Page 30 of Light As A Feather
“I didn’t notice them before.” She looks at me over her shoulder. “Were they hiding from me?”
“Not so much hiding as just minding their own business. Like I said, we have an understanding, and I prefer my privacy. Besides, it’s a big house.” Pushing off the record player, I stride to the center of the room. “Enough about them. Come here.”
I can hardly believe the sight of her as she walks toward me. Maybe it’s the wine getting to me, or maybe it’s just the fact that I’ve hoped, and dreamed, and wished for this for years. Ivan has another thing coming if he doubts that I wouldn’t doanythingto keep it. But for now, all I want is to hold her.
“Dance with me?” A simple request, but my heart is in my throat as I wait for her to take my extended hand.
Of course I take his hand. I step into his steady hold, his arm coming around my waist, our fingers interlocking.
There’s a lightheartedness I haven’t felt in years as he effortlessly moves us across the floor. “Take it slow,” I say through laughter. “We’re not all as quick on our feet as you. Between the buzz and my lack of coordination, it’s only a matter of time before I trip and take you down with me.”
His bright smile sobers for a moment. “Don’t you know by now that I would never let you fall?”
The double-meaning isn’t missed on me. My heart aches for that kind of stability, for the enduring faith he has that things have to work out. “You can’t make that promise.”
Before I met Hawthorne, I didn’t believe in fate. All I believed in was pushing through the days and finding moments of quiet solace amongst the redwoods. When we moved here with mystepfather, I felt it in the air that this place would become home. Even if I didn’t feel safe within the four walls of that house, the dirt beneath my feet, the fresh air in my lungs, and the freedom from judgment I could have when surrounded by what felt like an endless expanse of nature, became my place of peace.
Then there was him, and he was made of this place. I knew it in the depths of his eyes that resembled the rich colors of autumn leaves, in the patience he showed when I spoke about my favorite things, in those quiet hours he shared with me.
“I can and I will.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“That’s too bad.”
My breath whooshes out of me as he spins me out, then back against his chest, but it’s his words too. The last few days have been a roller coaster of emotions, and yet I know what goes up must come down. And the darkness that awaits us below is something I want to avoid at all costs right now.
When Thorne twirls me under his arm, a wave of emotion rocks over me, something dense. Not warm like lust or heavy like affection, something wrong and wanting. It leaves me swaying on my feet.
Desperate to shake it off, I break away and reach for the sabres he has mounted on the wall. Holding one out to him, I’m invigorated by the challenge that lights in his eyes.
“I challenge you to a duel.” My lips twitch with the makings of a smile.
“Dueling is not a fencing thing but go on.”
“If I win, no more sweeping devotions or grand promises. At least until we see how this shakes out,” I offer.
“That’s quite the demand.” Thorne circles until he’s standing behind me, the press of his lips finding the side of my neck. “How do you expect me to keep it to myself when you walkaround looking like this? What good is it to have a goddess amongst you if you don’t get to worship her properly?”
Turning toward him, I use the sabre to put distance between us. “On guard.”
Thorne raises his sabre, but not without shaking his head at my antics. “If I win, you’re on the menu for dessert.”
The image of Hawthorne’s head between my thighs is a distracting one, giving him the advantage as he lunges at me. I yelp, jumping back despite knowing well that the rubber piece on the end of the sabre will prevent real harm.
Misplaced disappointment pricks along my skin.
Despite my distraction, he doesn’t let up. I cast it from my mind, ignoring the odd sensation.
“Hey!” Maybe I am tipsy because I don’t know why I would think I stood a chance when he used to compete, and I was just his practice partner—and I use that term loosely—when he was first starting out. “Not very gentlemanly of you to not even go easy on me. We both know this isn’t a fair fight.”
“Whoever said I was a gentleman? I play to win. You know that.” He advances and attacks, and I narrowly avoid him, more luck than skill as we move around the living room in a new kind of dance. Putting the couch between us, I attempt to form a plan. As he approaches, I take a jab at him, which he avoids, and in turn grabs me by the wrist and pulls me over.
Releasing my sabre, it clatters on the floor behind the couch, my hands instead find purchase on his shoulders as he hovers above me. “Cheater.” The accusation is a whisper as I catch my breath. My heart pounds, and my skin flushes with heat. I can’t remember the last time I felt so alive.
“What can I say? I’ve become an impatient man after all that waiting.”
“Well, who am I to keep you waiting any longer?” Hooking my legs around his waist and my arms behind his neck, I pull him to me, wanting to get lost in the reassurance of his kiss.
