Page 85 of Those Fatal Flowers

Breaths catch in my throat, one right after the other, a trapped chain of words I’ve never repeated to anyone in a single sitting. My back stiffens as my right hand finds my heart, as if the placement could possibly soothe the organ’s quickening beats. It pounds against the back of my ribs,lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub,as I choke for air. Now it’s Cora’s turn to soothe me. She envelops me in her arms and guides my head to the crook of her neck. I bury my gasps in the warmth of her bare skin; it sends my own ablaze.

Her hand rubs circles into my back to melt away the panic. But I linger after it passes, still frightened of the silence. Her muscles tense beneath me, her body repeating the word for her:Again?

She’s as curious as Proserpina was, unable to help herself, unable to remain on the outside of a secret.

“You asked me once to tell you the truth,” I murmur into her curls. “I couldn’t then.”

“And now?” she whispers.

“Now I’ll tell you everything.”

Tears stream down my face as the story spills out, and I lift my head to meet Cora’s gaze. She’s crying as well, but where I expect disgust written across her features, I find heartbreak—notbyme, butforme. “Oh, Thelia…”

“I won’t let another love of mine fall prey to the cruelty of men.”

Cora presses her forehead to mine as her fingertips make sensuous promises on the back of my hand. A stone forms in my throat as every part of me comes alive beneath her touch. Overhead, the lantern swings back and forth with the waves,its reflection captured in two warm sparks that set her emerald eyes alight. “A love?”

Her voice is so soft that I’m not entirely sure that I heard her question. I think of how she withdrew from me those weeks ago, of the sharp ache left in her wake. I say nothing.

“You need not retreat,” she whispers. An invitation, and this time, I don’t question her.

The ship moans on the crest of each swell, as if it’s unsure it can scale the next one. The commotion outside should be a distraction—men yelling indistinctly, boots stomping across the deck, theclangsandscrapesas they try desperately to steer through the squall without falling victim to its fury—but it isn’t. There’s only Cora, her soft pink lips turning upward into a tentative smile, her mess of black curls spilling over her shoulders. Warmth radiates from our bodies. There’s a charge in the air, the same energy that precedes a summer storm, so potent you can taste it—an entire atmosphere born from our desire.

My heart races against my ribs. She lets her hand wander from mine up to the side of my face, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. Each caress is gentle, exploratory, working up the courage to ask the greater question. The time for thinking is over; I press my body against hers, erasing the space between us, encircling her in my arms.

Our lips meet, an answer. Her kiss is fiery, almost desperate, with an intensity that I match. Her hands leave my face to dig into my hair, fingers entangling themselves so tightly into the locks that it almost hurts. After a time, I break away—I need to catch my breath.

“It wasn’t your fault, Thelia,” Cora whispers into my ear, her words an absolution. It’s what I’ve been desperate to hear for centuries. I find her mouth again, and finally, after all this time, we melt into each other.

With Will, our intimacy was hurried, a poor attempt to fill the void left by others. It’s different with Cora. I want to savor every second, every detail: how she trembles as I plant delicate kisses along her jaw, how her breath hitches each time my lips make contact with her skin.

“Can I touch you?” I whisper into her shoulder, and she nods.

“Please.”

A few months ago, I was certain I’d forgotten love’s softness. That if given the chance, my desire would crush us both. But now, as a hand slides from her waist to slip beneath her nightgown, the idea seems foolish. I won’t devour her.

I’ll worship her.

Cora twists beneath my touch, and I think of all the times she grazed against me and set my skin alight. She must be burning beneath the weight of my palm, but I take my time dragging it along her skin, trying to memorize the rise of her hips, the swell of her breasts. Suddenly, our clothes are an excruciating barrier.

“I want to see you,” she says on a sigh, so we peel off each other’s gowns, and then nothing separates us but skin.

Her hips grind into mine, and she laces our legs together, guiding me with her embrace to rest on top of her. My hair encircles our faces in our own private grotto, and when I look down at her, she’s smiling, lips slightly parted. I can’t resist brushing a finger against them, and before I realize what she’s doing, she takes it into her mouth and swirls her tongue around it.

The sensation shoots through my entire body and settles between my legs, and I must look shocked by the thrill, because she laughs sweetly before releasing me. The act emboldens me, and I let my lips travel to her jaw, down herneck. She sighs, pressing her body up into mine, asking me to continue. So I do.

I bury my head in her chest, letting my tongue work its magic there, while my wet finger slides down her side. Her back arches in response, and then my hand is climbing over the curve of her thigh to rest between her legs. I lift my head to meet her eyes once more.

“Is this all right? Can I keep going?”

Cora’s entire body flutters against mine, and she nods. It’s all I need. My finger traces its way into her slickness. She groans softly, biting her lower lip to try to keep quiet, but I can tell it’s hard for her. Seeing her like this, pliable to my touch, needing more, makes me desperate for her, and I slide my body down hers until I’m nestled between her legs. I catch her watching me between them, her mouth open in a surprised little O, so I add a second finger.

It has the desired effect, and she crumples back into the pillows, rocking her hips against me. This time my tongue finds her most sensitive spot, and within moments, her entire body quakes. Her legs close around me, overwhelmed by the sensations I’ve led her to.

I move back up to bury my face in her nape, and her arms encircle me while she catches her breath. When I look up, I find that she’s crying softly.

“Cora—” I whisper, alarmed.

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