Page 45 of A Serpent in the Garden

“No,” I lied, withdrawing my head into the cocoon of blankets like a turtle in its shell. A firm grip meant heat. A night of shallow breathing wouldn’t kill me.

If you had blood from Flame, could you warm me? I asked idly. He gave me chills on occasion; it stood to reason that had something to do with his Frost heritage.

Probably a little. My apologies. I could take control and make you run in place to work up a vicious sweat.

Pass.

You can make it through one more cold night. You haven’t felt cold until you’ve been to Frost. It’s bone-cracking. This would be a summer’s night to a full-blooded Frost demon.

I appreciated the comparison but it did not make me any warmer. I huddled as close as I could to Serich, wishing I could somehow climb into his body, let his hot blood hiss all around me and hike my core temperature up by several degrees. I wedged the back of my head into the crook of his neck, shuddering in the draft of cold air I’d stirred up by moving.

He ran his hand up and down my arm. “Just give it a few minutes. It should warm up soon.”

And it did warm up eventually, our shared body heat mingling beneath the crust of dirty blankets. Serich’s breathing evened, no longer sharp and shallow. I thought my eyes might adjust eventually, but they saw nothing but satiny darkness.

“What’s the first thing you’ll do?” Serich asked. “When you’re free of It?”

“Probably run like hell,” I said, after the briefest pause. “There won’t be much time for immediate celebration. We’ll have to make it all the way through the wood again.” I could not allow myself to imagine what a life free of my encumbrance would look like. That smacked of hope, and too much of that was paralyzing. I might not even make it through the gates. Minute by minute, day by day. Those were the only increments I could stand to measure time by. I had to make it through this night before I’d think about what came next.

Serich seemed to sense the cheerless spirals my thoughts spun in and tucked me tighter against his chest. “It’s okay to hope a little. To imagine it.”

“I’ll have time for that later.”

He planted a chilly kiss on my jaw but said nothing, one hand blazing a path up and down the curve of my hip to create some extra warmth.

I never knew a priest to be so familiar, It said, as if this were an idle declaration.

I welcome it, I countered, pressing back against Serich. And he couldn’t have known many priests to begin with.

You welcome it because you don’t want to die untouched, not because of some deep undying love.

I care about him the same way I care about Livvy. My muscles went rigid as my defensiveness grew. That’s not nothing. Love like that is just as important. He didn’t even think twice about coming here with me.

So you reward him for his service by giving him what’s between your legs?

Don’t speak to me like that. It had said much worse to me by far, but the venom dripping from his forked tongue had raised my hackles.

I thought It would snap back immediately, but he didn’t, so I forced myself to relax.

Serich’s lips found the rim of my ear buried beneath my hair. Every pore at the back of my neck tightened at his breath that threaded through the curtain. “Are you a little warmer yet?”

“Getting there.” I reached up behind me to stroke the back of his neck as he bowed his head, his stubbled cheek against my smooth one. His hands slid under and around me, one snaring my stomach, the other above my hips. It was a while before I felt him stir against me, and even through both sets of trousers, I could feel he was hard.

In my mind, It made a noise of deep and agonized disgust.

And it might have been black in the grotto but Serich’s voice was somehow crimson with embarrassment as he peeled away from me. “I’m sorry.”

I suppose if I were a better person I would have said something like don’t worry about it, and tried to go to sleep.

Twisting onto my other side so we were face to face, I pulled him back to me. “I don’t need an apology.” I trapped his face between my palms. “I might die. I want to know what it’s like before I go.” I was glad for the dark, that he wouldn’t see my face flame. “I want it. You.” And when he said nothing, I added in a reckless tumble, “I don’t want to marry you or anything silly like that. You wouldn’t need to worry about my feelings. I’d never tell a soul. Nobody would find out, and you haven’t even taken vows yet. You’d be breaking no rules. I’ve just…I’ve never even kissed anyone before.”

“You’re not going to die.” His voice came low and gravelly. “We shouldn’t.” But he sighed as if he weren’t happy to deliver that answer.

“Probably not,” I admitted. “But I can’t help what I want. And you touch me as if you’ve given it some thought.”

“I’m not dead, Des. I’m still a man. I’m just…supposed to rise above those urges.”

Maybe so, but hadn’t he been flirting with that line since we came into the wood? I said nothing; I wouldn’t lower myself to begging, but for a moment I thought he might refuse me.