Page 123 of Alchemised

The first thing his fingers found were the pins in her hair. Her braids tumbled down her back, his fingers combing through them until her hair was loose. His hand tangled through it as he kissed her again.

The kisses were slow. It wasn’t seething or rushed or guilty, but it was still desperate, because he always made her desperate.

She kissed him the way she’d wanted to. The way she’d secretly wished she could.

She could have this.

Once.

She gave a low sob. He paused, but she held on, not letting him go.

“This—is the way I wanted it to be,” she admitted. “With you. I wanted it to be like this with you.”

He went very still.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry it wasn’t,” he finally said, pulling her closer.

Had he ever actually been like this? She wondered sometimes how much of her drunken memory of kissing him was real. Or if she’d invented all the intimacy to replay when her life felt too void of any tenderness.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Yes, it does. Let me give you this now.” He drew her face to his and kissed her. Slow and intent.

Like a star, he was glittering and ice-cold from afar, but when the space was bridged, the heat of him was endless.

His lips didn’t leave hers as his hands found the buttons on her shirt and underclothes, unfastening them slowly this time.

The fabric whispered across her skin as his fingers traced along her spine.

His mouth followed the curve of her collarbones, fingers drawing her head back so he could taste the dip of her throat.

She fumbled at his clothes. Her fingers were unsteady, but there was no rush this time. She managed the buttons one by one.

He was unfathomably gentle. His touch light, and yet it made her feel as though a flame were kindled inside her, a desire that made her ache.

It wasn’t too fast, or too much before she was ready. He went as slowly as she wanted him to.

When he pushed inside her, his eyes were fastened on her face. “Is this all right? Is it good for you?”

She gave a gasp and nodded. Because it was good this time.

“It’s good. Don’t stop,” she said, gripping him by the shoulders, pulling him nearer. She could feel the scars of the array spanned beneath her fingers. She didn’t know how he could be so calm with all that power humming beneath the surface of his skin.

His forearms were around her head as though framing her, his fingers laced in her hair. When he started to move, he pressed his forehead against hers, their breath intermingling.

When he kissed her, it felt like the beginning of something that could be eternal.

It happened so gradually, she almost forgot that there was more to it. They could have stayed like that, lost in each other, and it would have been more than enough. She breathed in against his neck, tasting his skin with the tip of her tongue, memorising his scent, the feel of him in her arms.

The world beyond them had ceased to exist. He knew how to trail his fingers across her skin so that she was gasping, kiss her so that her legs wrapped tight around his hips, and move so slowly that, at first, she didn’t notice the coiling tension inside her. That lurking hunger.

But of course there was more, and Kaine was looking for it.

All his meticulous attention to when her breath caught, what angle made her hips rise in response, when she caught her lip between her teeth to hold back a low moan, body shuddering.

He entwined their fingers and noticed when she gripped him, squeezing so tight her nails bit into his knuckles, breath growing short.

The pace and friction and contact increased, growing into something larger and deeper than comfort.

When he slid his hand between her legs, she instantly flinched away. The comfort vanished. She went cold all over, trying to twist, wanting to escape, turning her face away.

“No.” She tried not to panic, but this was all a mistake. “No, don’t.”

He withdrew his hand and cradled her face, kissing her. “You get this part. This is yours.”

She shook her head. “No. It’s not.” She drew in on herself, chin down, speaking rapidly. “When I became a healer, I had to promise I wouldn’t ever—I took the vows—and—and then you said—about Luc, if he knew. I can’t stop thinking about that. That—that I’m a whore—”

Her voice failed.

“I’m sorry.” His hand still entwined with hers tightened. “I’m so sorry. I ruined so much of this for you. This is how it’s supposed to be. Let me give this to you now.”

She didn’t move, her heart pounding against her ribs.

“Please, Helena.”

She gave the barest nod.

“Close your eyes.” His breath whispered against her cheek.

Her eyes fluttered closed as he kissed her.

Without being able to see, her focus was on the sensations, the feeling of his body pressed against hers. The movement of air across her skin. When his lips brushed against the pulse-point of her throat, she moaned. His palm cupped her breast, stroking as he started to move.

He kissed her as he slid his hand between their bodies again, deepening the kiss until her jaw loosened, mouth slack, and pleasure flooded through her, so intense her spine bowed. She gave a ragged gasp against his lips.

She was being wound up, fire igniting, growing, running outwards along her nerves, through her arms and legs until her fingers twisted, tangling in the sheets.

Every time he moved or his lips found some new sensitive place, the tension ratcheted inside her, notch by notch, until she was on the verge of fracturing open.

Her breath caught inside her lungs as she struggled, trying to hold herself together, overcome by the terror that she would break apart. She couldn’t.

If she broke, there would never be anyone to pick up the pieces.

“I can’t—” she finally gasped out.

“Helena.” Kaine’s lips brushed across her cheek and temple, his breath ragged. “You get to have this. You’re allowed to feel good things. Don’t be alone. Have this with me.”

He pulled her leg up with one arm, deepening and shifting the angle, drawing the tension higher, and crushed their bodies together, kissing her.

Her eyes shot open.

She stared up at him as her whole world shattered into shards of silver.

“Oh gods—” She sobbed the words out. Her fingernails sank into his arms. “Oh—oh—oh …”

She came apart under him, and he watched every moment of it.

As she lay panting, trying to catch her breath, his speed increased. Gripping her closer, tighter, his expression going tense. When he came, his mask slipped. He met her eyes for a moment before he buried his face against her shoulder, and she saw all the heartbreak in him.

Afterwards he held her close, not letting go.

She looked up. He was watching her, his expression distant, his emotions carefully hidden away.

She reached up and ran a finger along his cheek, looking for any trace of that boy who’d first greeted her at the Outpost, but there was so little of him remaining. Even his hair was all silver now.

“I think I’ve nearly memorised you,” she said. “Especially your eyes. I think I learned to read them first.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he caught her hand, capturing it against his chest.

“I memorised yours, too,” he said after a moment, and then sighed, looking away. “I should have known—the moment I looked into your eyes, I should have known I would never win against you.”

She gave a small smile, struggling to stay awake, afraid it might all fade away if she did. “I’ve always thought my eyes were my best feature.”

“One of them,” he said quietly.