Page 42 of Rainse
My hand was still resting against Rainse's chest, fingertips tracing the edge of his greenskin. The texture was unlike anything I'd ever touched—smooth as kelp but alive, responding to me with tiny shivers and pulses. Each time I moved my fingers, his breathing hitched.
"You're staring," I whispered.
"You're touching me."
"Should I stop?"
"If you do, I might actually die." His voice came out rough, almost desperate. "And after surviving jellyfish, that would be embarrassing."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Can't have that."
I stepped closer, eliminating what little space remained between us. My other hand came up to rest against his shoulder, fingers sliding along the greenskin there. The fronds responded immediately, unfurling toward my touch like flowers seeking sunlight. Fascinating. Beautiful. Impossibly intimate.
He groaned, a sound that did things to my insides I wasn't prepared for. "Verity?—"
"I know what I'm doing," I said softly, though that was only partially true. "Or at least, I'm choosing to do it. Isn't that what matters?"
"Yes." He caught my face between his hands, thumbs brushing my cheekbones with a gentleness that made my throat tight. "But I need you to be sure. Once we—if we—the bond will?—"
"Will what?" I searched his eyes, seeing want and worry in equal measure. "Lock in? Become permanent? Make me crave seaweed pudding?"
Despite everything, he laughed. "The last one is irreversible, I'm afraid."
"I'll risk it."
Then I kissed him, and thinking became impossible.
This kiss was different from the ones before. Those had been tentative, exploratory—two people testing the waters. This was a dive into the deep. His mouth opened against mine, and I tasted salt and something faintly sweet, like ocean spray mixed with honey. His hands slid into my damp hair, angling my head so he could kiss me deeper, harder, until we were both breathing in gasps.
The greenskin beneath my palms started to glow faintly—a soft bioluminescence that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. Or maybe mine. I couldn't tell anymore where I ended and he began.
"That's new," I managed between kisses.
"That's you," he murmured against my mouth. "It only does that for?—"
"Mates," I finished. "I assumed."
"And you're okay with that?"
I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. They were dark and endless like the bottom of the sea. "I spent my whole life studying the ocean," I said. "Trying to understand it, measure it, explain it. But some things aren't meant to be understood. They're meant to be felt."
His expression softened into something that looked like wonder. "That's the least scientific thing I've ever heard you say."
"Don't get used to it." I tugged him back down. "I'm sure I'll have regrets in the morning. Probably involving spreadsheets."
"I'll risk it," he said, echoing my words, and kissed me again.
"Rainse," I said, the practical part of my brain fighting through the haze of desire. "I need to know—protection. I'm not on birth control anymore."
He went still. "Finfolk males are made sterile at puberty. A reversible treatment, but it requires specific intervention to undo. I can't get you pregnant. Not without hormone therapy I haven't received."
"The Matriarchs' doing?"
"Yes. Control over reproduction." His jaw tightened. "But in this case, it means you're safe."
"Okay." I exhaled. "Okay, good."
His hands moved to my waist, fingers splaying wide against my wet shirt. Even through the fabric, his touch burned. I made a frustrated sound and pulled back just long enough to yank the shirt over my head. It hit the floor with a wet slap.
