Page 66 of The Curse of Golden Blood
My hands slipped to her waist, tugging her closer. Her body was molded against mine, her heartbeat steady against my ribs. "I hate you," she murmured against my lips.
"Keep hating me."
She smiled and kissed me harder. Her fingers dug into my scalp, her chest rising and falling more rapidly. I cupped the back of her neck, drawing her even closer. I could barely think, barely breathe. The only word in my head was her name.
Her hips lifted against mine, and I couldn't stop the low growl that rumbled in my throat. I wanted her here, on this balcony. Right now. But when I realized what I was doing, a cold spike went through me, and I slowly pulled back.
Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted. Her fingers were still tangled in my hair, and her breathing was ragged. She stared up at me, her brow furrowed, as if she couldn't believe what had just happened.
"Sleep," I told her, my voice husky.
"Zydar—"
"You're exhausted." I brushed her hair from her forehead and kissed her there. She let out a sigh, and her eyelids fluttered.
"Zydar."
"Yes, little dove?"
"I don't hate you."
The corner of my mouth curved up. "I know."
She glared at me, and for a moment I thought she was going to argue. But instead, she just turned and stalked away. I watched her go, my gaze lingering on her hips and the way her hair shone in the torchlight.
Don't get attached, I thought.
But it was already too late.
seventeen
A Beautiful Day for Death
Miralyte
Icouldstillfeelthe ghost of his lips on mine. The heat of his breath against my skin. The way his hand had cupped the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair.
It was all I could think about. All I could focus on. It was like a drug, coursing through my veins, making me ache for more.
I had never been touched like that before. Not by anyone. It had been so... tender. So gentle. And yet, I had wanted more. Much more.
And that terrified me.
I paced the library, trying to clear my mind. But all I could think about was the feel of his skin on mine, the warmth of his lips, the taste ofhis breath.
How had this happened? How had I allowed myself to become so... attached?
I shook my head, forcing the thoughts away.
It didn't matter. None of it mattered. All that mattered was getting through this. Surviving. And, if possible, finding a way out of this mess.
I looked at the book. At the worn leather cover. The faded title.
Sanguinar Aurion Thalethis.
Blood... Golden... Curse...?
I picked it up, running my fingers over the leather. It was old. Maybe ancient. I flipped it open, scanning the pages. There were just endless lists of names. Of dates. Of times. And next to each, a simple, brief description.
