Page 28 of Summer of Sacrifice

WINNIE

“Couldn’t stay away?” Laurent’s velvety rumble seeped into Winnie’s bones as she materialised in their tent. He came up behind her, sliding his hands across her stomach, slowly lowering them to her hips.

Opening the tent flap to take stock of their troupe, she hummed, attempting to ignore the kisses he was trailing along her neck. Winnie turned around to find his bare chest slick with sweat, and she pressed a finger against his taut abdomen. “Pray tell, why the troupe is out there in the scorching sun training while you’re in here?”

“I only came to retrieve my bow. Cillian’s broke.”

He leaned past her in a way that caused heat to pool low in her belly and made a great show of picking up the bow, waggling it in her face. When he was met with her glower, he sighed, a smile still tipping his lips up on one side. But Lau was very seldomly not smiling these days. He was such a light in their realm. A light in her.

“Bábóg.” He kissed her cheek. “The troupe has grown used to their heavy schedule and burden. Battle training in the morning, cirque rehearsal in the afternoon. I assure you, should you walk out there and ask any of them if they wished for a break, they would say no.” He set the bow down and took her shoulders in his hands. “Wendy, this is their fight, too.”

Winnie sagged, letting out a rush of air that trembled past her lips. Laurent took notice—of course. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he rested one of his palms against her breastbone, the weight of it instantly easing her anxiety.

“Just breathe,” he said softly, mimicking the words that Aggie had whispered to her in her lowest moment, teaching Winnie to ride the wave of panic.

After a few deep breaths, she was marginally steadier. “Asa believes the eclipse is set to happen on the Autumnal Equinox.”

“We have a specific date, then. That’s good.”

She covered his hand with hers, focusing on the feel of him. On the dark hairs of his tanned, muscular forearm, every part of him more familiar than her own body. “The Equinox is Aggie’s Day of Birth. As if she hasn’t endured enough.”

“She is stronger than any of you give her credit for.”

Scowling, she looked up at him. “I know that. It just feels like impending doom.”

Laurent’s lips quirked. “Everything feels like impending doom to you.” He pulled her in close until her ear was pressed against his heart, and he kissed the top of her head. “Look at it as an impending new beginning.”

When she didn’t answer, he pulled her back to look at her again. “Do we know where we’re headed?”

“Not yet. We unlocked the catacombs of Araignée, and Grimm found some thing for you to look at.” She flicked her wrist, and the contraption floated in front of Laurent. “Hopefully,” she continued as he plucked it from the air and studied it, “that will give us some answers. We’re all to convene again for supper. I only stopped in to ensure you weren’t slowly murdering our troupe, but I need to get back.”

Laurent took her chin in his fingers, lifted it, and kissed her until she was breathless. “Best be off with you, then,” he whispered against her lips.

Lydia burst into the tent then, skidding to a halt. “Oh my. Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” She tossed a thumb toward the field outside. “I think Curtis might be having a heat stroke.”

Winnie frowned at Laurent. “Perhaps it’s better if I stay here.”

AGATHA

“Reaper,” Agatha warned as she closed the door to their room carved out of one of Araignée’s mountains. “I know what you’re thinking, and we don’t have time for—” She turned around, and he cut her off with his lips on hers, pressing her against the door until the wood protested.

Pulling back, his gaze stayed on her mouth, his breathing ragged. “I was apart from you for half of the time we’ve been together in this life, and you expect me to keep my hands off you anytime that we’re alone?” He pressed her harder against the door, his fingers digging into her hips. “Open the roof.”

“What? It’s solid rock.”

“Open the damned roof,” he growled, a heady euphoria seeping into her when she saw his intention in their entanglement.

Agatha’s magic shot up above their heads, a black, glittering web spidering out and weaving until a large hole appeared in the rock. The sky’s zenith had just begun to darken, the rest of it bordering on an Autumnally-hued ochre.

She caught the curiosity and challenge within Grimm just before he grabbed her by the waist. “Hang on tight.”

His mortal body fell away until she was wrapped in his skeletal arms and a swath of smoke and gloom. He pulled her breasts flush against his ribcage, and they floated into the air. Looking up at the sky, then back down at her reaper, Agatha laughed—the most carefree she’d felt since learning of Fleurina’s death. Soon, they were hovering atop a mountain beneath the stars, who were contemplating peeking out at the sun as it began to hide itself away.

Grimm set her down, morphing back into his mortal flesh, but he did not relinquish his hold on her. His lips found hers again like a man starved. Agatha drove her fingers into his hair, the wind whipping hers wildly around them both. Grimm’s hands roved over her backside with fervour, pulling up her skirts. She could feel the hardness of him against her hip, but when she reached for him, he pulled away.

“Wait,” he rasped. “Come here.”

He took her by the hand and led her, slipping and giggling, partially down the mountain until they reached a cave. She looked at him curiously, and he shrugged, an impish grin unfurling. “Echos.”

---