Page 63 of Enchanted Kisses
“What if I said I love you?” he whispered in my ear.
No one had ever said that to me before, except for my dad. Hearing Caiden say it was something I’d secretly longed for but not like this.
“Do you love me?” His warm breath eased over my skin.
I shivered, my body traitorously giving him the response he loved, and yet, I couldn’t answer. Even though my heart and body clearly had decided they loved many things about Caiden, my mind was unsure. Raysa thought I loved him but that didn’t mean it was true.
He kissed my neck.
A burst of tiny kisses showered over my skin, drawing a sharp inhale through my parted lips. “I can’t think when you do things like that.”
Stiffening, he released me and stepped away. Disappointment showed on his chiseled features. “Then it’s good you’ll have the afternoon without me to think.”
The small distance between us felt like miles. I didn’t like it or the hurt in his eyes—caused by me. He’d just confessed his love—sort of—and I didn’t reciprocate. With a response like that, he’d probably never say it again.
“You’re leaving now?” Tension made my voice high.
I stepped to him. The invisible tie between us slackened. Instantly calmer, I put my hand to his chest and pulled the stone talisman out from under his shirt.
“You didn’t have this on last night,” I said with alarm. The blue-veined stone had a smooth, polished surface, and the back was covered in silver.
His posture remained stiff. “I left it at the manor and got it this morning.”
I thought he was supposed to wear it at all times. “Were you okay without it?”
His features softened with a mischievous smirk. “I think I managed quite well.”
My face flushed with heat, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Caiden?” I touched his cheek. “Is the vow more about protecting me? You can tell me. You won’t hurt my fee—” I huffed at the word being cut off.
His smirk widened.
I tried again. “I can handle the truth.”
“You think I don’t love you.” He wasn’t asking, and I couldn’t deny it.
He lowered his head and touched his lips to mine, brushing them in small circles over my mouth until my knees weakened.
“I am but a vow away from being yours for eternity,” he whispered. “What more proof could you need?” His mouth claimed mine with a kiss that stole my breath.
Sensations charged through me so intense, I trembled. Dizzy and weak, he set me on the couch and kissed my forehead.
“You can give me your answer tonight,” he said, and vanished before I could clear the haze from my mind.
17
The Prophecy
After a long, hot shower, I walked to the kitchen, wearing a tank top and cargo pants instead of jeans shorts—weird, because according to the weatherman, it was warmer today. But ever since Caiden had left, my body carried a chill.
I planned to read the poetry book on the porch—the farthest outside I dared to go—and take advantage of the higher humidity.
I thawed the second I stepped onto the screened part of the porch. Late afternoon sun brightened half of the yard, and the air was sweet with pine. I settled sideways onto the bench swing adjacent to the patio table, placed a pillow behind my back, and rested my mother’s book on my thighs, hoping I could decipher the poems.
Chapters later, I was pleasantly surprised. The words flowed easier than a Dr. Seuss rhyme. I didn’t understand why, and I was afraid if I stopped reading, I’d lose whatever was helping me understand the poetry.
The poems were fascinating stories about the sentries, their origins, even Caiden’s parents. A chapter about the different realms had captured most of my attention. Particularly, the part where it explained the crucial balance between the Realm of Life and the Realm of Death. If altered for too long, a rippling effect would occur and throw the world out of sync. “Natural disasters galore,” like Raysa had said. Everyone would suffer. Mortals. The supernatural. Nature. We were all connected in ways I’d never considered.
Several poems were about my mother’s love for my father. Though she did love the way he listened, she also loved the way he gazed at her and brought her flowers. A few poems talked about her struggle to leave us. The Gods of Souls wanted me to be raised as an orphan. My parents begged them to let me stay with Dad. Eventually, the gods agreed, believing what little magical energy had passed down to me would wither away as I grew older. Maybe they’d been right.
