Page 52 of Poison Nights & Twilight Alchemy

Dulce arched into him, and Reed’s hands trailed down to her waist to lift her into his lap. With each kiss, each subtle shift of their bodies, she hoped for more. Her head dipped toward his ear, and she whispered, “Touch me, Mr. Hawthorne.”

“Where?” he rasped.

“Beneath my dress.” Her voice came out breathy, desperate.

In answer, he slowly pushed her dress up her legs, and he guided her undergarments aside while continuing to kiss her, to kindle every fiber within her. His warm, callused hand touched her flower, and she gasped, whimpering in pleasure when he stroked her. On instinct,she rolled her hips forward, riding his hand as he deftly brought out a ravenous part of herself that she didn’t know existed.

This was the sweetest poison she’d ever felt, because she knew she was starting to fall for him, that Vesta’s tea leaves had been accurate in their prediction—Reed Hawthorne was who she was meant to be with. She feared confessing to him about the fortune, that such a thing might frighten him, make him feel powerless against his own fate. So for now, she relished the feeling building up in her heart, something wonderfully new as a wave of euphoria washed over her and she moaned.

Her breath was ragged when she peered up at Reed beneath thick lashes. He kissed her forehead and tucked her against his chest before drawing the blanket over them both.

“Perhaps we can sleep now, Majesty,” he whispered.

“I do believe so.” Dulce blissfully sighed and closed her eyes. She would cherish this temporary haven for the remainder of the night.

In the morning, they would have to leave it.

CHAPTER TWENTY

REED

Dulce slept on, her lips slightly parted. Reed recalled the night before, and the desire to remain with her in this wagon, to feel her quake beneath his touch once more, intensified.

Reluctantly tearing himself from her side, Reed left the wagon and took in his surroundings in the light of day. The expanse of Silver Birch Straits loomed above the wide valley, the tree’s white leaves like snow-covered mountains at this distance. To the north lay the barren wasteland of the Rust Fields, its wide canyons resembling open wounds along the reddish earth for as far as the eye could see.

Looking to the west, full of green life, where towns crowded with people waited to venture out to watch the opera performers, the temptation to avoid danger dragged at his heart, and Reed pushed it aside.

Everything would be destroyed anyway, if they failed to reverse the witch’s destruction.

“You headed north?”

Reed started, surprised to find an ancient woman sitting in a chair outside the neighboring wagon, watching the sunrise as she smoked a pipe, its bluish smoke joining the misty air with the cloying aroma of cloves and tobacco leaves.

“I wouldn’t pass through the Rust Fields again,” she stated, coughing. “Not if you offered me the world’s weight in gold.”

“That bad, huh?” Reed found that rather than filling him with dread, her words only served to awaken his curiosity.

“Worse.”

“Really?” He sat next to her stool, the cool grass beneath him as the sun rose farther into the sky, the mist along the valley dispersing like smoke from her pipe. “What if one has no other choice?”

She squinted toward the Rust Fields, exhaling smoke. “Then you’ll die if you don’t have enough fire. Fire is the key to keeping the warped away.”

“The warped?” At that, Reed had to admit to some measure of unease. Yet perhaps it wasn’t as grim as it sounded.

“Decaying magic has twisted the creatures of that place,” the old woman said. “They are no longer as they should be. They have become something of nightmares.They hunger. Only their fear of fire keeps them at bay.”

That most definitely soundedgrim.

“How did you survive the journey before?” Reed asked. “That is … you mentioned you wouldn’t pass through itagain.”

Dulce, her cloak wrapped firmly around her shoulders, joined them in silence, her eyes filled with concern as she studied the woman carefully, clearly having heard every word the crone had uttered.

“We blindfolded our horses.” The woman nodded. “And we brought as much fire as we could. Alchemists’ fire works best. Those who held ordinary torches, well…” she sniffed. “They died in the darkness, didn’t they? I still hear their screams in my dreams.”

Reed glanced at Dulce, the blood drained from her face.

“Can one traverse it in a day?” she asked. “To avoid the darkness, I mean.”

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