Page 55 of Her Shadow so Dark and Lovely
Sila reaches out a hand, plucking my glasses from my face and setting them neatly on the table. “Nothing would please me more,” she says. “But you must tell me what you want of me, and you must tell me if you want me to stop.”
What I want of you?
“Yes, little mouse.”
I do not know. I’ve never gone to bed with anyone.
I have the pleasure of watching Sila’s eyes widen, to see the way the blackness of her irises bleeds out across the whites.
“No one?” she says, intent.
Not a soul.
My heartbeat is racing, prey-quick. Sila looks at me like she intends to consume me where I sit. “I like that, rather more than I ought to,” she says. There is heat within me, warm and pooling, and she won’t kiss me still. She hasn’t even let her fingers make contact.
Let me please you. Let me have you. Let me give you everything I have. It’s yours. Let me be yours.
Her dark eyes are bright, ravenous things. And still she holds back. She wets her lips, and I have never been more aware of her tongue, or how much I want it tangled with mine again. I shift at the aching warmth between my thighs, the way every part of me is aware of where she is and where she isn’t.
“If you want me to stop,” she says, a little breathless. “I want you to tap me with your fingers.” Her arm shifts and her fingers tap my shoulder sharply. “Do you understand?” She turns her hand palm up to me, expectant. It takes me a moment to understand what she’s asking of me. I tap her palm back just assharply, and her fingers wrap around mine. I could sigh at the relief of it. I want to demand more of it.
“Nothing that you don’t want, Lorel. If you don’t like something, if you want to stop, if it’s too much, if you decide you want to read a book instead. Anything at all, tell me. Stop me, do you understand?”
I nod, and grip her hand, pulling her over the table, grasping for her blouse as I press my lips to hers and kiss her with all the hunger that’s been lying in wait inside me. I’m clumsy at first, and then Sila takes control and I surrender to her clever tongue. She breaks the kiss, allowing me a moment to breathe and I use a simpler single handed gesture.
I understand.
“Good,” she murmurs.
Her fingers curl into the fabric of my collar and she drags me back to her. Her mouth is not soft or gentle. It demands mine again and I offer it up to her, everything up to her. Her arms come around me, sliding across my clothes and holding me up against her, my toes inches from the ground. Everything goes dark and airless for a moment, and as my vision clears, the bedroom appears around us.
“I told you I liked you in my clothes,” she murmurs, setting me down on my feet. “But I think I’ll like you dressed in my shadows just as well.”
As the shadows draw away, they take my dress with them, slipping it from my body. They tug at the ties of my shift until it’s falling over my shoulders with a whisper. Sila steps from her trousers, and pulls her blouse over her head with a tumble of hair. The shadows unfasten my utilitarian breast band and drop it to the floor. I gasp, quiet as the shadows touch my skin, drawing the last of my clothes away and leaving me bare in front of her.
When I look up again, Sila’s eyes are dark from edge to edge. Hungry. It’s almost enough to distract from her nakedness. Her bare full chest, where I have rested my head so often these past weeks. Her strong shoulders that I have clung to— that I imagine myself clinging to in an entirely different way. The smooth curve of her stomach, the points of her hips, and her thighs. The Dawn King have mercy on me, I would happily drown in them. Drown in her.
So why is she just standing there?
Are you just going to look, or are you going to touch me?
Sila’s smile widens, smug and satisfied. “If you think I’m going to rush this, little mouse. I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you.”
I make to move closer to her, and her shadows tighten— just a gentle pressure keeping me in place. If I could, I’d plead with her name and taste it on my lips. I know it would bring her to her knees. Bring her closer. As it is, my entire body is awake under the weight of her gaze. She tips her head, gaze raking over me and then finally, she closes the gap between us, leaning down so that her breath is a gentle ghost across my skin. Her hair, soft and gentle where it brushes against me. The scent of the bath and her hair oil clinging. Surrounding me. And still she isn’t touching me.
Sila.
She must be able to feel the movement of my frustrated hand signs through her shadows because the soft breath of her laugh flutters over the soft skin beneath my ear. Her lips brush across it and it sets my flesh alight. I whimper and it’s silent. Everything is silent, and still, and careful. I don’t want her to be careful.
“Tell me what you want, Lorel,” she whispers, between the lightest of kisses down my neck. “Whatever you demand of me, it is yours. I am yours.” Her hand slides around the back of my neck, tangles in my hair and tugs, baring my throat to her. Igasp silently as she nips at my jaw. Kisses down my throat to my collarbones. “And you are mine.”
I ache. It is no longer a simple want to have her skin against mine, to have her fingers against me, to have her mouth back on mine, stealing my breath away. It is vital. Imperative to my continued existence. It scours through me and I push against the barrier that keeps the curse locked away. That keeps my voice locked away. She kisses across my breasts and I tear at the wall I built. It is my bloody nails dragging me across the chapel floor. My desperate plea to the Heart. A hungry search for a locket through scholarly detritus. A desperate need to call to her.
I rip at it, shred it with every part of my being and every piece of me that wants to meet and be matched by her. And as I pull at it, the magic I had woven unravels and her name tumbles freely across my tongue.
“Sila,” I gasp.
Sila stills and the curse stirs and I hope that the curse and I have made some kind of peace for now because if it decides now is the time to come forth, then I will set fire to the Heart in retribution. A long heartbeat later, the curse settles, and Sila’s shadows loosen. I thread my hands through her hair, bring her mouth to mine, and pull her with me as I fall back against the bed. The sheets are soft against my skin and they smell of her. All damp earth, salt, and decaying wood, laced through with that insidious floral scent that reminds me of funerals and incense. Sila braces herself over me and I kiss her still. She’s smiling.
