Page 118 of A Court of Fire and Frost

It is only then, as I pull back that I realize the clock is still ticking away. When I’m with her, nothing else matters. And now, we have all the time in the world—an eternity to explore our love.

After we’ve finished, I pull away the covers and sheets, padding to the room where I find a towel. I wet it with warm water, squeeze the excess, and then hurry across the room back to where she lies, watching me. The dark fur drapes across her hips.

I hand her the towel, and reach forward, rubbing my thumb over her soft cheek.

Gods. Her skin is so smooth.

“What do you feel?” She asks, reaching up to catch my hand and press it towards her lips.

I sit down, my back propped up against the chocolate-stained wooden headboard. “That I was right.”

She smiles, “Right? How?”

“From the first moment I saw you… gods, I wanted you. But more than like this.” My hand slides from her shoulder, across the luxuriously soft textures of the blanket, and stops at the crook of her knee. “From the first time you sat across from me in the office, talking to me for the first time, I knew I was home. I wanted to be home.”

The companionable silence she had led me to discover settles in as a look of complete content passes between us. It is like heaven for my wild mind.

One thought keeps returning until I can’t help but let out a laugh. “We both know there was no way you’d ever sleep with me unless I tricked you into marriage. What can I say? I told you I was a bastard Summer Fae.”

She slides into my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. “You keep saying that, but how do you know this wasn’t my plan all along.” She grasps my shoulders before she bites my neck.

I swallow hard. “Again?” My voice is a bit too high.

She purrs in response.

I almost wish the clock was louder now.

* * *

The wanting simply never stops.

I can’t stop staring at her mouth, how it closes around her fork or pulls up to smile or say ‘thank you’ to the Vampire. I’m slowly going insane.

We haven’t even recovered. Surely what we’re doing isn’t helping the healing process.

I shake my head and turn my attention elsewhere. The dated devices in this house hurt my head, and even in my crazed stupor, I can’t ignore the loud click as the television comes on. The too-perfect reporters I saw in the Everything-Mart drone on. They are dressed in gaudy, pastel-blue suits, and the Angel’s skin is so white that he looks as though he has freezer burn. The Winter Fae in charge of the weather barely wears anything at all.

We’re in the middle of another report, pasting Elva’s ashen face across the screen. The replay the same scene over and over, and at different angles. Each one of the moments when I plunged my dagger into her heart.

Then, Jeremiah walks into the room and stares at the television. His face passes quickly between us and the screen.

A sound escapes him, and the human pales.

Elva is on her feet before he can speak. Her hands wrap around his neck. “You can’t tell anyone who we are,” she says threateningly.

Footsteps come from behind us.

“Calm down,” Calitha is in the doorway, a cooking knife in her hand, “Princess.”

My heart is racing. How did this get bad so quickly?

“Woah,” I say. “Why doesn’teveryonejust calm down? I’m really not in the mood for any more death.

Elva glares at me, but relaxes her stance.

Jeremiah steps back, hurrying behind the Vampire. She tucks her arm around him, glaring at us.

“Explain what’s going on, now,” she says.

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