Page 65 of Antiletum
With a groan, I rub the heels of my palms into my eyes, unsure if I want to laugh maniacally or cry. Either way, I’m on the verge of hysterics.
“I wanted to tell you,” Val says softly. “I hoped you’d pick up on my hints.”
My eyes and mouth both go as wide as a full moon at his utter audacity. “Why would I ever assume everything you were saying about shifters meant youareone?”
Here come the hysterics.
Val frowns slightly. “In hindsight, I probably should have just outright told you.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“I wanted to. But I was afraid.”
“What could you possibly fear from me?”
“Everything.” Val says it so clearly. Plainly. Like it’s an obvious answer.
We stare at each other, expressions hard. Val breaks first. “I was afraid if you knew, you wouldn’t accept me.”
I scoff. “You were afraidthatwould make me reject you? Out of everything you’ve done?”
“Can you blame me?”
I ignore his question. It’s an agonizing struggle to ignore equally the sight of his naked body, the cut muscles of his trim hips making a disturbingly defined V, centered with glorious dark hair leading to… places.
“Who all knows?”
“My father and brother knew. Mallin and Alaric. And Blair. But only because you can’t keep anything from that woman and her nosey little smoke creatures. And now you,ocellus.” Val’s tone, his demeanor, is so loose. Like he’s been choking on the weight of the secret and can now finally breathe.
It dawns on me that we are in a very open cemetery, where anyone could be witnessing our interaction. “Are you mad?” I hiss, gesturing widely to the graveyard.
“It’s been suggested more than once.” Val shakes his head, taking another step towards me. “But there’s no one here. I can hear it. We’re alone.”
But of course, he has a heightened sense of hearing. I inspect his ears, half expecting them to be offset like an owl’s, but they’re perfectly, wonderfully symmetrical.
“Did you know I was listening to you? When you were talking to your father?” I ask, my embarrassment ever increasing.
“Of course. I always know when you’re near. How else would I have thought to come here?”
With another step forward, Val’s nearly touching me. Tentatively, he raises a hand. Rests a thumb and forefinger at my chin to force me to look at him when I turn away.
Our breaths suck in simultaneously at the touch—skin-to-skin—craving the other’s air. It’s pure heat and static. I half expect the sky to be zig-zagged with yellow lights, born from the friction of my husband’s flesh touching mine.
I’m frozen. Unable to move. Unsure if I want to, enraging me further.
Unfulfilled energy stretches between us, my hazel eyes sucked into the undeniable orbit of his black. Such a devouring stare he has.
Val has gotten so very close. The heat of his body pulses against the thin barrier of my dress. I want to shed it—now. Slide it down my arms until I’m bare in his sight, allow him to look at me while I do him, let us learn every line and dip of the other. Be naked with Val while we bathe in the moonlight, much like we did the night we wed, only without the cover of clothing.
Man and wife.
I can hear the wasted bones of the dead rattling in the ground, clicking their teeth and singing for death to become life once again—answering the gathering call of our combined pent up necromancy. Ready to unleash with our bodies touching.
Val groans, leaning into me further, as viscerally moved by our simple contact as I am.
“Lie to me, Delaney,” he whispers breathlessly against my lips. Hovering close. Close enough it makes me hot and liquidall over. My breast heaves, my chest grazes him with each inhale. “Tell me you don’tfeelit. I fucking dare you.”
That bold challenge, Val’s dominance behind it, sends the most delicious little flutter across my lower stomach.
