Chapter 23
At first, Bella froze against her lips. Yasmine was about to pull away, to frantically apologize, but then Bella took her free hand and wrapped it around her neck, pulling her in with a deep desperation, like she was taking Yasmine’s soul with her.
That thought alone made Yasmine whimper into Bella’s mouth. God, what was wrong with her? Why did she want her even more now, so much more now?
“Oh god,” Bella moaned. “I missed kissing you.”
Yasmine’s breath hitched at the admission, a terrible ripping feeling in her chest. She didn’t have the strength to admit the same—it felt like admitting something larger, and far more terrifying—so she just kept going, pressing Bella harder into the door.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to do this anymore,” Bella continued, but she didn’t stop kissing her. No, the opposite—Bella pulled her in tighter, her long fingernails raking against the back of Yasmine’s neck, fixing her in place so she couldn’t leave.
Yasmine kissed the side of her mouth, inhaling the warm vanilla perfume she always wore. This must be how heaven smells. “Said who?”
Bella let out a shuddering breath. “You. You said.”
The longer she kept Bella’s other hand pinned to the wall, the more strength it required to keep it up there.
She felt a tingling numbness in her wrist, and thought about the consequences of dropping it.
If Bella’s hand fell on her shoulder, would it turn her arm to dust?
Would it disintegrate her collarbone? No, Bella had said it took longer with vampires—would it feel like being slowly sanded down with sandpaper?
Yasmine groaned again, and Bella swallowed it, tugging Yasmine’s hair tightly.
The more of an ancient monster and a soul-sucking devil and a very bad idea Bella appeared to be, the more Yasmine wanted her. No, needed her.
She imagined her own portrait in the pages of the wedding record painted in black and white, another bored, immortal businessman. She imagined Bella next to her looking like the perfect little harmless human bride. She imagined Bella fucking her to death.
“Yasmine…” Bella whispered against her lips. “What are we doing?”
I don’t know didn’t seem sufficient, so Yasmine answered her with another desperate press of her lips, unable to stop herself. She felt as if she was running out of time. She kissed Bella with a reckless abandon she was unaware she still possessed.
It felt like the wanting part of her had been revived with a defibrillator.
Bella pushed against her chest, hard enough now to separate them an inch. Yasmine’s chest heaved. She had barely been breathing between kisses.
“Yasmine,” Bella repeated. Her eyes were as dark as coal, but her expression looked lost, almost upset. “What—what are you doing? Why are you kissing me?"
Yasmine opened her mouth with a quickness, as if the answer was glaringly obvious, only to find that she had nothing to say. She paused, blinking, thinking.
The emotion, the urge, had been so overwhelming that it made it feel like there was a clear motivation—but her mind stalled as she tried to recollect it.
Had it been pity? Had she felt bad for Bella? No. She’d pitied Bella plenty when she first inherited her nightmare. Seeing her as a child, scared and alone in that closet, that was sad, that was pitiable. This was different. This was almost the opposite.
Yasmine failed to find the words as she brought a hand up to cup Bella’s smooth, perfect chin. It shone with a slight reflection from the desk light, like plastic would.
No; it wasn’t pity at all, she decided. But she couldn’t really describe the magnetism. It was just that Bella had seemed so incredulous at the idea that—
Oh. That was what it was.
Yasmine shuddered out a breath. “I didn’t like the way you were looking at me.”
“Looking at you?” Bella whispered, caught off guard. “How was I looking at you?”
“Like you didn’t believe I’d marry you.”
Bella’s face paled. Yasmine’s chest hurt, but she forced the rest of her words out.
“It just, drove me mad,” she said, the words rushing out.
“Of course I’d marry you. I mean…” Yasmine scoffed in disbelief.
“You first learned about biology ten years ago, and you’re outdoing me at my own research.
You are so much smarter than me, Bella. You’re a genius.
You’re observant. And funny. And you somehow make me feel like maybe I’m not the most unbearable person on the planet to be around. ”
Bella seemed utterly stunned. Her hands were trembling against the doorframe. But she still found a way to whisper out, “You’re not unbearable. You’re wonderful.”
“No, I’m really not. But see—that’s what I’m talking about. It’s no wonder you got half of Romania to marry you. You’re like the world’s most believable sycophant.”
Bella let out a startled laugh. Yasmine slowly guided Bella’s hand down from the wall so it was no longer a guillotine hanging above both their heads.
Then, in a rash move, she unsteadily brought the hand to her lips. She couldn’t help herself. She was too curious.
Bella gasped, trying to rip it away, but Yasmine held it steady.
The burn was barely noticeable at first, but the pain slowly hastened. It was like swiping your fingertip through a flickering candle flame several times, going slower with each pass. The intensity built and built.
When Yasmine could feel her lips beginning to flake, she finally released the hand. Bella snapped it back to her side, looking at Yasmine in astonishment.
“Your powers don’t scare me. Frankly, I find them—God, this is embarrassing—I find them ridiculously sexy,” she admitted quietly as she licked over her dried lip. “I just want you to know a destructive power is nothing to be ashamed of.”
The more Yasmine talked, the more uncertain Bella’s eyes became.
Which frustrated Yasmine, because how much more obvious could she be in her point?
She didn’t want Bella to be insecure about her powers.
She knew what that was like, to view yourself as some…
some creature all because of something out of your control.
Yasmine took a step back, extricating herself with a shallow breath.
“Trust me, I’ve spent eons feeling like an irredeemable monster,” she continued, sliding her hands down her blouse to flatten down the wrinkles.
“It took me almost until I was seven hundred years old to forgive myself for what I’d done as a child to survive.
Did you really believe I’d think less of you for a couple of groom murders? ”
Bella studied her. She was looking at Yasmine like she was a puzzle.
“Well, I had hoped you might be understanding,” she admitted quietly. “I didn’t expect you would kiss me like a nuke might be dropping any second.”
It felt like an accusation. For the first time, Yasmine’s cheeks burned with a tinge of regret for acting so impulsively.
“I mean, it’s not like we haven’t done it before,” she said, feeling defensive. “You just look, well… That gown is… I—I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Bella frowned.
Yasmine realized she’d never seen Bella look so frustrated. Not until now. The emotion looked wrong on her face, like a dress hanging improperly off a hanger.
The dark expression stayed for a moment before she groaned, dragging her hands over her eyes.
“I’m not uncomfortable, Yasmine. I have never once been uncomfortable.”
“Then why are you upset?”
“Because you don’t seem to be hearing yourself.”
“Hearing myself?” Yasmine mumbled, growing self-conscious. “What, did I say something wrong? Look, I’m the first to admit that I’m not the best communicator, but if you can believe it, I was trying to make you feel better. Less… alone.”
Bella sighed, her eyes softening.
“I know,” she said. “But also, Yasmine… did you or did you not just say that you would be okay with marrying me?”
Goosebumps ran up Yasmine’s arms. Bella’s tone was as sharp as the swords dangling from her ears. This might have been the most serious Yasmine had ever heard her be, and they’d discussed topics with much higher stakes.
“I suppose I did, yes? Why?”
The tips of Bella’s ears turned bright red. She looked flabbergasted at Yasmine’s casual tone, which made Yasmine even more confused.
Because she’d just seen the pragmatism with which Bella clearly viewed marriage. She’d done it a dozen times, if not hundreds.
“You’re making it sound like it’s nothing,” Bella said, sounding injured.
“That’s not true at all,” Yasmine said, growing flustered.
“It’s not nothing. It’s an… expression of genuine trust. Our financial records would be intertwined.
There are all kinds of legalities at play.
You could control potentially life-changing medical decisions made about me. You could… ruin my life, really.”
Bella’s shoulders slumped. Understanding seemed to finally dawn on her, but it didn’t look like the relief that Yasmine was hoping for.
“Ah,” she breathed. “No. You’re right. That’s not nothing.”
Yasmine sighed. “And yet you still look like I offended you.”
Bella gave her a small, humorless smile. In lieu of replying, she dug into her purse, and took out a pair of thin black satin gloves. She slipped them on easily.
“These block my powers,” she explained. “I designed them myself.”
Before Yasmine could question why she was bringing that up now, Bella took her face in her hands, and kissed her softly on the mouth.
It caught Yasmine completely off guard, like a van suddenly swerving into her lane.
It was the most gentle kiss they’d ever had. Completely unhurried. Bella whimpered into it, caressing Yasmine’s cheek softly as she sighed into her mouth. It tasted warm, and then salty. It made Yasmine’s stomach turn painfully.
Why did this kiss hurt? Even as it was happening, Yasmine was already missing it.
She could barely function with how much she liked it like this, slow and soft. There was almost no lust in it, and yet it felt more disarming than any other kiss she’d ever had. Yasmine felt like an addict fighting to hold onto her high.