55. Everett #2
“You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about this.
” I kissed the mark. My nose skated back up to her neck, inhaling her scent.
She leaned her neck to the side, and my hand fell to her waist to pull her closer as my other tangled in her hair.
I pressed my lips into the column of her throat, then the spot below her ear.
Her hands inched toward me, fingers clenched in the fabric of my shirt.
I paused at her jaw, a breath away from her lips. “Tell me to stop,” I rasped.
“Why?” The word skated over my cheeks.
“Because if I do this…” My fingers dug into her waist. “I don’t know if I can watch you walk away again.”
She pulled back to meet my gaze. “I can’t promise you anything,” she whispered. “But I’m so tired of missing you.”
I hesitated, hand at the back of her head, eyes wavering between hers. She was right—she couldn’t promise me what I wanted. I should stop now while I still could, before things went too far, before she pushed herself away again.
But then she said two little words.
“Please, Swift.”
Something inside me broke. I crushed my lips to hers, a groan wrenching from my chest. Fates, this was so much better than her dream.
My heart hammered, skin warming with every passing second, her hot breath sliding over my lips and cheeks.
I gripped the back of her neck tighter and deepened the kiss as her hands slipped up my chest.
This is a mistake, the logical part of my brain screamed. You’re in too deep.
I shoved the thought away. The truth was, I had always been in too deep. I had drowned in her from the moment I met her. Now, I could finally breathe again.
My body vibrated everywhere we touched. She let out a sigh, and the sound lit me on fire. I pushed her against the shelf, using the wood to brace myself as her lips parted for mine. I tugged her bottom lip between my teeth and slowly released, and she pulled me down closer to her.
Bam.
The thunderous boom clattered around us, making me jump back. Several books had fallen off the shelf at our feet. I struggled to catch my breath, heart racing.
The sound of footsteps drew nearer. Neither of us spoke as the record keeper came into view, eyebrows hitched. His gaze flicked to the books on the floor.
“Apologies, sir,” I said, clearing my throat.
His nose twitched. “Just pick them up.”
I nodded quickly, and with one last, sharp look, he padded away. I retrieved the books and reshelved them one by one, while Vera straightened her shirt. When I finally looked at her, she was already looking away. I felt frozen, my movements mechanical, still trying to process what had happened.
Vera raked her fingers through her hair, then her eyes fell to the last book in my hand. “Everett, look.”
I tore my gaze away from her and to the cover of the book. Ancient Runes of Pyraethi Origins.
Well, look at that.
We both made our way back to the table, where stacks of other books rested. The record keeper in the far corner narrowed his eyes at us, but I ignored him.
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to focus on the book and the symbols I’d seen.
I closed my eyes and reached for the memory I’d trapped as an illusion from yesterday’s adventures.
The slick stone walls, the musty crypt air, the flickering torchlight.
Symbols carved deep into ancient rock. My magic caught the image and sharpened it until I could almost feel the grooves beneath my fingertips again.
I opened my eyes and searched the table, and Vera was already there with a parchment and pencil in grasp.
She handed them to me wordlessly. I briefly met her gaze, her fingers brushing mine, as I took the pencil and began to sketch the glyphs.
An X on top of a rectangle; an upside-down, cracked clay pot; a phoenix wearing a crown; a sword with a figure eight across the middle. Vera sat quietly next to me as I scoured the book on ancient runes until I found each one.
Forge
Vessel
Rise
I rubbed my eyes, heavy from staring at the pages for so long, when the last one caught my attention: the sword with a figure eight through the middle.
“Forever life,” I said aloud.
“What?” Vera asked.
“That’s what this last one means. Forever life.”
She hummed. “But it’s not possible to live forever. Is this part of another myth?”
“I don’t think so.” My brows knit together as I remembered the frozen-like state the original demithes used to put themselves in to live hundreds of years.
These people had quite the fixation with this idea of living longer.
It sounded like immortality. But she was right—that wasn’t possible.
At least, it shouldn’t be possible. Who would want to live forever?
One lifetime was difficult enough as it was.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, fighting off a headache as hours’ worth of words and symbols bled together in my mind. A cold thread slipped down my spine. The feeling that I was missing something just wouldn’t go away.
Stop it, I told myself. Vera trusted these people. If I kept looking for trouble where there wasn’t any, she would only push herself further away from me.
But, still…