Epilogue Jude
EPILOGUE
Jude
Only fifteen days had passed since Jude last laid eyes on ánhaga, yet he felt like a completely different man from the half-formed figure who’d left.
He used to imagine turning his back on it entirely, with mouth bitter and teeth gritted.
He’d picture how he’d slam the iron gate and stride away with the wind at his heels and freedom in his lungs. Never, ever to return.
Yet, here he was. Returning. And excitedly at that. Not a dog to its whip-wielding master, but a migratory bird returning to its nest after a long winter.
Not alone, but with her.
Maeve’s shoulder brushed his, softly at first, then harder, purposeful. Jude caught the edge of her smile before she tucked it into the red wool of her scarf.
‘Thoughts?’ she asked as Jude pushed open the gate.
He stepped aside to let her through first. ‘About?’
‘Coming home.’
He cast his gaze over her head. The house stood tall and imposing, the windows impossibly dark. Ivy grew up in reaching tendrils that spread like fingers over the curve of the front door. Frost clung to the meagre path snaking towards the house, crunching underfoot. He smiled.
Home.
The first place he went was the kitchen.
‘Really?’ Maeve’s voice was thick with laughter. ‘This is your priority?’
‘It’s all I could think about,’ he grumbled, dumping out the contents of the cutlery drawer onto the counter.
Spoons, knives, and forks went everywhere with a metallic rattle.
He arranged the divider back in the drawer and neatly replaced the cutlery in their assigned section.
No more of Elden’s seemingly random toss of knives and teaspoons together. He was putting his foot down.
Maeve came up behind him, resting her hands on his hips and notching her chin over his shoulder. ‘I thought the kitchen would be my domain now that it’s only the two of us. Since I’ve never actually seen you cook.’
‘Very funny. We can share. If you respect the sanctity of the space, of course.’
‘Naturally.’
She laid her cheek between his shoulder blades. Her breath warmed his skin through his thin jumper, trailing goosebumps across the word etched into his skin. Jude closed his eyes. He could stay here forever, basking in the warmth of her, a haven of peace.
His stomach grumbled.
Maeve laughed, pulling back. ‘Toast?’
Soon, they were seated in front of the merrily burning fire in the front room, eating fresh bread Maeve’s sister Una had made them for their journey, honey dripping down the thick crusts.
Their teacups sat on the scuffed floor with handles slotted together.
Besides Elden, only Olive was missing from the happy picture.
He’d go collect her from Bethan’s tomorrow.
Warmth from the fire stole over his face.
Outside, a light pattering of rain traced rivulets down the window.
He tracked a figuration of birds streaking across the blanket of clouds, outstretched wings curving into points against the wind.
Perhaps the library would tell him what a dozen birds signified. Maybe he’d just ask Felix.
Jude set his half-eaten toast on top of his mug to warm. ‘It’s strange having nothing to do. No looming presence or shadowy task to complete.’ Maeve quirked a brow, and he sighed. ‘I’m happy for it, of course… but it is odd. Like I need to learn to relax.’
‘I’m sure you’ll find something to occupy your time. Vegetables and the like. Maybe knitting.’ She chuckled, angling her head to catch a trail of honey sliding down her wrist. Jude drew one knee close to his chest. His stomach clenched.
Well. There was one thing they could do.
They’d only had the one night together, burned forever in his memory.
He didn’t think anything could erase how she tasted.
His only regret was their severe lack of alone time since leaving Elden’s.
After they’d found Maeve’s family, they’d stayed a little over a week at Una and her husband’s house, sleeping on the two sofas in the small house’s main room.
Not exactly conducive to continuing his study of Maeve and her sighs.
But now… they were alone. His bedroom was only a few floors up. Too far, really.
Why didn’t he place a bed here, next to the fire?
He wanted to see how the orange flame gilded her skin and drew out the spun gold of her hair, the emerald lurking in her eyes.
His fingers ached to reach for her. He knew she at least somewhat enjoyed herself last time, but would she welcome his touch again?
Did she look at him and want, as he did her?
Jude was going mad with desire. Just to be known by her. Seen, touched.
He took an unsteady sip of tea. The honey lingered on his tongue. Sweet, so sweet. He couldn’t look at her lest she see the naked desire on his face. He didn’t want to frighten her with its force.
A soft touch on his wrist. A fine tremble to her fingers. He looked up.
Her eyes were dark, lips parted and damp. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’
‘Upstairs?’ His voice sounded thready, even to his own ears. Maeve nodded, leaning imperceptibly closer, and he realized that as he’d been fighting his desire for her, she was tracking along the same path. He slid his hand up her bare forearm and squeezed.
‘No,’ he murmured. ‘Upstairs is too far.’
He wasn’t sure who kissed who first, only the next moment, Maeve’s lips were against his, her breath in his lungs.
He fell backwards in a graceless slump, laughing against her mouth as her thighs bracketed his hips.
‘I couldn’t wait,’ she said, kissing the sensitive corner of his mouth, under his ear.
‘Days, Jude. Days. I can’t stand it any longer. ’
His heart leapt into his throat. ‘You have no idea.’
She leaned back to shove her hands under his shirt. Her palms were as hot as a brand on his skin. He wanted her nails, her teeth. The mark on his chest had been too long faded. ‘I think I have some idea,’ she said, shifting against him.
He trembled, already too close, and stilled her restless hips. He levered himself on his elbows, nodding to the chair facing the fire. ‘Sit on the chair.’
A dark blush traced its way down her throat, bringing out the pinkness of her lips as she got to her feet and lowered onto the chair. She crossed one leg tightly over the other as she watched him make his way over to her.
Well. That certainly wouldn’t do.
He braced his hands on the chair’s arms and leaned down. Her eyes were glassy with want as she stared up at him. A dull buzzing settled deep in his skull, erasing everything that wasn’t her.
‘Here’s what’s going to happen,’ he said, dipping down to run his nose up her neck, taking in her scent. ‘I’m going to get on my knees. You’re going to tell me when to stop. Okay?’
He wasn’t sure she was breathing as she nodded. He wasn’t sure his lungs were functioning. Wherever this untested confidence was coming from, he would use it while it was here.
A memory floated to the surface as he lowered to the ground. Weeks ago, kneeling in front of Oakmoor’s shrine. Maeve’s hand on his throat, the trembling in his thighs as rain coated them both. How he’d thought, desperate and weak, that he’d do anything to remain kneeling at her feet.
So much had changed, but not that. Never that.
Jude inched her dress up her thighs, kissing her black stocking-covered calf.
He stared at the curve of flesh over the top of the sock on her thigh, momentarily entranced.
Last time, this had gone quickly. He hadn’t had the time to truly learn her like he wanted to.
Pulling down her sock, he rubbed the short stubble on his jaw against her until she sighed, skin reddened.
Somehow, the sight of her bare thighs was the thing to end him.
‘Jude,’ she whispered, voice strained.
He urged her knees wider before looking up. ‘Yes?’
‘Hurry up.’
He kissed her thigh. ‘You know, I don’t think I will.’
Smiling at her annoyed huff, he slid her final layer off, dropping the thin fabric behind him. He pulled one leg over his shoulder, leaned in, and stopped.
‘Jude.’ Her leg tightened over his back. ‘Stop being a tease.’
Her skin was dewed with a fine sheen. The long rope of her hair hung down the side of her neck, gilded in the firelight. Jude couldn’t look away from her mouth. He’d kissed her. He was on his knees for her. She begged for his touch with low, murmured words.
Look at you, he wanted to say.
Instead, he gave her what she wanted.
Her thighs didn’t take long to clench up around his ears as soon as his mouth was between her legs. He remembered what she liked from last time, angling his head, sliding his fingers inside her. He forced himself to pull back when she groaned.
Her eyes snapped open. ‘Why’d you stop?’ He kissed her lightly between the legs, deciding not to answer. She tried to pull him closer with her leg. ‘Not nice.’
‘Very nice.’
‘Jude. Please.’
He decided he liked the desperation in her voice and leaned in for another taste. Immediately, Maeve’s legs began to tremble, trying to spread wider. He felt her touch on the crown of his head, skating back to palm the base of his skull. She pulled his mouth closer, moaning. Too close. ‘Jude, I’m—’
He sat back on his heels.
‘No, no… why?’ Maeve whined. Her eyes were wild. ‘I thought I got to tell you when to stop. How can I when you won’t—’
He ran his tongue back over her, not stopping this time.
The silence of the room pressed in around them, broken only by her panting breaths and the crackle of the fire.
He neither noticed nor cared if his knees ached on the floorboards beneath him.
Only her, her taste, her sounds, the feeling of her coming on his tongue, mattered.
Her legs went boneless as she came back down to earth.
‘Took you long enough,’ Maeve mumbled, still managing to sound grumpy even with the mess she’d made of his face. She collapsed back in the chair, covering her eyes with the crook of her elbow.
Jude kissed her knee. ‘Hm.’