Chapter 40
Gwen
We sat at our secret lookout, watching the twinkling stars reflect off Lake Nevermore.
It had been a beautiful, hot, sunny summer.
Sabine passed a bottle of Dagmar’s stolen wine between us—a tradition she’d started with her older sister and now shared with me.
But Iris wasn’t at camp this summer and probably wouldn’t be again, as a certain demon was keeping her very occupied.
“So, are you thinking archery again?” Sabine asked, toeing her Converse into the leaves.
My swollen lips wrapped around the wine bottle, and I tilted it back to take another swig. I stared out at the lake as I wondered if Sabine and I could get one more round of lovemaking in before we had to sneak back to our cabins . . .
“Might as well now that Astrid isn’t competing,” I said with a shrug.
“Or you could enter the rock-climbing competition just to spite her,” Sabine suggested with a laugh.
“I think we’ve put her through enough,” I countered. “Our happiness is plenty of torture.”
She hummed in agreement, kissing my bare shoulder. Goose bumps rippled down my arm as I thought about all the places those lips had just been.
“You’re right,” she agreed with a satisfied hum. “And I think that vampire from across the lake is torturing her plenty too.”
“You think?” I asked with a gasp. “I didn’t peg Astrid for a vampire girlie. You think the two of them have a thing going on?”
Sabine shrugged. “I think hate and love can look a lot alike sometimes.”
I chuckled. “Definitely on the same end of the spectrum, not opposites,” I concurred. “Although I have to admit, I prefer love.”
She grinned and leaned in to give me a slow, soft kiss. “Me too,” she whispered across my mouth.
I tumbled into her moonlit gaze, knowing a dopey smile was on my face and not caring one bit.
“I was thinking . . . ,” she hedged, a playful grin on her lips.
“Oh yeah?” I dipped a hand up the hemline of her shirt, and she laughed.
“Hold on to that thought,” she said, her words ending on a groan as my fingers grazed over her peaked nipple.
She dropped her forehead to mine, clearly trying to hold on to control for long enough to get her words out.
“I was thinking that Agnes is renting out her farmhouse on the edge of the haunted woods. She says there are too many windows for her liking, and, um . . . she told me she’d give us a good deal if . . .”
“Us?” I sat up a bit straighter. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”
“I mean, if that’s something you might also . . . want . . . to . . . do?” Her guarded eyes searched my face, clearly trying to gauge whether I was angry or pleased.
I let her dwell on it for a few heartbeats before I leaned in and kissed her. “Yes,” I said. “I want to wake up every morning to your face.”
Her smile widened. “I want you to fall asleep in my arms every night.”
“Goddess, we’re insufferable.” I chuckled with a grin.
“Sickening.”
The branch shaking above our heads was the only notice we got as Hera landed, her golden eyes watching us. I swore if the owl could arch a brow, she would.
“Shit, run!” I whisper-hissed, grabbing Sabine by the hand and darting into the forest. “If Dagmar finds out we stole her wine again, she’ll make you do another year.”
Sabine laughed and squeezed my hand as we raced off. “What’s one more summer?”