Incarnate

“Only what you want.” He rested his forefinger on my chin until I met his eyes. He looked like he balanced on a razor, too, one side patient as ever, and the other— He looked like I felt, ready to burst from pressure.

 

“What I want.” I slid my hands over him until cloth folded between my fingers. “I don’t even know what that is. It feels like too much, but I’ll fall apart if I don’t get it.”

 

“You won’t fall apart.” He lowered his eyes, smiled. “I won’t let you.”

 

“You’re truly kind.” Now that he wasn’t caressing me, I could breathe. I could think straight. “There’s a lot I don’t know.” Such as, anything beyond what had just happened. No, I didn’t even know what just happened, just that it felt good. “Will you show me?”

 

“A thousand things, whenever you’re ready.”

 

There was a heartbeat where I could have been resentful of his experience, but I decided to be grateful instead. One of us would always know what we were doing, rather than both of us fumbling and messing up. “Not all at once. I don’t want to rush.”

 

“I’m sure we can pace ourselves.” His mouth turned up. “What do you think? One thing a day?”

 

I considered, then shook my head. “Maybe two. A thousand days is a long time.”

 

He laughed. “If you say so.”

 

I withdrew from him and lifted an eyebrow.

 

His breath caught. “Okay, suddenly it seems like eternity. Two it is.” While I struggled to figure out exactly what I’d done to make him react that way, he went on. “Unfortunately, I think we’ve used up our two—or ten—for the day.”

 

“Did we? It’s after midnight.” Using the shelf-wall to keep from falling, I stood on the bed and arranged my blanket over my shoulders again. The white cloth rippled like wings. “I think we have time for you to kneel down and worship me.”

 

“Number two on the list.” He sat on his knees and gazed up. “Number one was convincing you to like me.”

 

He made it impossible not to smile. “Kiss my hands and feet, and you will be worthy of my liking.”

 

“But those were five-ninety-six and five-ninety-seven.”

 

I offered my hand that wasn’t keeping me balanced against the wall. “You were going to wait that long?”

 

“You’re the one who said not to rush.” He took my hand in his, pressed his mouth against the back. “Oh.” His breath warmed my skin. “I just thought of a hundred more.”

 

“Maybe three a day.” As I sat, he held my hips to steady me. “Maybe ten,” I whispered, kneeling with him. He held me so close; I rested my hand just beneath the bandage on his arm. “How does this feel?”

 

“Like a burn. It’s okay.” He kissed me, not deep like before, but just as sweet. A sleepy kiss while he struggled to stay awake. He so often guarded himself; it was startling to see him like this. “How’s that thunderstorm inside you?”

 

“Already forgot about it.” I didn’t want the hour to end. The Sam I always imagined was here, holding me. He liked me. I wouldn’t forget the moody Sam after the dragon attack, the Sam who’d been sneaking around every night, or the Sam who thought we shouldn’t have danced and kissed, but for this moment, with this Sam, I enjoyed the sensation of happiness. “Want to know a secret?”

 

“Yes.” He sat down, and I followed. If I pulled back the covers, maybe he wouldn’t leave. After today, I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from him. I had to keep him like this, the sweet Sam. The Sam who kissed me.

 

“Aside from the parts where we fought and were nearly killed and then I threw things,” I whispered, “today has been the best day of my life.”

 

His brown eyes drew me in as he said, “Mine too.”

 

I was about to tease him about how this life must have felt so short, but something banged downstairs. We stiffened, both of us poised to listen when it came again. “Someone’s at the door.” It was so late. “A medic? Or whoever attacked us?”

 

He slipped off the bed and nodded. “Keep your knife with you, no matter what happens.” Without so much as a last glance, he left the room.

 

I struggled into real clothes and tucked my knife into my waistband before creeping after Sam. From the balcony over the parlor, I could just see him at the door, blocking whoever had called.

 

“I don’t understand,” he said.

 

“You’re under arrest.” The high, youthful voice was familiar. Meuric? It was dim downstairs, but I could just make out another shadow in the doorway, maybe two others. I couldn’t tell. “There’s nothing confusing about that. I just hope you won’t make a fuss.”

 

“But why?”

 

“For conspiring to murder Ana, the newsoul.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Chapter 24

 

Obsession

 

“NO!” I SPRINTED for the stairs, drawing everyone’s attention. “No, he didn’t. He wouldn’t.”

 

Before I’d reached the middle step, three more people shoved into the house. One was Li, just as angry and formidable as she’d been the day at the market, and the day I left Purple Rose Cottage.

 

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