Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
On my fourth try, I’m able to harness the confrontation’s energies so quickly and effectively that they don’t have time to make me sick. From the first inkling of horror, I coiled them in and held them fast, not letting even a drop escape from the space under my ribs.
“Are you nauseous?” Leo asks.
“No.” I steady myself with a hand on his shoulder as I close my eyes and shoot the energy into the ground through my feet.
“Of course, I know where the emotions are now,” I qualify, glancing at the three scraggly blackberry bushes huddled under the sycamores and birches.
They’re the warning sign. I know, as soon as I approach them, that I’m walking into a dangerous energy field.
And I know exactly how the emotions there will make me feel.
That’s a luxury I’m not likely to have when we stumble upon the macguffin.
Leo nods thoughtfully. “The weapon will probably catch you off guard for a minute or two, but if you harness quickly enough, it shouldn’t have time to deeply affect you.”
I sigh. “That’s my hope.”
“Keep practicing anytime you pick up an emotion.” He chuckles. “Sit between those two guys in your class and try harnessing all that lust.”
My eyes flash up to his. Lust? “Is that such a good idea?”
He shrugs. “It’s good practice. You don’t want to feel it, right? So you’ll be motivated to work quickly.”
I’m suddenly too hot in my coat. “You can’t be serious.”
“Perfectly serious.”
Then why are the corners of his mouth twitching? And why do I have the irrepressible urge to stop them—with my lips?
“You know I need to be listening to the lecture, right? Not playing catch and release with some guys’ sexual urges.” That did not just come out of my mouth. Can I throw myself in the river?
Leo smirks and looks away, but not before I catch the heat in his eyes.
His glamour is working on me now that I’m not harnessing, but I wish it weren’t.
The wind whips his hair from his face, and the waning sunlight glints orange off his dark lashes.
Yet again, I’m stunned by the beauty of his profile and the perfect proportions of his body.
I inch closer, just enough to grasp his energy.
Desire. Not the purely physical kind that I’ve been picking up from the guys in class, but something deeper. Liquid and warm. Undulating.
Or is that mine?
He looks back at me, nods across the river at the setting sun, and says, “It’s going to be dark soon. We should go.”
“Yeah, it’s getting really cold,” I say, even though I’m burning up.
We walk briskly, in silence, each of us pretending to take in the scenery, though there’s not much to look at during these last weeks of winter.
“Aww.” I slow to a standstill at the sight of low, white flowers browning like aging paper. “The snowdrops are already fading.”
Rime’s snowdrops. I may be pissed off at him, but I love his flowers.
“Can you perk them up?” I ask Leo. He opens his mouth, but I answer my own question. “Never mind. I don’t know why I asked. It’s probably not good for them.”
“I could ask them,” he says, crouching to get a closer look. “The fading is irreversible, but maybe I could persuade some of these to open.” He slips his fingers under a cluster of buds half-hidden by the leaves. “There’s nothing wrong with them. They probably just didn’t get enough sun.”
I kneel next to him. “Can I help again? Like with the holly bush?”
“Of course.” His smile is broad and oh-so-pleased. “Here.” He scoots so that he’s kneeling behind me, framing me in his arms.
I hold out a chilly hand. “Same thing as last night?”
His “mhmm” rumbles against my back, sending butterflies slamming against the confines of my stomach. He’s warm and smells even better than the pine trees.
As he sets my hand face-down on top of his, I say, “I want to see if I feel it again.”
His jaw moves against the top of my head. “Feel what?”
“The energy.”
He drops his hand, leaving mine momentarily suspended before he grabs it and wraps our arms around my middle. “What do you mean, ‘the energy?’” He’s suddenly rigid behind me, holding me so tight I can’t tip my head back enough to see his face.
“I… I don’t know,” I stammer. “The energy between you and the holly?” Am I wrong? Was it something else I was feeling? Something I wasn’t supposed to?
“What did it feel like?”
“Um… tingly?” Now that I say it out loud, it seems so cliché. Tingly? Anything could’ve made me feel tingly. My hand could’ve been falling asleep. “Forget it. I was probably just imagining it.”
“No,” he says, coming back to himself. “You probably weren’t.” He sweeps back my hair that keeps getting caught in his bristly chin. “Let’s try it, and you tell me if you feel it again.”
“Okay.” I gulp. I won’t feel anything, I’m sure. Or I’ll feel everything, all of it made up in my mind.
He slides his hand under mine and stretches them both closer to the snowdrops.
When his fingers flex, mine slip between them, curling around his palm and absorbing its building heat.
For a beat, I shut my eyes, concentrating on the sensations: his steady heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest, the cold air stinging my cheeks, the prickling of my hand, like someone’s tickling me with pine needles.
I try to will the tingling away. After all, it’s only in my mind. But it just gets stronger.
“Do you feel it?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“I’m going to let it go. Watch the flowers.”
Ignoring my bristling palm, I focus on the green and white buds, but the sudden rip of energy as it surges between us and the snowdrops has me letting out a gasp.
And for a moment, I feel utterly empty. Hollowed out.
Until the white petals begin to unfurl, like one of those time-lapse films of blooming flowers.
An entire patch of them, not just the ones Leo pointed to.
“I felt it,” Leo breathes.
“You did?” I angle myself in his arms, just enough to meet his gaze. Shivers ripple through me, but they’re pleasant and warm.
“I felt it last night, too, but I thought it was just—” His eyes flick away.
“Just?”
“Nerves. From being so close to you.” He looks at me again, with so much vulnerability that I reach up and slide my fingers along his jaw. His eyes close as he covers my hand with his and brings my palm to his lips.
I hold my breath to keep from sighing, to keep my mind on the present and not on the night in my room when he kissed my hand the same way. Then kissed my mouth, and my neck, and…
“I don’t know how you’re doing it,” he says, gazing down at me with eyes full of both wonder and concern. “But it’s like… like you’re part of the circuit.”
“Is that bad?”
“I don’t know. I mean, it shouldn’t be. It’s just—” he chews on his lip for a good three seconds. “It’s just, I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
Icy fingers of panic scrape up my back. “But what does it mean?”
“It’s okay,” he soothes, folding me in his arms. “It’s not a bad thing.”
“That’s not what Jean said.”
“Jean never said it was bad.” He pulls back to look me in the eye. “Knowledge, Betts. So long as you know what you’re capable of, you’ll be fine.”
I bury my face in his warm neck as he murmurs, almost to himself, “We’ll figure it out.”
He’s so solid. So safe. I wrap my arms around his back, under his coat.
Stroking my hair, he adds, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
This is too familiar. Sitting on the ground alongside a river, clinging to Leo for dear life as I’m assaulted by the truth about my power. Mill-workers and snowdrops: so different, yet the same. A reality I have to face.
But only if I can have Leo at my side.
He dips lower, his jaw grazing my cheek and his breath warm on my neck. He has one hand buried in the back of my hair, and the other tight around my back.
His lips graze the tender spot under my ear, and my fingers dig into his back. “L—”
With a hard press of his mouth, he steals his name from my lips, and my words come out as a moan.
Oh god, yes.
He gives my hair a gentle tug, tilting my head to deepen the kiss.
I free my arms from his coat and reach around his neck to pull him closer.
When our tongues meet, a low sound catches in his throat.
He brushes a hot palm across my cheek and down my neck before gripping my nape again and pushing my mouth hard against his.
We pull back, both of us panting as he sweeps his thumb along my lips. “I thought I’d never kiss you again.”
His hair and brows hide his eyes, but I can still see his lashes, black and thick and frantically flickering. With both hands, I tip his head up, gaze into those rich, warm eyes, and boldly declare, “You can kiss me all you want to.”
His smile squeezes the air out of my chest, and with his mouth on mine again, I can’t get a breath. I gulp in air when he breaks the kiss, then pull him down for another.
“I want you off this cold ground,” he says.
Cold ground? I don’t feel any cold ground; I’m floating.
He pulls me up as he rises, and that’s when I feel the chill on the backs of my thighs. To get the blood flowing, I give them several firm pats. My jeans feel like they’ve been in the freezer.
Chuckling, Leo takes my hand. “Come on. We’ll walk fast.”
When he says fast, he means it. We move at a clip that has my muscles thawing and my blood pumping.
Just as the sun disappears below the horizon, we crest the hill to the practice fields.
When I came to meet Leo a few hours ago, the fields were packed with people.
Shouts and blowing whistles, the swish of nets and the crack of a bat.
Now there’s only silence, and not a soul to be seen in the twilight.
Up ahead, Leo’s and one other empty car sit in the dimly lit parking lot.
“Okay,” I say, pulling up short. “So, I’ll keep looking for Avery’s window—”
“Where are you going?” He tugs me in the direction of his car.
I jerk a thumb over my shoulder. “Newberry’s that way.”
“You’re not walking.”
I stumble after him. “It’s just on the other side—”
“Nope.” He turns and walks backward, grinning. “I can take you closer.”
“But—”
Gesturing to his Civic, he commands, “Get in the car, Betts.”
A nervous giggle bubbles out of me, but I manage a straight face. “Yes, sir.”
He opens the passenger door and rounds the car as I get inside. I’ve barely settled into my seat before he’s in the one beside me, reaching for me.
Kissing me fiercely.
He slides his hands under my rear end. “Come here.” Next thing I know, he’s pulling me onto his lap and arranging my knees alongside his hips.
With a saucy jerk of his head, he tosses his hair from his eyes. A half smile plays on his lips. “You said I could kiss you as much as I wanted.”
I respond with another embarrassing giggle. Naughty, playful Leo whips my brain into cotton candy. Rallying my wits, I coyly ask, “What about me? Am I allowed to kiss you?”
He pushes on my hips, stretching my thighs wider and tugging me firmly against him. Voice thick, he replies, “You’re allowed to do anything you want.”
I drag my nails through his soft hair. “Anything?”
“I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me, Betts. Even though I don’t deserve it.”
“Leo—”
“I’m sorry.” He grips me tightly on both sides of my head, his eyes, full of remorse and longing, raking across my face. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
Regret sinks into my chest, heavy and desperate. It’s his, I think, but it could just as well be mine. I consider answering him in words. Telling him how I understand now. How I was wrong to jump to conclusions about his intentions.
But only action will convince him he’s forgiven.
Before he can say more, I kiss him, occupying his lips and tongue while I take his hands from my waist and slip them up the back of my sweater. We both hiss as his cold fingers meet my hot skin, and again when I push my palms up his chest under his shirt.
I have a vague sense of the cold seeping in around us, but the heat we’re generating is more than enough to drive it away.
I don’t care that we’re in a car, that he’s a faerie, that we’re from two different worlds.
I only care about the here and now. The feel of him—it’s exactly as I remembered.
Firm lips and tongue, sharp bones, soft hair.
He tastes of fresh air and ice. The muscles of his thighs cut into mine, and his hardness presses between my legs.
My breathing goes ragged as I feel and remember. Him moving inside me, with deep, steady strokes. So under control.
I whimper, only half aware I’m rocking my hips.
He moans my name, and my eyes flash open. Through the haze of desire, I see him, gazing up at me with equally wild eyes.
I frame his face between my palms. “Take off your glamour.”
With one swipe of his hand, his cheekbones bloom under my fingers and gold glitters in his eyes. I brush back his hair, grazing his pointed ears as he drags his hot mouth down my neck.
He curls his fingers inside the waistband of my jeans, pausing long enough to silently seek my permission. At my nod, he pops the button and tugs at the stubborn zipper. And tugs and tugs again.
Stupid jeans.
I lean away from him to make more room, hitting the steering wheel with my back. “Ow.”
Stupid car.
He growls, his fingers digging into my hips, desperate for access. “I can’t take you home with me.”
Stupid Rime.
And stupid Liv, for always being in our room at this time on a Tuesday.
I peer past Leo to the back seat. It’s tight and cold, but…
For fuck’s sake, what am I thinking? What are we doing, making out in a car like a couple of rebellious teenagers? There’s a dangerous weapon we need to find, an entire realm at stake. Rime has every right to be concerned.
I push off Leo’s shoulders and fall gracelessly back into my seat.
“Betts, it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay.” None of this is okay.
None of this is normal. He’s not some guy in one of my classes, exchanging longing looks with me when the lectures get dull. We’ll never dance at a party, go out for pizza, have coffee together in the picnic area outside the Bobcat.
We could find the macguffin tomorrow; it’s just one gaudy window away. Hell, we could find it an hour from now. And then what? He goes back to Nàdar, or he goes on the lam.
I bite my lip to stop the tears, swallow hard, and say as casually as I can, “I need to get home. I still have a lot of homework to do.”
“Betts, don’t. Don’t shut down on me.”
“I’m not. I’ll look for the window again tomorrow, I promise.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
He tries to touch me, just a gentle sweep of his fingers down my cheek, but it stings like alcohol on an open wound. I jerk back, and alarm flashes in his eyes.
“Is this about Rime?”
“No, it’s about me.” You and me. “We’ll talk about it later,” I lie as I reach for the door handle. “I can walk if you don’t want to take me home.”
The threat has the desired effect. He starts the car and pulls out of the lot. The two-minute drive feels like an eternity. More than once he tries to coax me to talk. More than once I deflect with a polite, “It’s fine.”
Because it will be fine. I’ll be fine.
Because I won’t let myself fall for a man I’ll never see again.