Chapter 26 #2
‘Don’t. You’re already doing it, see? I know your face.’ Despite everything he’s said, he steps back into my space and trails his finger down my jaw. ‘I know every expression you make, every thought in your head, because I know you. Which is how I know what I’m offering would never be enough.’
‘Shouldn’t I get to decide that? Besides –’ I flatten my palm over his chest once more, and it heaves beneath my touch, like his lungs will beat if his heart won’t. ‘Magic, remember? You said it yourself. And what is love if not a kind of magic? It’s the strongest emotion of all.’
He shakes his head. ‘Stop it. Stop. Ever since I got hexed, there’s been this . . . emptiness in me. Something in me broke that day. I don’t expect you to understand, but I need you to accept it.’
No. I won’t. His emotions are riotous, clouding the room with conflicting scents, but they’re there, nevertheless. I think of Damian, and how difficult it was to find an emotion within him at all.
‘I have touched someone who feels nothing, and believe me, Astin, you aren’t the same.
The only reason you feel empty is because you won’t let anything in.
But that’s not because you’re incapable of feeling.
You wouldn’t be mourning your sister if you didn’t love her.
You wouldn’t have sought revenge if you didn’t love her.
The only reason it hurts is because you love her.
And if you can love your sister then you can love . . .’
My voice threatens to crack.
I take a deep breath before continuing. ‘You’re not broken.
You never were. You’re just afraid of being hurt again.
If you tell yourself you can’t feel anything, it means you’ll never lose anyone else you care about.
But you can feel, Astin. You might not have a heart, but you have proven time and time again that you are not heartless.
One day, that empty space in your chest will be flooded with –’
An empty space or a place to fill, an empty thing is hard to kill.
I freeze. Eira’s words, from the day she met Astin, finally return to me in full clarity. Along with the ones she said to me, about my hex:
Poisoned mouth, poisoned dart, a poisoned kiss will stop a heart.
The coroner declared Michael dead from heart failure. They thought it was trauma from the attack. Only I’d felt the shocked gasp against my lips, the slow of his pulse as I pulled away.
‘Daisy . . .’ Astin peers at me. ‘You’ve gone pale. What is it?’
My kiss stops hearts. Astin doesn’t have one.
If I told you the truth, you’d have started looking for loopholes.
My kiss stops hearts. Astin doesn’t have one. He’s my loophole. He’s my –
‘You’re mine,’ I whisper. ‘You’re mine.’
He blinks. ‘What?’
‘My kiss kills by stopping someone’s heart.
But if you don’t have one . . .’ It’s not possible.
It shouldn’t be possible. But a part of me is reawakening, the part that fell silent over the past few days, as it witnessed horror after horror, that says of course it’s possible.
And of course it’s him. Because no matter how much darkness there is in the world, there’s always a light to be found if you can find the goodness to strike the match. ‘You’re my loophole.’
Astin’s gaze roams over my face, before dropping to my mouth. His throat bobs. ‘You think I could kiss you and survive?’
‘Maybe,’ I say.
He licks his lips. ‘I shouldn’t.’
‘No, of course not,’ I say, a tad breathily. I’m having trouble looking away from the glimmer of wet his tongue left behind. ‘I might be wrong. Or I could destroy another important organ instead.’
‘Hopefully not too important.’ The corner of his mouth lifts.
I’m developing an obsession with it. I may never look away again.
His upper lip is plush, perfectly heart-shaped.
I want to suck it between my teeth. He clears his throat – probably an attempt to drag my attention to something other than his mouth, but that just diverts my attention to other interesting parts of his body.
I could kiss it all. Run my tongue along the faint line of stubble along his chin, his neck, his –
‘I meant,’ Astin clarifies loudly, cupping my chin and forcing me to tear my gaze from his mouth. ‘I meant, because we don’t know if you’re right about me. What if I feel empty forever? What if I’m never able to say those three little words to you?’
‘Then I’ll say them twice over to you,’ I reply.
‘I thought you were dead, Astin. I thought you were dead and my whole world stopped. I don’t want a life without you in it.
I don’t need you to say those words because I have enough love for both of us.
Just please never get yourself attacked again because I can’t stand it, I can’t lose you, I –’ I shudder.
Our gazes remain locked, but there’s a wildness in his I’ve never seen before, a wind rushing through the ocean blue of his eyes until the waves are rippling, storming, rising higher and higher, desperate to crash to shore.
‘We need to be sure it’s safe,’ I finish. ‘We should do . . . research. Yes. We can –’
‘Daisy.’ He leans closer. Our mouths are inches apart.
My heart does several somersaults in rapid succession.
This is the part where I should move away.
Far, far away. Leave the room, even. But his hands are trailing a path up my arms, his nose nudging mine as he moves closer, our lips almost grazing as he whispers, ‘I’ll risk it. ’
My gasp of protest is silenced as his mouth presses against mine.
He tastes like he smells: all pine and musk, with an underlying hint of spice that intensifies as the kiss deepens.
We’re gentle sparks finally catching alight, every move of his mouth igniting a fresh ember, every sweep of his tongue awakening something that’s slumbered too long.
I should be out of practice, a swimmer who hasn’t been in the water for years, but there’s a familiarity to Astin that makes it easy to kick my feet and dive straight in.
My fingers trace over the softness of his shirt, before moving upwards, grazing over a faint cut on his chin where he always nicks himself shaving. My body melts into his embrace, like it’s already memorised every curve, every outline, and has melded itself to fit.
He backs against the bed, tugging me on to his lap. I straddle his hips as he breaks the kiss to press his mouth against the side of my face, peppering kisses down my neck, my shoulders, pushing my blouse aside with his nose, fingers tightening on my waist as he inhales my scent and groans.
The sound tears through my euphoria.
I pull back, eyes wide, assessing him for damage, for a sign that groan was for something beyond pleasure. His mouth is swollen; his shirt is askew. The ends of his hair stick up at strange angles. But he’s breathing. ‘Are you okay?’ I ask. ‘Does anything hurt? Is everything working?’
He pulls me against him, allowing me to feel a part that’s definitely working. ‘All organs present and intact.’
I poke his arm, too giddy and light-headed to put any weight behind my rebuke. ‘I can’t believe you’re joking right now. That was reckless. You could have died.’
‘Would have been worth it.’ His smile is soft, but there’s a heat in his eyes that’s anything but gentle, a simmering want I’m sure is mirrored in my own. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear before kissing me again, slowly this time, leisurely, like I’m a delicious morsel he wants to savour.
My fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt, making me huff with impatience when they refuse to come undone fast enough, and he laughs against my mouth as he slides his hand under my blouse.
‘Are you sure about this?’ he murmurs.
‘Unequivocally sure.’
He studies me as though expecting to see reservation there, some sign that what he’s offering isn’t enough, but it is.
I don’t care what he thinks he can or can’t feel or say, because his actions have proven time and time again that he cares.
He came on this trip to save our home. He returned to me after he found out I was the creature he hated most. He’s here now, instead of chasing after Damian or Eira on some mission of revenge, because he deemed me more important.
Once he’s decided to believe me, his eyes darken. ‘Then take off your clothes and lie on the bed.’
‘I should have known you’d be bossy.’
He smirks, pinching my elbow, lightly enough it doesn’t truly hurt, but with enough force a zing shoots through me, one that sends heat flooding between my legs. ‘Do it, Daisy.’
The low growl in his voice has my legs quivering when I rise, turning my back on him.
I peel off my blouse quickly, peeking over my shoulder to find Astin standing behind me, spice and hot honey drifting from him as he takes in the sight of my bare skin.
I swallow as his chest presses against my spine, like he’s already regretting his own instructions, his fingers pushing mine aside as he dips a finger beneath the waistband of my skirt.
That one stroke has me arching against him. Tugging his shirt, I say, ‘Don’t you have some catching up to do?’
He nips the shell of my ear. ‘Now who’s being bossy?’
I grin as I shimmy out of my skirt, quickly followed by my underwear.
For once, Astin doesn’t comment about the mess, or make any attempt to fix it.
Turns out the one thing he likes more than the sight of a neat, colour co-ordinated pile, is me hopping naked on to a bed and kneeling before him.
I make a mental note to utilise this fact at every available opportunity.
I bet he’d let me un-alphabetise the spices in the kitchen if I asked.
He tosses his jacket into the pile. The shirt he wears beneath is so saturated with blood it has to be peeled off, and he can’t hide his wince, the same way I can’t hide my gasp at the sight of three claw marks sliced into his chest. They are, in no way, a scratch.
He looks like he got in a fight with a savage wolf.
‘It’s not that bad,’ he protests.