“I don’t believe in waiting for a perfect moment that might not ever come,” she said. Our eyes met. Closer than we’d ever been before. I could see the strands of gold in her irises, the subtle lines at the corner of her eyes, and the light brown spots across the bridge of her nose. Did all humans have those? I’d never noticed before. “Tonight is the first night that there’s been a fire in this hearth in a long time. I thinkthisis a perfect moment. Right now. Will you join me?”
Gods, how I wished she was mine. If only for a little while. I would cherish and savor her, like that rare fruit from the Kaazor, until she was gone. A fleeting, ephemeral, beautiful thing in my life until I couldn’t have her anymore.
I inclined my head. “Yes. I’d be honored.”
She poured thick, amber liquid into the top cup of the flask and then handed me the larger base.
“To perfect moments,” Millie toasted softly. “And toKyzaireswho know how to make fires and let me trespass on their land.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle, delighted in her grin, and we held each other’s eyes as we took the first sip. I’d never had whiskey before, preferring Drovos wine or fermented brew from the southern regions of the Kaalium, and so I wasn’t expecting theburn. It felt good, that little path of fire. It was sweeter than I’d expected.
Millie exhaled a slow breath. “You like it?”
The huskiness in her voice from the whiskey only added to that slow burn.
“Yes,” I replied, my eyes catching on her lips. “I do.”
Her cheeks were flushed—from the whiskey, from the fire, or from my lingering gaze, I couldn’t be certain.
Selfish desire added to the heat in my belly. But Millie must’ve felt it too because she didn’t shy away when my head dipped toward her.
A perfect moment,I realized.
How many do we get in a lifetime?I wondered next, determination rising. Not many.
The moment I kissed her, I knew it was a foolish decision. Right then, however, all I could think was that I would forever regretnotkissing her. She was correct in her observation that I was the logical brother. The overthinker. The assessor.
Right then? All the reasons I shouldn’t do this flew out the drafty cottage window as I turned more fully into her, slinging an arm around her hip and dragging her into me.
She tasted sweet like the whiskey, the heat of her slick tongue agonizingly tempting as I chased it. A small, eager gasp puffed against my lips. She pressed closer, so hot that she felt like she was burning up in my grip.
“Millie,” I urged against her lips. “More.”
Her hand dug into my shoulder as my cock hardened in a rush, the knot at the base beginning to swell and pulse. She teased her dull little teeth against my bottom lip, biting down in a way that made me groan and made my hips buck up. I dragged my free hand up her spine, pushing up her dusty and dirty tunic, encountering warm, smooth flesh.
At my touch, Millie gave a contented sigh, her kiss softening while mine hardened, becoming more demanding. Her scent was driving me steadily toward the lost realm. My mind went hazy, like a cloud of silverloresmoke.
Then two things happened at once.
The first…my fangs elongated in a rush and nicked her bottom lip, drawing a sweet bloom of her blood that hit my senses like a damnakkiumbolt.
Sublime,I thought, groaning in astonishment.
At that first taste, all my common sense vanished. Blood rushed downward. Muscles began to swell. I could feel the aching stretch of my claws, clamoring to hold her against me, listening to ancient instincts that told me tokeep her. That she was mine. That this wasit. I knew what this was. I’d already suspected, but this was written indravametal. It was undeniable.
Secondly, completely and utterly overcome and distracted, I dropped the oval flask. It clattered, the sound making Millie pull away and gasp, and the last of her father’s whiskey spilled out onto the warm stone of the floor.
It took me a moment to realize what I’d done, chasing Millie’s lips, needing another taste, only for her to place a steadying hand on my chest to keep me away.
Reality flooded back in.
“Fuck,” I cursed, snagging the flask to right it quickly, hardly recognizing my own voice. “Gods, Millie, I’m sorry.”
She was breathing hard, her lips swollen and red from the smeared drop of her blood. Her eyes were glassy and wild. She scrambled off me, setting her own whiskey aside, before raising her fingers to her lips, gingerly touching the small cut.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. But that brief taste of her blood made my awareness of her rise to new heights. I couldhearthe throb of her heart in her chest, beating in time with my own.
“It’s…it’s all right, Kythel,” she said in a breathless rush, eyeing the pool on the floor as I rose to my full height. “It was an accident.”
