Page 79 of The Girl in the Forest

And were we the sinners? Or the saviors?

How could it matter when both were the same?

But I knew with certainty that if we destroyed what we had because it was irrational, the regret would linger for a lifetime.

Grayson moved as if he would drop to his knees, and my voice turned ragged. “No. You kneel to no one.”

“I would for you.”

The sincerity in his voice burned me.

I went utterly mad, grasping the hem of his reeking shirt and pulling it over my head.

CHAPTER 22

Noa

“You are my air,” Grayson said hoarsely. “I need you to breathe.”

We stood in the dimmed light in his bedroom because I’d taken his hand and led him here. For our first time, I wanted the secrecy of shadows and the shelter of a bed. If I was going to bare my soul to him, I would do it where he could only see hints of me. As if by obscuring what was fragile and inexperienced, he would not find me flawed.

The cool air pebbled my skin. I was hyper-aware. Jumpy, as if I couldn’t stand the constraints of my skin and jeans. He was the same. Light through the bedroom door rimmed his skin, turning him golden. His body was so close to mine I reveled in his heat. His delayed touch made me tremble, wonder if I’d know his sexual ferocity or leashed passion. A seduction driven by something outside of ourselves. All of this was too new. Too much like being swept up in an avalanche neither of us were strong enough to resist.

But when we came together, a wildness raged. We tore at what we had left of our clothes, breathing raggedly, battling with mouths, hands, tongues. He kissed ferociously, bruising my lips as I bruised his. His fingers twisted in my hair as mine gripped his inky strands. We shook and moved until he stood before me, seducing my body while I watched and became mesmerized.

He touched with reverence, leaving a trail of torrid enticements. Need was suffocating. His refusal to satisfy me was a torment I didn’t want to end. His hard fingers cupped my breasts, his thumbs brushing, rubbing against my aching nipples. I pressed my palms against his pecs, the small brown nubs that were masculine and primally beautiful.

I wanted to run my tongue over them, taste his skin, imagined myself doing so and relishing the shudder that quaked through him. His black lashes lowered. The darkening of his eyes held both promise and fury, and I realized he battled harder than I did in this war of conquest and resistance. This fate.

He brushed his knuckles, feather-light, across the tips of my nipples as he’d promised, and the ache had me leaning into him, needing his mouth on mine. Fighting back with the hard press of my lips and the thrusting of my tongue.

There were so many excuses to explain what we did. The aftermath of danger. The transitory nature of life.

We should not be together, not if the prophesies were true. But for her own reasons, Fate had bound us, and did so with a finality that left no other option.

I became weightless, terrified, as if we stood above the raging waterfall and stepped off the rim together. Falling through the mists. Trusting… not trusting… but oh, gods, the wanting.

When I looked into the dark, fathomless green of his eyes, I understood. He was equally aware. Turning my face upward, I whimpered as his talented fingers worked their magic. Pleasure skimmed across my skin, coming close to unbearable. I shuddered, rose to my toes. Hissing in a breath. Could I stand more, even when I wanted more? Would I combust beneath the heat, the throbbing, begging need to be soothed?

His hands slid to my throat, his fingers caressing. The roughness of calloused thumbs brushed across my cheeks as his mouth claimed mine. I was his. He owned me. With each plunge of his tongue, I battled back, tasting him, feasting off the mingled memories and moments.

I licked at the spice of pizza, the whisper of beer. The entirely male taste of his mouth. My tongue flicked over his canines, and he jolted.

“Noa.” His voice throbbed with a charring desire. He was breathing hard, but so was I when he pulled away.

I wanted to climb up his body. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, delirious and uncaring. I still wore emerald green boy shorts because, in our impatience, he’d left them on, more fascinated by dragging the jeans down my legs and exposing inches of my skin that he nuzzled and grazed with his teeth. But now his hands trailed up my thighs in a kneading, flexing seduction, his thumbs finding the cleft already wet.

I hissed in another breath as he traced my swollen clit. My hips jerked at the delicious savagery while my body readied itself for him, growing heavy, opening… quivering when he refused to give me relief.

Tears burned because what bubbled to the surface was more than obsession or lust. I’d been loyal to everyone I’d ever loved. I would do and did everything for them. But for him… for this man, I would risk anything. Do anything. Walk through fire to protect him. Pay any cost.

Give him my sigil if he asked.

“No.” His voice was like stone, aggressive. My arms felt bruised beneath his grip. “Not tonight. Not ever, Noa. I’ll never ask you for your promise.”

His eyes burned with fury, and I knew what we had was a destin noir, a black fate. One where we took and used, but never closed the circle, making the two halves whole.

Our fate would never be fully sealed. He might want me, but he would never demand my sigil. Never bind me. Destroy me the way the dread lords of old had destroyed.

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