Page 69 of The Dead Don't Talk
Amo’s eyes flare wide, and he stumbles.
And then the rambling starts.
Moros flashes me a look that screams both annoyance and contentment. I’m not sure how he manages it, but of course he’d be the one that could.
And for a moment, just a blip in time, I see the old Moros. A younger version of the man I fell for. The one I met and decided to follow him as he searched for his kin all those years ago. His skin is tanner now, some etching at the corners of his eyes, a host of new scars and old ones, but it’s …
“My sweet death,” I murmur with a heat to my cheeks and my heart in my throat.
He freezes up, those dark eyes flashing to mine.
“Wilson,” he mutters low. “What are you doing?”
“Do you remember?” My stomach twists and twirls inside me but my heart, it flies through my chest as I step closer. Close enough to stop his trek and pull Amo’s attention. I can feel him watching us and I’m glad that he is. He should be here, our missing piece, with us.
Moros’s gaze takes on an edge. A hardness to the black pools staring back at me.
“How could I fucking forget? I almost killed you.”
Amo’s breath hitches. His body heat feels close, like he wants to touch but doesn’t want to intrude on the moment.
I reach for him as I do with Moros.
When I have them both against me, I whisper, “What did I promise you then?”
Moros gulps, his hand on my hip shaking.
“Until the end,” he whispers thickly.
I nod, the weight of my words, his memory, laying across my shoulders, and I turn to Amo.
He’s already got tears streaking down his rosy cheeks.
“Wanna guess what he told me?”
Amo sniffles, his bottom lip trembling.
“It’s not the end yet, fucker. Now get up,” Moros supplies and my chest warms. My grin grows. Amo’s shocked gaze fills with mirth, his sudden laugh dislodging more tears when his cheeks bunch up.
“I’m so glad you were right,” Amo whispers and tucks into us both, clinging to us tightly.
His face turns into my neck, putting me up close with Moros.
He doesn’t even bother to school his softened gaze when I see it.
“I’m sorry,” he mouths silently for me and leans in.
At first, I just think he’s going to whisper something to Amo—we are huddled in the middle of the roadway after all, with onlookers and people passing by—but not once does Moros break our stare. Not once does he change course.
Not until his lips fully touch just mine, for the first time ever.
They’re smooth and soft, and my insides all disintegrate at once when he steps closer. Tilts his head around Amo to make room but keep him close.
Is that tongue?
My knees buckle as he slides it along my lip until I spread myself open and let him in.
And fucking hell, Amo is the only thing holding me up as stars blast behind my eyes and my breath stops all together.
