His thumb will leave a bruise under my jaw, and we hold there, panting into each other’s mouths, bodies pressed together, limbs tangled. We’re not dancing anymore. Just—justgasping,miring in each other.
Kissing Elethior Tourael should be as catastrophic as the worst thing I’ve done.
And it is.
But it’s not abadcatastrophe, and I never knew, neverfuckingknew that calamities could be wondrous, too.
This isn’t one of my self-destructive episodes. This isn’t something I’ll regret.
And I’m going to keep it that way.
Gods, I think it’s been going on for a while.
Quakes rock from my ankles to my neck, oversensitized, overwhelmed.
I twist into Elethior, disentangling his arm from under my shirt, his fingers from around my throat. I press my mouth to his ear, push down against the thudding of his racing heart under my palm.
“We should talk,” I say, unable to catch my breath. “But not here. Come home with me?”
He leans his head against my lips. Strokes his fingers over the bare, sweat-glossed skin of my lower back.
And nods.
Chapter Nine
Elethior’s car is waiting outside the club.
I don’t make any smartass comment about it, just give the driver my address and sit otherwise quietly in the back seat.
Elethior stares out the opposite window, hand over his mouth, body immobile.
It’s barely past ten when I check my phone. Another message from my dad, this one a text I ignore; I swipe to Orok’s thread and let him know I’m heading home. With a guest. I don’t tell him who, but if he’s the reason Elethior knew to show up at Prismatic, he’ll figure it out.
The car stops in front of my building and I’m out the door like a shot. Elethior follows me wordlessly, we’re both practically running. Up the stairs, two flights; I stumble to the door, digging my keys out of my pocket with quivering hands.
Elethior presses behind me. Like he did on the dance floor. Body molded to mine, our coats blocking most of the contact now, but I know what he feels like against me, and that knowledge is unendurable.
Get in the apartment. Get in there and lay ground rules andbe responsible—
“Sebastian,” Elethior says into the back of my neck, my own name scalding my skin.
I get the key in the lock, twist, deactivate our security wards with a dismissive flourish, and shove inside.
The moment the door closes behind us and I pop on the lights, I take a trembling step back, putting the kitchen counter between us. “Just—wait. Stay there.”
He hesitates, paused in stripping off his coat.
One side of his lips lifts in amused confusion. “Am I rabid?”
“Maybe. I don’t know if you’ve had all your shots.”
A laugh falters out of him, and he finishes taking off his jacket, hanging it on an empty hook by the door.
Gods, that sheer shirt in bright light should be illegal.
He takes a step closer to me. “Sebastian—”
I move back, bumping into our dining table. “Wait. Stay. Stay—right there.”
