Chapter 46
Shadows are everywhere. Pulsing with vitality.
As I replenish some of my energy, I’m surprised to find the world around me looking different: darker yet brighter at the same time.
I walk by and the shadows respond to me, swaying gently toward me, bowing their heads to their master. Particles of energy around me make their presence known before I even see them.
Deaths happen every single moment in Aimaxion. And when one happens, I instinctively know. I only have to look at the sky and see soul particles rise toward the crimson sky.
It takes me half the concentration from before to call forth a few particles and guide them within me.
Two things are clear after we survive the Culling: I now have a whopping three hundred points and the continuous fighting seems to have had an effect on my level.
However, without a device like the one at the War Department, I have no way to properly assess my level.
“I can’t believe today is finally over,” Moe says quietly as we make our way back to the room.
In our attempt to escape the throngs of warriors, we’d run so far off into the realm that we almost lost our way back. Multiple wrong turns later—mostly due to the fact that all the ruins look the same—and we’re finally on the right path.
“For a moment there I thought we weren’t going to make it,” I tell her honestly.
She gazes up at me and moves closer, nestling in the crook of my arm.
“I knew we’d make it.”
I raise a brow at her.
“You don’t have to lie to me.”
“I’m not. It’s the truth. I trust you and I knew you would prevail.”
“You have too much trust in me,” I mutter under my breath. Though that does bring a smile to my face.
“Wait.” She pulls her hand away and stops walking.
I glance back at her. She’s watching me through narrowed eyes, her eyebrows bunched together.
“If you didn’t think were going to make it… Is that why you kissed me?”
My lids flutter in confusion at her question.
“Is that why I—”
She places her hands on her hips and taps her foot against the hard surface of the ground. “Yes, do tell, Nyk. Is that why you kissed me?”
“I mean, yes,” I say truthfully. “But—”
I don’t get to finish my sentence because she storms towards me, stops by my side long enough to stomp on my foot before running towards the room on her own.
For a moment I don’t move, completely confused about what just happened.
What did I say wrong? Why did she hate my answer so much?
It doesn’t make sense! Did she want me to lie to her and say no?
Shaking my head, I start running after her.
“Moe, wait up!”
She doesn’t. She looks back just enough to give me a deadly stare before she increases her speed.
Our accommodation comes into sight, and before I can catch up with her, she disappears inside the room.
“Moe!”
I enter the room at full speed and do not even notice the bench blocking the doorway until my shin slams into it.
Pain explodes through my leg and I start cursing like a sailor.
The rest of me pitches forward with unstoppable momentum, and I trip over the wooden board in a thoroughly undignified tangle of limbs before crashing face-first onto the stone floor.
The impact knocks the breath from my lungs. For one stunned second, I simply lie there.
W-what?
Moe bursts into laughter.
I groan into the floor. “Are you trying to kill me now?”
“You deserved that,” she says between laughs.
I push myself up onto my elbows and glare at her from where she stands near the bed, positively radiant with vindication.
“You laid a trap for me.” I raise a brow at her.
“I placed an obstacle,” she corrects primly. “You chose to charge into it like a lunatic.”
“You fled from me!”
“Because you gave the worst possible answer to a very important question!”
I stand up, rubbing my abused shin. “I gave an honest answer.”
“You said you only kissed me because you thought we were dying!” Moe glares at me.
“No…well—” I grimace. “That was the reason I finally did it, yes.”
Her eyes widen in outrage. “Unbelievable.”
She throws her hands into the air and starts pacing the room. “So if we hadn’t almost been killed, you would have just… what? Continued to stare at me like a lovesick idiot for another decade? Another hundred years? Maybe a thousand, or is that still not enough?”
My mouth falls open.
“That is not—”
“It is exactly what you were doing!”
“I was being respectful!”
She spins back around so quickly her hair whips over her shoulder. “Respectful? Nykander, you have been looking at me like you want to devour me for months!”
I pause and nod thoughtfully. “Well. That part is true.”
She makes a strangled sound of frustration.
“But that is not the point,” I continue quickly, stepping toward her.
“The point is that I did not kiss you because I thought we were dying. Well not just because of that. I kissed you because I have wanted to kiss you for an embarrassingly long time and nearly dying merely removed the part of my mind that kept telling me not to.”
That gives her pause. She blinks.
Some of the fury leaves her face, but there is still some suspicion lingering. “Then why couldn’t you say so?”
“Because I misunderstood the question,” I say, exasperated. “I thought you meant if almost dying pushed me to finally act on it. In which case, yes. Obviously. I had every reason to believe we were seconds from death, and I found the thought of dying without ever kissing you intolerable.”
Silence. Moe opens her mouth to say something then closes it. Finally, she clears her throat. “You’ve wanted to kiss me for that long?”
I laugh under my breath, though there is little humor in it. “Moe, I have wanted to do far more than kiss you for a long time.”
Her face turns scarlet.
I don’t tell her exactly how long, or she might get even more embarrassed. I mean I doubt she wants to hear how her employer was touching himself to thoughts of her at night while she was sleeping in the next room. Perhaps I’ll keep that to myself. For now.
She folds her arms over her chest, her face still red and flushed.
“You are horrible at communicating,” she grumbles.
“You climbed into my lap and kissed me like your life depended on it and I responded in kind,” I point out. “I’d say that we communicated quite well in that moment.”
“That wasn’t communication—”
“It wasn’t?” I smirk.
She opens her mouth, then closes it.
Then opens it again. Then, to my immense satisfaction, she begins laughing. She tips her head back, her shoulders shaking with the intensity of her laugh. The sound is warm and bright enough to make the entire miserable room seem less oppressive.
I stare at her helplessly.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My heart beats mercilessly against my ribs. My mind, too, blanks out on anything that is not her.
She’s my sole focus. Her beauty. Her warmth. Her presence that breathes life into me.
“You are impossible,” she says between breaths.
“Will you forgive me if I said I am impossible only for you?” I ask as I stare into her eyes, my voice both serious and humorous at the same time.
She steps closer then, still smiling, though there is a softness in her expression now that wasn’t there before.
“Perhaps I can be enticed to do so,” she says. “If you answer this next question correctly.”
“Bring it on,” I tell her, puffing up my chest with confidence though on the inside I’m lamenting falling into this trap again.
What if I say the wrong thing, again? What if she hates my answer this time too?
I’m close to breaking into a sweat as I wait for her to pose her question. I think she knows it too, because she looks at me with a dangerous glint in her eyes.
She opens her mouth. I take a deep breath—here it comes!
“If the world weren’t ending and no one was trying to kill us… would you kiss me again?”
The words echo in the room, in my ears. They loop in my mind time and time again until only the last part of her question remains.
Would you kiss me again?
My heart is threatening to jailbreak out of my chest as I take a step toward her. Then another. Soon, only a breath separates us.
“Ah, my darling Moe. With pleasure.”
Her eyes widen and she swallows hard.
“Good,” she whispers.
I cup her jaw gently and lower my mouth to hers with all the restraint I lacked before. I savor the soft warmth of her lips, the quiet sigh she makes when she melts into me, the way her hands slide up my chest and clutch at my torn shirt as though she has wanted this just as badly.
This time when I kiss her, there is no panic driving it. No imminent death at our backs. Only the slow, trembling realization that she is here, in front of me, choosing this. Choosing me.
Time stands still. There’s no notion of seconds or minutes. Only the number of sighs she makes; the number of times she nibbles at my lips and lets me nibble at hers in return. Time becomes solely a measure of her—of my Moe.
Her chest brushes against mine and I long to let my hands roam all over her body, feel every dip and curve, every soft, smooth surface. But I restrain myself. She wanted me to kiss her, not to ravage her while we’re still standing.
We’re both breathless when we finally break apart.
“What now?” She whispers.
“What do you mean?”
“Are we friend who kiss or…” She bites her lip. “Friends who do more?” She trails her hands down my tattered shirt, reaching the hem. She goes lower, fiddling with the band of my pants.
Briefly, my eyes widen in shock at her daring actions—that Moe, my sweet and innocent Moe, would stand before me and suggest such a thing. But that’s just my initial perception of her. Haven’t I realized, time and time again, that I’ve underestimated her?
A smile plays at my lips as I grab her hands and stop her.
“Neither,” I answer.
Her face falls.
“We are not friends anymore, Moe. I won’t be just your friend. If we do this…”
“If we do this, then…” she repeats, wetting her lips. “What are we then?”
“Lovers. Mates. I want it all or nothing.”
“All or nothing, huh?” She smiles. “I’ll take all with nothing on.” She winks at me.