Page 23 of Reflections of Peonies
A burning spread where our mouths touched, and despite being pinned to the bed and feeling his weight over me, I wasn’t scared at all. Instead, the contact made me yearn for more. I pressed my hips into his. My fingers seemed to move on their own, unbuttoning his shirt as I sought out bare skin. A pulse raced through me as my palm brushed over the mark that was so much like mine.
I wasn’t the only one who lost control. His presence was everywhere. One hand pressed my hair away from my face and cupped the back of my head, and the fingers of his other entwined in my own.
For the first time, it occurred to me that he had been holding back, even when he’d been so pushy in the past.
I was breathless when he pulled away, but I hardly had time to do more than inhale before his mouth trailed over my jaw. He grazed his teeth over my skin while whispering words I couldn’t understand under his breath.
It was too much.
“What’s that?” I asked, surprised at how shaky my voice came out. “What are you saying?”
He froze, his mouth pressed over the corner of my jaw before he pushed up. He held himself up with one arm. He touched me with his other hand, running his thumb over the hollow dip near my eye. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“You were saying something,” I said. I didn’t want to ruin this moment, but at the same time, the blush that grew over Damen’s face intrigued me. “What was it?”
“Nothing,” Damen said, looking to the side.
Now I needed to know. “What language was that?”
“None.” Damen continued to avoid my gaze.
He was wrong. “I’m pretty sure that was Chinese,” I told him. “Did you take Chinese?”
Damen’s gaze drifted back to me, to my mouth, but I put my finger to his lips before he could distract me. “Tell me,” I commanded.
He groaned but didn’t move away as he responded. “We’ve been reincarnated into almost every culture. But in our first lives, we were born into what is now known as modern-day China. You understand this already.”
“I know that,” I said. “But is that why you learned Chinese? To honor that life?”
“Even though we’re ourselves in each life—I’m Damen, you’re Bianca—our first lives shaped who we fundamentally are and hold the strongest memories.” Damen moved his hand from my face to hold himself with both arms over me. “One day, you’ll remember when I was Huo and you were Mu, and all the lives after that. Those memories lay the foundation for everything we are.” He held up his finger, cutting off my beginning protest. “And certain things, like language and mannerisms, they’re already part of you whether you’ve fully remembered or not.”
“So.” This could be a favorable development. My academic career might not be lost. “I’ll just start knowing Chinese?”
“Well, Archaic Chinese, but yes.” Damen raised his eyebrow. I attempted to ignore his judgy look.
“Close enough!” I waved him off. This was excellent. “Don’t they have Mandarin at our school?”
“You are not switching your foreign language elective,” Damen drawled, the judgmental expression remaining. “That’s cheating. Besides, it’s not the same.”
Yeah, he totally couldn’t stop me. But still… “You’re no fun.” I frowned at him.
“My father wouldn’t let me,” Damen said. “He said I’d be using an unfair advantage for—”
“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” I interrupted, even more annoyed now. Because if his father had to refuse, it meant he’d tried. And now he was lecturing me? “No one can stop me from doing it. You’re not my dad.”
Damen’s mouth thinned, and his gaze flicked to the side. When he looked back at me, it seemed that, within that instant, he had made up his mind about something. “You need to eat.”
This again. “You can’t make me.”
I expected him to argue, but instead, he kissed me again. This time the feeling of his mouth over mine was far more aggressive. And the passion that had been fading fanned into an inferno.
I was still annoyed at him for continuously trying to boss me around, but my reason was soon lost. The only thing that mattered was him. His kisses stirred feelings that were both wonderful and strange.
But then his hand moved down, and his fingers lightly touched my stomach. At first, it felt nice. The warmth of his hand against me was comforting, and the small movement caused my muscles to twitch under his touch.
Then, without warning or reason, the feeling vanished, and a familiar terror rose up instead. My blood turned to ice.
This was no longer enjoyable in any way, and I was suffocating.
