“Yes. I feel the physical hit as if we were equal—human and demon—and the power of your emotions lands with each contact like a second blow. I’d like to remain conscious until we make some decisions.”
“What decisions?” My nose itched and I wanted to scratch it. I waved my fingers and turned my head, trying to get my tiptoes under me so my fingers and nose lined up.
“What are you doing?”
“My nose itches.”
“Here, let me.”
“No, I can…”
But he had already crossed the space and pressed his fingers gently beneath my jaw. He turned my face and held it still, peering down his nose at me like a nearsighted school teacher judging my handwriting.
“It’s really…” I said, my mouth dry, “you don’t have to…”
“Hush. I like doing things for you.” He lifted his other hand and rubbed his pointer finger on the tip of my nose. “Here?”
I wasn’t paying attention. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he liked doing things for me.
He liked doing things for me.
“Myra?”
“A little to the left.” He moved his finger, rubbed. “My left,” I said.
He nodded, moved his finger to the other side of my nose and gave it three little rubs. “How’s that?”
“It’s, uh…good enough.”
“Good.” He looked away from my nose and right into my eyes.
For a moment, for the longest moment in my life, he just stood there, breathing softly, holding my face, watching me.
I knew the second he made up his mind. I could feel it. Not like a tug in my chest. No, it was a relief, a lightness. Like my heart had been tied down, weighed down by rocks and now, that look of his, that moment, it was feathers and sunlight.
A slight frown creased between his eyes, as if he knew what he was doing wasn’t wise, but he had to do it anyway.
I didn’t struggle, I didn’t try to move away from him.
Because I didn’t want to.
There were no lies here.
He bent, he had to, he was so much taller than me. I lifted as much as I could, angling my face up, wanting this. To know. Here, where there were no lies.
My eyes fluttered shut and I had to catch my breath to keep from making any sound. He paused, his lips only the barest distance from mine, so close I could taste the cinnamon of his breath.
“Are you sure?” he whispered.
“Yes.” It was the only answer I had, because it was the truth.
He hummed, and it was acceptance and need and hope.
If I had ever imagined kissing a demon, which yes, lately I had, it was always a hot branding, a claiming, a fire-meets-kindling-and-add-some-gasoline kind of kiss.
But this, this kiss was something more. Something better.
Bathin shifted his thumb to stroke gently along the side of my mouth, and the gesture was so sweet, so intimate, I smiled.
