Page 75 of A Fae in Finance
“Oh, yeah,” I said.
She squeezed my hand again, or maybe she was just flexing out a finger cramp. I tore my focus from the great mystery of the Gray Knight’s unfathomable thoughts.
I looked down at the figures, the fleeing faeries and the angry humans. With the undulating current and the shifting sand, it looked like they were running even now.
“I… thought you would want to see where it started,” she said. “Because it is a piece of history.”
“Thank you,” I said, a bit awed.
The Gray Knight and I drifted along the road, images unscrolling before us. The faeries opening a door in a hill, and hollowing out a space. The faeries with their arms to the sky, sending stars overhead. The faeries crowning someone. The faeries shaping the landscape; raising hills and cratering valleys; sending flocks of doves skyward from the slender bones of their wrists.
It was eerie, and so oppressively silent, with the two of us in our silver bubble like a beacon under the waves. But no fish or Fae disturbed us, and we floated together down the road, hand in hand.
We spent a long time under the water.
When she finally tugged me upward, I went willingly. We waded to shore together, still hand in hand, and collapsed next to each other on the picnic blanket. I lay face down, breathing in the cool night air and the damp river smell.
She pushed on my shoulder, rolling me onto my back. The wet clothes clung to me, clung to her. Her shirt had rolled up, and I stared at the strip of skin above her hips. “You appreciate history and truth,” she said, looking down at me. Her hair fell in sheets and the magic fell in sheets and I could see nothing except the silver glint of her eyes.You appreciate history and truthis a very unsexy sentiment, for what it’s worth. But she had fine silver hairs on her navel, and water droplets slid down her collarbone and onto the blanket beneath us.
“I appreciate you,” I whispered, smooth as always, propping myself up on my elbows.
Without another word, she leaned forward and kissed me.
Oh, I thought.
Her lips were so soft, impossibly soft, and hot. She tasted of the cider, of river water, of something indefinable and necessary. It was a million times sweeter than the jam.
She smiled while we kissed, one hand fisting in my tangled wet hair, the other keeping herself steady. I wanted to pull away and look at her face—I didn’t think she’d ever smiled in my presence before tonight, and it was so odd to only feel it but not observe it. I gasped and grabbed at her shoulders, her arms, startled and yearning. I pulled her onto me, and she laughed. Her hand trailed down the side of my neck, along the divot above my collarbone. Her fingers curled under my collar, nails scrabbling against my bare skin. I shivered and pressed up against her, sliding my own hands down her back to her waist. She nipped my lip and I groaned.
I am kissing a faerie. Afaerie. Oh my god. I mean, I don’t know how I like, feel about her, but she’s hot and I’m kissing her. Am I kissing okay? Should I do something different?
And then—Am I fetishizing faeries?
Which is not a sexy thought.
I jumped when she put her hand on my hip, and squirmed away from her. She pulled back and looked at me. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, I’m just—self-conscious,” I said, taking her hand.
She frowned at me. “Do you think I would kiss you if I did not want you, as you are?”
She dipped her head to kiss along the line of my throat. I stared over her head at the spill of silver magic above us, trying not to think. Her lips were cool on my skin, soft.
I felt hollow, afraid to mess this up and afraid to continue.
But she deserved my enthusiastic participation. I pushed away. “I’m sorry,” I said, sliding out from under her. “I don’t think I’m ready to be… doing this. It’s been a stressful month, you know?”
She sat up, her still-damp hair in disarray. “I find physical distraction helpful,” she said. “When I feel stress.”
“I… don’t think I do. Can we just hold each other?”
If she found the request odd, she didn’t say so. She just lay back on the blanket and held her arms wide for me. I nestled into her embrace, staring at the little hairs that curled away from her temple. “Thank you,” I said, still breathless and dazed.
The minutes passed. My heartbeat evened out, the warmth of her body against mine soothing and familiar. We breathed each other in, our legs tangling. I started to doze.
She smiled, kissed my cheek.
I nuzzled closer. “I need to get back,” I said, and then sat up, a bolt of panic shooting through me. “Oh, god, I need to get back. What time is it? I might have missed some work.”
