Chapter 13 #3
Unlike our kiss near the maze, this one made no political statement. It was just us, our magic, and the truth that whatever lay between us was far from pretend.
I wound my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through the silky hair at his nape. He made a hungry sound low in his throat that sent heat spiraling through me. His tongue swept against mine, and I tasted need.
My knees actually weakened, which was such a cliché, but here I was, clinging to his shoulders as though he was the only solid thing in a spinning world.
Each brush of his lips against mine sent sparks cascading through my veins.
He was awakening parts of me that had been dormant since the last time we were together.
And the way he held me, with one hand splayed across my lower back, the other cradling my head, made my heart come to a standstill.
Our magic flared in response, joy and shadows merging in a dizzying swirl around us. Books flew from shelves. Glass jars rattled. The obsidian stone cracked with a sharp ping, releasing a cascade of purple butterflies that burst upward in a glittering cloud.
We broke apart, breathless.
A delighted gasp from above told me we weren’t alone. Cordelia hovered near the ceiling, her hands clasped over her heart, her expression rapturous.
I shot her a warning look that she completely ignored, instead making an encouraging gesture that clearly meant kiss him again.
Kieran followed my gaze, seeing nothing but empty air where the ghost floated.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said quickly, as Cordelia pretended to swoon dramatically. “Just…making sure we didn’t set anything on fire.”
His eyes, still dark with desire, returned to mine. “Besides the obvious, you mean.”
“Just a bit of magical instability. A natural reaction when opposing magical forces interact.”
His thumb traced my lower lip, sending shivers through me. “Is that what the grimoires call it?”
“Absolutely.” My voice hitched as his hand slid to cup my jaw. “A textbook case of magical resonance.”
“Resonance.” His smile did nothing to help my composure. “Fascinating.”
“Purely academic, of course.”
“Of course.” His gaze dropped to my mouth again. “We should probably study it further. For the treaty.”
“For the treaty.” I was already leaning toward him again.
This time when our lips met, neither of us pretended it was about anything but us.
With his vampire senses, he must’ve been overwhelmed by my thundering heartbeat, the heat blooming beneath my skin, the changes in my breathing.
Yet he seemed to savor it, drinking in every reaction as if cataloging what made me respond.
Fates help me, I was melting under his expertise, my knees turning to mush as he pulled me closer, one hand splayed across my lower back.
His kiss was possessive, a stark contrast to the careful restraint he usually wore like armor. My magic responded in kind, joyful and uncontained, wrapping around us both in a cocoon of golden light.
When we finally pulled apart, the tower room looked as though a whirlwind had swept through it. Books lay open on every surface. The teacups had toppled over. Butterflies perched on shelves and window frames, their wings slowly opening and closing.
And Kieran, controlled, composed Kieran, looked wonderfully disheveled. His hair mussed where my fingers had gripped it. His perfectly tailored jacket askew.
“Well,” he said, his voice rougher than usual. “That was…”
“Educational,” I said.
A smile tugged at his lips. “Indeed.”
Feminine pride surged through me. His pupils had dilated, nearly swallowing the midnight blue of his irises.
The composed vampire king was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
When he swallowed, his throat worked, and I found myself fascinated by that small sign of his affected state.
“You.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Are dangerous in ways I never anticipated.” His fingertips lingered on my cheek, and I leaned into his touch like a flower seeking sunlight.
The gesture was so intimate, so unlike his usual careful distance, that it made my heart ache more than any passionate kiss could.
Nothing about our kiss had been academic or political or dutiful. It had been real. Dangerously, wonderfully real.
He straightened his jacket, a gesture that revealed more about his state of mind than words could have. “I should go.”
“I understand.” I smoothed my own rumpled dress. “Duty calls.”
“Always.” But he didn’t move toward the door.
I busied myself righting the fallen books, acutely aware of his gaze following my movements. “You should know there might be residual effects from the butterflies.”
“I’ll manage.”
“And if anyone asks about the magical anomalies—”
“I’ll tell them my witch queen is experimenting with new spells.” His voice softened in a way that made my heart stumble. “Successful experiments, from what I’ve seen.”
Before I could respond, he turned toward the door. He paused with his hand on the handle, glancing back over his shoulder. “Cyrene?”
“Yes?”
“I find I rather like my fortress of doom and gloom when it’s filled with your magic.”
Then he was gone, leaving me surrounded by butterflies and the lingering taste of his kiss on my lips.
I touched my fingers to my mouth, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face.
“Well,” I said. “That wasn’t in the treaty.”
A teacup on the floor began humming a love song.
I couldn’t even find it in me to be annoyed.
I sank down into the window seat, my legs too wobbly to hold me upright any longer.
What was happening to me? This wasn’t part of the arrangement. This wasn’t political strategy or treaty maintenance. This was me, falling for Kieran all over again. Not his crown or his power or his perfectly sculpted face, though none of those things hurt.
No, I was falling for the man who stocked a witch’s workshop with rare supplies before I arrived.
Who found the exact shade of green that would please me.
Who looked at singing teacups and magical butterflies with amusement rather than disdain.
The man whose magic complemented mine so perfectly it was as if we’d been designed as matching pieces of the same whole.
My grandmother hadn’t warned me that forging peace between witches and vampires might mean losing my heart in the process.
Quandary swooped in through the window, landing beside me with an inquisitive chirp. He clutched a butterfly in his mouth that he gently released to my hand.
I started gathering them up, putting them in a jar. They could remain there until their attraction spell had waned and then I’d set them free. They’d enjoy the gardens, the maze.
You look… Quandary tilted his tiny head and ruffled his sapphire wings. Happy.
“I’m in trouble,” I whispered, pressing my fingers to my still-tingling lips.
The butterflies settled around me in a glittering purple cloud, as if to say yes, you absolutely are.