34. How to Kiss
34
HOW TO KISS
P ages rustled under her hands.
Luella attempted to pull her mind back to the story in front of her, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t. Her attention kept being stolen by the shadowed edges of the library… To what she knew lay within.
Graves reclined on the plush chair next to her, his hood pulled over his head to hide most of his features from her. But even so, Luella could feel the weight of his eyes burning on her skin.
She tapped a finger on the spine of the book. A gentle tap tap tap that sounded far too loud in the hush of the room.
Water trickled into the pool, the splash echoing each hollow thud of her finger against the spine, reverberating in time with the huffs of her breath and the slight swish of the pillow behind her as she shifted.
Luella slammed the book shut and sat up, back pressing against the wall as she pulled her knees to her chest.
“Irritable little thing,” Graves mumbled from beside her; though, he still didn’t move his head, posture stoically set.
Luella started, touching a hand against her mouth. “It’s… difficult to concentrate with someone watching your every move.”
Graves finally tilted his head toward her; his eyes shone from within the folds of his cloak. “I find it hard to believe that is what’s bothering you.” He lifted the book and absentmindedly flipped through the pages. “You’ve spent your whole life being watched.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Luella had been born under watchful eyes and grew up with at least some sort of attention always on her, tracking her every movement. But none so piercing as that from the male beside her.
She felt like Graves knew her every thought and every emotion. Every hidden desire and whim.
Bastian had been inside her mind and knew of her dreams, but Tharen knew the ways her body worked with his magic—every little thrum of her heart or pathway of blood flowing in her veins.
King Vale knew of her courage. Her pride. With his possessive claim, the King realized that she could be just as prideful and obstinate as he, but the difference was that Luella knew when to acquiesce and when to buck against those brutish feelings.
Az knew of Luella’s heart; the demon understood things about her affections that Luella had never even begun to grasp—the tiniest sparks of blossoming love. Fragile, nestled between joint palms with care, waiting for one perfect spark before it ignited into an inferno of a fiery blaze.
But Graves…
Graves knew of her secrets.
And somehow, that was the most dangerous thing of them all.
Just this once, Luella gave into that stubborn pride.
“Being watched and being watched by you are two different things, Graves.” She said his name like a curse and a prayer.
“Tell me, when you wore my feather proudly in front of them all, did you do it with the intent to make them mad with jealousy?”
Luella paused, flustered by the question. “I did it because you"—her head thumped on the wall behind her, eyes squeezing shut as she forced out between gritted teeth—"saved me." Studying the little pinpricks of light behind her closed lids, she tried not to move when Graves brushed a gloved hand over her neck, shivers wracking her frame. “And it made me feel safe. Even though I know it shouldn’t have. Even though you are one I should feel anything but safe with." The careful admittance fell from her anxiously bitten lips, one the male took great pleasure in, Luella was sure.
Just being in his presence made her say things that were better left buried down—far down—in the magicless pit of her soul.
Something tickled her cheek.
Her eyes sprung open.
Graves brushed the soft tip of an inky black feather against her pale skin, smoothing it over her cheek and across her ear with a hushed focus.
It made light strokes over Luella’s skin, and a pink flush threatened to overtake her and give away the excitement thrumming through her veins.
She cleared her throat. “How is your wound?”
“You asked me that yesterday at dinner.”
Graves continued trailing the feather down her neck, and Luella’s heart thumped desperately in her chest. She wondered if he could hear it.
“I know, but I’m asking you again," she said.
She gave a breathy inhale when the feather tickled over her collarbone, skimming over her bruised flesh like he wished to brush the evidence of her pain away. Graves flipped it in his hand, using the pointed end to sweep away the strap of her gown.
Unsteadily, she said, “Without the eyes of the others. Just me and you. I’m asking again.”
Graves leaned into her, his body making her dip to the side on the cushion. “I’ll live. I couldn’t have said the same for you. You fae are quite… delicate.”
The raven shifter was far more forthcoming than Luella would have anticipated he would be. She bit her lip to stifle a gasp as Graves resumed brushing the soft end of the feather over her chest bone. Right over the healed fracture on her sternum, the skin there a darker purple, not yet the fainter yellows of the bruising over her shoulder.
“Were you worried about me?” Her breath hitched.
“Worried.” Graves laughed. She could get drunk on the sound. “I’m always worried.”
Her brow furrowed. She decided to risk one more question. “Who attacked us? All my studies of history and politics… Serpentis is lethal . Ruthless. Not just anyone would risk an attack. Much less be able to make it into the castle.”
That was another piece of this strange puzzle that befuddled her—how did the attackers even make it successfully onto palace grounds?
With every word said, Luella realized it was a bad decision to give in to the burning questions within her.
Graves pulled the feather away from her skin—the absence of its soft touch made her mourn the fleeting piece of personality Graves had gifted her—and tucked it behind her ear, just like what King Vale did the night prior at dinner.
“In time,” Graves said with reluctance. “You’ll understand in time.”
He seemed as angered and overwhelmed as she was. As though he wanted to give in and answer everything she had thrown his way, but something held him back.
Luella felt like she could explode. From his nearness. From the weight of the questions within her.
From her anger.
“The Umbra.” The word was torn from her lips before she could stop it.
Graves stilled, deadly. “How do you know that name?”
Luella scooted away, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm, a vice-like grip forcing her to stay.
She could slap herself for her stupidity. Never reveal your full knowledge in the games of court and politics. But under Graves’s heady stare and sharply sweet scent, Luella was left dazed, drunk, confused, and far too pliant.
“The servants talk.” A tremor wracked her frame.
“Little listening ears.” Graves nipped the tip of her arched ear. She shuddered, wrapped up in his spell. “You’re far too observant for your own good, sweetheart.” He grew contemplative and huffed a laugh, but this one was less seductive and more bitter. “Far too much like me.”
Now that he said it, Luella understood.
They were alike.
Maybe that’s why she had such a hard time with him—more than the others. They were both quiet. Both careful with their words.
There was an art to choosing when to speak, and they both were practiced in it, masters of the dance that was intuition and spoken word.
She saw herself in all of them. At least a little, as far as Tharen was concerned. Luella wasn’t sure how she might be similar to Tharen, the mad male he was.
Turning her head, Luella looked deep into Graves’s eyes. Far deeper than she had ever dared before.
“You’re just like me." Her words were a quiet breath floating between the scant space of their faces. “And I’m just like you. We’re both quiet, but by choice. Not in fear of not knowing what to say, but in fear of knowing exactly what to say. Knowing too much, all of the time.”
Graves ghosted a gloved finger down the side of her cheek. All the anger from her questions fled from his visage, leaving him with only one emotion flickering over his face: desire.
Their faces were a fraction apart when he murmured, “I’m going to kiss you.”
It wasn’t a question but a statement. A firm demand. Even in captivity, with her rights and freedom stripped from her, Luella found herself wanting to willingly give this one piece away to one of her choosing.
She found herself not caring that he demanded to take, just as he took part in stripping her of freedom, her old life. Another choice robbed from her, but just this once, she was okay with it.
Luella liked that she wasn’t given a choice in this matter.
“I don’t know how,” Luella uttered and looked down, cheeks heating. “I’ve never…”
Graves tipped her chin up. Without breaking eye contact, he pulled his hand away and gently tugged off his glove. He laid it on her lap, the thick leather scorching against her thighs.
“Close your eyes.” Her eyes fluttered shut at Graves’s command. “Don’t move.” Luella grew still as stone.
A light touch brushed against her lips. It tickled, similar to the feeling of the feather against her skin, but more alive. Warm breath hit her lips, and she knew then he was kissing her. A mere brush of his lips against hers. Not a real kiss, but her bones felt too light to be trapped inside her skin, something thrumming deep within her, threatening to burst free.
She didn’t know if she liked it yet or not. It felt too personal. Too intimate.
Even after he pulled away from her lips, he was still too close, his brow resting against hers.
After taking her first kiss from her, as light as it was, he surged forward with a whetted appetite as his control snapped.
His mouth devoured hers.
Luella stayed utterly still, back pressed against the wall as Graves crowded her against it, his warm, bare fingers tracing over her face, memorizing the slope of her nose, her soft cheeks, the curve of her jaw. Like he wished to commit the shape of her to his memory. Those calloused hands that were capable of such violence treated her with utter care. The stubble on his jaw scratched against her chin, and something about it made everything feel all the more real. Every part of her narrowed into focus on where his lips touched hers.
She let out a soft, breathy sigh against him. The sound escaped into his mouth as he bit her lips into a swollen, red plushness. Her mouth was closed, even as Graves licked against the seam, demanding entry. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to grant it.
If he wasn’t willing to share his secrets, then she wasn’t willing to give him any more of her.
Two could play the game of withholding.
His mouth pressed against hers, and her answering kiss was hesitant and unskilled, a fumbling, uncoordinated thing. She didn’t know how to move her lips against his, where to put her hands, or what to do with that novel thrum of atavistic need.
It was a mercurial kiss. Shifting from a stoic, close-mouthed foray to an all-consuming capture.
As Graves’s bare hand traced over her flushed skin, Luella tried not to remember the fact that he had seen her. All of her.
From his perch outside the window, one in Serpentis and one from her old life in Solis. And that was what she was aware of. Luella didn’t know if he had spied on her outside those two occurrences, but she wouldn’t put it past him.
Graves kissed the way he watched, intently and intimately. Giving Luella his sole focus as he laid claim to much more than just her first kiss—with every pass of his lips over hers, it was as though he took the most private of her desires from her. Seeing all the things she wished for but never dared to hope she could grasp.
He pulled back, forehead pressing against hers as they both caught their breath. Her lips tingled.
“Gods,” Graves breathed raggedly. “Addicting. Your scent.” He kissed her cheeks, the temperature simmering between them as his nose pressed against her skin. “Your taste.” Graves leaned down to give an open-mouthed kiss to the hollow of her throat, and Luella’s heart stuttered.
Maybe she did like kissing.
Teeth nipped against her sensitive flesh, but she tried not to feel utterly bereft as he pulled away from her lips completely and gave her neck and the hollow of her throat attentive care.
The shadow of his stubble scratched against her neck. It felt nice. A tiny gasp was torn from her lips, and Graves let out a low groan at the needy sound.
"Fuck, you don’t know what you’re doing," he mumbled against her skin, pressing close-mouthed pecks down her throat, turning her into mush.
She tried not to feel offended by his words. He had kissed her , after all.
"I told you I don’t know how to kiss." Was that her voice? Luella didn’t sound like herself. Her words were breathy, and she sounded absolutely debauched, merely from the kissing.
"To me." Graves nipped at her throat. "You don’t know what you’re doing to me ."
The admission was startling loud between them, yet heartbreaking from how quietly he uttered it. Graves didn’t admit that Luella simply affected him but that she held power over him.
He wrapped both arms around her shoulders and pulled her into him like he wished to devour her whole. Graves’s nose pressed along the fluttering pulse point at Luella’s neck, and he held her to him, keeping her at his mercy as they both luxuriated in the feel of their bodies pressed together.
Luella’s head fell back, neck exposed. Graves’s scent grew stronger, spiced honey and cloves sticking to her hair and clothes. Her skin.
He grumbled as he nosed along her neck. She felt like she might die from the feel of him. His scent wrapped around her.
Graves rose to meet her half-lidded stare. Holding eye contact with him was akin to a blood vow in a way. Unequivocally binding.
"I fear that you’ll ruin everything," Graves whispered. "Centuries of careful planning, ruined by the very one that sparked it all."
Luella was taken aback by his profession. Weighted words that held meaning to him, but none to her—she wanted it to, though. Wanted to chip away at the outermost layer of his words and unveil the hidden meaning.
"What do… What do you mean?" she asked.
His kiss-swollen, slick lips parted, expression pained; he looked ready to give in to whatever it was that was causing him such grief, making him unable to say what he desired.
"Graves!" A harsh voice barked the raven shifter’s name?—
And everything stopped.
Luella jerked away from Graves like she had been burned, his back going ramrod straight as he forced himself away from her.
The raven shifter stood, putting far too much space between them. She felt splayed open and vulnerable. She wanted him close.
Graves paced near the pool of water, little droplets from the stream splashing his clothes as he said without inflection, "Bastian."
The vampire in question looked perturbed. And so very angry.
Luella bit her bottom lip; her flesh was swollen and slightly sore. The pain, grounding.
"Leave," Bastian gritted out between his teeth.
Graves nodded like he knew the demand was coming. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, ruffling the black strands. He cast one last, searching look at where Luella was sitting, disheveled on the seat, before he stormed out of the library.
Graves left so fast he didn’t even take his glove with him. It was still on her lap, burning a hole through her dress. Luella picked it up, running a finger down the worn, rough material.
"Luella," Bastian called. She looked up at the sound of her name. Bastian stood near the doorway of the library, the red in his eyes glowing from across the room. "I’ll escort you back to your room."
She stood on shaky legs and walked toward him, silent and morose. His eyes flicked down to her lips, and her tongue flicked out to run along the seam of them unconsciously. She tasted honey on herself. Bastian let out a low groan, eyes shuttering closed and face pinched.
Was he angry at her?
He shouldn’t be.
She wanted to tell Bastian that Graves had taken her lips without giving her a choice, but she feared what he might say—that she seemed pleased for someone who had been supposedly violated…
It had not been her choice, but Luella did not know if she would change anything about it if she had the opportunity.
So, she remained quiet, Graves’s glove still gripped in her hands.
Bastian didn’t say a word. They were both soundless as he led her back to her room for the night, and Luella was left with a strange ache low in her stomach, barely able to pay attention as Bastian fled from her, the door slamming shut in her face. And she was trapped.
Back in her cage.