“What?”
She crouches in front of me, holding my hands in hers.
“Promise me you won’t be mad at me,” she insists.
Why would I be mad at her? I’m not mad at her. I’m the furthest thing from mad at her. I’m?—
“I just want you to know,” she says. “I want you to know how it feels.”
How what feels?
Undying need? Desperation? Drowning?
Because that is all I feel right now. Unless I could just?—
I rope a hand around her wrist and yank her into my lap. She lets out a little squeak of surprise as my arms come around her, but she doesn’t fuss as I squeeze.
And thank gods she doesn’t. I think this is the only thing keeping me alive at the moment.
I slip my hand beneath her skirt, and the air fills my lungs as I rub the soft skin on her hip and press my lips to her throat, right at the base where I can feel her heartbeat.
Fates, that’s better.
“Elliot, are you listening to me?”
“Mmm,” I hum into her warm skin.
Her arms cross as she pouts, but I’m not paying attention to that either.
Her voice sounds like music in my ears, and her scent is making my mouth water. Not to mention my heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest.
“Iris? I don’t feel good.”
My words come out soft, as if I’m pleading with her to merely look at me. Maybe I am. Because the moment she leans back, and her eyes settle on my face, my chest stops feeling like it might crack in two.
“I know…” she says, cringing.
The look on her face is more than nervous; it’s mischievous, and as the heat of her gaze settles deep in my stomach, my senses come rushing back, brighter and louder than before.
“What did you do?” I ask. “Did you give me something?”
She bites down on her lip, shifting in my lap as she smiles. Not that slick grin she gives me when she’s being a brat, but the broad, fangy smile, when she’s just barely containing a laugh.
“Oh, you little terror. You poisoned me?”
Her smile grows wider as she nods, and I squeeze her round the middle, digging my fingers in at her sides until she starts to laugh.
“Don’t!” she shouts, pawing at my hands. “Wait! Wait.”
But it’s a sweet girlish giggle that makes my ears ring like church bells, so I continue until I’ve had my fill and she starts to kick and writhe.
“What is this?” I ask, kissing my way down her arms.
“You can’t tell?”
How am I supposed to tell?
I don’t feel any different.
