Chapter 20 #2
He sends another current of sparks leaping from one hand to the other and then crouches down by the forest floor. “I wonder… So much of life is about energy…”
He brushes his fingertips over a plant that’s little more than a sprout poking from the earth. Its leaves tremble.
Tensing with concentration, Byron leans even closer.
The plant unfurls up from the dirt, its stem shooting several inches higher, leaves stretching toward the filtered sunlight.
Byron lets out another laugh. “I have to bring in other ephemera to help guide my glim, but it’s so much easier. Fucking incredible.”
He straightens up and spins toward me, radiating so much delight my heart aches in answer. “Because of you. You gave me this.”
“It was always yours,” I say.
Byron shakes his head. “You suggested we come out here. You took the risk of awakening it now. I can’t even explain how it feels…” He spreads his arms wide as if trying to embrace the entire forest.
It wasn’t much of a risk when I knew how his glim would manifest, but I can’t tell him that.
I just keep smiling back. “I’m glad you’re happy with it. That’s all I wanted.”
A furrow crosses Byron’s forehead. He raises his arm, halts with instinctive hesitation, and then rests his bare hand against my cheek. Giddy warmth floods my skin.
His voice comes out a bit hoarse. “I don’t know… How did we end up sniping at each other for so long, Elodie? I didn’t have the right idea about you at all. It wasn’t fair.”
In a lot of ways, no matter how much Other Elodie was hiding, his judgement of her probably was fair. I’m not going to blame him for failing to realize she was replaced by a less snobbish version of herself.
“We were both figuring out a lot of things,” I say. “Do you think I can’t still be a terror?”
The affectionate gleam in my match’s eyes could sustain me for years. “Oh, I’d never underestimate you. Any scalder who comes for you is going to regret it. My precious little terror.”
His thumb strokes over my cheekbone. He trails it down to graze it over my mouth, more heat blossoming with the tender caress.
A quiver of elation runs through my veins. The ache expands, propelling me to him.
We both move at the same moment, Byron guiding me up toward him as he lowers his head.
Our mouths collide with the urgency of so many unfulfilled moments before. A low sound reverberates from Byron’s lungs into me.
I rake my fingers into the thick coils of his hair and tug him even closer.
We’ve both been waiting for this for longer than he could ever understand. And maybe we need to solidify our bond this way too for me to be sure he’s making fully informed decisions after.
He’ll no longer need to wonder what it’s like to be with me in every possible way. He’ll know everything I can offer him.
Well, everything I can afford to let matter. Everything he wouldn’t think is insane.
The slide of Byron’s mouth against mine sweeps aside any momentary doubts. He adjusts the angle of our kiss, his hand splaying across my jaw.
The sense of need resonates between us, but he’s taking control like the Byron I’ve always known, like he conquered his glim moments ago. His lips shift against mine with the most gradual, torturous movements, seeking out just the right slant and pressure to provoke a whimper from my throat.
He’s learning my reactions, mastering me like he has every subject he’s tackled at school, every challenge presented to him his whole life. He kisses me as if he won’t be done until I’m too weak-kneed to hold myself up, until I’m jelly in his hands.
I’m already halfway there. I wobble against him, and his other arm slips around my back, holding me steady.
My pulse hitches at the friction of the fabric against my scars, but they’re more a mottling of my skin tone than a change in texture. My matches have never noticed.
A rough sound escapes Byron. His mouth charts a heated course to my jaw and down my neck.
As he nuzzles the crook of my shoulder, his voice comes out ragged. “This is even better than I imagined. And I don’t want to tell you how many times I imagined it in the past few weeks.”
“I wanted it too,” I murmur. “When we sort of hooked up at The Eclipse, what really scared me was how close I came to kissing you right there.”
Byron’s chuckle scorches my skin. “Blazing the roof off the club with conjured lightning. I wonder if that would have gotten me kicked out?”
“Good thing we never had to find out.” I pull his face back to mine.
Every kiss makes my body sing more, but a deeper need has kindled low in my belly. My hips sway toward Byron’s, and he drops his hand to stroke it over my ass.
“This time, we’re going to do it right,” he mutters between kisses.
Without warning, he hefts me up by my thigh. His mouth collides with mine as he leans me up against the nearest tree trunk, supporting me with his hand and his powerful frame. The bulge behind his slacks presses against my pussy through my skirt.
I clutch at his hair and gasp. My hips cant toward him of their own accord, increasing the pressure.
Byron groans.
“Need to do this right,” he repeats, looking down at our interlocked bodies, my thighs splayed around his hips.
For a second, I think he’s simply appreciating the closeness between us. Then a tickle of shifting ephemera grazes my skin.
Vines sprout up around me, leaves grazing my skin. The cord-like plants wind around the tree trunk beneath me and twine together against my ass and the sides of my torso. Pale pink flowers blossom in their wake with a delicate honeyed fragrance.
In less than a minute, I’m perched on a woven, living throne. The vines flex against my weight when I adjust my position, the structure remains firmly in place.
Byron flashes a grin. “Now I can concentrate all my energy on making you feel incredible rather than holding you up.”
I can’t restrain a giggle. “No wonder you nabbed that number one rank. Got any other tricks up your sleeve, Mr. Worth?”
He mock-glowers at me before rubbing his thumb against his fingertips. “I am considering all the interesting effects a little electricity could have in moderation, when applied carefully… Maybe we can experiment sometime when I’m sure of my handle on my glim?”
A thrill that’s almost electric itself courses under my skin.
In the three years we spent as matches, my original Byron never made that provocative a suggestion. Because he’d had three years less training to bolster his confidence before he had to grapple with his glim?