The Minor Fall

CHAPTER 52 Paper Airplane

CHAPTER 52

Paper Airplane

B ryn yanked my jeans down.

Grass tickled my skin, rain pelted my thighs. It should have dissolved into steam on contact, but only beaded on my moonlit legs. Then his mouth was on my inner thigh, licking away the rain, his eyes locked on mine. And just that look of him, the way his burning embers stared at me —

Slowly, tortuously, he kissed a path toward the burning ache between my legs, and when his hot breaths panted over me at last, I tugged against the thread binding my wrists. It held firm.

He nuzzled my thigh. “I want to taste you,” he murmured.

There was a sharp ripping sound. Biting rain stung the building heat as what was left of my underwear was tossed to the wind.

With my jeans tangled around my boots, I trembled before him. I could feel his eyes on me, could hear his shaky breaths that mirrored mine as rain pounded between us.

Then Bryn lowered to the ground, hands circling my waist, tilting me toward him. “I have imagined this a hundred times since we met,” he warned.

“ Bryn ,” I panted.

“No, a thousand,” he corrected. “Or perhaps, indecently more.”

“Stop teasing,” I begged on an oath.

His lips quirked, and then, with a long, low groan, his mouth found me at last.

And my world imploded.

The sky swam as another memory flooded the stars. Norway. With its threaded waterfalls tangling in cliffs too high to believe unless you were Bryn standing below. It thundered to resolution in otherwise still water, roaring…

The stars winked to life as the vision faded, as Bryn struggled to reel the memory in. But I didn’t fear it or what it might show me. Didn’t fear us.

A low growl ripped through the night before his tongue flicked out, slid down my center. Devoured.

I bucked against him.

Bryn pinned my hips, setting into me with a wildness I’d always craved from him. His tongue was pure fire, stroking a hot path that carved me in two, circling until my mind blanked, until all I could see was him and his golden eyes watching me.

Then he slid his tongue down me, into me.

I moaned his name, to the Gate that loomed above the distant cliff, to the gods in Ruhaven I didn’t know if we had.

As Bryn tasted me, filled me, the thread slowly unwound from my wrists. It flickered over my body like writhing light, its glow casting my skin in sparkling hues, its touch as sensual as it’d been when he lifted me from the Gate.

I gripped the earth as it stroked my body, the light indistinguishable from Bryn’s own touch. It tugged at my nipples when he replaced his mouth with his fingers. One, two, they sank into me, gloriously deep as he felt me for the first time. As I felt him, felt his groan vibrating between my thighs.

“Look at me, my Rowan,” Bryn commanded, voice like gravel.

I lifted my head, and my eyes locked on to his simmering golden ones as he curled his fingers. This was Bryn. Sahn. A thousand years ago. Now.

“You’re better than the Gate,” I choked out.

And when his mouth quirked up in that crooked smile that had scattered my brain from the very first moment, I felt the first tremors of the orgasm.

I reached for him, caught his hand in mine. Our fingers linked, locked.

Let go, Rowan, he ordered.

His name was on my lips when the pleasure ripped through me in thick, rolling waves that unraveled my being. As his eyes flared to white gold, I didn’t look away. I held on to him when every nerve in my body sang and my soul melted and the stars swam in my blood. When memories of Ruhaven danced in my vision. When, for a moment, I wondered how I had ever doubted who I was.

It wouldn’t stop under his demands.

And my body answered, as helpless against Bryn as I was. He slid his tongue into me again, driving me up and over the next wave while his thumb circled. You are mine in any life. My heart was trilling so hard—for him, for the fear of losing him I couldn’t keep at bay. Here or Ruhaven . He stayed with me when I came again. Where makes no difference…

I floated for a while. Up in the stars like I had when Bryn had wrapped the light around me in the dark waiting room of the Gate. I didn’t want to ever come back down. I wanted to float in this magic, in the mindlessness, a place that existed so fully, I wondered how I could ever doubt it.

But eventually, I descended like a balloon deflating under the cold and pressure.

His lips curled when I landed.

As I lay there, boneless and somehow still burning for him, Bryn moved to hover over me, his ragged breaths exhaling to mist. And when his warm body covered mine at last and his hips pressed into me, I was ready for him.

He planted his elbows on each side of my head, loosing a shuddering breath when I hitched a leg over his waist.

I needed him. Wanted him. Had to know there wouldn’t be that space between us ever again. I locked my ankles around his back, shifting until the rigid length of him was pressed against me. He ground his hips in long, tortuous strokes that had me reaching for his pants.

But when I did, he caught my wrist. Brought it to his lips.

“Rowan,” he said against my burning skin. “I think, perhaps not tonight.”

No? Was he saying no? My haze-addled brain couldn’t make sense of it when he was over me like this, when his irises continued to burn. “You don’t look like you want to stop,” I teased.

“Because I do not,” he said between his teeth. “I want to take you until you are mine in every life. But not here, not now.”

I ran my hands over his torso. I could touch him for days, could lick every square inch of skin and still need more. “Do you want to go inside?” I asked hesitantly.

The rain had slowed to a light mist, but his wet hair swung as he shook his head. “Yes, but not in the way you mean.”

I started to sit up. “What’s wrong?”

He dragged my mouth to his, kissing me hard enough that my worry disappeared, and when he held me against his still-beating heart, I suddenly realized we were out in the garden covered in dirt and rain.

“I think we are overwhelmed, both of us, and I do not wish for this to be our first night. Not after what I did, and not now that we have a shared thread.”

My blood cooled enough to focus on him. “A shared thread?” I glanced at the tendrils of the ribbon dancing around us.

He stroked a thumb over my jaw, a smile in his eyes. “It means the bond between us is felt through both of us now, all our—our emotions are heightened. As they are for Nereida and O’Sahnazekiel. It is overwhelming—too overwhelming, I think, to continue when we are only becoming aware of it.”

Now he wanted to be cautious? “We’ll be fine,” I murmured against the thumb tracing my lips. But the image of Abby danced on the cusp of my mind.

“Perhaps, but we have time.” Though his voice was calm, the gold had barely dimmed. “I am quite certain you would regret it if James were to find us in his garden.” He dipped his head, licked my throat. “Naked and covered in mud.”

“I don’t care.” And for once, I really didn’t.

Bryn’s rough chuckle zipped along my bones. Then, with a low sigh, he sank back on his knees, his mouth a sensual slice that stretched into a mind-scrambling grin. All I could imagine was how it’d looked as a crooked smirk between my legs, how his tongue had…

I swallowed deeply. How long do you want to wait?

His eyes lighted. Ah, my Rowan enjoys me after all.

I grinned. Tomorrow?

Perhaps.

I studied the shirt I’d torn through, the marks my nails had left over his neck and chest, then met his gaze. “Tomorrow,” I said firmly. Then it’s my turn.

His eyes flared on my lips. I shall be well and truly yours.

A humming second passed. Two. Three. Then Bryn let out a low sigh. Kneeling, naked from the waist up, he reached down and struggled to button pants over a bulge in direct conflict with his decision.

“Eyes up here, Rowan,” Bryn drawled with such amusement that I felt myself blush, then grinned helplessly.

Hoping to keep him with me, I pawed at the glittering thread still hovering around us. “Bryn, when I figure out how to—” I lunged like a cat on an infrared light, “—use this, you’re not going to like it.”

He snatched my wrists, leaned forward, and murmured in my ear, “But, my Rowan, I fear I shall like it very much.”

God. “Bryn, you’re not helping things.”

He chuckled, low and dark, before reeling the thread into his chest, spooling it into the world where it lived. Holding it for both of us. When it was tucked away, he dragged my arms through his shirt, buttoning the ruined thing over my breasts.

Chest bare and grass-stained, he said with a faint smile, “Will we just tell James you tripped over these?”

I followed his gaze to the tangled, muddied laces of my boots. He lifted one onto his lap and tied it in a swift bow, the gesture oddly tender. He switched to the other boot.

While he tightened and tied, I let my eyes feast on every inch of him. “Bryn?”

“Yes, my Rowan?”

“We’re going to continue this conversation.”

“I would hardly let you go otherwise.” His grin was a quick slice of the moon as he helped me to my wobbly feet. “Come, Rowan, we have time. Time enough for me to do this right.”

I hoped we did.

B ryn and I stumbled like drunks, arms around each other’s waists, following the guiding light under the tack room door until Bryn shoved it open and pulled me through.

I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the kitchen’s flickering candles.

And found James staring at Bryn, mouth open, eyes still red-rimmed from Kazie but coated in shock. I glanced over.

Mud ran down Bryn’s bare chest, rain darkened his hair, and grass stains coated his elbows and chin from when he’d—well.

I crossed my arms over my braless state, but Bryn was already blocking me.

James braced his hands on his hips. “What in the bloody hell did ye do to me sister?” he demanded, peering around Bryn.

As the stitching of my jeans rubbed against every naked inch of me, I realized there was a scrap of black material hanging somewhere in the vegetable patch right now. “I tripped,” I said with a grin.

“So ye didn’t want to be caught in the Gate with Sahn, but ye’ll roll around in me daffodils before they’re even bloomed?”

I felt the blush build.

Then Bryn burst into laughter. Great, shaking bursts that rolled through the kitchen and had James looking on helplessly.

“Well, go on so,” he said, whipping the tea towel toward the stairs. “I’d just as soon prefer not to know.”

I muffled my laugh as I hugged the shirt and aimed toward the exit. “I’m going to shower,” I called to Bryn.

But when his eyes lit and he started to follow, James said, “Now, ye’ll hold on just a minute. I’ll have a word or two with ye first.”

Bryn drawled, “James, I believe I am far too old for this conversation.”

“Ye know, ye’d think that and yet ye bring me sister in here covered in mud and yerself half-naked.”

I cast Bryn a pitying look over my shoulder. But the hot water—something I was immensely grateful for fixing right now—beckoned.

His eyes twinkled at me. “I will see you in my room, Rowan.”

It wasn’t a question.

“ L ove, you’re in my pants.”

Rolling over, I nestled into sun-kissed bedsheets. It couldn’t be past six. Seven at the latest. The mattress squeaked, bouncing my head off the pillow as someone hurtled themselves onto the bed.

I pried open an eyelid and scowled at Willow’s unruly face. “Go away.”

She grinned a cat’s smile. “I said, you’re in my pants.”

I sunk further under the comforter. “Nope.”

She whipped the covers off so fast I had to choke back a scream from the frigid air. “How much did you take last night anyway?”

I lunged for the sheet she held out of reach. “Who puts magic mushrooms in peanut butter?”

“Who eats another person’s peanut butter sandwich?” she accused, and won the quick tug of war.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Willow, please, god, just let me sleep, and I will never eat another of your disgusting, mushroom-covered peanut butter sandwiches ever again.”

“Or take my pants.”

I giggled. “But they’re my favorite pants.”

“Roe.”

“Roe, wake up!”

I bolted upright, the remnants of the dream falling away like pastry flakes. Where the hell was I? When was I? Outside a frosted window, morning peaked in an orange clementine over the sea.

Bryn’s room.

Last night returned to me in a flood of memories. Kazie was gone. The Fall. Bryn had shown me a ring, then Abby…

Bryn was right to wait. Even after we’d come up to his room, he’d only wanted to sleep. So we’d slipped into his bed together, the crisp cotton sheets a cool comfort against his warm body, his sleepy breaths stirring my hair like a night breeze.

I rubbed my eyes. Squinted at the bulky shadow sitting on the bed. “Bryn?”

“Just me darlin’.” Tye.

I slid a hand beside me, a fading warmth heating my palm. Why was Tye here on my bed—Bryn’s bed?

“Where’s Bryn?” I asked, dragging the quilt with me as I sat up.

Tye offered a lazy shrug. “Ironin’ his shirts? Roe, we gotta go.”

“Go?” I repeated as Tye fumbled with the lamp— click —and low light blinded me. “Don’t ya remember we gotta flight to catch? Two tickets. Leaves at noon. We better get a move on.” My suitcase thunk-thunked by the bed. “Saw you packed already, that’s good. Get yourself up, and let’s get goin’.”

Flight. Home. The Fall.

Willow. I’d wanted to make the Fall for Willow. But after last night…

I closed my eyes. “Tye, I don’t think I can go now.”

The bed wobbled as he parked himself on the edge. “Darling, I bought the tickets. You’re going. It’s one god damn week. If ya can’t leave Stornoway for seven days, you’ve got a problem.”

That, I definitely had.

Bryn had asked me to stay with him. Not to make the Fall. There’d been a ring and…and where was it now? In my room still?

Maybe I could use the week in L’Ardoise to figure out what Willow had asked of me. I could talk to Tye about it. He might not want me to make the Fall, but he’d always listened.

But then Bryn and I couldn’t— No, no, that was stupid. My hormones were growing legs at this point. It was one week. One . Bryn and I could pick things up when I returned, when I knew what I wanted.

One more week.

It felt like a month.

“Okay, but Bryn—”

“Made it this long and ya know what? I bet he’ll live without ya for a couple days.”

And he must be okay with it if he’d given Tye a chance to talk to me like this. Maybe Bryn wanted to make up for how he’d reacted yesterday.

I tossed the blankets off like Willow had and swung my legs over the bed. The hemp rug scratched the soles of my freezing feet. It was strange to wake to the quiet chirping outside Bryn’s window instead of Kazie’s blaring alarm clock.

“Let me get dressed then, and—” I dropped the quilt as Tye gripped my shoulder.

“What’s this?” he demanded of the circular stamp.

“A birthmark.” I swatted at him. “What’s wrong?”

He only tilted me under the lamp, lowering his nose close enough that his hot breath skittered under my collar. “That ain’t no birthmark, darlin’. It’s from the Ledger . It’s—”

Tye’s arm was knocked away.

“ Get out .” Bryn stepped in front of me, temper radiating from each taut line of his body.

So he hadn’t let Tye in, hadn’t known or thought about L’Ardoise.

When I started to rise, Bryn laid a hand on my shoulder but kept his eyes on the intruder. “Tye, you should not even be in Naruka, never mind in my room with my—”

“Your what, Stornoway? Your mate?” Tye mocked.

“ Yes ,” I answered for Bryn.

“So now he’s got ya believin’ that bullshit too.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I heard what ya did yesterday, Stornoway. James filled me in. It’s always about you, ain’t it? Anythin’ to convince Roe to stay. Selfish, that’s what ya are. And a manipulative bastard.” Tye shot out an arm, swatting Bryn’s makeshift cane away. It clanged off the floor, rolling until it banged into the woodstove.

I sprang to my feet, grabbed Bryn before he fell. “Tye, get out.”

Tye clenched his jaw, then straightened. His lips relaxed into a tiny smile. “Fine. I’ll just meet ya at the car, darlin’ .”

Bryn went rigid in my arms.

Oh, hell. Tye. “Bryn, I—”

He pulled away, gaze darting to the suitcase Tye hefted. When he lifted his eyes to me, they were blank, empty. “You would leave now? After last night? And when the Inquitate may at any point approach you again?”

I fumbled the explanation that had made perfect sense in my head.

“Damn, Stornoway, you ain’t that good in bed. And of the two of us,” Tye reminded him leisurely, “I ain’t the one that let Roe follow the Inquitate into the goddamn woods. Let’s go.” Tye jiggled the suitcase and stomped out of the room.

I turned slowly, and met Bryn’s burning, accusatory eyes. “It really is just a few days,” I said weakly. “Tye bought the ticket already, and…”

He ripped his arm from my grasp. “Rowan, we both know this is not about a simple visit to L’Ardoise. You wish to say goodbye to your friends, to your parents, in case you hear the call and do not have the time to again.”

The room chilled a degree.

I’d forgotten about the thread. He’d know exactly what I was feeling now. “Bryn, it’s not— You don’t understand. I heard Willow. At the Gate, I swear, and I…”

He turned his back to me and swiped the cane off the floor. “I cannot lose you twice. Not after Nereida,” Bryn said shortly. “If you wish to make the Fall, then we cannot continue.”

My throat tightened. Words swelled and died on the tip of my tongue. How could a few months with Bryn replace a lifetime with Willow? It couldn’t. It shouldn’t .

How could he say this after last night? He’d waited for us, but he couldn’t let me figure this out? “You don’t know when the call—”

“It is not long enough,” he said crisply, staring out the window. “I want it all, Rowan. So leave, because Tye is right—you are safer with him than I.”

Liar .

“You’re forgetting this thread goes both ways,” I said, drawing a sharp breath. “You didn’t want to wait last night because of Abby or the thread. You wanted to wait because you want me to choose you over Willow.”

But a lifetime with Willow couldn’t be replaced this easily. Even if Bryn had thrown the ring at me, the memories, even after last night. It wasn’t enough.

Maybe I wanted it all, too, just not the same all as Bryn.

Ruhaven was giving Willow a chance to come back as Nereida, as who she was meant to be, even if that meant I wouldn’t exist.

He paused in front of the window, a dark silhouette against its light. “No. I want you to leave.”

The words echoed off the hollow floorboards. But Bryn worshipped the Gate, and he’d been the one to tell me what it meant to have Ruhaven speak to you.

“Bryn, you aren’t listening to me. I heard Willow at the Gate. She told me to make the Fall, for her, and—”

“ I. Do. Not. Care. ”

I gaped at him.

You don’t care?

He tossed his sweater over the bedpost. Turned his back to me.

If he didn’t understand this, didn’t understand Willow, thought whatever this was could ever replace her…? “That’s why I came to you in Oslo. That’s why I’m here. Now you don’t care? I don’t believe you.”

His face was stone. “I care about Willow as much as you care of me, Rowan. Get out.”

I planted my feet. “I’m not leaving you, not like this.”

“You know what I think?” he said quietly. “I think this is not about Willow at all. This is about you not wanting to accept who you are. You will never be Willow, Rowan. Not in any life. Not even Ruhaven can give you that.”

A cold, suffocating heat crept into my lungs, into my heart.

He lifted a hand.

The thread flickered, grabbing me like it had before, except this time, there was none of the gentle caress. It snagged my ribs, yanking me back. Hard. Like it had at the river.

I tumbled, tripped over the rug, banging my elbow off the doorframe.

He didn’t look up. Only stared out the window, at the boats cutting through the sea miles from shore. At the sky that was nearly green now with dawn, and the mulled clouds threatening to smother it.

The thread pulled again, and I slid over rough wood, my sweatpants snagging on a splinter. A hole ripped down the side before I twisted to my hands and knees, shoved up.

Another tug and I was in the hallway.

I jumped as something burned my bare feet, then looked down.

A teapot lay on its side, dripping boiling water in a dark stain across the carpet runner. Honey oozed in golden waves. Squashed grapes escaped across the hall like lost children. James’s soft scones were arranged on a broken china plate, the jam oozing over the edge, the cream a white smear on the coral napkin.

Bryn’s door slammed shut.

“Roe, darlin’,” Tye yelled from below. “It’s three damn hours to Shannon Airport.”

A grape popped under my heel.

I stepped over shards of teacups, sliced pears, and sugar cubes that neither Bryn nor I preferred.

In my room, I dressed in silence, the fields of Ireland stretching before me until they disappeared beneath the orange hues of a sun just pushing over the clouds, when the rays burst and drenched the hills in a color more beige than green.

When I was dressed in Willow’s jean jacket, with her scarf fastened around my neck and the steel-toed boots I’d first worn here, I walked back into the hallway. Locked my door.

Each step downstairs tightened the invisible string between Bryn and I until I half expected to feel the snap of the band.

And when I clambered in the car and Tye kicked the engine to life, the new spark plugs turned over without a whimper.