Page 25 of Blossoms and Bloodlines
Aryon was stupidly hot in that angelic, too-perfect-to-touch way, like he belonged in a Renaissance painting or a cathedral ceiling. Gael? He was brooding intensity and cut-from-stone elegance. His scowl alone could knock the wind out of you. There was nothing floaty or ethereal about him. No, his beauty had weight, it sank into your bones, and made you think of hands gripping hips and being pressed into a wall.
And she had spent years stuffing those dumb thoughts down out of sheer principle. Knowing nothing good would come from those.
But then Elara told her who he really was, and something broke open. Suddenly, all those little, pushed aside memories hit at once. How he always showed up to help his cousins, even off-duty. How he explained complicated magical theory to humans with patience. How he looked at Aryon and Elara like a proud older brother. His face, normally guarded, always softened with them.
He’d always been good. She just hadn’t let herself see it.
And now, walking beside him through the sun-dappled and hushed forest, the air fragrant with pine and warm earth, shewanted to know more about him, about the elf behind the myth and the rank. And wasn’t that a trip?
Her brain spun, completely blank. “So... are you staying long?”
Ugh. That’s what she came up with? Thank God Gael, ever gracious, didn’t even blink. “Two weeks at least,” he said. Sunlight caught in his pale hair. “I had an absurd amount of accumulated time off. They practically begged me to stay away.”
“Your project went well, then?” she asked, grasping at something more intelligent.
He nodded, pride flickering in his eyes. “It did.” Then, more quietly, “I know you heard what I said at Litha.”
She flinched, both from the quick change of topic and for the actual topic. No point pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about. Not only he’d know, but they really needed to address that, anyway. “I did,” she admitted. “And I’m not proud to say it played into why I was so hard on you.”
“It should have,” he said simply. “I was a douchebag.”
She blinked. “Hey, that’s exactly what I thought!” Then groaned and rolled her eyes as he laughed. “Sorry. Not the moment for enthusiasm.”
But he just smiled. “I was under a lot of stress that night,” he said. “And I didn’t need my attraction to you getting back to the wrong people. Not from Val, obviously, but someone always seems to be listening.”
She stopped. He did too. “Wait. What attraction?”
His smile turned soft. A little wicked. “Mine to you. What else?”
And then he reached out, ran a single finger up from the base of her throat to the soft curve beneath her chin. Slow, featherlight. It didn’t even reach her lips before she swayed toward him.
“You’ve been my little secret for years,” he murmured.
She had a voice, right? Right?? “I... I have?” she breathed.
He nodded, his gaze roaming her face like it held a secret only for him. “You are human, Beth. And I’m part of the High Family. One step below the Lord and Lady.” His voice dropped, a bitter edge slipping in. “The one step that keeps me from being swallowed whole by it, but I’m still up there with Val.”
His hand rose again, tracing the slope of her cheek with aching care before disappearing into her hair. “My family—my mother—would rage if she knew how much I crave a human waitress. And yet.”
The words shouldn’t have thrilled her. They should’ve stung. She should be outraged. But his tone, the need threaded through it, was its own kind of seduction. His eyes, more violet now, held her in place while she drowned in him. And it was glorious.
“I don’t need to read you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t need magic. Just your eyes. Your scent. And Iknow.” His jaw tightened. “It’s making it very hard to behave.”
Well, would she even want him to?
Kind of, but her skin was hot and hypersensitive, her whole body aware of him in a way that made her feel hunted and seen and wanted in all the intimate and dirty ways. Her thighs clenched with need; her nipples tightened against the fabric of her t-shirt. Her panties were soaked and useless.
Gael inhaled sharply, as if her scent had just punched through his last layer of restraint. “I wish I could show you what you do to me, Beth,” he said, his voice like velvet dragged over gravel. “How you make me want.”
Her breath caught, and something in her broke open. She stepped into him, hesitation forgotten, pulled by something stronger than reason. Their lips brushed in a kiss so soft, so tentative, it was barely a kiss at all. But it felt seismic, like something ancient had just shifted inside her soul.
A slow taste. A shared breath. He tasted like the apples they’d canned and something wilder underneath. Something that belonged to this moment, to this forest, to this lifetime.
When his tongue ghosted over her lip, the world tilted. Heat shot down her spine like a lightning strike that knew her name. Her knees gave out just enough for her to grip his shirt, clinging to him out of instinct.
His hand slid to her waist, anchoring her, possessive even as he inched away just enough to rest his forehead against hers. Their breaths tangled, unsteady, the smell of him settling inside of her as if there was no other choice.
The world crept back in slowly. Birds began to sing again, soft and cautious, unsure it was okay to interrupt. Wind stirred the leaves above them, rustling like whispers. The hush around them felt like the forest had held its breath for them and was only now exhaling.
