Callan murmurs my name, and I listen to the vibration. His thumb traces the bottom of my spine as his fingers keep playing with my wings. “Look at me.”
I had always wondered what made Hala step down from the sanctuary of Ellas, in the stories. What had made her take human form and seek out the male Endymion, forsaking Caelum in her desire for his touch.
Until now, I had never truly understood how a touch could turn a person so completely.
Until now.
Because nothing else matters, as long as Callan keeps touching me. I press my face closer, seeking more.
It’s too much, and yet it is not enough.
I want more of him. The thought has me lifting my face to his. And his eyes capture me again, as he has captured me with his touch.
“There you are.” Callan’s hand cups my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. “Gods, you’re beautiful.”
I have heard those words before. Somanytimes, in so many ways. Slurred, and moaned, and muttered, even as their touch caused nothing but pain. But not like this. Not in soft, reverent tones, even as his hands hold me so carefully.
This must be—
Something. It is something. It hovers on the edge of my tongue, lingering in the corners of my mind, just out of sight.
The sound that comes out is not one I have ever made before. Pleading, a low, needy sound. I don’t know what I’m asking for. I have the same swooping in my stomach as I felt falling through the Sea of Stars. As if this fall will be forever, too.
A knock on the door jolts us both. Callan’s breath ghosts across my lips.
When he pulls back, he keeps me with him, turning to the door. “Who is it?”
My feet are unsteady beneath me. And his heart is unsteady too, irregular beats against my ear as someone calls through the wood. Esme.
His heartbeat perfectly matches my own, I realize. Even as ragged as they both are, our hearts thump in perfect, imperfect sync.
“We will continue this.” His hand runs through my hair again. “And at some point, we will not be interrupted.”
I stumble back from him. The edge of the bed meets my eyes, and I sit heavily as Esme sweeps in, her arms filled with fabric and a dozen sentences on her lips. They trail off as she takes us in. My flushed face, hair in disarray.
And Callan, his chest rising and falling and his fists clenched.
Esme bites down on her lip. “Well, hello. I came to help get Selene ready for dinner. Should I come back?”
“No,” Callan says roughly. I look up at him. Ignoring Esme, he leans down.
His lips press to my forehead like a brand seared into my skin. “I will see you at dinner. One of us will be outside to escort you.”
His voice lowers. “Soon, wewillhave that conversation.”
And then he’s gone, leaving Esme to stare at me. “I probably shouldn’t ask—”
I can’t talk about it. I’m not sure I can form words, and I certainly cannot explain whatever is between me and the bronze-eyed male who just stalked from my room as if he was about to hunt down anyone who might dare to look my way. I shake my head.
“Then I’ll just…um. Open a window, maybe.” She crosses to the far wall, slipping the latch free with her spare hand and letting cool air inside that gusts over my far-too-warm face. “I’ve never seen Callan with a female, you know. In case you were interested.”
“I’m not.” The words feel like a lie.
Perhaps I can admit that Callan Edgeborn interests me.
When Esme turns, her expression is mischievous. She holds up the bundle in her hands. “Well then,not interested. I broughtyou something that might make him look at you again the way he did just now. More so. Something appropriate for dinner. But I can put it away.”
My hands twist at my sides. I almost reach for my wrist before my fingers curl over themselves as if phantom hands have nudged them away. “Appropriate for dinner?”
