CHAPTER 15 #3
“Oh.” I looked down, stretching my feet, but feeling nothing but the liquid abyss. “I can’t reach your ledge.”
“That’s fine. It’s not for you.” He smirked. “You will swim or hold on to me like this.”
His hands were soft on my waist.
Maybe it was the fear of drowning, or I was just past any embarrassment at that point, but his taunting didn’t get to me. My breathing was already ragged, and my skin was flushed from the minor exercise.
I responded as flatly as I could, “Of course. Why would you be nice like that?” His eyes glowed with amusement. “Are you going to teach me or not?”
He glanced down at my leg, lifting his chin in a quick nod. “You need to practise kicking your legs and moving your arms. But I think you should learn to float first. It’s helpful if you get tired and need to pause. Lie down on your back.”
“I will sink again.”
He sensed my trepidation. “Take a deep breath. How does the Quintessence feel?”
Reckless. Daft idea.
I breathed in and exhaled until I felt the tension ease from my shoulders. My attention shifted to the warm liquid enfolding us, pointedly avoiding the hard chest I was pressed against. There was a milky texture to it, thicker than water, smoothing my skin and loosening my muscles.
“It’s relaxing.”
Reagan’s voice was low and soft as he said, “Yes, it is. Now lie down on your back.”
I followed the instructions, lying down until my body was half submerged in the liquid, facing the flickering lights of the stone ceiling above us.
“Good. Now try to relax and loosen your body.” He guided me, and I did my best, but this was not relaxing anymore. “I’ll remove my hands, and you have to try to keep your weight distributed. Keep your arms and legs spread.”
When he withdrew, my body began to sink. “Again,” he said, pushing my lower back to the surface.
I concentrated on opening my arms, arching my back, but my legs were still lowering.
“Good effort. Remember to breathe, Jane.”
I kept trying as his hands steadied me from below, gradually finding my balance, my heartbeat settling. My gaze drifted to the stone ceiling again, where shifting reflections danced across the surface.
The water lapped gently over my ears, the sound alternating between a soft rush and absolute silence.
This was so peaceful. There were no pools, no sea, no body of water in Ehrfurt where I could have even tried this. We talked sometimes about travelling to a coastal city to see the ocean, but we never did.
A smile crept onto my face as I allowed my eyes to close.
I was floating, my body weightless, still feeling steady hands touch me now and then. Reagan was silent for a while, and I opened my eyes to find him gazing at something.
At me. His eyes drank me in. Unhurriedly, from the bare expanse of my skin to the sheer fabric clinging to my body. To him, I must have looked like a platter of easy prey.
Hungry, icy blue eyes met mine.
I raised my head, my body sinking beneath the water again as I wondered when I had decided to let my guard down.
After floating, he showed me how to kick my legs and move my arms, and I followed his guidance, concentrating on the movements until I was keeping myself above water.
He ditched the ledge and began swimming around me.
I watched how he propelled his body forward, just repeating almost the same movement I was.
I replicated it, swimming from one side to the other, improving as I went, stopping to float from time to time to relax the burning coming from my lazy muscles. By the time my arms and legs became too weary, I was panting.
“I think I’ve had enough swimming,” I said, breathless.
“Already?” Reagan asked, but extended his hand, helping me grip it as he guided us to the edge of the pool. I stood with my back against the smooth stone, and he was in front of me.
“Put your feet down,” he asked.
I did, finding a solid, smooth surface to steady myself, my muscles thankful for the pause.
“This was exhausting. Nice but exhausting,” I mumbled, tilting my head back and letting my wet hair spill into the water.
His chest was half out of the Quintessence while I was submerged up to my neck. We were probably on the same ledge now.
I caught a glimpse of his sentence mark again, the spirals faint, but the centre was fiery red and gleaming.
“Do I get a thank you for teaching you?” he asked, a breathless sort of tone in his voice.
My lips curled despite myself, and I craned my head back, meeting his gaze.
“I was going to thank you. I’m just trying to catch my breath first.”
He took a step closer. “Do I get anything in return?”
His warm, fresh breath brushed over the bridge of my nose. His eyes dropped to my lips—simmering. Irises swirling like the liquid around us.
My mind drifted to the way he had been looking at me just minutes ago.
I swallowed, sensing an eager, nervous feeling crawling in. My voice came out in a low breath.
“What do you want?”
Reagan’s hand found my chin, his other hand pressed flat against the wall behind my head, the liquid dripping from his arm as he leaned in.
“A kiss. That’s what I want.”