The rush of his presence returns, swells, hits my heart so hard and fast I lose my air. His heartbeat nestles near mine—feeding oxygen back into my lungs. Relief pours through my mind. My limbs weaken on the stuff, and I collapse against Castor’s chest.
He laughs, the sound dark and depraved. It starts in a burst, then it settles lower, more steady. “Ofcourse,” he whispers, chuckling and running his fingers through my hair. “Forgive me and my emotion-clouded judgment. I am a fool of nerves for you, my darling. Your information came fromWillow. The most apathetic, independent,humanI know. Her body is not evolving toward honing her fae pieces like yours. She will never knowthis. She will never feel her soul bond with the depth that we are destined to.” Gentle, nearly patronizing, Castor snuggles me and murmurs, “You will never be able to exist without needing me now, my precious feather. In all things that matter, it is too late. To be without me already is to suffer.”
This is very bad.
Because I think it’s very true.
A low sound vibrates through him, against me. “Now, my love, to get back on topic. Answer my question. Why do you want to learn magic? You know. I need you to know. Because I am falling in love with every new glimpse of you, very much, very swiftly, and Ineedmore.”
My reasonably-desperate-at-the-moment mind struggles to find the correlation between learning magic and him falling deeper in love with me. Then, suddenly, it’s clear.
“I am magic,” I say. “I am part fae. I want to learn because it is a part ofme. I want to embrace who I am. I want to becomemyself. It is something I have never had within reach before. I want to learn how to take up space. I want to learn who I am by what I can be.”
“Atta girl.” Castor’s mouth covers mine, and I fall into the kiss like I’m starving. Our connection pulses until there are two hearts beating like one in my soul. Desire rampant, I grip his clothes, pull him closer, as though I’d like our bodies to meld in the same way. His hair pools in my fingers, so I twist my fist in the strands and yank them. His dark laugh hits my throat before his own fist is in my hair, sending sharp pain through my skull, down my body, and into my toes.
This isn’t like before, on the balcony, or after, in my bed. This is more. This is deeper. This is toying with danger as though regrets don’t exist and fear isn’t real. There’s no thought in this. No consideration. No tentative caution from me. Nois this okayfrom him.
He walks me back, like he did earlier, in the garden, and I tumble into the chair he dumped me in before. His hands brace against the armrests as our mouths pull apart.
Deep breaths fill us, in time, together, and I stare at him, leaning over me, caging me beneath his broad body and dark tousled robes.
He’s beautiful.
Gorgeous.
Beastly.
Mine.
The magic in this room, in my body, in his takes hold, coating me in sensations unknown.
I want to be devoured.
I want to be broken. And built. And burnt.
I want him to see more of me, andloveme in this painful, clawing, desperate way.
I want to cradle his chaos, the tsunami of his emotions, the rampant manic, the anger, the terror.
I want him to hurt me.
I want to hurt him.
And then…then I want to watch our blood pool together in one puddle while our wounds close.
I whisper a swear.
“Yeah?” he asks, voice raw, deep, still breathless.
Frail, I echo, “Yeah…”
“Scary, isn’t it?”
“You’re so beautiful, Castor.” I shiver, and goosebumps prick my flesh. My shaking fingers lift, and I cup his cheeks. “I… I don’t know what to do with it. Please, can I see more of you? The horrible parts, too?”
Obliging, he lets his hand come to rest at my throat. Gently, he strokes my pulse. Controlling and demanding, he says, “Would you really like that? Would you…reallylike me?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that I’m angry, too. I think…maybe…we should forget about being better. I wonder… I just…” Air fills me, and I feel how easy it might be for him to cut it off as my throat touches his hand when I swallow. “I justwonderhow freeing it might feel if instead of worrying aboutbeing betterorbeing safewe instead embrace the danger and give ourselves the permission to be so much worse.”
