61. Chapter Sixty-One
My breath hitched in my throat as the weight of Kieran’s stare kept me pinned in place.
“And what do those plans entail, Vistarii?” I asked as he took several strides forward, meeting me in the kitchen.
“You’ll find out soon enough, Asher.”
And then his mouth was on mine, moving faster than I could parse as the distance between us evaporated, Kieran cornering me between the countertops and his tall, muscled frame. One hand held me at the nape of my neck, the other tightened around my wrist. This kiss was hungry, maddening, demanding—and I gasped as I felt my lower lip split beneath the force.
“But first things first,” he murmured, releasing my wrist to press his thumb against my lower lip. He inspected the blood drawn for a moment before licking the pad of said finger. He watched me intently as he did so, sending heat straight between my legs.
“Tell me what you were so anxious about earlier that you felt the need to tear up this perfect mouth of yours, hmm?” he crooned. “I do believe that’s my job.”
I glanced away, my face flushing under his careful observation, among other things. I had hoped that when he dropped the subject earlier, that would have been the end of it. I wasn’t sure I was ready to expose myself like this, and yet…
“Don’t tell me you were worried about me,” Kieran teased, smiling as he tipped my chin up with two steady fingers.
“N-no,” I stammered. “Not exactly…”
At that slight admission, he raised a single dark eyebrow.
“Not exactly?”
“It was nothing, Kieran,” I tried to claim, painting my face with false confidence. “Really. It’s nothing important.”
That was a lie. The thoughts that had plagued me over dinner felt like some of the most important things I had ever worried about in my life. The weight of certain decisions that were still hanging in the balance between Kieran and I. Whether I wanted this to be a temporary fling, or a permanent alteration to our friendship. Whether or not we could ever be more.
“I don’t believe you,” Kieran said softly, fingers drifting from my chin to my jawline.
“I’d much rather talk about these plans of yours,” I replied, attempting to flirt my way out of this conversation.
“Oh, I’m sure you would,” he murmured, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “As would I. But I’m not going to tell you a damn thing until you let me know what’s bothering you.”
Gods, that was just unfair.
“It’s not that I was worried about you, per se., I mean, gods know you can take care of yourself…” I said, trailing off. “I was more worried that maybe, you wouldn’t be coming back?”
My voice was small, and I felt exposed.
“What, did you think I died?!” Kieran exclaimed, incredulous as he misinterpreted what I meant.
It was my fault for being unclear, but the words were sticking to the roof of my mouth, heavy and viscous, too uncomfortable to admit.
“Tell me this isn’t about what Hans said earlier, Arken. I swear to the fuckin’ Source, I will beat his ass if that’s what got under your skin,” Kieran said, eyes darkening. “Actually, scratch that. I’ll hold him down so that you can beat his ass.”
“I mean, you have to admit that he had a point,” I countered. “We’ve broken so many rules this week, Kieran. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked as he paused, tilting his head to one side and allowing his hands to fall loosely at his sides. He seemed to be holding his breath, his eyes searching mine in silence. Finally, he exhaled.
“No, I know what you’re talking about, sweetheart. I just… don’t have a good explanation,” he said quietly.
A pang of regret sank through me as I heard his voice crack, just a little, towards the end of that sentence. Fuck. I really shouldn’t have said anything. Why did I have to be so godsdamned transparentaround him?
“I wasn’t asking for one,” I said softly, and with sincerity. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“I’m at least glad that you didn’t think I was dead after a few hours of errands,” he muttered. “I’m not sure my ego would ever recover.”
I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. Of course he was making jokes. This was the exact conversation that both of us had been trying to avoid.
“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I really shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Hey,” Kieran said, taking hold of my wrist, pulling it away from my face. His voice was slow and gentle. Reassuring, just as it had been the night this all started. “Arken, I—. You know that those rules don’t apply to you. They never have, not really. We’ve been over this.”
You’re almost always the exception to my rules, Arken.
There seemed to be more that he wanted to say, but he was holding himself back. It was as if my nerves had rubbed off on him, a sympathetic illness.
“Listen, I didn’t mean to bring this up tonight,” I sighed. “And I didn’t admit that I was anxious about it in an attempt to corner you into some sort of answer or explanation. I’m not trying to manipulate you, I promise. Your presence just has this… unnerving way of loosening my lips. I kinda hate that about you sometimes.”
Kieran’s lips twitched, a poor attempt to hold back a smirk.
“No, you don’t,” he crooned.
“No,” I admitted. “I don’t.”
I loved it about him. All too often, I found that my true thoughts died on my tongue in common conversation—unable to find a place amongst the idle chatter. Over the years, I had learned how to mask, to present an inauthentic version of myself more suitable for public display, with words that were prettier and less direct. It was such a habit to self-edit that sometimes I lost sense of who I was entirely, dissolving into the expectations of others.
I had never needed to do that with Kieran. Not once.
We were treading dangerous ground, now. Dancing on the cusp of confessions that could change everything. My heart was racing, pounding, throbbing like the erratic thing it was, caged behind my ribs.
When I glanced back up at Kieran, his expression was a devastating cocktail of patience, affection, and desire. I had hardly touched the wine over dinner, and still found myself drunk.