Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Joon’s sharp eyes scan the room before returning to me. “I believe you.”
There seems to be more that he wants to say. I wonder if he knows who left the note and why.
“From now on, either Mingi, Iseul, Imugi, or I will personally come for you. Trust no one else. First thing in the morning, you will move to the Western Court so you are closer to me.” He moves toward the door. “We will search again soon… but for now, get some rest.”
Something in his voice sounds as if he is talking about more than finding the final shard and breaking the curse. More than that, I can see the hope he is trying desperately to hide. The kind of hope that is terrifying if you are not careful—a feeling I am more than familiar with.
Without thinking, I grab his sleeve. At the light tug, he stops and turns back to me.
“Will you stay with me?” I ask. Then, realizing how that could be taken the wrong way, I add, “Just until I fall asleep. You don’t have to stay all night. I… don’t want to be alone.”
Joon reaches up and strokes the side of my head. His full lips curl gently at the corners. “Yes, I will stay with you.”
“Violet.” Firm hands grip my shoulder, shaking lightly. “Wake up, Violet.”
I struggle to peel open my lids. Joon’s face hovers over me, going in and out of focus. The world tilts uncomfortably when I shift.
“You have a fever.”
The icy touch of his hand on my forehead sends a violent shiver through my body, instantly chasing away the last vestiges of sleep. I struggle to sit up, but he’s there, helping me, doing most of the work.
Wind howls outside, pelting the windows with frozen rain.
A strange bone-deep ache has woven itself through every inch of my body. Everything is so cold despite the beads of sweat that dampen my brow. It’s accompanied by an uncomfortable fullness inside as if my body no longer fits me.
“Let me see,” Joon says. He takes my face in both hands, not waiting for my answer, and searches my face. His expression crumples. “It’s my fault—I should have been better about monitoring you. I allowed too much of the frost bloom’s power to build up.”
I blink slowly. “Am I dying?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “It is not nearly that severe. I should have siphoned sooner, but I didn’t want to be the cause of a third episode so soon after the others.”
I reach for his hand. The thin layer of frost coating his skin melts at my touch. “It’s all right, you did what you thought best. There’s not always an easy answer to everything.”
He swallows thickly as if he doesn’t want to be absolved of the blame he placed on himself.
I tuck my legs and lean toward him, holding on to his shoulders for balance. He cups the side of my jaw, fingers curling around the nape of my neck as he shifts to meet me.
Our lips touch. Joon’s mouth moves against mine for a moment before I feel the caress of his power opening a channel inside me. Magic flows toward him, slowly at first.
The slight release is a relief that leaves me wanting to rid myself of more. I lean into him, but he continues to siphon at a leisurely pace. He takes his time, consuming the power, as if savoring the taste and feel of our languid kiss.
All too soon, he pulls back. A small noise of protest catches in my throat. The iridescent frost passes over one side, just below his jaw, before disappearing.
Strength returns to my body. Not much, but enough to make a difference. The pressure of the built-up power is still there.
Joon presses his palm to my chest over my heart, sending tendrils of his power to heal me. He’s barely siphoned any power. Nowhere near enough to trigger an episode. He realizes it too when he feels my forehead again.
“You are still burning up.”
“I know.” I lean forward and kiss him again.
The first swirls of magic slip from me to him, pulling a gentle sigh from me on its current. His breath hitches. I sense him stanching the transfer due to his worry.
I trace his bottom lip with my tongue. He groans but still doesn’t allow the flow to increase. I do it again, but this time, I scrape my teeth over his lip.
The hand above my heart slides over my breast as it finds its way around my waist. With only the thin material of my nightdress and his shirt between us, it is impossible for either of us to ignore the way my nipples tighten at his touch. His other hand tangles in my hair, pulling me closer.
I slide my arms over his shoulders, leaning into him. His reluctance gives way with a nearly audible crack. The frost bloom’s power flows in a steady stream, finally easing the pressure from within.
At the first painful squeeze in my heart, Joon blocks the flow through the channel. He begins to break away. Not ready for this to end yet, I lean into him. He gives in, and the siphoning becomes a real kiss.
Desire alights from within, pooling in liquid fire at my core. He’s not unaffected either. The evidence presses against the side of my hip.
Joon holds me with one arm, letting his free hand wander lower, coming to rest where my thigh meets my hip. His fingers press into my flesh, gently massaging, thumb teasing dangerously close to my core.
Our tongues search for each other’s in ways that feel far more intimate than our normal kisses, as if we are imitating the physical desire we wish to act on but dare not go that far.
If he moved his hand slightly toward my inner thigh, he would find his way to that ache between my legs that craves to feel his fingers slip inside and explore until that desperate longing eases.
As if in silent agreement, our hands and bodies remain as they are, leaving our mouths to express this aching need as it mixes with fear, uncertainty, and a deep longing for so many things that, against all odds, are identical for us both.
We stay like this for some time, whether it’s minutes or hours, I can’t say, until finally, the kiss ends. I am left satisfied and aching with need all at once.
Lying down, I rest my head on Joon’s shoulder and snuggle into his side, soaking up his familiar warmth. His arm tightens around me.
Sleep settles like a heavyweight. I can’t help but wonder at the way things have changed between us since he caged me with his body against the wall in my home. How, even now, things continue to change.
But none of this is permanent. It can’t last. Whatever this is, whatever it could have been, will end when the curse ends.
Once this is over, I will return to my home in Firnhallow, and he will take his place as king. Then the world will get the chance to see him for who I know he is, not for the misunderstanding they see
My throat grows thick with disappointment at the fluttering in my chest. I know it instantly, despite never experiencing it before.
I can’t pinpoint when or how it started, but I care for him. Deeply. If I am not careful, I will lose my heart.
A surge of selfishness sweeps through me. I want him to be mine, for however long I can have him.
Giving in to this is a terrible idea. There’s no way this can end happily for either of us, even if Joon wanted the same. There is no future we can share that would not end in heartbreak.
My chest tightens with the thought.
Can you break a heart that’s already broken?
Except, the way I feel when his fingertips shift against their resting spot at my hip makes me wonder if I have already lost my heart to him.
Stopping it might already be a lost cause. And I’m not sure I could, even if I wanted to.