Page 112
Story: Ruins of Sea and Souls
Tared, his lips said,can go fuck himself.
‘But if he fades back and—’
Creon hooked his left arm around my waist, pulled me flush against him, cupped my cheek with his free hand. His thumb drew a gentle line along the curve of my bottom lip, and the air abruptly eddied from my lungs, taking the last of my feeble objections with it. Gods help me, the way his lips parted in a slow invitation …
Lyn knew what she was doing, didn’t she? She wouldn’t send Tared back to the courtyard within a minute?
‘I missed you,’ I heard myself whisper, tilting my head back, bringing my lips inches away from his. ‘Missed you so damn much.’
A small smile quirked his lips as he slid his hand around my nape.Missed you too, Em.
I let out a breathless laugh. ‘Wasn’t it less than half an hour for you?’
So?he mouthed, and kissed me.
His lips were warm and perfectly soft, enveloping mine with a certainty that made me forget about wars and petty squabbles for a long, blissful heartbeat. His fingers dug into the back of my neck, nudging me to surrender. His hand in the small of my back lowered along my spine, clawing into my bottom. I moaned, and his wings shuddered behind his shoulders.
Welcome back, that kiss said. AndI’m proud of you.AndI’m in awe of you.And – clearest of all in his twinkling eyes when he finally broke away –That duel is going to happen soon.
That duel that I might not even lose.
I breathed a laugh, resting both my hands against his muscular chest to steady myself. ‘You’re really not intimidated at all, are you?’
You’re a hypocrite, cactus, he dryly signed, letting go of my neck.Don’t pretend you’ve ever been terribly intimidated by me.
‘Well …’ I bit my lip, considering that unexpected argument. ‘You were somewhat frightening at times. At the start.’
He raised an eyebrow.You mean those days when you couldn’t look at me without wanting to jump into my trousers?
‘You weren’t supposed to notice that,’ I said, sniffing haughtily, ‘and I never said it wasn’t a rather alluring sort of frightening.’
He chuckled.There’s your answer.
I blinked at him. He pressed a last kiss to my forehead, then gently pulled my hands from his chest and stepped back, nodding for me to follow.
‘You didn’t just callmean alluring sort of frightening, did you?’ I said, flouncing after him as he made his way back to the pile of bags at the centre of the temple garden.
Why not?He grinned at me.I’ve rarely been so out of my depth as when you started demanding I get better at that thing called communication. Utterly terrifying. Made me want to lick you until you were screaming. What sort of softness do you think that movement magic of yours requires?
‘What sort of …’ My voice had gone raw and husky; it took a physical effort to drag my thoughts away from the image his signs conjured up, bronze muscles and black wings between my thighs. ‘Softness?’
His smile was impressively innocent.Thought you wanted to practice your new magic?
Oh. Softness. Movement. Nymphs in danger and divine powers to master. I sucked in a deep breath, a hopeless attempt to soothe the fire in my lower belly, and grumbled, ‘Bastard.’
That shouldn’t be news to you, he signed, looking far too content with himself.Are we practicing your magic or not?
I flung a blast of red at him, just for the hell of it. He avoided it with a lightning-quick turn, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
‘Zera said …’ I rubbed my eyes, trying to reproduce the goddess’s exact words. ‘She said it’s actually all about light reflections – because colours are really just reflections of light, apparently?’
The Thremian school will be happy to hear, Creon signed dryly.They’ve been arguing that point for centuries.
‘There are arguments about this?’
Of course. Does an object change in colour if you put it under a red light? Philosophers have come close to bloody murder over that question.He grinned at my face.Please continue.
I shook my head, concluding not for the first time that I’d rather drown myself than ever end up a philosopher’s apprentice. ‘She said textures also cause different sorts of light reflections, which is why Etele could draw magic from that, too. So there’s smoothness …’
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