Chapter 21
Helena shifted under her covers, kicking them off and huffing a breath that sent her copper curls scattering across her cheek.
Sleep refused to grant her the oblivion she craved.
The longer she lay in her bed, the worse she felt.
Squinting at the window, the sun was just beginning to warm the skies from black to indigo.
Hamlet stood from his nest on her bed, shook himself, circled three times before resettling, and rested his head on her thigh. She reached down to pet between his ears.
‘I think I really messed things up with Cynthia.’
Hamlet sighed.
‘But I made a vow, Hamlet.’
He perked his head up, cocked it, and nipped her arm.
‘Hamlet!’ He’d never nipped her before.
If his sharp teeth hadn’t made the point, his little raspy growl did.
‘Why can’t I hear what you’re thinking? Or what she is thinking? Because Aunt Rowan’s hypothesis is completely barmy.’
Hamlet’s golden eyes cut past her shields, piercing deep. Maybe she didn’t want to hear what he was thinking.
‘This is ridiculous. I’m going to speak with her.’ Helena sat up, took her robe from the corner of her bed, and wrapped herself in the warm flannel. ‘Stay here.’ It was bad enough she would be wondering what Cynthia was thinking without having to wonder what her fox was saying to the woman.
She crept across the hallway, the cold floorboards hastening her steps.
Pausing outside Clio’s door, a million memories spilled forth of countless nights lying on Clio’s bed with Ellie on the other side.
They spent their childhoods spinning fairy tales, sharing fears, and commiserating over mothers who had sacrificed themselves on the altar of love.
As they transitioned into womanhood, fairy tales became reality, and now everything was changing.
Clio – Helena’s supposed partner in remaining single – had committed the worst crime.
Falling in love with a man that Helena begrudgingly admitted was perfect for her.
Ellie was sure to follow on her heels. She was a hopeless romantic who saw a dashing hero in every milksop swain.
She rolled her eyes, but her usual disdain lacked conviction.
‘I am dithering. And I don’t dither. This is ridiculous. I shall just push open this door, wake Cynthia from her slumber, and explain exactly why we can’t be more than just friends.’
With that decided, Helena pushed open the door, crossed the threshold, and watched her intentions be swept away in a wild river of need.
Cynthia was tangled in her sheets. Her torso was uncovered.
The shift she wore, a thin white thing that glowed like a beacon in the dim room, showed evidence of her restless night.
One breast spilled out, and Helena couldn’t rip her gaze away from the creamy swell of flesh tipped with a budded nipple.
It was as red as Cynthia’s lips and just as enticing.
Bloody hell. I want her.
She forced her feet to move, taking a coverlet at the end of the bed, draping it over Cynthia’s body to cover her nudity, before gently gripping her shoulder and shaking her.
‘Cynthia, wake up.’
Some people woke slowly, like a gentle wave rolling onto shore. Cynthia was not one of those people.
She sat up violently, the coverlet falling off her as she nearly slammed her head into Helena’s chin.
Helena reared back and landed on her arse.
‘Who’s there!’ Cynthia looked around the room wildly before realising her intruder was heaped on the hooked rug.
‘Helena, what are you doing on the floor?’ It was then Cynthia must have realised her state of undress.
She quickly adjusted her shift, then pulled the blanket back up around her shoulders. ‘What the bloody hell is going on?’
Helena tried to untangle herself from her robe and nightgown. When she gained her feet, her hair tumbled over her face, obscuring her view. She swiped it out of the way and huffed out a breath. This was not how she imagined things would unfold. But wasn’t that always the case with Cynthia?
‘I needed to speak with you.’
Cynthia squinted out the window. ‘Now? It’s still the middle of the night.’
‘Not quite. We’re on the edge of dawn.’
Rolling her eyes, Cynthia twisted to punch the cushions behind her back, added an extra one, leaned back against them and folded her arms under her breasts.
If she knew how enticing she looked, hopelessly rumpled, her breasts pushed up like an offering, her eyes still soft and sleepy, she wouldn’t relax so easily in Helena’s presence.
‘The edge of dawn is still the middle of the night for any civilised woman.’
She felt feral, and wild, and hungry. And Cynthia lay before her like a feast. Whatever reasons she had for coming into her room were forgotten in the visceral need to taste her. ‘I’m not a civilised woman.’ Helena heard the desperation in her voice, but she didn’t care.
Cynthia’s gaze flowed over Helena, her pupils dilating. Whatever she saw, Helena guessed she liked it. ‘What did you wish to talk about that is so important, you must rip me from sleep?’
‘Do you want me?’ It wasn’t what she meant to say. But it’s what she needed to know.
Cynthia swallowed. Her chest rose and fell in suddenly ragged breaths. ‘Yes.’
‘Now?’
Tipping her chin up like a defiant goddess, she nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Even if it changes nothing between us?’ Because she couldn’t lie to Cynthia. And she wouldn’t risk her lust being mistaken for something more.
That’s all this is. All this can ever be.
‘That’s impossible. No matter how this ends, being with you will change everything between us.’
Helena’s heart stuttered. Because Cynthia was right. They couldn’t join together without being irrevocably altered.
‘I don’t want to lose you as a friend.’
Cynthia’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I don’t want to lose you either, Helena.’
Frustration bubbled. ‘This is impossible. How can I pretend that I don’t want to taste every inch of you? I want to swallow your screams of passion and make them mine. I want to lick you until you spin apart and hold you as you come back together. I want to discover all your secrets.’
‘Will you let me discover yours?’
Helena hesitated. Because there were certain hidden memories she didn’t want to share with anyone.
And yet, perhaps that was the answer. If she revealed those truths to Cynthia, she would understand.
She would see why Helena could only give her this moment and nothing more.
And she would be grateful that their souls weren’t truly bound to each other.
‘Yes.’ It was the perfect solution, if Helena was brave enough to pull back the shield hiding her deepest wounds.
Cynthia shifted on the bed, making space for Helena.
Helena shrugged out of her robe and climbed next to Cynthia, twisting her torso to face the woman who so easily dismantled all Helena’s armour. ‘If you want me stop…’
‘I don’t want you to stop.’ Cynthia tangled her fingers in Helena’s wild curls and tugged her closer, pressing her lips against Helena’s, tracing the seam. Seeking entrance.
Helena opened to her, and their tongues danced and flicked, teased and tasted. She bit Cynthia’s lip and delighted in her gasp.
The dam holding them apart broke as Helena tugged down the sleeve of Cynthia’s shift. Her breasts were full and glorious and tipped with nipples as red as hawthorn berries. Dipping her head, Helena gave in to temptation and licked the puckered skin.
Cynthia cried out, and Helena reached up to cover her mouth. The last thing she wanted was Aunt Rowan or Ellie coming to investigate.
‘Shh. Ellie was lying. They aren’t that far away, and the walls are thinner than you think.’ She thrilled when Cynthia licked her finger, nipping the pad.
Returning her attentions to Cynthia’s breasts, she laved, suckled, and nibbled one side, then the other.
‘My turn.’ Cynthia gasped, wrapping long legs around Helena’s waist and twisting so she was on top. Nimble fingers unbuttoned Helena’s shift. Her thumbs paused on Helena’s sternum and traced the raspberry-coloured star.
‘It’s just a birthmark.’
Leaning forward, Cynthia’s hair tickled Helena as she pressed a kiss against the stain. ‘It’s beautiful. You are beautiful.’
Helena glanced down to look at herself, trying to imagine her body through Cynthia’s eyes.
Cynthia pushed aside the cotton covering Helena’s breasts.
They weren’t as full as Cynthia’s. Her nipples were a brighter red, the same colour as her star, and excruciatingly sensitive.
When Cynthia brushed her thumb over an aching tip, Helena had to bite the heel of her hand to muffle her own scream.
Cynthia noted Helena’s reaction and smiled. ‘You have such beautiful breasts.’ The hungry look in her hazel eyes caused a rush of warmth between Helena’s thighs.
Cynthia’s mahogany hair fell across Helena’s skin like skeins of silk as she lowered her head and sucked a nipple into her hot, wet mouth.
Helena squirmed, needing friction. She gripped Cynthia’s leg, pulling it up against her core.
Writhing against Cynthia’s thigh, she lost herself in the spinning sensation.
She was supposed to be showing Cynthia the glory of sexual congress, but the contradictory woman had once again shaken Helena’s plans into chaos.
When Cynthia employed teeth to nip and nibble, Helena was swept higher on a cresting wave. She ground out her pleasure, as Cynthia sucked harder, pinching Helena’s other nipple then brushing soft caresses over the sensitised flesh.
‘You are… so good… at this…’ Helena panted as pleasure swept her higher.
Cynthia growled her response, hiking her leg up, increasing the pressure against Helena’s drenched folds as she rocked forward.
Helena was balanced on a sharp edge of need. Cynthia took her mouth in a brutal kiss.