Page 81 of Touch

Love glances at a puddle of melted snow. “You would have grown up happy. Not isolated and undervalued.”

She would have wanted that for him. More than knowing Andrew, Love would have chosen to spare him the loss.

All the same, the advantages and disadvantages of what she does war in her mind. She creates one kind of rapture for people while robbing them of other forms.

Andrew tips his head down, urging her to look at him. “Yes. I’d have wanted my mother happy and alive if I had the choice. In a moment of weakness, I might have taken you up on those arrows, let you strike her and Ulrik. It wouldn’t have been right, but it would have erased their anguish.” His eyes trace her own. “Ulrik’s been acting as if we’ve always been close. It’s not really him, but I’m starting to feel relieved about that—I’m grateful for his sake, not mine. It’s better to see him at peace instead of suffering. You’re making it hard to regret that.”

Love’s chest tightens. Before she can muster a proper response, Andrew harnesses his weapons. “Enough bloodshed and angst. You’ve won this round. Nearly impaled my limbs several times.”

“Are you complaining?” she jests.

“Little Myth, you should know by now. Your lethal nature is my kink.” He extends his hand. “Put away the death bow and come with me.”

Briefly, they return to the cottage. Andrew retrieves a bag he’d left outside the door, having forgotten its existence the second Love grabbed his cock.

After reclaiming the parcel, he leads her to the frozen pond. At the water’s edge, Love makes a sound of apprehension when he pulls two pairs of ice skates from the bag.

“What are those?” she draws out.

“I said I would teach you,” he reminds her. “When I brought it up before our fight.”

“Which fight? There have been many.”

His mouth twitches. “You looked intrigued that day. And crestfallen, as if drawn to something impossible.”

“That had nothing to do with the skates.” She shakes her head, bidding a retreat. “I cannot.”

“You can.” He trails in her wake. “I’ll help you”

“That’s offensive. I’m as agile as a feline,” she declares. “I mean, this is ridiculous.”

“Love.”

“This activity is forchildren.”

“Love.”

“Humanchildren.”

“You won’t fall,” Andrew promises. “I won’t let you. And if you do crash on your pretty ass, I’m the only person who’ll see it.”

The declaration halts Love in place. He won’t laugh or ridicule her if she falls.

She can climb the tallest tree. She can take down a legion of gods with a flex of her bow. She can do this too.

They deposit their archery on the ground and lace up their skates. It’s impressive that Andrew has guessed the right shoe size for Love.

On the pond, their blades cut across the ice. She bites her tongue in concentration, cognizant of her shaky elbows, unsteady limbs, and laboring breaths. Andrew skates backward, using a broad stick to bridge their hands and guide her around the rim.

When she’s ready, the mortal pulls the stick away. Love yelps, her limbs tensing, then kicking, then gliding. They make it to the center of the ice, where they spin in a full circle, her wide eyes stapled to his.

Snowfall powders the woods. Love halts and cocks her head toward the sky, noting the signs. “A storm is coming,” she announces. “It will be a mighty one. In two days.”

“You look sexy in that coat,” he murmurs.

She catches Andrew’s gaze fixated on her, his eyes carving a path from the skates, up the dress, and to her countenance. “I wanted you to keep the coat because I thought you were freezing, but also because you looked fuckably sexy in it. I’d like to rip it from your body, along with that sinister dress, until you’re wearing nothing but those skates. Too bad we left the longbows at the pond’s edge, because that would be another bonus accessory.” His voice travels up her skin like a brush of satin. “I want you in that sheet again, naked and writhing while I bury my cock inside your slick cunt, and I want your breath on my skin, and your fingers passing through my body, and my name shattering on your tongue. I want to see you blissful, coming undone—not for me, but for yourself. I want you for allthe reasons I’ve said, and for more reasons the longer I’m with you. Take everything from me, destroy me beyond repair, and I’ll let you do it again.”

He holds out the stick. “Get over here. I’ll welcome any type of closeness I can have.”

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