CHAPTER FORTY-THREE #4
Her left hand, reaching up to cup my frozen cheek.
Her right, slipping beneath her jacket to wrap around my middle and pull me even closer.
And then, finally, the press of her mouth, lips searching mine with that gentle strength I’d come to associate with her.
Enough to convey her wanting, but not quite so much as to overwhelm.
As if this could be anything other than overwhelming.
My body was alight. Flames may as well have erupted from my core for the desire that pooled there would not yield. I had never, in my entire life, experienced such a flood of need—arousal, unbridled and scarlet, and an ever-present hunger that had gone unfed—until now.
She was gentle, but I was not. My kiss became frantic, a desperate search for Vayen’s desire, a beckoning for her to unleash the intensity I knew was raging beneath her surface.
I had seen it in her eyes. I had felt it in each ill-timed flirtation.
I hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself—to admit that the woman who had betrayed me deeper than any other could also be the one to unlock my yearning.
But repression had its limits. And that limit was Vayen’s mouth pressing into mine urgently, a ravenous sort of groan rising from her throat as though it took everything within her not to slam me up against the nearest tree.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t ready for that. Not after all that had happened.
But of course she already knew. The hand on my face remained soft while the one encircling me tightened.
Her breathing deepened, as though the very scent of me was star nectar for her, and she parted her lips just enough that she could swipe her tongue against mine.
An invitation sealed with a bolt of lightning.
I looped my hands into her leather vest, pulling in an attempt to convey my desperation. She wasn’t close enough. She could never be close enough, I thought, our tongues grazing each other with a gentleness that made my core ache.
And then it was over. The forest’s chill nipped at my throbbing lips in the absence of her. She pressed her forehead to my own, her shallow gasps a reward in their own right. I was glad the threat of losing my memories had silenced all caution; it was worth it to hear her unraveling.
My imagination certainly hadn’t conjured that. I’d expected a quick kiss, and to retain control of my faculties throughout. But instead I’d fallen into the well that was Vayen, my entire being tipping towards her in a frenzied attempt at feeling something other than fear.
“What did I do to deserve that?” Vayen managed, breathless.
“Absolutely nothing,” I forced out, my own gasps empowered by the pulse that had developed between my legs. “Just thought we could use a bit of luck is all.”
Vayen made a throaty sound of approval. “I suppose not all Lunamorian customs are to be discarded.”
The laugh that escaped me was sharp, and I stifled it with my palm. She mirrored my smile for a heart-stopping beat, but then those silver-greens flitted towards the Threshold, and the moment curled in on itself, suffocated and frightened.
“Are you ready?” Vayen asked, chest still heaving.
“No,” I admitted with a sad smile. “And yes.”
“Well, that answers that, then.”
This woman. I wouldn’t admit it aloud, but I suspected the Threshold could not remove her from my memory, try as it might.
With each quip, and dimple-summoning smile, and the warm brush of her skin on mine, Vayen was changing me.
Not just with the very essence of her—that spellbinding, feminine strength that made me feel safe, despite all that had occurred—but also her belief.
Her belief in a girl that no one had ever believed in.
Her belief in me. It was more obvious now, the way her gaze draped over my face, an unwarranted affection I couldn’t name.
She thought me capable, even when I never had. So the least I could do was try.
“I’m ready,” I said, nodding tightly. I reluctantly disentangled myself from her, taking a large step back and reaching into my pocket to hold my mother’s cloak pin. I held the snowpetal so hard that it bit into my palm, the pain steadying as I squared my shoulders towards the fog. “I’m ready.”
“And I’m with you.” Vayen seized my free hand, interlacing our fingers as if it were the most natural thing to do. “Whatever happens, don’t let go. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
With that, we approached the Threshold, the consuming quiet of the forest thickening with each step we took. We were closer now, and I could make out the wisps within the tendrils, their otherworldly undulation carrying whispers on a nonexistent wind.
I was barely audible as I breathed, “Do you hear that?”
“I do.”
“Is that… is that normal?”
Vayen shook her head, grip tightening. “No.”
We were within arm’s reach. My grasp on Vayen’s hand was relentless, but even as mine began to ache under the strain, she held fast.
“She’s calling to us,” Vayen said as she lifted her chin, gazing upon the Threshold in awe. “I’ve never…”
“I have. Right before Vicar crossed, I heard—”
A frozen gust burst from the Threshold, the wisps and tendrils and mist whirling frantically before calming.
“What did you hear?” Vayen asked, entranced by the gloom.
“‘She’s coming for you.’”
We looked at each other then, glacial blues locked on silver-greens, our surprise mirrored in one another.
“Seems she’s been expecting us,” Vayen mused. “I’ve crossed dozens of times before, but this feels different.”
“How lovely,” I managed through my growing trepidation. I looked down at our feet, peering carefully before us. “Praise the stars, I don’t see a river of any kind. So let’s get it over with.”
“Let’s,” Vayen echoed. With that, she pulled me into the Threshold.
The fog blanketed us like a second skin, overtaking my senses until all that remained was mist and Vayen’s warm hand clutching my own. It was disorienting, but more than anything I was grateful not to have been plunged into a bottomless river.
“Can you see? I don’t know which way—”
A wave of tension passed through the Threshold, eerily similar to a shivering yawn.
It was intense, and that intensity was building, a pulse that vibrated through me, uncontrolled and yearning.
It was impossible, but it felt like the Threshold, long dormant, was now awakening from a deep slumber. That it was coming alive.
I squeezed Vayen’s hand with all my strength, beckoning her through the gloom.
“I’m frightened. Vayen? Vayen, say something!”
But the ground tilted beneath my feet. A whirlwind of whispers caressed my ears from all sides, cradling my awareness as a stillness washed over me.
I realized then that I couldn’t move. I wasn’t frozen, exactly.
Not trapped, or bound. I had been overcome with a weightlessness, grounded only by the thick, whirling presence of the Threshold’s fog resonating around me as though a storm had begun from within.
Why did this feel familiar? And why wasn’t Vayen answering me?
I tried to look down at my hand, but I couldn’t see it there any longer, despite still feeling Vayen’s warm skin against my own.
I knew my heart was frenzied within my chest, but I couldn’t hear it, couldn’t feel it.
I couldn’t feel anything but her. I was disconnected.
Displaced. Floating into nothingness, the ground no longer beneath my feet, the sky no longer above my head.
Suddenly, the fog quivered, its vibrations pressing against my skin in an all-consuming, overwhelming way.
The silence swallowed the whispers, but I somehow knew it was only a precursor to the rush of sound assaulting my body a moment later.
I wasn’t hearing it exactly. Instead, the voices infiltrated my mind, their utterance wholly, maddeningly encompassing.
“Finally,” the Threshold chorused.
And then it breathed a deep sigh of relief, just as the very seams of my consciousness began to unthread.
No, I thought. Please. This is too much. This is all too much…
As though it could hear me, darkness winked into existence, consuming the fog like it had never existed to begin with. Only then did Vayen’s hand rip from my own, a rough yank that would have jerked my whole body had I been capable of moving.
The Threshold silenced, and all noises ceased, save for Vayen’s horrific, unending scream.