49. The Kiss
Wilder watched as she streaked through branches and the tall, verdant grasses. It was like a dream.
He could feel this memory etching itself into his mind.
Flashes of golden light and auburn hair. She had left her mark here, and the land would remember her forever, as would he.
He dashed out after her; the chase heating his blood.
They ran and laughed.
He tickled, and she squealed.
But then the downpour started. Lyra raced for the willow, and he was right on her heels.
The rain awakened his senses. And she was intoxicating. Her scent sang to his blood as much as the land did.
“I thought you said we were safe here?” She shivered, rubbing a hand down her arm.
The rain had soaked her. The fabric of the light pink dress was now as dark as her lips.
“We are safe. It’s just rain.”
When she shivered again, he wrapped an arm low around her waist.
“What’re you doing?” She leaned away from him.
Wilder grinned down at her. “Did you forget what I taught you about body heat?”
She looked up at him, and her gaze darkened. Her eyes darted to his lips once more.
Wilder had to know what she tasted like.
“I like these,” he murmured, tracing a finger across the freckles on her nose.
“I hate them,” she breathed.
Wilder tilted his head. “Why?”
“They’re unsightly.”
He shook his head. “It just means you were kissed by the sun, but they remind me of the stars.”
Lyra leaned into his warmth, and he had to swallow the groan that built in the back of his throat.
His face lowered to hers as she raised her chin.
“Wilder,” she whispered.
His lips were a hairbreadth from hers. “Yes?”
“Kiss me.”
He complied with her order.
Pressing his lips with a gentle reverence to hers, he had to work to keep the fire in his veins at bay.
The feel of her against him was consuming him, and he couldn’t get enough.
He wrapped a hand in her wet hair and angled her face up to him.
She sighed in a happy, satisfied way.
And with that, he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue inside her mouth and finally getting a taste. She was everything he dreamed she would be.
Wild and eternal. As sweet as the ripest berries, and as strong as a well-aged elixir.
Her kiss was invigorating and breathed life into his very soul.
Lyra gripped a fistful of the tunic covering his chest and pulled him to her. Wilder let her, feeling her need build. Her arousal twirled in the storm wind around them and raised goosebumps on his flesh.
She wasn’t a mermaid but a siren, and he was falling under her spell. He now knew why the mortals went willingly if it felt anything like this.
They parted, gasping for air before she rose on her toes. Wrapping a hand around his neck, she tugged him back down and kissed him reverently. He couldn’t remember why they had even hated each other to begin with.
She was perfect. His lips parted, and in a move that surprised him, she slipped her tongue inside his mouth with a slight flick. He felt the vibrations of that movement all the way down to the bulge in his pants that stirred.
He had never been aroused by just a kiss, and yet—she had. He wanted only more of her.
When they broke apart again, the lust in her gaze rivaled the storm clouds that had passed over them. The rain slowed before stopping. Tiny droplets of light shone all around them as the sun broke through.
Lyra shivered again, and Wilder pulled away.
“Let’s get you back before you catch a cold.”
She frowned before he wrapped an arm around her and tugged her flush to his side. She bit her lip to hide her smile, and he worked to slow his rapid heart rate.
Lyra had burrowed even further under his skin, and he found he didn’t mind one bit.
They walked, wrapped around each other, to the carriage and set off for the sea.
As the carriage bumbled through the rocky hills and the tall forests, Lyra slept in Wilder’s arms. He watched her as she slept, and it reminded him of the first night they had spent together. Yet now she did not stir with nightmares.
She was enchanting, even during her slumber. It wound itself around him, making him feel things he hadn’t thought himself capable of before.
He didn’t know if it had been the kiss they shared or if it was him feeling free for the first time in a long while.
Wilder enjoyed listening to her talk about the books she read and the new surprises the land had afforded her. It was obvious she missed the sea, but the land called to her all the same. It was as if she were from both places.
That was unusual for him. He could only ever be from the Wilds. It was at the very core of his being—the magic of this place. Even with all its faults, he loved it.
Lyra sighed in her sleep, and he gripped her to his chest, hoping to calm whatever ailed her. Without thinking, he brushed his lips against her temple. He hadn’t meant to kiss her again—but he had.
It had felt natural, like a habit. She smelled of crisp rain.
He sighed, and his breath fluttered the soft petals of the white flowers still tucked within her braid.
It was strange.
For someone who didn’t like to know his future, he enjoyed looking at her.