She refused to cry during sex, every stigma about it ringing loudly across her mind, but in that moment she came all too close. They were tears of sorrow at the fact that she had spent so long without this feeling, of joy at finally finding it. Tears of frustration at the knowledge that it would be over all too soon. Of pain at everything she had caused, but excitement at all the hope they had for a future where the suffering would end.
How could she ever hope to explain why she was crying when the truth was because of every emotion at once?
This time, when Snow began to move again, it was to sling one of her knees over his shoulder, the new position allowing him deeper within her, as close as they could be. With each renewed thrust, pleasure wracked through her, heat building quickly in her gut, twisting tighter and tighter until she was certain it would snap. But even on the precipice of orgasm, Jo didn’t want it to end.
Which is why the sudden burst of ecstasy that sang through her was almost bittersweet. Jo threw her head back into the pillows, allowing her climax to take her as completely as her feelings for Snow had. Taken, saved, reunited: regardless of when it had happened, she was his.
The pleasure was so profound that it took Jo a long moment for her to realize that Snow had followed her over the edge, his face buried in her neck as he moaned through his own release. Be it a moment of vulnerability or a genuine need to keep him close, Jo looped her arms around him, holding him against her, feeling the tension in his muscles loosen.
Her leg eased off his shoulder, thighs quivering and toes slowly uncurling. They rested against his hips as he remained in place. For a minute, or an eternity, they simply breathed. She held onto him, arms wrapped around his back, hands clutching his shoulders. Every heaving breath seemed to sing in their ears and neither seemed eager to let the other go.
Something she’d been ignoring was suddenly so, so clear.
Once upon a time, in another life, the two of them had been in love. And now, as they remained entwined, bodies still warm and hearts still easing beneath the soothing hand of their afterglow, she realized they were in this one too.
And if that love was to have a fighting chance, if any of them were, then the Society must end.
Chapter 23
Dark Water
Neither of them said anything for a long time.
It was as if they both knew that the second words crossed one of their lips, the brief reprieve they had taken for themselves by force would be gone. Jo’s hand rested on her still bare chest as she stared up at the ceiling. A calm had soaked into her. She was resting in a cocoon of Snow’s magic and that alone was keeping her from falling apart. It was likely some mystical placebo effect, now knowing they were natural counterbalances. But believing it reassured her and, for now, that was enough.
Snow was the one to finally break the stasis, pulling himself into a seated position. “I should see to the status of the wish,” he whispered.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Jo mumbled, not wanting to leave the warm safety of his bed. But the spell was already broken, and Snow was the first to stand.
“We only have a week left until. . .” Snow paused on a button of his shirt. “But it won’t come to that.”
“No, it won’t,” Jo whispered at the ceiling.
“Stay as long as you’d like. You’re safe here.” He walked over, pressing his lips against her forehead before departing.
Eventually, Jo peeled herself off the sheets, located her clothes and pulled them on. Dressed, she walked over to the box, engaging in a silent staring contest.
Her magic, the magic of Destruction, was so close. Jo could almost feel a thrumming underneath her skin at the mere thought. But her promise to Snow remained in her mind—she wouldn’t touch it.
Suddenly Snow’s bedroom felt claustrophobic. Her thoughts were swirling into an anxiety-inducing cocktail, so Jo decided to wander before she was forced to drink it. She barely even registered her direction until she was breathing in the scent of fresh water, a cool breeze off the pool raising goosebumps along her arms. The magic that produced the illusion of their atmosphere had already painted the sky the dark indigo of night, the stars shining brightly despite the illumination of the pool.
And itwasilluminated, Jo recognized, as though it had been waiting for her. Soft golden light shimmered beneath the gentle ripples of the water and the lanterns lining the pool deck bathed the rest of area in a warm glow. She’d never appreciated how relaxing it all truly was, even if Jo found herself unable to be soothed.
Jo looked at the single deck chair, a book on its seat. Hadn’t she left it on the ground? Or had she taken it back to her room? Jo couldn’t remember. Listlessly, she lifted it, flipping its pages. The words now took on new meaning.
Oblivion.Arrow.
Warring gods and mashed-up pantheons. It read less like a fable and more like a history book with all the knowledge she’d gained. She scanned for anything on magically dismantling things, pillars, funneling magic, societies, anything—and came up empty-handed. Even looking at it through the lens of her recently collected knowledge, she had wrenched all the secrets one book could give.
Jo closed the book, stashed it back under the chair, and rubbed her eyes. Her mind was too over-saturated to try to think about anything specific, let alone read. Shadows lingered in the darkness behind her eyelids and she opened them quickly, the calming sight of the pool chasing the ghosts away.
Spurred on by the sight, Jo stood, eased her hoodie over her head, and removed her pants. It wasn’t exactly a swimsuit, but Jo didn’t have it in her to go to her room and check to see if the mansion had concocted one for her. She sat at the edge of the pool for a second before lowering herself into the water.
A part of her had hoped the water would be shiver-inducing, that she would be able to dunk herself beneath its glass-like surface, block everything out for a moment beneath the bracing chill. But just as everything else in their fake outdoors seemed to be, it was (disappointingly) the perfect temperature—not too hot, not too cold. It soaked into her shirt and caressed her skin as she walked further into the illuminated depths.
The pool sloped, declining beneath her feet until she could see the slight-drop off of the deep end. When the water was beneath her chin, she took to swimming with broad, lazy strokes. And when even that much energy seemed pointless, she leaned back into an easy float and let her eyes roam the vast expanse of faux-night sky.
She hadn’t realized just how much she’d been aching until the cool water removed the tension from her limbs, her back. Her body tilted, legs falling just below the surface, chest swelling upward with every breath. Without even meaning to, her eyes fluttered closed.
