Chapter 15 #2
Legs unsteady, I dump my pack and sink to the ground beside him.
We’re away from the wiggling pile of bodies here, the willow tree blocking our view of most of them.
Clouds continue to swell above, darkening our corner of the clearing further, but Astin’s face is illuminated by the flickering purple glow from the nearby lanterns.
He sighs. ‘We’re never going to lug the statue out of the maze, but at least we’re out the way of the other competitors. We can try to figure out how to open it undisturbed.’
I’m barely listening. My fingers inch across the grass, wanting to lace themselves with his. ‘Right. And if we can’t work it out?’
‘Then we’ll find the items we need elsewhere.’ He nods resolutely. My fingers are so close to his now, and I can tell he’s noticed. His whole body is tense, shoulders strained, and although he’s yet to turn away from the statue, I’m sure that’s not where his focus is.
Our hands touch.
The moment I feel his skin, I’m hit with another surge of desire, one that tells me to forget about the statue and instead to take everything I want, to mount him right now, to burn the rest of his clothes, to kiss him –
No.
Oh no.
The pounding in my head intensifies as two parts of me go into battle. Every thump of my temple is the beat of a war drum, one side warning me I cannot do this and the other side, the one fuelled by the powder, that says, But think how good it would feel.
I push his arm, like if I can shove him far enough away, the thoughts will stop. ‘I’m going to kill you.’
‘If you don’t, this situation might,’ he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. This is unfortunate because it draws my attention to his lips, aka the things I must avoid at all costs.
‘I’m serious, Astin.’ He’s finally looking at me, except now I wish he wouldn’t, not when his stare implies he’s stumbled upon an oasis in a sand-streaked desert and wants to drink from its depths.
‘I have a lot of urges and they all involve doing things to you that end with you dead on the ground.’
‘I love it when you talk dirty to me.’ He tugs on the hem of his shirt. I hope he’s not planning on removing it. Well. The sensible half of my brain hopes that, because it knows how the addled half will respond if he does. ‘It’s fine. I can control it.’
Good for him. I’m not sure I can.
‘It’s fine,’ he repeats, although now I’m not sure which of us he’s trying to convince. ‘Once it’s worn off, we can pretend this never happened.’
Well, he is good at that. As soon as we’re out of here, he’ll add mazes to the list of things we don’t speak about, along with bed sharing and dancing.
‘I thought this was supposed to be a festival of love, anyway.’ He runs a hand through his hair and it comes away dusted with lust powder. He glares at the substance mistrustfully. ‘Not whatever this is.’
Well, they couldn’t ask a Souleater to make love powder out of dark magic. I’ve never been sure how they create lust powder, honestly, because nothing about this feeling seems dark to me, apart from the fact that I, personally, can’t do anything about it. Everybody else is having a lovely time.
As if on cue, some of the clearing’s other occupants moan loudly. I let out my own sigh, but this one is bred of pure envy, not lust.
‘I want to do what they’re doing,’ I whine, lying back. My head thwacks against the grass, sending the war drums rattling around my skull. ‘Ow.’
‘Focus, Dais.’ Astin crawls towards me, which is unexpected in itself, and then he lowers himself on top of me.
I have no idea what this is going to achieve.
I wriggle, but all this does is increase my awareness of his weight on me, the press of his hips against mine, the press of something else, something heavy, against my middle.
I gasp. ‘Astin . . .’
He shifts, which does little to refocus my mind from what I just felt. ‘Stop moving. This way you can’t go off and kiss anyone.’
‘That doesn’t help, because the only person I want to kiss here is you.’
We both freeze at the same time. It appears my ability to keep my secrets got lowered along with my inhibitions.
My words shouldn’t be a surprise after my jacket-removing behaviour, but something about admitting he’s the only person I want adds a layer of vulnerability to the situation, like the words have cracked open a piece of my chest and allowed him to see the word Astin woven into my heart.
‘Because of my tolerance, I mean. I know you better than them. That’s all.
It’s not that I’d want to . . . I’ve never .
. . Under normal circumstances I would not.
Not with you. Obviously.’ I cut myself off before I can say anything else inherently stupid.
I suspect my babbling hasn’t improved the situation.
‘Right,’ he says, utterly disbelieving.
I wriggle again. ‘This position isn’t a good idea.’
‘Is there one you prefer?’
‘Astin.’ I lightly smack his arm. ‘You can’t keep doing this. You can’t go around talking to me about positions and act like you didn’t the next morning.’
He frowns. ‘I have never done that before.’
‘No, but you danced with me like . . .’ I huff. ‘It doesn’t matter. All I’m saying is, I think about these things more than you do, and it’s not fair.’
His eyes search mine, his brow still furrowed. I’m aware of every point our bodies touch; that, in actual fact, I like this position too much.
‘Dais . . .’ His voice is hoarse. ‘If I let myself think about that dance, I won’t stop thinking about it.
And I can’t afford to do that.’ Before I can ask why, his thumb skims the side of my face before coming to rest on my lower lip.
‘The same way I can’t think about your hex, and all the things it stops us doing. ’
I suck in a breath. ‘You don’t mean that.’
‘Don’t I?’ He parts my lips, and I flick out my tongue to taste the salt and sweat on his skin. ‘As soon as you told me, my first thought was how I’ll never get to . . .’
He presses his mouth to my cheek. A fleeting touch that leaves me breathless, light-headed.
I grip the ends of his shirt, twisting the fabric, arching my body into him, greedy for all the contact I can get, even with the knowledge this is dangerous.
Letting his thumb near my lips was stupid and reckless, because I’ve no idea what will trigger my hex, but apparently the moment Astin starts thinking about things, he starts doing them, because he’s not stopping, his mouth trailing along my jaw and finding a sensitive patch of skin beneath my ear.
He places another kiss there, sending shivers down my spine.
‘Astin, you shouldn’t . . .’ I have to force the words out, partly because I’m struggling for air and partly because I don’t want to say them at all. I’m denying myself everything I want. ‘You said you weren’t affected.’
‘I said I could control it,’ he corrects me. ‘Not that I’m not . . . In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have an urge to go after anyone else in this maze either. Just you.’
‘Just me,’ I echo.
‘Just you.’
Oh. Oh.
We stare at one another. Exhilaration rushes through me. I was right. We have both built up an immunity, and now the powder is only able to find long-felt feelings buried beneath and raise them to the surface. A wave of joy rises in my chest, because Astin feels the same as I do.
And it changes nothing.
The wave is knocked to shore, crumpling in on itself with the realisation it’s meaningless. In fact, knowing he feels this way makes it worse, because he’s here in my grasp, and I still can’t have him.
‘You’ve stopped smiling,’ he whispers. ‘I wish you wouldn’t. When you smile, it’s like . . . time stops.’
I need him to stop. To stop talking, to stop dangling the carrot.
I’m a Souleater. I’m everything he hates.
I’m hexed to kill anyone I kiss. We’re supposed to be finding a way to open the statue.
This shouldn’t be happening for a multitude of reasons, and yet I find myself holding him tighter, like if I can clutch him close enough, I can be his shield from all the parts of me I don’t want him to see.