Page 79 of Cursed Dreams
She couldn’t think.
Couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t look away from the storm unravelling in his eyes.
Her confusion twisted with something headier. Something that made her skin hum and her thoughts scatter.
Her blood roared in her ears.
Vaelith’s breathing was uneven now, ragged, strained like he was trying to hold something back that refused to stay buried.
His eyes…
Thalia froze.
They weren’t silver anymore.
Molten gold.
They blazed like liquid fire, catching every flicker of torchlight, and suddenly she knew, knew, she hadn’t imagined it the night in the alley.
It hadn’t been the faerie wine.
Staring up at him, remembering the way his body had felt pressed against hers in that shadowy corridor, the memory crashed over her like a wave. The scrape of stone against her back. The heat of his mouth. The way he’d whispered her name like it was a curse and a prayer all at once. Like a damn breaking suddenly all she could think of was him, need flooded her, she wanted him she couldn’t deny it.
Vaelith cursed low under his breath.
Suddenly shadows swallowed them. The temple vanished.
She gasped, air snatched from her lungs as the world shifted, magic curling cold and sharp around her skin before it gave way to warmth and scent and silence.
They reappeared in a room she didn’t recognize, dimly lit, opulent and sparse, with dark stone walls and a fire cracklingin a hearth across the room. She barely had time to register it before her back hit the wall and Vaelith was on her.
His mouth crashed against hers with raw, unrelenting hunger, his hands anchoring her hips to the wall, his body a solid force pressing into her like he was trying to burn the shape of them into one.
Her mind emptied.
Words shattered into pieces.
She kissed him back like she had no choice—like her body had remembered something her soul had never forgotten.
When he pulled away, barely, his breath ghosted over her mouth. “All I do is think about you,” he growled.
Her chest heaved.
“Your eyes, your laugh… your damn smile,” he said, like it pained him to confess it. “Your body. The way you shattered over me—”
Her legs trembled.
“—your infuriating, sharp little mouth.” His voice dipped lower, hoarser. “And all the things I want to do to that mouth.”
Thalia’s head tipped back against the wall, her pulse roaring in her ears. Her skin burned, every nerve alive, her core tightening with need so fierce it made her dizzy.
He slammed a palm beside her head, staring down at her like he was barely tethered to reason.
“You don’t understand,” he whispered, “the effort it takes not to seek you out. Every gods-damned day.”
His other hand slid to her waist, fingers curling against her like he couldn’t bear to let go.
