Chapter 25 #3
Dahlia searched Talula’s face, looking as vulnerable, hopeful, and terrified as Talula felt. This woman. This beautiful, brave, brilliant woman.
What could Talula do but tell the truth?
“I am. I am scared,” she said, her voice as fragile as glass.
Dahlia reached out for Talula’s hands. “Tell me.”
“I like you. I like you so much.” And suddenly, Talula needed Dahlia to know that she wasn’t alone in her fear or her feelings.
She went on, in a heady desperate rush for Dahlia to understand.
“Ever since you walked into the café. I thought I was lucky to see you and talk to you once. But you kept coming back. And you kept being Dahlia. I couldn’t stop feeling so… big about you.”
And now Dahlia was beaming, grinning bigger than the waxing moon that hung over them. “You feel big about me?”
Big like a planet. Big like a galaxy. Big like a supernova exploding endlessly in Talula’s chest whenever Dahlia walked into the room.
“So big!” Talula stuttered. “I feel—I can’t—Dahlia, you don’t even know.”
But maybe Dahlia did know. Because suddenly she dropped Talula’s hands, gliding her palms up Talula’s forearms, until her fingers framed Talula’s awestruck face. She was closer than they’d ever been, her hair tickling Talula’s nose.
“Can I?”
Oh god, oh god.
“Please,” Talula practically moaned.
“I’ve wanted to do this”—Dahlia’s whisper was silk against Talula’s lips—“for so, so long.”
Then she kissed her.
Dahlia’s lips moved over Talula’s, savoring her with a slowness that made Talula ache.
Talula parted her mouth, anxious to get closer, to touch and to taste.
Talula found her hands on Dahlia’s waist, then her hips, her back, then the gorgeous fullness of her jeans.
Dahlia moaned when Talula gave a light squeeze.
Talula wanted to live in that sound, crawl inside it and die there.
Talula had never kissed like this before.
Like there was something she needed to tell Dahlia, needed to tell her with words and touch and skin on skin.
But she was terrified to look too closely at that urge, to think what that something might be, even as every inch of her begged to shape the first word.
Instead, she deepened the kiss, heat growing between her legs.
Dahlia met Talula’s intensity, mouth pressed harder, her teeth leaving quick stinging bites on Talula’s lower lip.
Talula slipped her tongue inside Dahlia’s mouth, making Dahlia moan deliciously.
Talula felt cool fingers in her hair, down her spine, then under her sweater, under her bra.
As Dahlia ran her thumb over the peaked flesh, Talula knew she would give Dahlia the air in her lungs, the blood in her heart, the secrets of the universe if she promised to never, ever stop—
Suddenly, something snapped in the dark—a tree branch falling, a windowpane creaking, a heavy door opening—and, startled, Talula jumped away from Dahlia. They stared at each other, panting, unraveled by touch and lust. But at that cold separation, Talula’s brain caught up to her.
Simon. The Volta. Her magic. Her mother. The hunters. Magical Destiny.
Dahlia must have read it on her face. “You’re still afraid, aren’t you?”
“I don’t want to be,” Talula said, out of breath. “Things are complicated for me right now.”
“Your mom and Samhain.”
And so much more. It was starting to suffocate Talula the more she thought about it. “I don’t want to screw anything up. Especially not with you.”
“You won’t.” Dahlia gave Talula a lopsided smile. “You know where I stand now. And you know I want to be in your life however you’ll have me.”
Talula ran a hand over her mussed hair. “So what do we do now?”
“Here’s the plan,” Dahlia said softly. “Figure out your complications. Figure out your fear. And when you do, you let me know, and I’ll come running. Just promise you won’t run from this, not yet. Okay?”
Talula shook her head. “I’m not worth waiting for.”
“You’re worth the world, Talula.” Dahlia chuckled. “But I’m not going to make the wait easy on you.”
Talula frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean”—Dahlia leaned into Talula’s ear, dragging her mouth down the ridge to nip at her lobe—“the next time I see you, you’re going to know I’m thinking of my lips and all the places they want to go.”
When Dahlia pulled her mouth away, Talula almost fell down. Then Dahlia threw her arms around Talula’s neck. Talula hugged her back, letting out a sigh.
Slowly, they broke apart.
Talula stood in the cold, watching Dahlia slide into her car.
Talula pressed her hand to the passenger window, her heart full.
Dahlia leaned over the center console. She laid her hand palm-to-palm with Talula’s through the glass.
They smiled at each other for a moment; eventually, almost painfully, Talula pulled her hand back and walked up the stairs.
As she closed the front door behind her, she caught a glimpse of the street.
Dahlia was still there, idling in her bright red car, hand still pressed to the glass.