Arrogant son of a god.
Deciding that two could play this same game, I locked my eyes on his and opened my mouth to speak but somehow my brain got confused and instead I pressed my lips to his. Somehow I always ended up kissing Yael. His competitive arrogance was so annoying, and this was the only way to shut him up.
Yes, that was my story.
I expected him to growl, push me away, and storm from the room. That was pretty much my experience with kisses and Abcurses. Instead, he resisted for a micro-click, and just when I expected him to pull away, he pressed closer. My lips parted and his tongue slid inside, caressing my own. Holy Topia. My knees buckled slightly as my head started to spin. Nothing else touched between us except his fingers still wrapped tightly along the back of my neck, and our hands, which were still pressed against his chest.
It was almost sweet. Until he made a sound in his throat and my body tipped forward into his.
“Enough!” This was from Rome, and only a voice as booming as his could have broken through my haze of sudden need.
I almost buckled as the pressure from Yael’s mouth lessened, and he stepped back from me, his hands reluctant to drop away. My body trembled as I wrapped my arms around myself. Somehow, angry words were slipping past my lips and I was glaring at the other four.
“This pact is stupid,” I declared. “You five are stupid. I’m sleeping in my wallowing cave.”
It looked like I would be the one storming out this sun-cycle. I made it five steps before my shaky legs managed to find something on the floor, and I tripped. I refused to fall on my face in front of them, so with pure force of will, I managed to stay on my feet long enough to careen across the room, before face-planting on Coen’s bed.
There was a beat of dead silence, and then the room erupted with laughter and curses.
“Probably should have made sure she had a shirt and pants on,” I heard Aros say, sounding like the only one who wasn’t laughing.
I contemplated just remaining face down until they all disappeared, but I could feel a cool breeze across my butt—which was at least partially covered by underwear—so I rolled over. Coen’s bed was so soft and I’d had a rough night already, so I decided just to rest where I was for a few clicks. I mean, I was definitely going to my wallowing cave … soon.
“Looks like you get Willa tonight, Pain,” Siret said as he strolled past. I wanted to lift my head and glare at him, but I was too comfortable.
The rest of them left and then it was just me and Coen. I let myself drift off to the sounds of him rustling about the room, until I felt my body being lifted from the end of his colossal bed. He slid me in under the covers, and I started to protest half-heartedly.
“I need to go to my cleaning cupboard, or my room. You guys don’t want to babysit me like this. I saw your faces.”
My eyes were closed as I murmured, exhaustion pulling me under. I felt a warm hand brush my hair back, and it sounded like he said, “You’re wrong, Willa.”
What I was wrong about I never found out because sleep claimed me in an instant. Most nights I was a bit of a rough sleeper, I tossed and turned, waking myself multiple times. Often I had huge periods of wakefulness where I could do nothing but pace around trying not to disturb Emmy.
That night, though, I didn’t move. I was pretty sure I didn’t even roll over once. When I woke in the morning I was surprised to open my eyes and see the mounds of soft white bedding around me.
What the …
I tried to sit upright in a rush, realising I was still in Coen’s bed, but a heavy weight was pressed across me, keeping me anchored to the bed.
Tilting my head to try and see what held me captive, my heart stopped beating … it was an arm. Bronzed, heavily muscled, and draped right across my stomach. My heart rate kicked back in then as heat swept across my body. I’d never slept in a bed with anyone other than Emmy and my mother. I’d never spent the entire night snuggled up to a god. I expected it to feel really weird and awkward, but it didn’t. My pulse was going crazy but that was because Coen was insanely hot, he was shirtless, and I could feel his skin pressed all along my right side.
Turning my head to the right, I found him asleep, facing me. Oh my. After a few clicks I realised I was just staring at him. At the thick dark lashes that washed across his cheeks, his full lips, and the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed. What were they doing to me? It was like I couldn’t breathe without them and yet I couldn’t breathe with them either. They literally stole all the air from around me, and I didn’t like that.
With a shake of my head, I rolled over, turning my back on him so that I could stare out into the murky landscape beyond the glassed windows. I loved seeing the wash of colours, the greens of the countryside, the blues of the sky. The longer I remained snuggled into the bed with Coen, the more my body relaxed. I was so relaxed I didn’t even realise that he had woken up.
His arm tightened around me and I was pulled back even further into him. I let a weird moaning noise slip out, and suddenly Coen’s muscles went rigid. Knowing I needed to expect his rejection, I mentally started preparing myself. I waited to be thrust away. Waited for him to distance us.
I must have closed my eyes at some point, so when the first tingle of his Pain slipped up my side, they flew open and I knew I was wide-eyed and slack jawed as I turned to face him. Just kill me now. He was staring at me, heavy lidded, hair tousled from sleep, and looking far, far too good for my poor dweller heart.
“My power likes you.” That voice, all husky from sleep, somehow increased the intensity of his touch and I almost arched off the bed as the sparks spread. I started to pant a little as I replied.
“I like your power too, but … this … seems.” My eyes rolled back in my head as I gripped the bedding to try and steady myself. “Pact!” I burst out.
His eyes had a lot of darkness in them at the moment, the green almost disappearing behind black, but at my mention of their pact, slivers of green bled back in. The pleasure-pain lightened until all I could feel was his hand on my bare stomach. Somehow my shirt had worked its way up. My breathing was still embarrassingly loud and ragged, it took me about three clicks to calm myself enough to act normal.
Coen gave me a slow grin as I faced him fully, both of us still in the bed, covers pulled across our bodies. We didn’t touch any longer, but there was no more than a few inches of space separating us. “Sorry, dweller-baby, sometimes I forget that you’re so breakable.”