Page 126 of A Winding Wave of Magic
Warmth sprung between us. And maybe a bit of hope, mixed with humor.
I smiled. “Not anymore.”
He was staring at our hands again. “I’m glad. I brought you out because…I wanted to see that look on your face again. You said you were happy tonight, and I—I rather liked it. I find thatdespite my best efforts not to care so damn much about your happiness, I do. Very much.”
We stared at each other in that alley for a long time. Overhead, the sky broke, and a few bright constellations twinkled on the other side of the clouds like promises unspoken.
I leaned in, not quite able to stop myself.
Jonathan, however, leaned back and released my hand.
It might as well have been a slap.Again.
“I’m sorry,” he said, fixing his stare on the bricks behind me. “I can’t. We shouldn’t.”
I turned my hand back and forth, flexing my fingers like I was about to take a punch. It didn’t make sense. He was attracted to me—he’d said as much. Had flirted with me, even by his touch, all evening. And while normally I wouldn’t be interested either, hadn’t we both just acknowledged that there was something here? Something unusual?
“It’s only a kiss,” I said. “I’m not asking for marriage or anything.”
“You’re still grieving, Cass.”
“And I’ll be grieving,” I countered. “Probably for the rest of my life. But Penny died months ago, and I’m okay enough. Why is it so wrong to want a bit of pleasure, a bit of solace in the darkness that seems to be swallowing my life?” With a tip of my head, I dared him to argue. “Stranger things have happened than a kiss between two people who are attracted to each other. A celebration of life in the face of death is perfectly healthy.”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at me, his gaze still fixed on the brick wall behind me, the lights of the alley casting his face in shadow while lighting a corona through the fringe of his blond hair.
His body was shaking almost imperceptibly. Whatever he was holding onto, it looked like it was about to break him.
“Don’t you ever want to let go?” I asked, more gently now. “Lose some control? Just a little?”
Those shifter eyes turned on me with such force that I almost fell back a step.
“You don’t want me to lose control, Cassandra.” His voice was low. Almost a growl, betraying the animal within.
But I didn’t turn away. I wouldn’t. Not now. “Don’t tell me what I want.”
He looked very much like he wanted to, but didn’t. A few thoughts seemed to blaze through his mind, and for once, I would have given anything to know what they were.
Slowly, he held out a hand, and I recognized it for what it was: a dare.
I peeled the glove from my right hand, and held it back out to him, daring him right back to join us two.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said.
I extended my fingers. “Then show me.”
“You asked for this,” he said, and then touched his fingers to mine.
37
NEVER KISS A WILDCAT
And the dark lava-fires of madness
Once more sweet through my brain.
— JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN, “SHAPES AND SIGNS”
At first, it felt like a fire, the slow burn of embers just starting to catch alight. A moment later, though, it was a blaze, fueling too many other small fires within both of us, that could turn into infernos if not carefully tended.
