Alarmed, I draw back—but her hands slide over my cheeks, tangling in my hair as she draws me to her again. Eyes still closed, she kisses me, shuddering as she weeps silently.
“Àn’ying?” I whisper against her lips, but she captures my mouth in hers, her tongue sweeping over mine as she trails a hand down my chest—and I forget everything else. I forget about trying to hide how I feel about her, forget about the practiced nonchalance I’ve been wearing around her, that mask of ice I held in place when my heart felt like it was on fire whenever I was close to her.
I yield and draw her to me, my eyes falling shut as I taste her, let myself drown in the feel and smell and touch of her as I’vedreamt of for so many nights. I hold her as if she is life itself, because I’m terrified that this is just another dream, that I’ll wake up calling her name and reaching for her on an empty bed in the darkness again.
But as I murmur her name against her mouth, she’s still here, warm and alive and in my arms.
I force myself to slow down, to let her lead. My fingers skim her back, gliding up her spine, the sharp blades of her shoulders, the soft skin of her neck and the silk of her hair.
She places her hands on my chest. I let her push me backward, stumbling over the threshold of my pavilion into my chambers, the silken drapes tangling between us briefly. She steers us to the partition in my room and pushes me down onto the futon.
“Àn’ying?” I’m breathing hard, but her face is carved of stone, as though she’s learned a new mask. It’s rare that I’m not able to read her; she used to wear her emotions on her sleeves, so that with each crease of her brows or downturn of her mouth, I could tell if she was irritated or pleased.
I don’t know what to make of this.
She turns to me and slides, liquid, onto my lap—and all semblance of thought scatters from my mind. My hands go to her waist, gripping her as my body reacts, desire hardening every part of me and needing her to be closer. I lift my gaze to her, drinking her in as though she is a drug, a poison, intoxicating me even as a part of me knows something is wrong.
Gods, I think, and I realize she could make me believe in such a thing again: Gods.
She’s beautiful. An ache spreads in my chest as I take her in, wearing the dress I made for her with my magic. It’s the colors of the ocean at midnight, the hues I remember the waves thattime I took her there and she let me hold her. I wove in cherry blossoms and tiny stars, swept along by the ripples of gauzes and silks.
I wanted to make the most perfect dress for her—one that she could come to love, one that would make her feel strong and seen and empowered in this realm, inmyrealm. I wanted everything to go as well as it could tonight. If her only choice is to remain here, by my side…foolish as it is, I can’t help but hope she might slowly come to accept it.
To accept me.
I gaze up at her, joy and disbelief as bright and sharp as a hot iron in my chest. As she presses her lips to mine again, I let myself touch her as I’ve wanted to for so many nights. I kiss her hard, my palms roaming up her waist to the small of her back and encircling her rib cage as I pray to whichever gods might listen to me—as I dare to begin to hope—that I can hold her like this for a lifetime.
Suddenly, Àn’ying jerks back. She pries my fingers from her and pushes my hands off. I blink and hold my palms up as she tips her head away, breaking our kiss. Her jaw is tight, the tears on her cheeks fresh as she reaches up and wipes them away.
Confused, I reach for her, to catch her tears and hold her. She still hasn’t looked at me. Her gaze is downcast, and too late now, I catch a flash of something like reluctance in her eyes.
The ache in my chest spreads. Turns to ice.
You disgust me.
Even as she takes my mouth again, the words wash over me, and suddenly, I’m shaking, my hands trembling as I lower them and spread them against the seat of the futon. My stomach twists from a burning hunger for her I have carried for solong—and now, a commingling of nausea and dread as the realization knocks all air from my lungs:
She doesn’t want me.
“Àn’ying,” I gasp, breaking away from her. My voice is unsteady. Black waters at my neck, rising to my chin. Threatening to drown me. I have to know.I have to know.“Àn’ying, look at me—”
Her hands are at my belt, her deft fingers undoing it, and then she eases onto me and I nearly lose control then.
I make a noise and lean into her, burying my face in the crook of her neck as sensation courses through me, my head growing light. My fingers clench against the silk of the futon as I strain to hold myself still. But as her arms encircle my shoulders and she moves against me, I yield to instinct, my hands coming to grip her hips.
I press her harder against me, gritting my teeth against the soft curve of her shoulder. In the haze of my desire, I feel her shrug me off and push me back against the futon. I let her hold me there as she shifts her hips against mine, the soft silks of the dress I made for her brushing against my thighs. Her eyes fall shut again as she kisses me, slowly now, her lips soft against mine. I’m reminded of the night we shared back in the Temple of Dawn, before everything had gone to hell: her eyes bright and liquid as she gazed up at me.I want you, she whispered, and it felt as though my entire life had been leading to that point, to those words from her lips.
Look at me, I want to say to her as I kiss her back, hungry and desperate and unable to help myself anymore.Open your eyes, Àn’ying—I’m right in front of you.
But her eyes remain closed, her lashes fluttering like blackbutterflies across her cheeks as she moves against me. Her lips part and she tips her head back, and the sight nearly destroysme.
Please, I think, like a litany, a prayer. I reach for her, and this time she doesn’t stop me.Please look at me.
My heart breaks and breaks and breaks as I hold the woman I love, the only one I have ever wanted in this lifetime, because as much as I can delude myself, I know deep inside that she never wanted this. Never wanted me. That she is here only because of circumstances, that I was never any choice for her but the last. And I know that if this is the only way I can have her, I will take it, and it will be more than I deserve.
So I love her, I love her with everything that I am and every piece of my soul, even as it breaks me and even as I know that it is all that I can give and nothing that she wants.
She clutches me, her nails digging into my neck and my back, and I let myself go, too.
