Page 63 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood
“Riveting,” she pants.
“I had no idea you enjoyed reading so much. Perhaps I should ravage you in the library next time.”
Lenore giggles, her breath becoming steady once more. “You’ve discovered my secret. Books just do something to me.”
“Imagine all the tomes we could ruin if you squirted for me.”
Lenore’s face is so red she looks as if she could burn alive. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Why? Because it offends you?”
“Because I like it and it makes me uncomfortable.” She rises, adjusting her dress and snapping her spine into a proper posture.
“Good. I like to watch you squirm.” She gives me a halfhearted glare. “Come. Let’s leave these prying eyes behind. I have more in store for you and it’s nothing you will be able to keep secret.”
Chapter 20
Harrow
That night, I take Lenore slowly. Our bodies meld. The hours are consumed with learning each other’s synchronicities as our hands explore every inch of one another. Leaning into the things that elicit a breathy moan or guttural gasp. Lenore no longer shields her scar from me. I, in turn, have stopped pulling away when her fingers graze the marks on my back.
That four-post bed becomes our private world, giving a glimpse into the future we could have. If there were some way to change circumstances.
I can’t help but worry that something is coming for us. Perhaps I’m just paranoid; I’ve never known contentment before. The thought of it being snatched away sends fear spiking through my love-soaked senses. Things are blissfully perfect. So why do I have the sense that I’m slowly drowning, too caught upin Lenore’s ocean eyes to sense the water filling my lungs or the current crushing my wings?
Fighting the inner turmoil, I push those concerns away. Instead, I choose to focus on Lenore. The way her fingers intwine in my hair as she pulls me down for a kiss. The weight of her hips against mine as she straddles me. The sounds of her pleasure as her body sings for me over and over.
I wait until she’s drifted off to sleep to leave. Carefully sliding her off my chest, I slip from beneath the sheets. My wings keep tight to my body so as not to wake her by knocking over some trinket or beauty product. One final look over my shoulder gives me the perfect view of her sleeping face. The length of her snow-white and raven-black hair fans out across the pillow. The breaths through her slightly parted lips are slow, signaling a deep sleep.
I wonder what she dreams of. She once told me she only has nightmares. I hope one day that’s no longer the case. Maybe I can be the source of her good dreams. That’s my new goal.
I’ll spend the rest of her days filling her mortal life with so much good, it’s all she’ll be able to think about when she closes her eyes.
Look at me, a dreamless being of death, weaving dreams for the living. I can’t deny the irony.
Lenore
My dark angel is gone when I wake. As Prince of the Underworld, I can’t expect him to spend all day and night with me. I understand the importance of his duties. Well, as much asmy rational brain will allow me to understand. Not that I want to think about what those duties may entail. I stretch, reaching my arms up high above my head before dropping them back onto the pillow. There’s a glow nestled within me that has a smile permanently settled across my face. That was the deepest sleep of my life.
I’m awake before the sun. I can’t remember the last time that happened. I’ve hated mornings for as long as I can remember. My arm drapes across the empty side of the bed. A sigh of disappointment sneaks out of me. Harrow was with me for most of the night, but I do wish I could see his lovely face in the morning.
A giddy thrill bubbles in my stomach just thinking about last night. That or my stomach is gurgling. A low rumbling growl affirms it. After all of last night’s…activities, I’m famished.
Taking breakfast while the sun rises doesn’t sound half bad. I only wish Harrow were here to enjoy it with me. I call for a tea service, much to the shock of the maids. I don’t know if I even recognize the women who work this early.
Once my fire is tended to and tea is poured, I seat myself on the sill, opening the windowpane, and bask in the early morning light. Pale peach peeks over the tops of the trees, giving way to a deeper orange. The vibrant colors spill over the garden below, painting its many petals. The sunrise stretches higher and higher, finally giving way to the soft blue of the day.
My heart is full.
I haven’t felt this at peace with anything in years. The lack of control over my life has dulled the excitement of living with luxury at my fingertips. My future has always felt so daunting. But now, with Harrow, things feel renewed. I don’t know what kind of future one can have with the Prince of the Underworld. Sometimes when I say things like that I have to wonder if I’ve completely lost my mind and invented all of this.
There’s a low rumble off to the east. A storm is rolling in. I’ve learned to love the rain. It feeds the flowers and fills the ponds and streams for my animal friends. Soon, Melly will come to wake me. I call for another round of tea and enough biscuits for both of us. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she walks in and finds me awake and waiting.
A shiny black feather awaits me when I return to the windowsill. I still don’t know how he manages to get the feathers in here without me seeing. I suspect he sends one of his birds to do it, but I can’t be sure. The feather glistens in the new morning light.
At the sharp click of my doorknob, I tuck the feather away and sit up straight. Melly walks in and I’m certain my expression is the definition of smug.
She stares at me, shocked.
