Page 57

“Do you want me to stop?”
I hesitate, and the lie won’t come. So I turn evasive instead. “Why are you doing it?”
Mael strokes his thumb down mine, and the butterflies take flight. I stumble, but he’s there, keeping me upright.
“I’m doing it because I want to keep you with me, and I want to feel your strength. But, mostly, I’m doing it because I want to.”
He turns suddenly, and I find myself face-to-face with him, staring into his fathomless eyes. Mael is so beautiful, stark, all angles. People find him frightening, but I don’t. He’s always been mine.
“We were blind. Forgive me.”
I open my mouth to deny him, to hang onto the familiar rage that has been holding me down all these years, but it’s not there. All I can feel is pain.
Mael leans closer and ducks his head, stopping just short of my lips.
For three very long seconds, I resist, letting him wait, trying to find a reason not to, but the truth is I've dreamed of this, fantasised over this, I want it.
I close the distance, brushing my lips against his. I groan and wrap my free hand around his neck, pulling and holding him closer. My fingers tangle in the soft silk of his hair. He tastes sweet and cool.
When he kisses me back, I get this disorientating twist of déjà vu. But I don’t stop because this isn’t real. It’s just a dream, a familiar dream. I will wake up alone because there’s no way that Mael Morrow is kissing me. Not in real life.
Without letting go of our joined hands, he grips my hip and pulls me closer. I bump into him, tilting my head back to change the angle. His tongue sweeps in, and now I can taste him. He’s invading my senses, wrapping himself intrinsically around me in a way I’m never going to be free of.
He eases the kiss, and then finally breaks away. We’re both left panting. I slide my fingers free of his hair and brace my hand on his chest, trying to put a slither of space between us.
But even this doesn’t feel real.
“You’re not going to stay.”
He doesn’t answer me, but then, in my dreams, he never does. I pull free of him and turn back to the shadows, but his hand is still gripping mine. Instead of pulling me back or stopping me, he falls into step just behind me.
“How do you know?”
It takes a moment to realise that he is answering my question.
“Because this isn’t real. You’re not here. You’ll be gone when I wake up, and I will have to go back to dealing with it all, wishing I didn’t remember how damn much I miss you.”
My lips still tingle. Do lips tingle in a dream?
It has to be because, in all the years of longing, it’s only ever in my imagination that he kisses me.
I turn back, and I’m caught again by the way his hair hangs, the soft way he’s watching me. It’s familiar, this expression. Why do I have to continuously see them? Why can’t I forget them?
“You should have called.”
His words take a minute before I hear them. “Called? You didn’t listen to me. The last conversation we had, you said to me was that you had to follow your heart, and I would understand one day. Why on Earth would you think I would call you?”
He’s totally still for a long moment and then he sags. “Because you were in trouble, because no matter what happens in our life, we always would have come back to help you. You know this.”
“Do I, though?” I murmur and tug my hand free, walking away. “Besides, the pain of having you here would have been worse than all the beatings combined.”
His arms encircle me, one hand sliding up between my breasts to cup my throat. The other pressing against that spot just between my hip bones, dangerously close to where I ache for them.
“What are you doing?” I say it loudly, unable to hide the alarm in my voice.
“This isn’t a dream. We came back, and we’re sorry.”
I seethe. “You think that makes it all okay? I should just let it all go and forgive your asses? You left me, Mael. And you never came back, you didn’t contact me, you didn’t even-”