Chapter Thirteen #3
As always, he’s there to save her. “Forever is a double edged sword. It allows us all the time we need to change. In the same breath, it allows the opportunity for our fears to be justified again, and again, and again.” He shakes his head, empathy curling, soft and warm, in his gaze.
“I do not fault you for fearing the kind of treatment the world has already proven itself capable of. I only suggest that you are above their insipid opinions.”
Laughter sharpens her exhale and she leans back to look at him fully. “You always know what to say.”
“Only because I know your heart as well as my own,” he murmurs, a promise and a prayer.
“I see your scars. I know where you hurt.” His eyes drop to her right hand, thumb stroking her knuckles and pausing over her scarred flesh.
He swallows, shakes his head, before lifting his gaze.
There’s a determination in the firm set of his jaw. “I don’t need magic to see you.”
Anna’s breath leaves her, chest aching. She knows the words are as much for himself as they are for her. A reminder that the bond they share is one that goes beyond magic peaches and rings of blood and bone.
There is so much powder in the air, it’s as if a fog of color has settled over the narrow streets.
Khiran steers her through the chaos, keeping them off to the side and towards a stall.
A few people watch them, as if considering whether they’re out to celebrate or simply go about their business.
Anna suspects they wouldn’t have hesitated if they weren’t clearly foreigners.
Khiran reaches into his pocket, fishing for some rupees their host provided along with their other necessities as he trades words with the vendor.
The older gentleman’s face is lined with days spent under the sun, evidence of a life of laughter lining his eyes.
When he sees her hovering at Khiran’s elbow, the friendliness of his smile dims. Anna can feel his gaze dropping to the exposed skin of her arms.
Anna stills, fighting the urge to flinch away.
The merchant says something as a bag of colored powder and rupees exchange hands. The twitch in Khiran’s jaw and the man’s continued blatant stare means she doesn’t need to know Hindi to know that she’s the subject. She swallows, throat dry. “What did he say?”
“He said his sister has your condition; that you’re brave to show it.”
It’s meant as a compliment. There’s no disgust in the merchant’s gaze, but Anna can’t help but feel the sting of it. Wearing her skin shouldn’t be an act of bravery—shouldn’t be an obstacle to overcome—but it is. It still is.
She holds the man’s gaze and gives a silent nod in acknowledgement. Bitterness sits on her tongue, tar-thick. Any words she says now will be coated in it.
Khiran offers some parting words that sound neutral to even her ears, before leading her away. Long, tapered fingers open the bag, his fingertips coming back red as he coaxes her left hand into an empty cradle and tipping the bag until she holds a pyramid of red powder in her palms.
Anna takes a pinch of powder, feels how fine it is between her fingers.
When she looks up, Khiran paints her cheek in red.
For a moment, she merely gapes at him, but the crooked smile he wears is as infectious as the energy around them.
He leans toward her, tipping his chin in offering. Anna’s answering smile is blinding.
Her fingers drag across his face—smearing the red powder from his brow down to his chin and delighting in the way his eyes spark.
In her chest, all the worry and fear she had been carrying the past week unravels, and she gives a shriek as he dumps a fistful of color over her head.
She retaliates by throwing what’s left in her hand at his chest. It’s all the invitation the locals seem to need before Anna and Khiran are bathed in color from strangers’ hands.
Anna is surrounded by smiles, by shouted bursts of laughter and colors so bright she feels like her world up until that point was seen behind tinted glasses.
It’s so overwhelmingly wonderful. Her cheeks ache with the force of her smiles and as a handful of blue powder dusts the side of her head and neck, she laughs.
A true laugh. The kind that rises from her chest like it’s a living, breathing thing.
The kind that begins and has no expiration, because even when there’s no more air in her lungs she can still feel it in her heart.
She laughs like they didn’t nearly lose everything.
Like their future isn’t still uncertain.
Anna laughs, because in the narrow streets of Delhi, she feels like the festival is doing more than celebrating new beginnings; it’s creating them.
She turns to Khiran, to see if he knows—to see if he feels it too—but his expression catches her off guard. His pupils are blown wide, swallowing the blue. When he reaches for her hand, fingertips tracing the lines of her palm, the touch feels charged. Electric. “You’re beautiful.”
Breathless, she smiles. “Is that what you’re thinking?”
“More or less.” His gaze dips lower, to her lips. “I’m afraid the rest is not suitable for public.”
It’s a statement, but all Anna hears is the unspoken promise in it. “Maybe we should go somewhere more private, then?”
The grip he has on her hand tightens, before he releases her to reach for her face. When his thumb traces the ridge of her cheek, powder in his touch, his eyes follow the motion as if he’s under a spell.
Pulse fluttering, she holds his stare. There’s something in his expression—something too weighted for a festival of light and laughter. “What’s wrong?”
The muscles in his throat work as he swallows, gaze dropping to her lips. Then his hand drops from her cheek, tracing the inside of her arm before lacing their fingers. “Come with me?”
There’s a question in the request, which is ridiculous. She would follow him into the fire if only it meant staying by his side. “Anywhere.” The word holds the weight of a promise despite how softly it leaves her.
He squeezes her hand, leading her into the twisting side alleys. It’s only when they find themselves alone that he stops. Anna’s lips part, ready to pry, when he turns and silences her before the first word can escape.
His hands tangle in her hair, his lips slanting over hers with a hunger that arouses her own. Anna can taste the tart edge of the hibiscus coloring the holi powder in his kiss, but she’s too hungry for him to care.
“I wasn’t prepared,” he breathes, teeth dragging over her lower lip. His hand glides over her skin, fingers fanning over her waist. A trail of color follows his touch, the powder from his hands mapping her body like breadcrumbs.
Anna gasps into his mouth, fingers clutching the fabric of his kurta. She can feel his heartbeat thundering beneath her closed fist. “Prepared for what?”
“To see you in full color,” he breathes, the words an aching sigh against her lips.
His hand cups the back of her neck, fingertips threading through her hair.
“To watch you experience something beautiful and new. I want to show you every corner this world has to offer and watch your face light up in wonder.” His forehead touches hers, noses brushing. “I want more time, Anna.”
She understands—oh does she understand. Because she has lived more lifetimes than any mortal could dream, but today has reminded her that there is still so much left for her to see. To experience. She has lived for centuries, but the years they’ve had together feel so heartbreakingly short.
Anna also wants more time. Needs it the same way she needs air to breathe.
She kisses him, the burning in her heart transforming from want to need. “Me too,” she murmurs, the words so heavy she feels like she could break beneath them. “I want that, too.”
Her back meets limestone, his body pressing against her and drawing a whimper from her throat as he traces her bottom lip with his tongue.
“I want to watch your face as you discover the northern lights—watch the way it reflects in your eyes as colors move across the sky,” he breathes, moving to the line of her jaw, a gentle torment as his words brush over her pulse.
“I want to watch you crane your pretty neck trying to catch a glimpse of where the waters of Kerepakupai Vená start and the clouds end.”
Anna swallows, eyes dark and nerves thrumming beneath his touch. “So take me,” she whispers, a dare and a promise. She doesn’t need to be seduced, but his touch and his words are doing a fine job of it. There is a humming beneath her skin, a warmth settling so low she aches.
A storm is building, darkening eyes, electricity in his smile. She can feel it traveling between them, an invisible heat that courses through her with the barest of touch.
A chorus of giggles is all it takes for the heat in her veins to change from hunger to embarrassment. Three young girls, no older than thirteen, peer at them from around the corner, laughing behind their hands. Anna hides her flushed face in Khiran’s chest.
He laughs under his breath, his lips so close to her ear she can feel the heat of it.
“It seems we’ve gained an audience.” He pulls away from her, his hand sliding from her hair, fingertips a whisper against her jaw.
He brings the hand to his chest, facing their onlookers and addressing them in Hindi.
The girls squeal, equal parts embarrassed and delighted that he knows the language, before scampering off.
Anna raises a brow. “What did you say?”
His grin is crooked at the corners. “Only an apology and that your beauty overcame me. I find that charm does wonders when it comes to avoiding trouble.”
She hums. “Particularly when you’re the one causing it, I imagine?” She hasn’t been blind to the looks they’ve been receiving. Even their holding of hands seems to have attracted some disapproving looks. Anna imagines being caught kissing in public would be met with an unwelcome response.