Surely he could have visited her, just once.
The ache intensified, as if the incubus's kiss sensed her unfulfilled desire. The spell wasn't just aimed at seeking pleasure, it seemed to hunt down every little scrap of need she'd ever felt, and to thrive on the edge of pain those memories wrought. Every twisted, bittersweet emotion she felt fed the flames.
Sebastian shifted. "It's not that I don't want to kiss you—"
"No? It certainly feels like it."
"It's not—"
"Then why will you not touch me?" she cried, nerves rubbed raw. It was starting to physically ache, just a little. "Two kisses we've shared, and neither of them lasted longer than five seconds."
Sebastian cursed under his breath, moving away from the hedge that lined Malachi's gardens. "Cleo," he warned, turning to glare at her. "Don't pursue this."
A horrible thought struck her. "Are you not attracted to me?"
His face tightened, and oh, my goodness, that was it.
Cleo's heart felt like lead. She turned away from him, her mind racing. He didn't want her. She'd thought once.... He'd touched her hair the night of their wedding with such longing. But what if she'd been wrong? What if—
A hand latched around her arm, and Sebastian spun her back to face him, even as a soft gasp of pain sounded in her throat. She could survive this. She could survive anything. If she could thrive beneath Lord Tremayne's roof—just wishing her father could love her when he very clearly did not—then she could live through this.
Even if her heart turned to ice in her chest.
"Don't think like that," Sebastian said sharply, both hands locking around her upper arms, and she realized her thoughts had somehow reached him through the bond. "I've never kissed you, not truly...," his voice fell, "because I don't know how."
"How...? What do you mean?" He'd serviced the women his mother pushed him toward. He was no innocent, no virgin, no— "Have you never kissed another woman?"
"Only you."
"That's impossible," she blurted.
"Perhaps we have more in common than we thought," Sebastian said, with a mocking, bitter little laugh. "Because the first time you kissed me, was the first time I'd ever been kissed."
* * *
Cleo stared at him with her mouth open. "You've never been kissed?"
Bloody hell, where were Bishop and Verity? Sebastian stared off through the fog that was beginning to settle in the lane, cursing inquisitive virgins under his breath.
"But how?" Cleo blurted. "I know... you're not...."
A virgin. He looked away again coldly. "What was required of me was never a kiss, though they begged me for it."
It was the one thing he'd been able to keep for himself.
He'd never been able to stop his body from reacting, especially at first when his mother plied him with certain drugs before sending him off to entertain her prospective allies. And once the numbness of it all washed over him and he'd stopped fighting, he'd swiftly learned to take control of the encounter.
It was easy to fuck.
To lock himself away, and let his body take over, and get the task over and done with. Sometimes he'd even come, though it made him feel dirtier than he already felt.
But he didn't know the gentler arts. Seduction, kisses, and gentle caresses were as unknown to him as another's love. A hollow fluttering compressed his ribs. Cleo was a complete innocent, one who dreamed of romantic aspirations. She wanted dances, and kisses, and a charming seduction. She wanted fairy tales, and when she looked into the future, she saw marriage, children, goddess-knew-what....
What do I see?
Nothing. It set off the panic inside him. All he'd ever wanted was freedom from the sclavus collar and from his mother. Freedom to make his own choices. And now he had it. There were dozens of choices each and every day in this new life, but the hardest to deal with was this.
Her.