Page 75 of You’re So Vein

He steps closer, and a magic hums between us. Everything smells like him, like wood and moss, like trees that have stood for thousands of years, stoic and unmovable.

“About those things I said at your party.” His voice is oak and thunder.

“Forget it. I bet you sleep hanging upside down from the ceiling by your feet.”

“Komal, please.” His features soften, and there’s that warm fire crackling in his eyes again. “I need to know… do you feel safe with me?”

Safe.

What a thing to say to me, a woman who doesn’t know the meaning of the word.

Why does that question burn up my insides? Why do I want to believe that he cares about the answer?

I shake my head. “I should leave.”

But I don’t move. Neither does he. The air between us crackles.

“Answer me.”

“Why? Why is it so important for you to know if I feel safe? Why does it matter to you?”

“Because… I…” The fire in his eyes becomes a bright conflagration. “Fuck it.”

“You swore. You never swear—” But my words are cut off when his lips touch mine.

He tastes like the forest, like peace and comfort, like a warm, crackling fire and a hot chai. He tastes like something I’ve wanted for so long but thought I could never have. He tastes like light in the darkness.

His tongue touches mine, and it’s only then that my wobbly thoughts coalesce into understanding.

Augustin Durant is kissing me.

And I’m kissing him back.

This is madness.

I hate this man.

But in this cosy cottage with fire in my veins and his warm eyes devouring me, hate tastes an awful lot like wanting.

I tell myself to pull away. Instead, I slide my arms around his neck. Cool fingers press into my back, holding me against him, while his other hand cups my chin, angling me so he can kiss me deeper. He is the forest and I’m lost in the trees. I’ve been tempted from the path by some capricious sprite and led to his hearth, and he is warmth and safety and magic—

And then it all comes flooding back.

The last time I let someone in. The last time I allowed myself to believe in love.

The secret hollow of my heart.

I tear myself away from him.

The heat in Augustin’s eyes turns to concern. “What is the matter? Did I hurt you? Am I—”

“I’m fine,” I stammer out. “Everything’s fine. I’m interrupting your time with Hannah.”

“Komal—”

“I need to go.”

“I will walk you home. The husker—”