They hadn’t made it far before the first drops fell. It started in a sprinkle, a few sporadic raindrops here and there, but those were merely the heralds of the downpour that followed.
“Oh no!” Ember cried out as she threw her hands over her head in a vain attempt to shield herself.
As abruptly as it had begun, the rain stopped pelting her. Ember’s brow furrowed. She could see sheets of water falling in front of her, hitting the ground hard enough to spray back up, but none of it was coming down on her. Just as oddly, the wind seemed to be flowing around her without touching her.
Slowly, she lowered her arms and looked up.
Ember’s breath caught.
Nyte’s wing was extended over her, shielding her from the storm. She could see the stars shining and twinkling amidst the shadows, could see the rain falling upon his wing from above, but not a drop broke through.
Reaching up, Ember brushed her fingertips against his wing. The shadows were as solid as his flesh.
His wing shuddered, and Nyte drew in a sharp breath, which was barely audible over the rain.
Touched by his thoughtfulness, she leaned toward his darkform, clutching her hands together with a grin. “Awww, you do care!”
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Silence, witch.”
But the softness in the way he said those words shifted them from a command to a caress. An endearment.
Ember smiled, sidling closer to him as they walked. No one looked their way, so she could only assume he was keeping his wings hidden from other mortal eyes, but none of that mattered to her. All that mattered was Nyte.
She longed for him. She had since she’d first seen him. With each passing day, with each passing moment, with every new thing she learned about him, that longing had grown. Yes, there was lust, but this felt so much deeper. And it was getting considerably harder to hold back what she felt for him.
She didn’t even want to think that in a little over two short weeks…he’d be gone.
The storm had only strengthened by the time they reached her house and stepped inside, and Ember fumbled in the dark along the wall for the light switch. When the lights came on, they were near blinding, causing her to flinch.
“Blazing hells, some warning please,” Nyte growled.
“Sorry,” Ember giggled, looking his way.
He stood with his eyes slitted and a hand raised to shield them from the light, his expression rather disgruntled. And she couldn’t help but notice that he appeared to be completely dry. From the dark, unruly locks upon his head to his dashing attire, not a single drop of rain had deigned to land upon him.
Or he’d just…magicked them away.
Whereas Ember’s boots and the hem of her skirt were soaked.
Holding the wall for balance, she tried totoe off her boots, but they were being particularly stubborn, with the side zippers keeping them firmly in place.
Stupid boots.
She took a step away from the wall, meaning to bend down and undo them, but the toe of her boot caught on her wet skirt, pitching her forward and tearing a gasp from her.
Though what happened next occurred in an instant, it felt like slow motion for Ember. Her stomach lurched with the certainty that she was about to faceplant, but the space in front of her darkened. Wisps of shadow licked at her, shadows she couldfeel, and the air thickened. Those shadows solidified. Rather than hitting the floor, she was halted by a solid body—Nyte’s solid body—which had just materialized in her path.
She could feel his arms around her and his warmth seeping into her. Her fingers curled against his bare, star-speckled chest. His clothing was gone.
Slowly, she trailed her eyes up to meet his. He stared down at her, his brow creased as though in concern, the corners of his mouth curled down. His scent of woodsy incense and night air enveloped her, intoxicating her and stirring a fervid heat within her core.
Without thought, Ember rose on her toes and kissed him.
Her eyelids fluttered shut as her mouth lingered against his. She marveled at how his lips were so firm yet so pliable, and she didn’t immediately register how tense Nyte had become, or the tightness of his hold on her.
He was as still as a statue, his lips unmoving beneath her own.
What have I done?
