter what we think or say, something pivotal happened on that crest. That something has been building for a while, if my suspicions are correct.

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