Page 60 of A Steeping of Blood (Blood and Tea #2)

He turned back, setting an array of bottles on the bench before sitting beside her.

“Are you angry?” she asked, her voice small.

“Yes,” he replied, and she heard his anger, felt it. “How can someone call themselves your mother and do such a thing?”

Oh.

“If we weren’t already dedicated to tearing her down, I would be simply on account of this,” he continued. He reached for her hand. “May I?”

She nodded, and he set her wrist on his knee, her hand just below his thigh. He was cold. He had been since he was turned, and that was okay because she was always so warm.

“The bruises don’t hurt as much as, I don’t know, inside,” Flick said.

He nodded. “I know. This will help.”

His I know made it sound as though he had been shackled in manacles himself. And she supposed he could have, at any point over the past ten years. He had lived a lifetime of this, she always seemed to forget. Maybe because when she was with him, she thought of days ahead, not experiences past.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “About your parents.”

The ointment stung her skin, but he was right: As he rubbed it into her wound, the relief was instant. Or it might have even been the feeling of his fingers on her skin, drawing small circles and stirring her blood.

“I—I don’t know how to feel about any of it,” Jin said, and she had the sense he was struggling to find the right words.

“They had been missing for so long. Then I learned their hands weren’t as pristine as I long believed.

I accepted it because they were going to right their wrongs here, and then the Ram just— That’s what shocked me the most, I think.

How she killed them without a second thought. ”

If she’d found a way to throw the Ram off their scent, would Jin’s parents be alive right now? Flick was too terrified to ask such a thing, to plant that thought in his mind.

“You’re not allowed to feel guilty, you hear?” Jin asked. “For not being able to forge. Promise me.”

Flick looked away. “I—I promise.”

“Good girl.”

With a trembling exhale, Jin took Flick’s other hand and did the same, each swipe sending a zap of current through her veins.

He turned to grab a roll of bandages from the other side of the bench and she traced the strain of his neck with her eyes, wishing she was bold enough to use her fingers.

To touch the heron tattooed on his skin, to brush away the errant strands of his dark hair.

He straightened, unraveling the roll and gesturing for her to lift her arm so he could wrap it around her wrist, the tip of his tongue slipping out from the corner of his mouth as he focused on keeping the gauze straight and neat.

She was starting to wish she had more bruises to tend to.

“Almost through,” he said, his voice low and rough.

He tucked the end with a satisfied hmm and moved to her other wrist, winding the gauze around and around until he tucked that away too.

Then he hesitated, and before she could ask what was wrong—or try to get the words out anyway—he flicked his gaze to hers and lifted her wrist to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the sliver of exposed skin.

Her exhale was a crush of a gasp, half knotted in her throat.

“The secret to speedy healing,” he explained, and flashed her a smile.

It was the lovely lighting washing him in gold, it was the sweet scent of whatever dusted the air, it was the romantic wallpaper behind them—something, something possessed her to lurch forward, and Flick stole his lips between hers.

Jin froze for a long, treacherous beat of her heart.

And then he was lifting her arms to his shoulders with tender hands and scooting closer and kissing her back. His lips were as soft as she remembered, but where they tasted bright before, they were darker now. Heady, the metallic tang of the blood he had sipped almost dangerously sweet.

His teeth grazed her lower lip with a groan, and heat surged through her, making her dizzy. He reached for her waist, tugging her even closer, adjusting his legs so they fit together in a way that made her heart soar, her pulse driving beneath her stomach.

She pulled away first, a realization sending her pulse roaring faster than the wings of a hummingbird. Jin studied her, smoothing back her hair and lifting up her chin. His eyes were glazed, and before he could press his lips closed, she saw the flash of his fangs.

“What is it?” he asked.

Did someone like Jin Casimir fall in love? Or was everything in his life temporary, lived in the thrill of the moment? She didn’t know, and so, she said nothing.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“No!” she said far too quickly. “It’s not that, it’s… I—” Goodness, what was she supposed to say? “I like you, Jin. Quite abundantly.”

Relief washed over his features, too intense to have been surrounding this moment alone. It gave Flick hope.

“I like you too, Felicity. I cannot imagine an existence without you, much less an eternity,” he said, entwining his fingers with hers.

Flick pressed her other hand to her heart, afraid it would burst if she didn’t contain her emotions. Did that mean he wanted her to be a vampire too? Did she want that? A question for another day, she supposed.

He laughed.

“Too much?” he asked, the light back in his eyes, however faint. “I can reel back the charm at any given moment, love.”

He was teasing, she knew, but she could tell from the tenderness in his eyes: He couldn’t reel it back even if he tried.