“Regardless of how it happened,” she cut in, “I think a sieve might have been exposed tosomething, and now that sieve is Syphon.” She touched the wall again and cut off one of the streams of water, and it was only then, when he looked at it instead of her, that he saw the water was runningupand not down.
More rivulets led out of the shore chamber they’d surfaced in and into a narrowing tunnel. Celeste moved toward it, and Reeve’s heart shot into his throat. Theology and exploit be damned, he had a more important conversation to have.
Hopping after her, Reeve finally pulled his wet breeches up and caught her hand before she disappeared into the darkness. “Celeste, wait, please.”
When she turned back to him, she was blinking as if just waking from some dream. Her bleary eyes sparkled, trailing down him, then back up. There was such sadness in her features—and considering the potential lethality of where they’d ended up—he could wait no longer to ask.
“Last night,” he said, tugging her closer and squeezing her hand, “did I…did I ask if I could kiss you?”
Celeste reeled, then buried the fingers of her free hand into the wetness of her hair, tangling them as she looked away. “N-no.”
“Gods,” he groaned. “Did I just kiss you without asking at all?”
She shook her head tightly. “No, Reeve, you didn’t kiss me or ask to kiss me.”
Warm relief spread through him against the frigidness of his still-dripping skin. “Oh, thank Valcord.”
But Celeste jerked her hand out of his, and he went cold all over again. Her lips fell into a deeper frown, brow narrowing. “Yes, thank all the gods of light for that,” she muttered and turned, quickly slipping into the tunnel.
Wait—she was glad he hadn’t? But he had thought, expected, hoped—oh, ohno.
“Celeste!” He caught her arm this time, but she wouldn’t turn back to him. “I don’t mean…that is, I’m nothappythat I didn’t, that we didn’t…I only thought that I had finally worked up the courage and then forgotten, and if you’d allowed me to kiss you, I would never forgive myself if I couldn’t remember.”
Carefully, she peeked over her shoulder. “Oh.”
Reeve cleared his throat. “Celeste?”
“Yes?”
“May I ask you a question?”
When she turned to him this time, she stepped closer, and his hand ran up along the back of her arm. “Yes, Reeve.”
His gaze flicked down her body. “May I touch you like this?” He gently pressed a hand to her waist.
She gave him that nod again, the kind one that said,please ask as many questions as you’d like.
“And may I step closer?”
She answered by closing the space herself.
“May I kiss you, Celeste?”
“Yes,” she breathed, and her mouth was on his.
Serving Valcord had never felt wrong. Indeed, it had only ever felt right. But kissing Celeste? It was righter, if that were a thing.
And it was, righter, it just didn’t sound correct, but language is funny like that, and feelings even funnier. Or more funny. Though none of that mattered, it justfelt, because he knew, and knowing was the funniest.
Their slippery bodies pressed together, heat between them chasing away the frigidness of the air. Celeste’s lips yielded softly, the noise she made even softer, and everything in Reeve wanted to climb inside that softness and stay. It wasn’t what he’d imagined, not filled with the messy ferocity his brothers spoke of, or the heated urgency of the book he’d been reading, the only fire a gently glowing one in his chest. The kiss was, in fact, much,muchbetter than all that.
But it was fragile too, suspended between them, easy to crush or sever with the wrong move. Reeve held himself still even as Celeste’s fingers pressed to his collarbone in the way that he liked, then the warmth of her palm as her hand slid slowly down his chest.
“Not to put too fine a point on it, but this is neither the time nor the place!”
They pulled back from one another, Sid’s voice like a pry bar, and the moment was shattered into such fine pieces that it was lost in the sands at their feet. Silvery eyes stared into Reeve’s, Celeste’s skin blue under the rivulets of arcane water. She was just so pretty, and he wanted to tell her that, to tell her how full his chest felt but that he didn’t know if it was joy or fear or some other, unknown emotion there, but really, Sid was right—these strange caverns were not the place for confessions that would take him too long to understand before he could even begin to muddle through an explanation.
Reeve reluctantly released her and retrieved his weapon from the bank. “Thanks for that,” he mumbled.
