Page 98 of Across an Endless Sea

Gentle fingers, slow and unsure, touch my jaw, making me flinch, but they don’t retreat. Her touch. It must be hers because others’ fill me with terror. The buzz of the Call caresses me everywhere our skin meets like a drug as Rose tilts my face up, trying to force me to meet her eyes. I brace myself, steeling against whatever pain will surely follow.

“I don’t care why you chose to take the oath,” she promises. “That’s your business. I care that ever since you joined us, you’ve done everything you can to protect me, and more. You stood between me and Ghislane when her scream was hurting me. You risked yourself to try to get me away from Caed, and your snake saved me from Elatha when I needed help the most. You’ve battled whatever demons haunted you just to play me a song. I…” She hesitates, cheeks turning pink. “You like me, right? You want to be in my Guard.”

Baffled, I finally meet her eyes, trying to read them. “Of course.”

How could anyone not? Rose is… perfect. Soft, kind, and gentle in a way that few fae are. She’s too good for me—or anyone, really.

“I like you too,” she finishes lamely. “We may not know each other well, but I’ve seen enough to know who you are. Danu chose well, and I want you in my Guard, Bree. I don’t care how selfish you were when you chose me, or how unworthy you think you are. I want you.”

She releases me, and without her fingers to hold my mouth closed, it flops open, dumbstruck.

“You deserve more,” I protest, though it sounds weak to my own ears.

My gut is screaming at me to take this blessing and run, but I keep sabotaging myself.

She deserves high fae. Courtiers with titles. People with noble deeds to their name and no darkness in their hearts.

“I don’t,” she smiles softly. “I’m just me.”

Slowly—incrementally—her face tilts upwards, giving me more than enough time to realise what she intends and pull away. Selfish bastard that I am, I don’t.

Her lips press against mine, and I’m lost.

I haven’t kissed anyone in so long. None of my patrons cared for such things, and even if they had, I can’t think of them right now.

Rose consumes my every cell. The taste of her—like spun sugar and roses mixed with mead—is intoxicating, and I find my tongue darting out, daring to sample more. I’m rewarded for my efforts when she moans, leaning closer to me.

Her body presses against mine—lightly, not pushing or demanding—and I can’t resist. With a boldness that sends a bolt of terror down my spine, I reach out and press my hand against her lower back, holding her close as she tentatively reaches out with her own tongue, twining it with mine in a slow, tender dance.

A chair screeches across the floor. The sound is so close and so loud that it shocks me out of the haze I’m in. I whirl, putting myself between Rose and the threat.

But it’s just another patron getting up to leave.

Not a danger.

I might not fear Rose, but the kiss has me wired, hyper vigilant for a threat, for pain. My heart clenches painfully behind my ribs, ears twitching madly as my eyes dart from table to table, searching.

“Bree,” she whispers, drawing me back to her. “It’s okay.”

I slump down in my seat, defeated.

“Do you want to leave?” she asks. “We can take the pie with us.”

I shake my head. “Eat it while it’s still warm.”

Taking a bite of my own pie, I work hard on forcing my breath to slow. As soon as the imaginary threat has passed and my blood is no longer racing, I’m struck by a strange bolt of elation.

I kissed my mate, without running, or snapping, or hurting her. It was more than I could ever have dreamed…

Could I do it again? Would she let me? What if that was a fluke and next time I mess it up?

I can barely hear her as she starts talking again. My mind is consumed by the fragile spark of hope that’s taken root in my chest.

Maybe… maybe I’m not too broken after all.

Thirty-One

Lorcan

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