Page 8 of Surviving Hallow Hill
And then his lips seal to mine. Hesitant. Uncertain. Fearful.
Every single thing that Sialen isn’t is shyly pressed between the meld of our lips. And I taste it. I tasted all the things he never shows anyone. I take hold of those sweet emotions with both hands as my fingers thrust through his hair, and I pull him harder against me.
It’s a bitter pleasure, the way our magic burns within my chest. Mingling and igniting to find a path for us to travel.
Together.
The idea of sharing a path within anyone, it’s terrifying.
But I want it.
I want him.
Even as he pulls back, with burning colors lighting up his dark, steely eyes. It’s a lustful look of power. It’s beautiful the way he looks at me.
It almost chases out all that fear of the uncertainty.
Almost.
“Witch. It’s your turn,” A growling voice orders.
Heavy boots kick at the ground as the dragon man storms past the two of us, glaring daggers at the way we’re wound together.
I don’t even blame him, if I’m being honest. My hormones are fucked right now. There are screams of death and destruction in the distance, and I’m dry humping Sialen’s leg like it’s the last orgasm I’ll ever have in this miserable life.
Get some perspective, Emmera.
Without shame, but with a new-founded self-awareness, I stand and make my way to the ledge of the wall. With the fading sunlight, it no longer shines with golden wealth and prosperity. It’s dull. The pretentious allure the academy always throws into everything can’t be seen in the darkness. It’s something they’ll never understand: no matter how much you force your fake appearance of perfection on people, the pretty shine always dulls.
“What’s your name, anyway?” Sia asks as he sits up and gives Charizard a moment of real camaraderie.
What a fucking waste.
One of us will be dead by tomorrow.
It’s easier if we know as little as possible about one another.
“Dom,” he says carefully, like he doesn’t even trust the Sekar with his name.
He acts like we’re fae instead of witches.
“So, Dom the Dragon, what’s your plan?” I ask flatly, leaning into the wall and getting as comfortable as I can without actually getting comfortable enough to sleep.
I feel his glare heat across the back of my skull, but I feign ignorance and stare on at the darkening skyline. From here, I can’t tell where the jagged crack in the earth lies. Only miles of trees and a span of inky water far off in the distance can be seen.
“My plan is to attack.”
Good plan. Good plan.
A little vague, but hopefully Dom the Dragon can explain how he plans to attack the corpse monsters. He does, in fact, elaborate. “If you noticed, the walking dead didn’t come after us when they thought we were going to kill the man in red. They wanted us to. They gave us a chance to kill one another. And when we didn’t, they did it for us.”
Wait. Timeout. Come a-fucking-gain?
I spin so fast on my heels that I expect to startle him, but his cocky gaze is as calm as ever. And he’s staring me down the way I’m staring him down.
“You want to kill the other teams?” My teeth grind together hard as I close my mouth and force myself to let him correct himself. Because he must have misspoken.
“Yes,” he says without apology.
