Page 48 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
Aislinn nodded. “Like a current in the water.”
“I can’t feel anything.”
“Try dancing.”
She faced him again, bending to the side, extending her arms in a circle. Caer followed, his sinewy body mirroring her instruction, glowing in the light of the moon. Aislinn increased her pace, movements sharper, slicker, a reed against the wind, a flame in the fire. Caer moved with her, never touching, but following, as perfect as if he’d been raised in the wilds of Faerie. Music pumped in their veins, invisible. Overflowing. Aislinn’s insides heated.
She twirled and stopped shortly, inches from Caer’s chest. Magic pulled inside her, part of her very marrow, her blood.
Caer’s eyes widened, his chest panting. “You’re glowing,” he remarked.
Aislinn stared down at her hands, faint golden light shining through her veins. Her skin was the colour of moondust.
She raised her fingers, flexing them carefully, tips flickering with purple sparks.
“Is that supposed to happen?” Caer asked.
“Sometimes,” Aislinn returned, her voice a whisper. She’d felt the thrum of magic stung with moonlight many times before, but this was the first time the absorption had become so physical. She raised a hand to Caer’s chest, not touching, letting it spark against his skin.
Caer breathed deeply.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No,” he said, “not at all.”
She splayed her fingers and moved her hands across his shoulders, down his arms. The magic rippled against him, stroking the taut muscles, the panes of his chest, coursing over the throbbing vein in his neck before vanishing like smoke, the remaining magic sinking under her skin.
Caer’s breathing steadied. “Does it always feel like that?”
“What did it feel like?”
“Like sinking into a hot bath,” he whispered. “Like swimming in the deep in the heat of summer. Like fire rippling through your blood. Like all of that and more.”
Aislinn wondered, if she touched him now, if she would feel that too. She wondered why her heart was still hammering so hard against her ribcage.
“No,” she said, mouth dry, “it doesn’t always feel like that.”
Caer’s shadow cut across hers. On the ground, silhouetted by the firelight, they were touching. An inch between them was all. No more.
We touched before,she realised.I grabbed his face. Nothing happened.
“We should…” she started.
Caer stared at her, eyes black and glossy. His lips were parted slightly, and Aislinn was quite sure she had never seen a mouth look so soft or perfect before. She wondered what his stubble felt like.
And other parts of him.
“Put on our clothes and go back to bed?” he suggested.
“Yes,” she said, even though that felt like the opposite she should be doing.
The bed part sounds nice, though…
If she’d known that grabbing his face might be the only time she’d ever touch him, she’d have held on for longer. She’d have savoured the feeling of his skin beneath hers…
She wondered what the rest of him felt like, how warm that soft, solid body would feel…
“You’re not moving,” Caer commented, still staring at her.
