Chapter 22 #4
Quick steps took Nic to his rooms, though he glanced back a dozen times. Nothing seemed to follow, yet still his heart thundered in his throat as he pushed the door open to be met with the cheerful glow of a banked fire.
“Nic?”
Nic spun, panic spiking, but it was just Dashiell approaching in his small sphere of lantern light. “It’s just me,” he said, raising a hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“That’s all right.” Nic leaned back against the doorframe and pressed a hand over his thundering heart. “I saw that ghost again, and idiot that I am, I thought chasing it was both wise and possible.” He forced out a slightly manic laugh. “Did you come because you heard me shouting at it?”
“Yes. No. I mean yes, but I had already turned back to come after you.”
In the wake of such an admission, Nic’s heartbeat went on racing for a whole different reason.
“Can I come in?” Dashiell added when Nic just stared. “I… I was hoping we could talk.”
“Talk. Right. Of course.” Nic pushed his door wide and led the way inside, the disappearing figure of mere moments before all but forgotten as Dashiell followed.
“Sorry,” Nic added when the vowsmith closed the door behind them. “I haven’t had a chance to light any candles yet.”
“Good thing I still have the lantern then.” He set it on the side table and fixed Nic with a long intent stare.
Nic swallowed. “What… what was it you wanted to talk about?”
“It’s… I’ve been thinking. About us. A lot, really, and since I promised to make no decisions about us without—God, why is this so difficult?
” Dashiell ran his hand back to front through his hair, making a beautiful mess.
“Look, Nic, I know we don’t have a future, but with our days together running out, I find I would rather have something now than nothing ever. ”
Nic stared, his breath suspended as Dashiell hurried on, all nerves.
“I know your father—and you!—desperately need this contract to go ahead, so I understand if you dare not risk anything for fear of it foundering on our indiscretion… God knows I have tried to tell myself this is madness, but I cannot stop thinking about you. I cannot stop thinking about how much I will regret my silence when it is too late, because this is the only time in my life I will ever be able to call you mine.”
The words hung between them—beautiful words Nic wanted to fold up and tuck into his heart, wanted to shred and consume over and over. He had been thinking the same thing for days, and now here Dashiell stood, asking permission like the risk was Nic’s alone.
“Dash.” His name came out a whisper. “If anyone finds out, you could lose your job. You could be excommunicated from the guild. Are a few days with me really worth that risk?”
“Yes.”
He answered quickly, and when Nic hunted Dashiell’s face he found no sign of disquiet, only a fierce gaze that went on meeting his and stealing his breath. And Nic could no more have turned him away than have flown.
“Then perhaps you should lock the door.”
A smile flickered across Dashiell’s face, owning a mischievous twinkle.
“Shall I take that as a yes?”
“Yes, but…” Nic stepped close in the lantern light, the very sight of Dashiell standing there wanting him filling his heart to bursting.
Leaving the words hanging, Nic brushed back a stray lock of the vowsmith’s hair, before sliding his hand gently down to cup his cheek.
Eyes half closed, Dashiell turned against his hand, leaving his breath to dance over Nic’s wrist—quick, sharp breaths full of tense anticipation.
For days they had been holding themselves apart, clinging to their armour, but this was a chance for something else, something more.
Something they both knew would add extra hurt to their parting.
“Stay with me tonight,” Nic whispered, shifting his hand to nuzzle against Dashiell’s cheek. “No fuck and done this time. Let’s just pretend that everything we want is possible.”
“I like the sound of that,” Dashiell murmured back, a rough edge to his voice. “That everything we want is possible. I can do that.”
He sounded sure, but the gaze that met Nic’s held a hint of shyness, of wariness, as though some part of him was afraid of all he wanted.
Yet he leaned in and brushed his nose to Nic’s.
Granting permission or seeking it, Nic wasn’t sure, but that caring little gesture was so very Dashiell that his heart swelled, love overflowing.
Nic kissed him then. And having kissed him once, kissed him again, pushing him gently back against the door and earning a groan that vibrated down his throat.
Nic pressed against him, wanting every part of his body to touch and be touched, to fit perfectly against Dashiell like they were made to be.
Like a key to a lock, some final hesitance Dashiell had been carrying seemed to shatter then and he gripped Nic’s face, kissing him like it was the last time they would see one another, like one of them wouldn’t survive the night.
Under the force of it, Nic felt drunk. Reckless.
Alive. But although they could pretend what they wanted was possible, could steal what time they could, one way or another it would soon run out.