"You'll need it more than me. I can withstand temperatures better."
I nod, following close on her heels.
Danger lurks in the darkness. I feel dread sink into my stomach, turning it sour. There had been splendor before. Now, the sinking feeling of death surrounds us.
My instincts to protect her rise like a tidal wave.
Arden goes to fly off, but I snag her wrist. Her skin is warm and soft beneath my calloused fingers. Bones more delicate than a bird’s rest under my palm.
Her eyes look between where we touch and my face. I'm sure grasping a Queen is an offense punishable by death.
Keeping her close is worth the risk.
"Finn, what are you?—"
"It’s not meaningless to me, Queenie. I don't flirt with you because I want something." My fingers squeeze her wrist. "That's not true. I do want something."
Arden dips her chin.
"Your wish."
A humorless chuckle falls from my lips.
"Yes, but something else. Sometimes I think I want it more than the fucking wish."
"Finn—"
"I can't have it, though, Queenie. It wouldn't be fair."
"Finn, I don't?—"
"Stop saying my name like that."
Arden looks at me beneath her pink lashes.
She shivers, and I'm not sure it's from the chill but rather the rough tone of my voice. Our bodies drift closer. The silk of her dress brushes against my chest.
"I can't lose control with you, Queenie. Not now, not ever."
"Why?"
Such an innocent question from her perfect lips.
"Because then I may never leave."
"And you can't stay," she says.
It's not a question, but I nod anyway.
"But that doesn't mean I don't want to. If things were different."
"Different," she breathes. "But they aren't."
I shake my head, allowing a small smile to curl my lips.
My fingers grasp a strand of pink hair. I gently pull it and watch it reform. Grazing my thumb along the inside of her palm, I savor her warmth before reluctantly letting her go. Her body sways towards mine, her lips parted in a silent invitation.
A battle between my heart and the creature inside me rages.
