Rising Temperatures #2
He looks back up, slower this time. Lingering in a way that sends a shiver up my spine.
“Well?” I ask. I can’t stand the silence.
“They’re beautiful.”
My hands still against my leg.
Beautiful.
We’ve gone from strange and impractical to beautiful.
I search Kyros for any sign that he’s teasing me, but he isn’t built for teasing. Not this kind, anyway. Besides, there’s nothing playful in his expression. Nothing light.
“You can touch them,” I blurt out. “If you want.”
I want to fling my head against the wall the second the words leave my mouth.
“Sadie…” Kyros shuts his eyes, bubbles erupting from his nose. “You don’t mean that.”
I should agree with him. I should say that I’ve suffered a temporary lapse of judgment brought on by cave air and red pollen. He just might believe me.
“I do,” I say instead.
Kyros scans my face, then inches forward, moving like a man approaching a live weapon. He reaches for me, then stops with his hand hovering just above my knee.
I nod, silently giving permission.
His hand settles against my skin. Fingers curl around my leg.
Every thought in my head vanishes.
Kyros has a warm palm. Warmer than the water. His fingers spread slightly, heavy and rough, and his callouses gently scratch against my skin as he drags his hand up my leg. He moves slowly. So slowly, I have no choice but to feel every inch of his touch.
I grow taut when he reaches the skin just above my knee.
Kyros pauses, his gaze lifting to mine. Asking.
I should stop this, but instead, I nod, giving him permission to continue.
His hand moves over the shape of my thigh with an attention so focused, it borders on reverent. It’s like he’s memorizing me, learning something sacred instead of merely strange.
I don’t know how to feel about my pounding pulse or the way my skin feels too tight all of a sudden. I especially don’t know how to feel about the fact that I’m holding perfectly still. I want him to keep going.
Kyros killed my dad. Killed Tipper.
Probably even sunk our boat.
The thoughts are cutting, but it’s too late. My body has already betrayed me. It’s already leaning into Kyros’s hand.
His thumb brushes the sensitive skin behind my knee, and I draw in a shaky breath.
It’s impossible to pretend this is innocent.
Crimson veining shoots up Kyros’s hands, spreading up his arms and over his shoulders.
Then his ribcage pulsates with mirroring flashes.
It’s enough to break him from his stupor.
He pulls away and looks upward, staring at the ceiling for a long second, before meeting my gaze.
His face is pinched, almost as if he’s in pain.
“Your turn.” He shifts his tail toward me. “Go.”
I can’t help but laugh, the noise erupting from me without permission. Kyros is just so…Kyros. I’ve never met anybody like him.
My laughter settles as I shift my attention to his tail.
Up close, it’s even more unreal. The scales overlap in smooth, gleaming rows, each one faintly darker than the last. There are scars, too—thin, silver lines hidden among the crimson. I hadn’t noticed them before.
“What happened here?” I ask.
Kyros shrugs. “I protect my pod, no matter the cost.”
Ominous. I reach out to touch, then pause.
Kyros gives me a small nod.
My fingertips brush the side of his tail, and the soft fins layered near his hips twitch. His tail is sensitive. I settle my hand more firmly against him.
Kyros grunts.
Very sensitive.
The scales are smoother than I expected. They’re cool at first touch, but they warm quickly beneath my palm. Dense muscle shifts underneath them, startlingly powerful and alive. I drag my hand a little farther, tracing the line of one scar before I can stop myself.
Kyros sucks in a hard breath. There’s no mistaking the look on his face now. He wants me.
I should let go. Instead, my fingers move against him, following the curve of his tail.
Kyros squeezes his eyes shut and slams his hand against the wall beside my head, the stone cracking beneath his palm.
“Sadie…” His voice is ragged.
Red flares again, uncontrollable and bright. It lights up the jagged cuts of rock that make up this small cavern, briefly illuminating the room.
I stare at the front of his tail.
Where is it? He has to have one.
I want to see it.
I want to touch it.
I pull away, reality rushing in so fast, it makes me dizzy. What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve lost my wits. Horror crawls up my spine, and I kick out with my legs in an attempt to dart away.
“I—” I start.
Kyros turns from me, putting distance between us before I can finish. His tail lashes hard enough to stir the water between us, and one hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck.
He doesn’t look at me.
Good.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” I say.
Kyros remains facing away. “No.”
I press my lips together, anger and shame twisting into something ugly. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know.”
We fall silent.
I stare at Kyros’s back, at the rigid line of his shoulders and the aggressive way he rubs the back of his neck.
“You killed my father,” I say.
Kyros flinches, his head lowering. “Yes.”
The sight of his regret should satisfy me—at least a little. It doesn’t.
My throat tightens. “I hate you.”
“As you should.”
I don’t know what to do with myself, so I turn away and stare at the cave wall. My chest feels too tight, and my skin is too warm. Everything inside me feels wrong.
Kyros is the first to speak. “I think your legs are prettier than my tail,” he admits. “But still impractical.”
I laugh. It’s loud and uncontrollable, but it’s exactly what I needed.
I turn toward Kyros. He’s plastered himself against the far wall again, his crimson tail curled tightly beneath him.
He thinks my legs are pretty.
Something warm blooms in my chest. I refuse to let the emotion surface.
The compliment shouldn’t matter. It definitely shouldn’t matter coming from Kyros. I’m going to destroy the siphon. Then I’m going to return home. I’ll forget the Tideborn—Kyros included—ever existed.