“Yes, it has, and you have too. You’ve shown me that you can do so much if you fight for it. For the first time in years, I can see there’s hope. Hope for me and you and all witches.”
Annalise slips round to stand in front of me and reaches up to kiss me but I feel dizzy and lose my balance and have to lean against the wall, taking deep breaths. The bunker is like a dungeon. The walls feel like they’re coming in on me. It’s the feeling of being inside at night. I say, “I need to get outside.”
On the way we find Nesbitt in the great hall.
He says, “Van thinks that now Mercury’s dead her spell to make it bearable inside is fading. It’s back to the nightsmoke.”
He has already poured some into a bowl and now he lights it. We both lean close and inhale.
Not Resisting
The nightsmoke lights the bedroom with a pale green glow. I move my hand through the cool green flame and watch it move across the surface of the milky liquid. Annalise is behind me, snuggling against me; she slides her hands up my T-shirt, saying, “Let’s go to bed.”
I turn and kiss her but hold her arms and back away a little. “I’ve been thinking about that.”
“So have I.” She slides her hands inside my T-shirt again.
“I mean . . .” I can’t say it. We’ve slept together but I can’t talk about it.
“What do you mean? Are you trying to say we should be taking precautions?”
“I don’t want . . .”
She kisses me. “And I definitely don’t want . . . But . . . but I feel that I’ve been given an amazing second chance at life and I’m so lucky to have found you and I don’t want to be sensible; I want to be with you. I don’t want to sleep alone.” She kisses my lips. “I want you to stay with me.”
“And I want to stay with you but . . .”
“We’ll be careful.”
I think I know what she means.
“Or you could just resist me?” And she slides her body against mine, smiling.
“I don’t see how if you do that.”
“I’ll wear a nightdress.”
“I really don’t think that’s going to help.”
She kisses me. “Has it occurred to you that I might be finding you irresistible?”
It hadn’t.
“Well?”
“Um. No.”
“Well, you are.” But she folds her arms and steps back from me. “However, I’ll do my best to resist.”
“OK. Me too.”
“So . . . what shall we do? Play cards?”
I laugh. “Haven’t got a pack.”
“I Spy?”
“I don’t really like games.”
“Me neither. And I’ve just discovered that I don’t really like resisting.”
*
We’re lying in bed, cuddled together, going through my lists of good and bad qualities. I’m giving her my good points and she’s giving me the bad.
“Thoughtful.”
“Ha! Uncommunicative.”
“I communicate OK when I have to.” I kiss her. “See, like that. That means . . .” and I was going to say I like you but it means more than that and I can’t say it and I know I’m stuck.
“What does it mean, Mr. Communicative?”
“It means . . .”
She kisses me back and says, “I think it means I’ve won that point.”
“Your go then.”
“Loner.”
“What’s wrong with being independent?”
“Silent.”
“I think you mean ‘thoughtful,’ as I’ve just said.”
“Grubby.”
“I knew that one was coming. Tough.”
“Rough.”
“Am I?” I try to be gentle with her.
“I mean the skin on your hands is rough.”
“As I said, tough.”
“Your turn.”
I say, “How about . . . sexy?”
She laughs.
Obviously I’m not sexy. I didn’t think I was and I was sort of joking but I didn’t think she’d laugh at me.
She says, “I love it when you blush and look confused.”
“I’m not blushing.”
“And you can add ‘liar’ to the list too.”
“So I’m not sexy?”
“I really don’t think that’s the right word. That makes me think of fains who spend lots of time in front of the mirror, styling their hair. Which definitely isn’t you. But there’s something about you that makes me want to kiss you and hold you and stay with you.”
“Sweet. I remember you called me sweet once.”
“I don’t remember that. You’re not sweet.”
“Phew!”
“But you are gentle and huggable.” She hugs me.
“I thought you were doing the bad points.”
“Let’s do mine,” Annalise says.
“OK. You do good points, I’ll do bad.”
She says, “Right, well, obviously . . . I’m highly intelligent.”
“A little big-headed.”
“Accurate and precise.”
“Yet unable to follow simple instructions to give one point at a time.”
“Accurate and precise are the same thing.”
Something suddenly occurs to me and I ask her, “Have you found your Gift yet?” It’s almost a year since her Giving.
“Whoa! That’s a change of subject! Or is that a weakness?”
“No, I was just thinking about you being intelligent, accurate, and precise. I mean, it does all sound like potions will be your thing.”