Chapter 48 With Every Breath #2
He asked her nearly every day, quietly sweeping into whatever room she was in—or sometimes, where she sat outside watching the sea and sky—murmuring the question, then quickly leaving once she answered.
She always hated telling him, knowing he would leave soon after. Things were still tense between them.
"I’m fine," Luella answered. Her breath hitched as soft waves of unrest coiled inside her. She was coming to understand it was from the others. "What does your mother think—about another ball?"
"She agrees."
"But you do not?" Luella wanted to understand.
Suddenly, he shifted forward, hand firm against her chest. Through the thinness of her gown, she was acutely aware of her flesh, as if it yearned for his touch, tingling.
The neckline dipped low, revealing the beginning, soft swell of her breasts; his hand brushed against her. Her wings rippled, as did his.
It brought an echo of a smile to her lips. Darkness and light—yet, concurrently, they were so similar. Did the Fallen hate the angels simply because their feathers were different? Or was it something more?
"Stop trying to distract yourself," Graves said. "It’s not working on you, and it’s not working on me." He tugged the amulet.
"W-what do you mean?"
He was so close, she could count the darker flecks of blue in his deep eyes, the individual feathers at the tops of his wings.
"I mean that you’re wanting," he murmured. His other hand lifted, hovering over her cheek.
"That’s not—"
"Don’t lie. I know you, remember; even if you don’t want me to. I do."
And Luella did. Want him. But she shook her head, resisting the urge to lean into his hand.
"What do you want me to say, then, Graves?
That I wish for you to… t-take me?" She was getting better at saying those words, but it still made her blush.
"That I wish this tension wasn’t between us, and we could pretend things are as they were?
Because even then, when you stalked me and watched me, a part of me still resented you.
At least now, I resent the whole you, and not a carefully crafted lie. "
A pained expression befell him, his lids shuttering. "You’re wanting, but you don’t want me. I know. You want, but never me."
She didn’t speak. Were his words true?
Was she wanting? Yes, hopelessly so.
Did she not want him?
Luella didn’t think that was wholly true.
Time had passed here on the Isles, softening his lies, but not erasing them entirely. She remembered his touch, his kiss, the feel of his stubble against her cheeks, turning her delicate skin pink. That was the truth. Everything else was muddy water.
She turned her face into his palm, breathing against him. "I do not know what to tell you, only that I need time."
Time was all she could offer him. Not a promise, not surety she could forgive—she would never forget. But time.
Graves opened his eyes. Silence stretched between them. His palm was still against her cheek, as if he was afraid to move it and scare her away, break the illusory haze that gripped them both in the wake of her nightmare.
She rubbed her cheek against him like a feline, and it reminded her of Ven, how the small creature sought comfort from Luella or Az, rubbing her small head against their legs as they passed.
Graves broke the silence. "Can I take you somewhere?"
"Where?" she whispered against his palm, nose brushing the inside of his wrist, where every beat of his heart fluttered the skin there.
His thumb brushed her cheekbone. "We’d have to fly. Like before." Cryptic, he didn’t answer her question of where. "Is that okay?"
Was it?
"Yes," Luella settled on. "It is okay."
She found she yearned to be back in the sky. To feel that feeling once more. Like she might faint and cry from euphoria at the same time. Again, he showed her what fear and wonder were like combined.
She wrapped a robe around herself, blushing when his eyes darkened as she fit her arms into the sleeves and tightened the belt. Her feet were bare. The golden dawn sun broke through the haze of mist and clouds this morning, warming her skin.
It had grown to be so hot as the weeks passed here. The warmth was nothing like what she had experienced at Solis. It was humid and thick and smelled of salt.
Luella liked to think, no matter where she went or what she would endure, that scent would follow her always.
On the stone outlook, Graves’s wings snapped out. She couldn’t help but marvel at their beauty.
"I have to carry you," he warned.
She stepped closer when it appeared he would not take the first step. "I know."
His arms wrapped around her, making the hem of her long robe slide up her calves. He held her gently, like a princess, his arms under her thighs and back, her legs draped over his forearm, her arms locked around his neck. It was just as he carried her when he’d come to her rescue.
The leaves fluttered in the trees beyond, the bridges swinging in the breeze.
It had been oscillating between furious and calm each day.
On days when her flying lessons went well and she made progress, it settled into a happy little flutter, kicking up fallen leaves and making the curtains rustle on occasion.
When she felt as though it was hopeless and she was helpless, the wind would turn harsh and biting, chasing away the warmth as a misty fog gripped the Isles, obscuring the islands.
Those days were the hardest for them all. For Luella felt the trepidation of her Vincire as they wondered if her chaos would finally arrive.
Those were the days she let herself find comfort in Az’s touch and lips, letting him kiss between her thighs and cup her breasts and bring her to climax.
In the bathwater, when everything was slick and wet between them, he’d lift her in his arms and set her on the edge of the bathing pool, spreading her thighs and consuming her with his mouth.
She no longer feared the water.
Bastian touched her, too, though, rarely. His touches were more kisses, teasing her and leaving her breathless as he pushed her into Az’s arms.
Sometimes, the vampire would watch. Luella would awaken and find herself filled with need.
Az would wordlessly answer her cries with a touch, rolling up the hem of her nightgown, fingers snaking between her legs.
Her pleasure-dazed eyes would find Bastian, sitting up by the headboard, knuckles white as he gripped the sheets and watched her come undone a mere hair’s breadth away.
Her eyes were wide as they flew. She took in everything. The mist cut through her skin, making her shiver. Graves’s arms tightened around her. It was just as she’d remembered. Breathtaking.
Her breath was stolen by the wind and the sights of the water below. Golden sun cut through the low-hanging puffs of clouds, making the water’s surface sparkle. It was early enough that most Fallen were still asleep.
A faint smile graced Luella’s lips, and her head fell to Graves’s chest as she watched.
Her eyes burned from keeping them open—but she couldn’t stand missing a thing.
He flew higher, wings spanning out with honed skill and grace, sweeping through the air as they cut close to the mountains. So close, she yanked her feet back, fearing her toes would crack against the rocks. Graves’s chest rumbled under her cheek.
"Are you laughing at me?" she asked quietly, wondering if he could even hear her.
His thumb dug into the soft bit of flesh beneath her hipbone. "Maybe."
He flew between two mountains. Wind echoed up the high stone. The distant sound of water tickled against her senses. She lifted her head, searching for the source.
Nestled between two towering mountains lay a waterfall, where jagged rocks dropped into the sea and oddly shaped flowers dotted the grassy cliffs.
Brilliant blue fell in delicate streams to the smooth circle of rock—eroded by what she imagined were years upon years of the water hitting the surface. This was where Graves descended.
His boots splashed in a tiny layer of water on the smooth stone, and carefully he let her slip from his arms, sliding down the length of his body. It was an intimate motion; she was so aware of how her breasts brushed his chest, and the hard lines of his chest pressed against her softness.
The water was cool against her feet. Reminded her of her dream—the water against the stretching darkness.
Luella shivered, bundling her robe tighter around her.
"Are you cold?" Graves asked.
She met his eyes. "No… I just remembered something from my dream." She shook the thoughts away. "But that is not why you brought me here. Why did you?"
She stared at the privacy of the place he’d taken her.
Mist from the water dotted her cheeks. They were tucked between the towering arches of the rocks, unable to be seen.
Even if a Fallen were to fly overhead—which she doubted would happen with how far away they were from the archipelago—they would not be discovered.
Graves’s wings folded against his back. Her midsection tugged as her wings rippled involuntarily. The shivers had become less constant with her growing control of them, but around Graves, all of her carefully earned control evaporated.
"To speak with you." Graves sat on a stone tucked next to the mountainside, its surface slanted.
He began unlacing his boots, and her heart crawled up her throat.
"We’ve had no time alone. You may not want that, but what if I do?
" He tugged free his left boot, then moved to the right.
"I loathe this tension between us—but I have no one to blame but myself. I just thought that if I told you things I’ve never shared with anyone else—except the others—you would understand.
" Boots free, he rolled up his pants legs above his knees.
"Like what?" Her voice was small.
When it was just the two of them, he was wholly different from the male he portrayed to everyone else. If this was the Graves she had all the time, maybe she never would have let her anger drive a rift between them.