Page 67
Story: Till Death and Daisies Bloom
The distress in her eyes was real.
“That was likely part of it,” I began. “But the truth is we are all enraptured by you.And we never agree on anything.”
Her lips thinned, but the glimmer of amusement in her eyes was real. It faded a moment later.
“Does that scare you?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But every time I try to stay away, I end up here. With you.”
Her lips curved slowly. “Then stop fighting it.”
She pulled me closer, and I didn’t resist. Her body pressed against mine, warm and soft and real. The air between us snapped, charged with something old and hungry. Her hand slid up my chest, over the curve of my throat, and settled at the back of my neck.
I barely had time to breathe before she kissed me.
It was not gentle.
Her mouth claimed mine with the confidence of a woman who knew her worth, who knew exactly what I wanted—what I needed. Her lips were soft, but her kiss was fire. I groaned against her, my hands gripping her waist, feeling the heat of her skin beneath the thin fabric of her top.
She tasted like cinnamon and heat, like danger, like magick brewed just for me.
My back hit the pantry door, her body pressing fully against mine. The handle dug into the middle of my back, grounding me, the only thing reminding me of who I was and where I was.
Otherwise, I’d be convinced this was heaven.
The air itself seemed to bend subtly, magick humming in my veins. Bottles clinked softly on the shelf above me, sensing the shift as well. The walls of the cottage were lined with ingredients—roots, petals, bones, threads of memory—and a few little glass bottles filled with different hues.
Juniper’s new magick.
The vials above me rattled again, as if sensing my thoughts, and eager for more.
Her fingers tangled in my hair as our mouths moved in sync, feverish and desperate. I could feel her magick curling into me, threading through my veins like a second heartbeat. And for the first time, I was entertaining allowing it in.
“You feel it too,” she gasped against my lips, breathless.
“I feel everything with you,” I rasped.
She smiled like a sin made flesh. “Good.”
My eyes flitted up to the shelf above me, and back to hers.
“Are you going to try and bottle me?” I teased, grinning.
Her eyes were two pools of melting chocolate.
“I want to taste you,” she whispered. “Feel you under my tongue.” She paused, then hurriedly continued. “And yes, maybe bottle what remains.”
I laughed as she blushed, but a smile peeked from the corner of her lip.
My own grin was slow, and dangerous.
“I’m not so easily contained, Juniper.”
More confident, her smirk stretched across her entire face.
“Let’s find out.”
Juniper lifted her hand and murmured. Wisps of gold and amber lifted from my skin like steam—soft, glowing tendrils curling into the air from the hollow of my throat, from the place just beneath my navel, and from my parted lips. My body tensed, not in pain, but pleasure almost sharpened to a blade. My eyes fluttered half-closed.
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