“Quin, I’m not following,” Glyma said apologetically, and the Daemon cringed.
“Sorry, I’m not doing this right. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to do this. Glyma, Waryn and I won’t be getting married. I’m going to tell my mother that she can take her ultimatums and shove them up her cooch.”
Quin saying the wordcoochwas not on Glyma’s bingo card, but she was here for it. “She’s not going to take that well, is she?”
“Probably not, but I don’t care,” Quin said, squaring her shoulders like she was fortifying herself. “I don’t want to do what she says anymore. I don’t want to live the life she’s dictated for me or exist in her world. I don’t want to be marble or stone or metal or steel. I don’t want to be plastic.
“I want to be real, Glym. I want to be flesh and bone. I want to live in multicolor, not monochrome. I want to be alive, and I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m with you.”
The words landed like a kick to the heart, and Glyma literally lost the ability to breathe for several seconds. She stared gob-smacked as Quin rubbed Glyma’s fingers restlessly with her own. Avoiding Glyma’s gaze, she licked her lips and inhaled deeply.
“I want you, however I can have you,” she said, sounding so small and unsure, and Glyma’s heart threatened to burst from her chest. “If that’s just as we are now, that’s okay. Nothing has to change. I just…” Her gaze lifted timidly to Glyma’s. “I just want you. If you still want me, that is.”
“Quin,” Glyma said, and Quin’s face fell.
“I understand if I’m too late. I was so foolish and scared.”
“Quin,” Glyma repeated.
“But I had to come. I had to try.”
“Quin!” Glyma said for the third time, and the Daemon fell silent.
Carefully cupping Quin’s face, Glyma searched her wide, frightened eyes. “It sounds like today has been a lot for you.”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m not done,” Glyma cut her off, and Quin pressed her brick-red lips together. “I’m so proud of you for standing up to your mother, for standing up for yourself. And I’m glad you’re not going to marry Waryn. I want you to be happy and free; that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
Quin opened her mouth to speak, but Glyma pressed on. “But I don’t want you to act rashly. I don’t want you to do anything you might regret in the morning.”
To her surprise, Quin smiled, and it was wobbly and a little sad. “I would only regret losing you.”
And gods, this woman. This infuriating, incredible woman. Glyma wanted to throttle her and kiss her simultaneously.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, and Quin inhaled sharply. “What are you asking me, Quin?”
She wet her lips, and Glyma tracked the movement, her instincts sniffing at the air in interest. “I’m asking,” Quin said, swallowing thickly. “I’m asking you to kiss me.”
Oh, this woman. This ridiculous, amazing, beautiful woman.
“Quin, sweetheart,” Glyma crooned, and Quin swayed toward her, gripping Glyma’s wrists like her life depended on it.
“Please,” Quin said, and Glyma practically purred.
Walking Quin backward several steps, she pressed her gently to the wall, crowding close until they were touching from thigh to breast. Quin trembled as Glyma dragged her nose down the length of hers, inhaling smoke and scorched earth and burning cherry wood.
“Say it again,” Glyma demanded.
“I want you to kiss me,” Quin said, firmer this time, fire flickering to life in her red eyes. “Glyma, kiss me, godsdamnit.”
And how could Glyma deny her? She kissed Quin with all the pent-up longing and need she’d spent the last weeks fighting. She kissed her like something worth cherishing, worth savoring. She kissed her, and gods, it was perfect. Quin was perfect.
Her lips were soft and warm and pliant, and Glyma took her time mapping them for the first time. Quin whimpered, going almost limp in her hold, and Glyma kissed her harder, deeper. At the first swipe of her tongue, Quin opened for her, and she dipped inside. The Daemon tasted like chamomile tea and scotch and something else, something all her own, like smokey, sweet custard and caramelized sugar. And deities below, Glyma was starving for her.
They kissed, slow and unhurried, Quin’s fingers delving into Glyma’s damp hair and tangling. Their tongues danced, and Glyma glided a hand down Quin’s side to curl around the small of her back under her blazer. She pulled her closer, and Quin arched into her body, rising to the tips of her hooves in an attempt to eliminate their height difference.
She was all sharp edges to Glyma’s soft curves, and Glyma wanted to see exactly how perfectly they’d fit together. And it would be perfect, because Quin was her soul singer, and she’d been waiting for her so long.
