That hurts. I prefer Jessa thinking about me, about us, about the impossible thing that hangs between us whenever we’re close. But she’s right. It’s better this way. We can’t be anything more than what we are.
“Hold on to me,” I say, and I bend down and lift her before either of us can change our minds.
She wraps her arms around my neck and presses her side against my chest. She fits in my arms perfectly. It’s as if my body was designed with exactly this purpose in mind: to carry her, hold her, keep her safe, and close, and mine.
I spread my wings and take flight.
The crossing takes less than two minutes. The abyss deepens under us, the river crashing far below, and the ruined bridgeshrinking into a thin line. I hold her tighter than necessary, and she doesn’t complain. The air is cold this deep underground, and she presses closer to my warmth, her fingers gripping the back of my neck where the port at the base of my skull is hidden. Her hand is so close to one of the most vulnerable parts of me, and I don’t pull away. I don’t want to.
I land on the other side.
I don’t release her.
She doesn’t ask me to.
I look down at her in my arms, and she’s already looking up at me. Her lips are parted, her breathing quick, and her face is tilted toward mine at an angle that means only one thing. She looks like she’s about to kiss me, and for a few seconds I stay exactly where I am, holding her, waiting, wanting this more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.
Jessa doesn’t kiss me. Instead, she shifts, her body sliding down, and the friction of her movement against my concealed erection is too much. I set her down immediately, and she takes a step back, putting space between us.
She clears her throat.
I nod.
“So,” she says. “I guess we continue.”
“Yes,” I say. “After you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jessa
The tension is so thick, one could cut it with a knife. Oh God, I’m starting to think in cliches. What is this man doing to me? No, not a man… I need to remind myself. Angel. Seraph. Made of steel. A robot that’s not a robot at all, because he sounds more human than most real men I’ve met.
We’ve been walking through another tunnel for maybe twenty minutes when the passage opens into something that makes me stop dead in my tracks. My jaw drops.
“What the hell?”
I turn to Castien and start jumping up and down like a complete maniac, laughing so hard I can barely breathe. He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“What is this?” His voice carries an edge of confusion. “Is this an illusion? Are we hallucinating? Is there something in the air? Some poisoning gas that’s making me see things that aren’t there?”
I’m still laughing, but I manage to get control of myself enough to speak.
“The room is real, Castien. It’s completely real.”
And it is. We’re standing in the doorway of a medieval bedroom that looks like it was decorated yesterday. Rich tapestries hang on the walls, and a massive four-poster bed dominates the center of the room, complete with a thick mattress, pillows, and blankets that look perfectly clean. A wooden table sits against a wall, with two chairs pulled up to it. Candelabras have lit themselves when we entered, casting yellow light across everything. There’s also a wooden chest at the foot of the bed.
“I read about this,” I tell him, dropping my backpack. “It means we’re close. The vault is right after this room.”
“How is this possible?”
“The Holloways built it as the final rest before the last challenge. They knew any heir who made it past the Spiral of Echoes would be psychologically destroyed, so they wanted to give them comfort before the final tests. The room is maintained by the same magic that powers the traps. A bit of mercy hidden in the curse.”
I walk over to check the adjoining chamber and scrunch up my nose. It’s got a medieval privy and washbasin. Not ideal, but it’ll do. When I come back out, Castien is still standing where I left him, staring around the room like he expects it to disappear.
“I have no idea what time it is,” I say.
“Ten PM,” he answers.
