The boy smiled, brushing her wet hair back. “He’s alive. You didn’t kill him. It’s all right, Lia.”
“It was a trap.”
The boy laughed, and before the wind could flick his ear, the woman flicked his shoulder.
“I thought I was smarter than them. My dad loves switching places to confuse attackers. I knew he’d do it, but I didn’t think he’d do it more than once. I was stupid. Arrogant. I should’ve known he’d have told Luvic to switch with him in case of an attack. He always expected us to sacrifice ourselves for him. You swear Luvic’s alive? You promise . . .? Why are you smiling like that?”
“Did you like my gift?”
The citrus and pearl dust scented woman’s mouth tightened. The boy’s smile grew.
“What did you name her?”
“I’m not talking about the dog with you.”
The boy’s eyebrows rose. “You named her ‘the dog’?”
“No, I didn’t name her ‘the dog.’ What’s wrong with you?” She glanced at the black mist surrounding them. “I think you have about thirty seconds before Raggie conjures a storm and busts through here.”
The boy grinned. “He can try.”
“Why did you come today?” The woman pressed her finger to the boy’s mouth. “Don’t tell me for the cake. Was it the leggerock’s creature? Are you and her?—?”
The boy swooped down like the wind diving from a high cliff and captured the woman’s mouth. She let out a puff of surprised air, but then she grabbed his wet hair and yanked him closer.
She bit his lip, piercing the skin. He grunted, and she licked his mouth, chasing the taste of him. The wind swirled around them, diving over the stroke of the boy’s hands and the softness of the woman’s skin. She plundered his mouth, dragging soft exhalations and quiet murmurs from his lips. He kissed along her jaw, pleasured her mouth, erased the salty taste of tears. She backed against the brick wall, dragging the boy with her, until he was pressing over her, pressing into her. There was nowhere to go except into each other.
The woman pulled the boy close, working her mouth over his.
“You attacked me—” She broke off, kissing him.
“I saved you—” he said, and she bit his lip again.
“I don’t trust you—” She kissed him.
“You can always trust me?—”
“I don’t want you—” she argued.
“Yes. You do.”
“I don’t forgive you?—”
“I know.”
“I won’t.”
“Lia—”
“What?”
“Do you want to go have cake? There’s a bakery in the East Village?—”
“Are you out of your mind?”
The boy blinked and then tilted his head, considering the question. “No,” he finally decided. Then he added, “It’s dark chocolate. With ganache. If you want, we could have dinner first.”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
