Page 33 of The Lost Fae
That's all it takes for his lips to be on mine. He closes the fraction of an inch of space between us, wrapping me up in his arms. Our bodies come crashing together, but the kiss itself becomes tender. Both of us are too scared to cross some unspoken line that will send us running in opposite directions.
The universe itself narrows on this one singular kiss. It lasts only a few seconds, but somehow the moment seems to go on and on. I want it to. I wish that it would.
When he pulls away, I can feel the slightest tremor travel through his body. I lift a hand to cup his face, but Lincoln stands swiftly and walks to the bed. Slowly, I close my fingers into a loose fist and drop my hand into my lap.
"The fire only heats this side of the room," he starts, pulling the thick quilts off of the bed. "To stay warm it may be best if we make a little pallet of blankets to lay on."
"Oh." I force myself back up to standing though what I really want to do is fling myself at Lincoln and beg for another kiss.
Ziko shakes the blankets out and begins fanning them out flat, four blankets in total. I reach for the edge encouraging them to lay without wrinkles. With two quilts down, he snatches the pillows off the bed and tosses them at me with half a grin. I'm too distracted by his perfect dimple to catch them properly and I grunt as one smacks me right in the face.
"You catch with your arms, Briar."
Chucking the pillows onto the blankets, I give him a pointed look. He knows exactly why my focus wasn't on the pillows. You can't just kiss a woman after declaring your love and not expect her mind to immediately run to the idea of sucking your dick right out of your pants like a hoover vacuum. Or maybe that's just me.
When he reaches the pillows, he adjusts them slightly before he motions for me to lay down. He repeats the process of fanning the blankets out. They settle over me and I curl up on my side watching Lincoln slip under the covers and turn much the same.
"Did you sleep at all last night?" I can feel exhaustion tugging at him. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that it tugged at me a little bit too after traipsing through the woods and dealing with the trolls. That small flex of my magical muscles creates new sort of aches and pains.
"A little."
But something nags at him. Strong enough the emotion echoes in my mind. It must be clear on my face because after a moment he continues on.
"I was just nervous that something was off. Still am. Captain Beatrice has been relatively helpful. Almost too kind. I just didn't want anything to go wrong. I wanted to make sure you were safe."
"I'm a big strong Fae now, Lincoln. I think I can defend myself against the humans." For the most part...
"I know you're fully capable. I'm not disagreeing with that. But there was no way I was going to sleep."
"The dreadful pits of anxiety," I sing quietly.
"Anxiety? You lot have a name for that?" Lincoln's grin is sheepish.
"Humans have a name for everything."
Warm and gentle, his arm snakes under the blankets and reaches for my waist. He tugs me close, tucking my head under his chin. The fire pops and crackles near our feet. The cold that had settled in my bones now begins to dissipate.
"Today wasn't great. I'm hopeful tomorrow will be better. We can wear her down, Briar." He yawns. "We'll find a way."
We'll find a way.My thoughts repeat. I hope those words are true.
Finding a solution doesn't mean sitting and waiting for one to fall into your hands, that I am certain. Laying here on this pile of blankets, cozy by the fire is nice… necessary even... but it isn't going to do the trick.
Lincoln's mind chugs to a slow stop and into a restful sleep as I lay nestled in his warmth, thinking. It's my turn to stay awake with fitful thoughts. I bite at my nails watching the shadows projected by the fire on the wall until I'm certain Lincoln won't wake at my movement.
His limbs are heavy as I peel them off of me. His chest rises and falls in an even movement and he doesn't stir as I roll away from him, careful not to take the blankets with me. Outside of our bubble of body heat, the chilled air sends goosebumps over my skin. The farther I move away from the fire, the colder the room gets.
My boots, damp and sparkling with melted snow sit in their own puddle next to the dresser. I grit my teeth as I push my heels into them and my socks that have almost dried by the fire soak up water once more. Even with my Fae stealth I struggle to keep my steps from squeaking as I carefully edge out of the room.
The halls are quiet. My head begins a constant swivel as I look up and down the corridors and side to side over and over again. Splashes of color accent the walls, but there is an absence of physical decor. I expect to see statues... I expect to see trolls. Or worse... that tiny demon cherub thing. That will haunt my nightmares for years to come, I'm certain.
And what is my excuse for sneaking around Anastasia's home?Ana-fucking-stasia. My mind still couldn't grasp the idea.
I have no excuse to give if I am caught. Which makes my adventure that much scarier. And dare I say... fun?
I watch every shadowy corner. I listen for even the faintest sign of breathing. Nothing, and no one.
The light from the day has been sucked below the horizon. Only a few lamps hanging in intervals down the halls offer the slightest bit of light. I shiver. Suddenly, I wish I'd put on my jacket. There isn't central heating in Anastasia’s handcrafted home. So I tuck my hands into my sleeves, cupping the fabric around the entirety of my hand and closing it in my palms.
