Page 75 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
“Aidan.”
“Now, when you breathe my name like that…it gives me hope. Don’t give me false hope, Songbird.”
“You were right. I feel it, too.” I try to find a graceful and eloquent explanation, but my hands are shaking. “I wasn’t kidding when I said being caught with you could ruin my whole life, so I pushed you away…” I glance at the ground between us. “But I wish I didn’t have to.”
A heavy sigh escapes him.
I play with my fingers, unable to meet his gaze. “Tonight’s different, though.”
He covers my hands with his. “Because of St. John’s Eve.”
He thinks he loves me, but I’d wager it’s only because he’s not allowed to. I’m his forbidden frost apple, so to speak—the only woman at the academy who’s too far beneath him for commitment.
Lust can be satiated. Maybe if I give in to my attraction for him once, the magnetic pull of his flames will wane, so I nod. “Yes. And tomorrow, we can finally turn the page.”
He rubs the back of his neck, his lips curled down as he considers my offer. “You came to me tonight because you figured it doesn’t count.”
“Even if someone found out… they couldn’t condemn me for it. Not without insulting your traditions.”
“You think one night will be enough?” He laces our fingers, slowly, reverently, like he wants to commit the sight of them entwined to memory. “I’ll still want you in the morning. And every morning after that.”
A sad smile glazes my lips. “We’ll see.”
His eyes gleam as if he’s taking my doubts as a challenge. “Dance with me, Songbird.” He holds out his other hand for me to take, but I glance around, nervous to see Devi appear between the trees.
“Here?” I hesitate.
“You’re right. I know a place where we won’t be disturbed.” He twirls me around and wraps his arm around my shoulder, never letting go of my hand. “Follow me.”
Chapter 23
Everlong
SONGBIRD
Aidan twists a small silver key into the lock at the center of a garden gate and holds it open for me. Overgrown vines have laid claim to the fence and trellis above the passage, grazing my hair as I pass, while Aidan dips his head to avoid being scratched by the twigs. The wrought iron gate clanks shut behind us, the metal groaning as the latch clicks back into place.
In the heart of the south-west gardens, a wild patch of silver-leafed bushes and tall willow trees conceals a small log cabin. The rustic building is tucked away on top of the hill, almost completely hidden, a real oasis in the middle of nowhere, untouched and protected from prying eyes. Aidan walks ahead of me, guiding me with quiet confidence, as if this place is a part of him. His sanctuary.
“Where are we?”
“Ezra and I built this cabin during my first year here.”
“It’s beautiful. For a man’s den, I mean.” I muse, and Aidan’s lips twist in a sheepish grimace.
“It hasn’t been used much, not by me, at least. And certainly not this year.”
That’s an acceptable answer, and my shoulders relax. The patio offers a wide-angle full view of the twinkling ocean, and a salty wind blows my hair back. I draw in a deep, soothing breath, tingles of nerves and excitement buzzing across my skin.
Aidan disappears inside the cabin for a few seconds and comes back with a pile of blankets and a bottle of wine.
A bed of fresh, soft leaves grows over the patio, twisting and entwining to create a cushy mattress.
Aidan sprawls a red and white tartan blanket over them and lies down, tucking his arms behind his head and staring up at the sky. “Seems like a waste not to watch the stars on a night like this.”
I hesitate. “Shouldn’t we go inside?”
“This whole meadow is enchanted. We’re safe, I promise.” He pats the empty space beside him.
