“It feels better than anything I’ve ever experienced,” I pant out. “You’re the only one who can make me feel this good. There is no one else. There can’t be.” And I mean it, because in this moment I cannot bear to consider a future without him. Without this. Withoutus.
“Gods, bird, I—” Eurus bites back an oath. “Don’t stop.”
My core pulses, and I am that much nearer to release. Drawing his touch downward, the East Wind grazes my legs, hips, stomach. Each fingertip, a spark along my skin.
I bite the inside of my cheek, another moan caged behind my teeth.Yes, there, please, more.I’ve the crazed urge to burrow into his chest, wrap myself around his heart and lungs so there is no separation between us.
When he brushes the nub above my drenched sex, I tighten around him. Again, he sweeps the pad of his finger across, tracing the raised edge. Sweat weaves down my face and neck. It spatters Eurus’ chest, and I must be out of my mind, because I lean forward to lick him clean.
He groans, watching the place where our bodies join, his shaft glistening with my wetness. At the next thrust, he hits a spot that makes me see stars.
“I’m close,” I gasp.
“Come for me, bird,” the East Wind croons. “That’s it.”
I fall forward, sobbing out my pleasure as my core clamps tightly around his shaft and I tumble off the edge into release.
Down, down, down I spiral, the pressure crushing on all sides. The dull pulsation at my center abruptly sharpens and explodes outward. I bite Eurus’ neck, my cry muffled. The world blurs, then whites out completely.
Yet still I move. And still he moves. The East Wind fucks me hard, and he fucks me deep, and I take it, because I want to know that I have driven him to insanity. We have no beginning and no end. We are perpetuity, we are the earth and sky, we are the black fathoms of the sea. And I have never felt such belonging, such safety, as I do now in his arms. This god, this wretched divine, my captor. He is more than his past, more than his scars, more than the darkness and grief and isolation. Eurus might not know it, but he is mine.
The world returns to me in pieces. There is sight: the moon’s pale touch painting strips across the room. Then sight drifts to sound: the creak of the chair frame beneath our combined weight. And sound drifts, then, to touch: the East Wind’s weighted palm dragging up my spine, then down. The sweetest of kisses pressed upon my brow.
Gathering me close, Eurus carries me to his bedroom and settles me amongst the pillows. They smell of him, of Marles. I burrow into the blanket’s many pleats while he stretches out alongside me, one hand curved over my hip, the other playing with strands of my hair.
I cup his warm cheek. Might I tell him how I feel? That I do not wish for the sun to rise. That I promise to shield his heart from theworld’s sharp corners. That I love him wholeheartedly—mind, body, soul—and never wish to be parted from him.
The answer is this: I cannot. Because tomorrow, he will take me back to St. Laurent. I will live out my mortal life, and he will live his days eternal. These are the rules that bind us. There can be no other way.
Eurus skates a thumb across my cheek. In the pools of his dark eyes, I see a thousand shivering stars. “I am,” he whispers coarsely, “very glad to have met you, bird.”
I cover his hand with mine, finding it suddenly difficult to swallow. How far must I fall before the impact shatters my bones? Sometimes, I envision a world where I could have both EurusandSt. Laurent. I could have belongingandsecurity. But the image remains unfinished. I am given only glimpses, pieces: the future incomplete.
We have only tonight.
28
IROUSE SLOWLY, SHEDDING SLEEPas clouds do a warm summer rain. The weight burdening my limbs is profound. They sink deep into the soft mattress, surrounded by blankets and a small mountain of pillows. Through the cracks of my eyelids, dawn makes itself known.
Tendrils of light flutter through the window to paint the floral wallpaper. I watch their elaborate filaments dance across the leaves and vines, my thoughts far away, cocooned in velvet. Last night, I gave the East Wind my heart. I regret nothing.
Memories of Eurus’ hands, and his mouth, and the unexpected gentleness of his lovemaking rise up from the depths into which they’d settled. Never before had I felt so prized, like I was both made of glass and tempered steel. He looked at me, and there was no need to quail, flinch, retreat. I was beloved. I was seen.
Shifting onto my back, I freeze. In the corner of my eye, the East Wind’s massive form lies sprawled across the bed, wings and all.
Soundly, he sleeps. The airy touch of the budding morn cascades over his slackened face. One side is sculpted with a scrupulous balance, featuring a straight black brow, rounded nose, the cut of a flawless cheek. It is beautiful, exquisitely carved. But I much prefer its scarred reflection.
My attention drifts to the crest of his wings. Sunlight reveals their true depth of color. Not wholly black, as I had believed, but cerulean and jade, even shades of dusky pink.
Reaching out, I trace the long, arched bone extending from his upper back. Eurus shudders, and his wing eases open, stretching like a cat in the sun.
When my attention returns to his face, I find him staring at me.
My mouth goes dry. “Good morning,” I whisper.
He smiles sleepily. I dare say it is adorable. “Good morning, bird.”
Curving one broad palm around the back of my head, his mouth descends, catching mine with a lazy twining of his tongue. I return the kiss eagerly, wrapping my arms around his neck without hesitation. It is a testament of his trust in me that he does not flinch.
