26. Leah #3
“I can get the meaning of some of them,” she answers eventually, easing the tension by pointing to a couple of the runes I’ve drawn. “Like, I know that more or less symbolizes protection. And that one there—the one that looks a bit like a sun—that refers to the ephilium?”
I nod. “Ephilium and their power,” I answer. “Although I’ve always had a bone to pick with that particular rune. It’s not like the pale-bloods have a monopoly on sunshine—Strata has a perfectly lovely sun, after all.”
“Is that what that chandelier in the ballroom is meant to represent?” she asks. It’s unexpected enough that I pause again before I apply the final rune.
“Yes,” I say, returning the brush tip to her skin.
“It was one of the early indulgences of my reign. I think I wanted to torture myself a little. Remind myself of what I’d given up—the price I’d paid.
Luckily, over time, it lost that meaning for me, and it just became something I like to look at sometimes, to reminisce. ”
I lay the brush down, then bend my head to blow lightly on her skin to help the ink dry. I hear her inhale quickly, and I look up through my eyelashes to see that tantalizing flush is back on her cheeks again.
“So you miss it, the sun?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say, and then, because the flush and the way her lips are parted and the feel of her leg against mine makes me lose my mind a little, I add, “it’s why I’m so fascinated by your freckles. They remind me how you’ve been kissed by a sun I hadn’t seen for centuries before I met you.”
Her green eyes darken and her newly inked hand closes around mine, drawing it up to her face.
I’m powerless to stop her, especially when she seems to sense exactly what I’ve been yearning to do for so long, guiding my hand against her cheek so I can brush my thumb across that dusting of extra color.
I exhale shakily, conscious of how soft she is under my touch, and then she turns her face and presses her lips gently against my palm.
I don’t know when I left my chair exactly, but suddenly I’m leaning up to her as she bends to meet me, and our lips find each other.
When I imagined kissing her for the first time, I always thought it would be fierce and hungry.
There’s no doubt those elements are there, but the reality is so much more—it’s deep and slow and intoxicating.
She slides her hand in my hair, lightly tugging on it to pull me closer, and her tongue slides against mine so sensuously it sets off explosions in my mind.
It’s heady, drinking in the feel and smell and taste of everything I’ve only gotten a hint of before now.
Experiencing her through the possession bond is vivid, but it’s nothing like having her fingers tighten in the fabric of my shirt, having her face in my hands, allowing me to tilt her chin up and taste her even more deeply, or hearing the little moan she makes into my mouth.
It’s not until she wraps her legs around me, pulling me closer, that I know we’re at a crossroads. I could keep going now so easily, take us to a place there’d be no coming back from. But I also remember why I’ve been fighting this.
The closer we get, the riskier it becomes. I’m playing into the hands of fate, that damned prophecy looming over me once again, made stronger each time she does something that makes me question her loyalties—that ties her, knowingly or not, to the pale-blooded specter of my nightmares.
It takes every fragment of my willpower to pull back. I drag my lips from hers, withdrawing my hands from her body. She looks at me in confusion, the grip of her legs loosening, and I take the opportunity to step back, out of her inviting embrace.
“We have to be careful,” I breathe. “We mustn’t let the binding overwhelm us. We’re in control, not the spell.”
Something flashes in her green eyes—something that looks unpleasantly like pain—and I want so badly to make it go away.
To make her feel better, in fact, than she’s ever felt before.
She looks like she’s about to speak, but I get there first, putting more distance between us with every word, until I’m standing by my office door.
“I’ll go tell Viz to find a healer who can take a look at your shoulder,” I say before turning and walking away.
I know the spell isn’t to blame for how I feel about her.
Not anymore. That’s precisely why I can’t let the possession link carry her on a wave of desire straight into my arms. And it’s not only because I want her to choose this fully and freely, with no magic working its clever tricks—though yes, I want that desperately.
But also, it would only weaken my resolve.
Of course, I can’t be certain about my fears, yet the price of being wrong is too high. I don’t want to hurt Leah, but ignoring what I’ve seen her do—what I felt lurking in her body when she returned from the rift compound—could cost me everything.
I pray to the darkness that my precautions are enough. Because if they’re not, then letting myself fall for Leah Polaris could destroy us all.