As the spring-loaded, mechanical arm closes the door, I shake my head at Slate. “You’re terrible.”
“Unarguably so.” He sweeps his arm toward the stairs. “After you, milady.”
I smile in spite of the crappy day it’s been, then begin to ascend, but stop midway to look at Slate. Really look at him. We wield no magic and yet this boy has managed to bewitch me with his charisma and humor . . . with his light. He could’ve let the darkness consume him. Consume me. Consume Brume. But he didn’t. He fights his battles and everyone else’s.
I take a step down, then another, until our faces are aligned. And then I do something uncharacteristically-Cadence-like. I grip his shoulders and kiss him. He’s not expecting it. I can tell because his mouth is sealed shut, and the tendons running under his skin are stiff as steel beams. But soon, he snaps out of his daze and flips me sideways, backing me up into the rough stone wall, lips opening, tongue dancing against mine. His hand lands on the back of my skull, winds through my hair, ruining my ponytail.
Not that I give a crap about my ponytail.
All I care about is deepening our connection.
Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or days of pent-up anger, or fear for what is to come, or just lust, but I want this boy so badly it hurts. My pulse drills my veins, muscles I didn’t even know I possessed clench, and the bruises and soreness from last night’s battle awaken, turning my sensitive skin into a minefield of tiny explosions.
But that doesn’t slow me down, because what I feel more deeply than any aches and pains is this welling affection for this lost boy who’s found his way home.
43
Slate
“Slate, we should go—”
“Fuck that.” I nuzzle her neck which is soft as silk and smells so sweet I find myself suckling it. “We’ve defeated three curses without any fucking translations.”
“Fuck’s your favorite word, isn’t it?”
I comb away a lock of her hair stuck to her swollen lips. “I apologize for being crass, Cadence. Never did make it into finishing school.”
“Don’t apologize for how you talk. Or think. I don’t care what comes out of your mouth as long as it isn’t a lie.” She presses a kiss to the edge of my jaw. “I like you just the way you are. Foul tongue and all. But we really need to go upstairs and help Adrien.”
I really don’t feel like deciphering a worm-eaten scroll. “I’m sure he’s loving it.” I splay my palm on the small of her back and drag her tight body into my groin. “Besides, my brain’s been deprived of blood for so long that I’d be useless up there.”
On a huff of laughter, she levers her body off mine. “Perhaps, but now’s really not a good time to do away with my virginity, Slate Ardoin.”
Wait . . .what?My fingers don’t spring off her back, but they definitely turn flaccid. Unlike another part of my anatomy. I don’t think there’s any chance of that happening as long as I’m pressed up against Cadence de Morel.
“You’ve never . . .?”
“No.” She swallows, and then her cheek dimples as though she’s biting the inside of it.
I sweep my thumb over her intensifying blush, trying to smooth away her nerves, but thumbs aren’t magical, and since I still haven’t said anything, she’s growing more antsy. “And here I thought librarians were supposed to be a promiscuous bunch.”
She bestows a smile upon me, one of her most radiant ones yet, and damn if it doesn’t make the entire staircase shine. “You’re not scared of me now are you?”
“Scared. Pfff. I faced down a busty incarnation of Jaws in a pitch-black tunnel. Trust me, your wholesomeness doesnotscare me.” I slide my thumb over her lips. “I just hope you’re not too attached to it.”
“Not attached to it at all.” Her breathing has sped up considerably.
I put a hand against the wall and pry my body off hers. However badly I want her, I’m not going to corrupt her in a stairwell with my brother and her best friend sitting a couple feet away and Adrien Mercier upstairs. No. I’m going to corrupt her nice and slow, in a bedroom, with not anothersoul around.
“Go. I need to cool down. Don’t want to make Prof feel underwhelming.”
Her eyebrows scrunch and then jerk up, and she swats my bicep.
I tsk. “So violent, Mademoiselle de Morel.”
“So arrogant, Monsieur Ardoin.”
I grin at her, which makes her respond in kind with another one of her glorious smiles.
