His groan vibrates against my lips as he works my mouth open. My tongue dips into his mouth, but he chases it with his in this back-and-forth fight for dominance that’s so uniquely ours.
My hands move to cradle his cheeks as his roam my hair and body, and we kiss until I’m sure I’m going to drown in it. Ourbodies are fused, pushed together until there’s no space between us.
We're chest to chest, hip to hip, with arms binding us like stitches.
There’s no self-preservation here.
No caution.
We both rip ourselves bare with no concern for the consequences.
By the time he pulls away, my lips are swollen, and I ache to my very bones. Patience has never been a weapon in my arsenal, and I’m desperate to move past this gray area.
Bash stares at me for a long moment. He cradles my head and tucks me into his neck, and the show of tenderness brings me to the verge of tears.
“If we do this, that’s it for me, Xen,” he says as he kisses my temple. “There’s no coming back from this a second time. No moving on, and no getting over it if you break my heart again.”
“I won’t,” I whisper, still clutching his shirt.
The thud of a door sounds from behind us, and I wait for Bash to leave me—separate himself so he can pretend there’s nothing here. But he doesn’t pull away, only runs his hand over my hair as someone climbs the stairs.
“Oh,” Sakane says when he spots us. “Um, Dom? Can I, uh, steal you? Sorry to interrupt…”
“Yeah, of course,” Bash responds, and he pulls me off the ledge and places me on my feet. Gentle fingers pinch my chin and tilt my face to his, and he kisses me once more.
“Time, princess. I just need time. Will you wait for me?”
“I’ll always wait for you,” I answer softly enough to stay between us, and another wave of emotion crosses his face before he swipes his thumb over my bottom lip and walks away.
Bash
Feetshuffleoutsidemydoor, and nervous whispers pass in a heated back-and-forth. I huff a sigh as I glance up from my notes, tapping my pencil’s eraser against the papers spread out across my desk. Ever since Xeni told me about the rifts and their reaction to the Drüinae's magic, my brain has been spinning.
At Ljómur, there was something I’d been trying to prove for years before they sent me away. My hypothesis was simple: the mates’ intention mattered more than anything.
The couples living there voluntarily caused greater reactions, and in more consistent numbers. My colleagues assumed this was because of their living situation. Nothing more than a product of being together in their comfortable apartment versus being locked in cages and separated.
I wasn’t convinced.
I believed they were more successful because theywantedto be.
It was a theory I’d never shared with my superiors, only jotting notes and testing ideas in places I wouldn’t be overseen. Being at Ljómur wasn’t my choice, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t fight back in my way. Withholding information seemed like the best form of resistance.
“I gave him bad news last time.” Sakane’s voice carries from beyond the door, and I slide off my reading glasses and rub the bridge of my nose.
“No, I did!” Cato hisses back.
I sigh at the realization that I won’t get any more work done, then glance out at the darkening sky outside. I’ve lost hours to my research, so the interruption might be for the best.
“I can hear you, you know,” I call through the door.
The hall falls silent.
“Can we come in?” Cato finally asks, and I laugh to myself as I tell them to enter.
They step inside, with Sakane shuffling between his feet and Cato’s lips pulled tight. The scarring on his face is more prominent with his cheek taut, and the puckered skin catches the faint light from the window.
“Well?” I ask after it becomes clear they aren’t going to speak voluntarily. “Who’s going to give me the bad news?”
