Page 87 of Once a Villain
After a long moment, he seemed to see what he was looking for. He tugged her toward him, away from the door, and into another kiss.
Joan could feel herself shaking with how much she needed this. She couldn’t have even said why there was such an urgency inside her. Aaron’s kisses, though, were deliberate and unhurried and deep, and Joan started to calm, her breaths finding a rhythm again. He made a soft, encouraging sound as she relaxed into him.
Outside, the afternoon was reaching its end. The trees cast shadows in long black lines. The only sounds came from their kisses, and the crackle and hiss of the hearth. The lamps inside hadn’t been lit, and the room was getting darker.
Aaron lifted his mouth, and Joan blinked up at him a little hazily. They’d been moving deeper into the room, and they stood now by his huge bed, the fireplace oven-warm against Joan’s back. Aaron pushed her hair from her face. “Have you done this before?”
Joan swallowed. “Only kissing.” And only with Nick.
His gaze was very soft as he bent to kiss her again. “We could just do this,” he murmured.
Joan, though, wanted more than that. She tugged at his gray jacket. He deepened the kiss in response, sending a warm shiver through her.
He shucked off the jacket and threw it onto the armchair, and then he helped her onto the bed. Underneath her, the blue silk cover, embroidered with mermaids, was buttery soft.
She reached for him, but for a long moment, he just stared down at her, gaze roaming over her with detailed attention, as if committing her to heart. As if he thought this might be his only chance to look at her like this. Shadows from the hearth flickered warmly over his face. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, and Joan felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Sometimes, I look at you, and I forget to breathe.”
He was one to talk. He was so heartbreakingly, arrestingly handsome that he made the world around him seem unreal in comparison. When they went out, people were always staring at him.
Her thoughts must have been on her face, because Aaron’s mouth curled wryly. “I don’t like the way strangers look at me,” he said. “But I like the wayyoulook at me.”
This time, he let her pull him down beside her. Joan shifted back, a little nervously, to undo the top button of her dress. Aaron bit his lip, his eyes dark, and touched the next button, watching her face. When she nodded, he slipped it open, and then the next one and the next, with a kind of careful awe—as if he were opening a gift wrapped in paper that he didn’t want to tear. When he was done, he spread her bodice open, baring her.
He swallowed visibly. “Beautiful,” he murmured. He ran a finger along the top of her bra, and Joan’s breath stuttered as his finger dipped between her breasts.
And then he just stopped.
Joan blinked up at him. His gaze had fallen on the pendant with its numbers, heavy against her throat. It occurred to her that he’d been covering it up every chance he’d had—with scarvesand high collars. Joan felt a shudder of anger run through him.
“The numbers don’t mean anything,” she reminded him. They’d never calibrated it.
He bent to lean his forehead against hers. “I can’t stand the thought of you living in this world,” he whispered hoarsely. And theywouldhave to live here. Eleanor had won. This was the only timeline left now.
Joan touched his hair, tinted gold in the firelight. The strands ran between her fingers, softer than the silk of the bed. “Why don’t we pretend—just for now—that there’s nothing outside this room?” she suggested.
Aaron’s eyes were sad as he cupped her face and kissed her again, his mouth moving to the edge of her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. He unclasped the pendant’s chain, careful not to chafe her skin as he slid it from her neck. And then all his gentleness was abruptly gone. He threw it hardagainst the wall, and Joan heard asnap.
“I think you broke it,” she said.
He bent to kiss the hollow of her throat, where the pendant had been. “Good.”
They didn’t say much after that.
Except that later... when they were both moving together and gasping... there was a moment when Aaron gazed down at Joan, pupils blown. “I love you,” he breathed. It was so soft that Joan wasn’t sure if he’d meant to say it. If he even knew he’d said it.
Night had fallen by the time they drifted back to themselves. The view outside was black. At some point, Aaron had gottenthem both under the sheets, and they were still pressed against each other, his skin warm against hers. She turned in the cradle of his arms, and he tucked her closer, stroking her hair.
“Where are the others?” Joan whispered.
“I don’t know. At the Chimera Inn, I assume.” That had been their rendezvous. “I couldn’t get through the crowds, so I came here.” He sighed. “I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have brought you back here—it isn’t safe.”
Oh.Joan swallowed. She hadn’t been thinking either, but he was right. At the arena, Eleanor had realized Nick was from another timeline. Now she’d watch Aaron with even more suspicion. She’d search harder for the rest of them.
Then again... “If the Court hasn’t come for us yet, maybe they won’t,” she said. “Maybe Eleanor’s best revenge will be forcing us to live in this world.”
Aaron ran his hand down Joan’s side, as if reassuring himself that she was still here. Still whole. “I suppose if she wants us, she’ll have us. There’ll be nowhere to run. Nick’s not here to protect us anymore.”
That hadn’t occurred to Joan. She’d explained her theory to Aaron and the others—that the timeline fluctuated strangely around Nick, making him difficult for time travelers to capture. While they’d been with him, Joan and anyone in his proximity might have been protected. But they wouldn’t be anymore.
