Page 77 of Grim and Oro
It’s something we share. The risk of vulnerability.
“They are fainter versions of your own emotions, floating through the air. At first, they were overwhelming. They would all bleed together. Now I can control whose I seek out. Which I focus on.”
“Do they ... affect your own emotions?” she asks.
“Never,” I say.Never until you.
“What do ... what do mine feel like?”
They feel like me losing my mind.
They feel like me sitting at your bedside like a fool, trying to tease meaning from your spikes of feeling while you dream.
They feel like me becoming an utter captive to your every mood and desire.
My hands stop their task. Slowly, I look up. Meet her gaze. I take a step toward her. She swallows. “Yours are red.”
“Red?” The word is just a breath.
I nod. “Red.” I huff a laugh. That seems to startle her.
I feel the stitches of my self-control snapping, one by one. I take another step toward her. Toward all thatred. Her aura is like my shadows, reaching toward me. My own shadows are reaching back. Both drawn toward our mutual ruin.
She’s leaned against the wall. I’m right in front of her now. She tilts her neck back to continue meeting my eyes.
“Other emotions never affected my own ... until you.”
At my admission, her eyes widen. Perhaps I’ve said too much. I should take a step back. I should portal away.
But I am done with these games. With the hiding. I realize now I have never been in control of my emotions at all, at least when it comes to her. My entire world has been off its axis since the first moment I saw her.
I lean down, and I can see how hard she’s breathing. I watch the rise and fall of her chest, in a silk dress I’ve already memorized several times over. Her pulse is quickening. I want it to fuckingrace. I want her to feel even a fraction of my obsession.
“I feel them so strongly, as if they’re my own,” I say, studying her slowly, top to bottom, taking my time. When my eyes meet hers again, I find themblazing. The curiosity and surprise in her emotions are both drowned out by a flaming, uncurling want.
“I cantastethem, Isla,” I say, my voice almost pained, and—and she isn’t breathing. I lean my head down, toward hers, and her lips part, as if on instinct, as if telling me exactly what she wants. I duck lower, until I can feel her breath on my mouth. I breathe her in, and it’s enough. It’s enough to make my entire body almost tremble with need.
“Do you like the taste?” she asks, her voice a husky rasp.
I feel a slow smile spreading across my face. I risk taking a strand of her hair and tucking it behind her ear. My fingers just slightly brush her skin, and she shivers.
I love the taste.
“Yes,” is all I admit.
And then, though it’s the last thing I want to do, though it’s the last thingshewants me to do, I turn away, before I admit far more. Before I admit everything and have her against this wall.
But her voice stops me in my tracks. “Why won’t you kiss me?” she demands.
My world lurches to a halt. Slowly, I turn back around. She’s still pressed against the wall, panting.
I expect to feel nerves from her ... but she’s angry. She’s confused. Under my notice, though, she swallows.
“Why would I kiss you?” I ask, my voice harsh, as if I’m not currently losing my mind that she even suggested I might.
She glares at my rudeness. “You’ve done it before.”
“And you stabbed me for it,” I snarl.
