Page 125 of House of Marionne

“Let yourself go,” I tell him, as he once told me.

He hesitates, then gives in to the fire kindling in his eyes. His fingers curve around my hip with the knowing of how it must make me feel. I lean into his touch as his other hand runs through my hair, then down the back of my neck. “May I kiss you?”

I lean in, and his mouth meets mine, tender and warm. I shudder at the sweet taste of him, and the world melts away. He pulls at my lips, hungrily urging me to deepen their bond. I tremble all over with an ache deep inside, like a magic I’ve never felt. We meld as one and it’s like dancing with him all over again.

He breaks the kiss, hunger unfurled in his eyes.

But his appetite has bled into me and I lean back in for another moment where there is no world, no poison in my veins, no Cotillion, no Headmistresses. Only me and him. Our lips crash together again, a bit clumsy from eagerness, and I let it consume me.

Heat, passion, life rushes into the darkest, most desolate parts of me, suturing what was broken. I open my mouth wider, giving all of myself to this feeling, to this moment, and it touches me deeper than my magic has ever thrummed.

THIRTY-SEVEN

I wake the next morning sure yesterday was a dream. I kissed Jordan. I kissed Jordan! I roll in my covers and frown at Abby’s empty bed before burying my head back in my pillow, trying to remember something besides yesterday. But it’s impossible. So I force myself up and out of bed and out to sessions.

Dexler’s voice drones on, but I’m somewhere far away, back in my room with Jordan’s lips soft against mine. Depositing my magic onto my finger is easier this time. My index is dancing with red flame when a familiar face pops his head into class.

“Cultivator Dexler,” Jordan says. “Just checking in on Miss Marionne if that’s all right?”

She parts the door wider, and he rounds on my table. I let my kor sink back into myself and the flames shrink, then fade.

“How did you sleep?” His mouth moves, but I’m distracted by his hand at the small of my waist. How it makes me wish I could kiss him again.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” I manage bashfully, trying to remember where I was in the cultivating lesson.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” I’ve never kissed anyone before.

He smiles knowingly. “You were perfect.”

I chew my lip, embarrassed that I’m that transparent, and skim the notes on cultivating again. “You never visit me in Dexler’s. What’s so special about today?”

Jordan slips a note into my hand. It’s signed by Grandmom, allowing me off the grounds tonight until curfew.

“I was listening. Yesterday.” He takes both my hands. “Let me take you out?”

“Out? Like on a date?”

He nods.

“Jordan, I’m in class. Couldn’t this wait?”

“No, I don’t think it can or should.”

“Jordan Wexton interrupting a lesson for something frivolous,” I say. “Have we met?” I offer him a handshake. His thumb draws circles on my skin.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. Is that a yes?” He leans toward me, his expression brimming with anticipation. He wants to take me somewhere away from here, away from the pressure of Grandmom, away from worrying about Nore? To leave it all behind for even a second, to breathe?

“When do we leave?”

“Meet me in the foyer at seven. Wear a gown.”

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