Page 29 of Poison Nights & Twilight Alchemy

The rocky path through the towering cliffsides to either side of them rose like waterfalls in the downpour. The Pass transformed to a river, conversation impossible in the noise, though Lucas, wrapped in his oilskin cloak, kept up a steady stream of shouted encouragement as Toffee soldiered on.

Sunlight hardly reached into the depths of the Pass, illuminating their way for only a few short hours on their journey north, and by the time the cliffs’ end was in sight, night fell in earnest.

Toffee picked up her pace as if racing from theclutches of the Pass, and Dulce watched from the carriage window to see glowing eyes peering back at her from the crevices of the cliffs. She nearly grasped Reed’s hand when strange noises akin to screaming beasts mixed with the sounds of incessant rainfall reverberated.

At some point, she must’ve slept, because Dulce awoke to find Lucas folding a blanket next to a fire, while Toffee grazed lazily, a rope tied from her harness to the carriage, the landscape wide open pastures.

Reed slept next to her, his head against the window. A pleasant woodsy scent with a hint of rosemary wafted off of him when she moved closer to exit the carriage. She stared at his lovely features, his high cheekbones, his plump lips, a few heartbeats too long before leaving him to rest.

“It’s not far now,” Lucas told her, yawning, the sun rising along the rolling hills.

“You could’ve taken shelter in the carriage, Lucas.”

“I prefer the outdoors.” He shrugged. “Besides, I’ll have quite the story to tell Azalea when I return.”

“With a batch of flowers.” Dulce grinned, knowing he was sweet on the girl who worked at the bakery.

“Perhaps.” Lucas waggled his brows.

Still smiling, Dulce went to the freezing stream, settling at its shore to drink while thinking of a new wistful melody she wanted to try on the piano when she returned home. As she imagined a room full of ghosts from her favorite poem dancing to the tune, the shuffling of feet drew her out of her thoughts.

Reed crouched beside her and handed her a piece of bread with a tired smile. “I miss Vesta’s cooking already.” He sighed, biting into his slice.

“It only takes one meal from her to grow accustomed.” Dulce laughed. She found she couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting to those perfectly plump lips of his once more, as alluring and captivating as his deep brown eyes.

Reed brought a handful of water to his mouth and drank, unaware of Dulce’s struggle not to stare. “Speaking of accustomed,” he said. “Does the charming Ms. Bancroft know how to protect herself?”

“Me?” she asked, incredulous. “Have you not seen my disguises?”

“Withoutmagic.”

Dulce folded her arms and frowned. “Are you saying I can’t throw a punch, Mr. Hawthorne?”

“Try it.” He stood, spreading his arms. “I won’t bite.”

Dulce huffed while pushing up from her position. “Perhaps I will.” She didn’t prepare by stepping into a stance but threw her arm forward, hoping to catch him off guard, yet Reed easily caught her fist.

Spinning Dulce so her back was against his firm chest, he chuckled. “You punch like alady.”

She lingered a few seconds too long, feeling his warmth, as a flutter of butterflies flickered in her stomach. Finally peeling herself from Reed, she whirled to face him, her hands on her hips. “Teach me something useful then.”

Reed smirked, leaning in until his chest was so very near to brushing hers. He trailed the pads of his fingertips down Dulce’s arm while bringing his head closer to hers. “Like this?” he asked silkily. Instead of closing the distance left between them, he inched back and held up her black pearl bracelet.

Dulce snatched her jewelry from him. “How did you accomplish that without me feeling it?”

His eyes grew hooded. “A little flirtation.”

“Aladyis taught manners.”

“Mmm, then toss your Moonglade manners aside.” He cocked his head and shrugged. “Now, reach into my pocket.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” she hissed, her cheeks growing hot.

“Mycoatpocket,” he explained.

“Oh...” That was certainly more reasonable. Yet why did she feel a twinge of disappointment?

Reed gently grasped her hand and placed it against the hard planes of his chest, the butterflies in her stomach turning to hummingbirds. “Lean forward. Say something to keep my attention focused on you and carefully reach into my pocket.”

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