Page 63 of Hell Kissed
“I didn’tnotwant you to kiss me,” I say quietly.
The towel he ruffles his shaggy tawny hair with stops abruptly. Tension lines his shoulders, yet he still doesn’t turn to me.
“I wanted you to kiss me,” I add.
Latham arches his brow and looks from Aric to me and then back again. The fenrir lowers the unused towel, shrugs quietly and magics it away with a flick of his wrist. He peers down at the dirt and blood that paints him, and with another wave of magic, he’s sparkling and spotless, distracting me slightly with his flourishes of magic.
Aric’s feet shift, and he turns casually around. A half smile tilts his lips, but it doesn’t hold any of that manic happiness of his.
It’s fake.
“You don’t have to explain, Love. I’m not fragile. I can take rejection.” He tosses his towel carelessly to the ground, and once more Latham glares at his friend and then me as he twists his hand and, with a spark of magic, he cleans up the disposed and forgotten towel.
“That’s not what I meant though,” I start, but Aric quickly cuts me off.
“It’s not a big deal. It’s fine. I’m fine. You’re fine. Fuck, even Latham’s fine. Right, Latham?”
“No, actually. I wish you two would stop fucking ignoring me during your lover’s quarrels.” Latham speaks with a calm stream of annoyance that never once hints at hostility. But yeah, he’s as pissed as I might ever see him.
“It’s not a lover’s quarrel,” Aric replies preposterously. “We’re not lovers. And that’s fine. Like I said. We’re fine. More than fine.”
“Would you shut the fuck up?” I scream, leaning up on my tippy toes to really drive my point home to my hard-headed dragon shifter. “Shut. Up.”
Both men look at me with wide eyes and open mouths.
But finally, they say nothing.
Finally.
“I didn’t want you to kiss me because this moment isn’t real! It’s a blip of beauty in my life that won’t last. This beautiful fucking fae magic will fade away by nightfall, and we’ll be back to fighting off Hell and bringing me to my mother in hopes that I find somewhere I belong.” My voice cracks as I look from Aric’s warm russet eyes to Latham’s cool blue irises. “I don’t belong with you. Either of you! I don’t belong anywhere.” The emotion is thick in my throat, and no matter how hard I swallow, the feelings won’t go away.
Quiet flits of wings settle into the silence that follows my outburst. The sprites are really settling in for this soap opera it seems.
Shit. Why did I say any of that?
“Elf,” Latham says in the quietest voice.
I blink at him in confusion.
“You said fae magic. It’s not faerie magic, it’s elfin magic. Much more powerful. Darker. Not the same.” The more Latham explains, the more his voice dwindles off into nothingness. He just stares at me like that lost look in his eyes is finally sinking in and consuming him whole. “And you do belong. Especially with us,” he whispers.
Aric prowls toward me. His confident steps eat up the space between us and he takes my hand slowly. He holds it and brings my palm up flat against his smooth chest. The strong drumming of his heart beats against my fingertips.
“I lied. You’re not something I want to hoard away, Rhys.” The way his deep rumbling voice says my name sends a shiver straight through me. “You don’t fit in because you’re not a piece of a common collection. You’re rare.” His hand tangles through my wet hair, his sweet words tangling deeper into my heart than he’ll ever know. “Don’t ever worry about fitting into a society of stones when you’re a fucking diamond.”
“Diamonds actually aren’t rare,” Latham murmurs, but his sound and constant logic is ignored as I lean in and slam my lips to Aric’s.
His tongue parts my lips. Fingers tighten in my locks as he drags me hard against his body, my slick curves sliding against him in the best possible way. The friction is fluid, and the motion only reminds me of how badly I want to feel him sliding deep between my thighs.
My moan hums along his tongue, and his palm that’s sliding down my hips lifts. A jerking sensation jars me against him before my back hits something behind me.
Aric pulls away just slightly as hooded eyes look from me… to something just behind me.
Warm and gentle hands slide around my waist, and I look over my shoulder to a sweet but hesitant smile.
Latham stands flush against my back, the water from my body seeping into his clothes as he stares down at me with parted but quiet lips.
They’re always so careful with me. Protective. Kind.
