“In an aeon or so, I’m going to thrust your face into the Void and wipe off that cocky expression so thoroughly you’ll never find it again. Or the rest of your face, for that matter.”
“But then you won’t get to look at my face.”
“The back of your head is better.”
Luc raised an eyebrow. He sat down with his back against the obelisk.
“Then sit,” he commanded, patting the ground next to him, “and tell me about the festivities. You don’t have to look at me. You can look at the Void since you prefer it so much.” He pointed to the endless, matter-less darkness.
“Meeting here was your idea.” Lila sat, remembering the first time they’d met there to discuss his Earth project, away from prying eyes, half an aeon ago. “You said you do your best thinking while staring into blank space.”
“Well, never mind that. What happened? Did the Void explode whenshot at?” Luc raked his hair across his forehead, and Lila couldn’t help but be drawn in by his gray eyes that were nearly silver and his chin-length hair, so blond it was white, that flared out at the tips as it flipped away from his sculpted jaw.
Despite her earlier remarks about his face, it was, truly, one of his best features, his bones sharp as blades honed on a whetting stone. He’d always been one of the taller students in their class, but now the muscles in his filled-out frame gave him dimension—not too much dimension for her taste, as in Beni’s case, but enough to convey solidity. Enough for her to fantasize about being enveloped by his strong arms at inconvenient moments, mostly when she was lying in her dormitory bed alone after Castor had persuaded her to do something she found particularly undesirable.
She should never have thought of Luc inthat way,but she’d thought him attractive ever since she’d known she was supposed to find Castor attractive.
At least, as long as Luc kept his mouth shut. Which never happened.
Lila snorted.
“An exploding Void would have been better than listening to those awful love letters Beni read aloud.”
“Ah, those.”
“Yes, and before you ask,no,I will not repeat such nonsense.”
“Will you writemea love letter?” His face crinkled with mischief.
“No.”
“That was a fast answer.”
“You write enough love letters to yourself, I’m sure. You can hardly have need of mine.”
“Come on, what did the letters say? Were they really that bad? Why don’t you whisper them in my ear?” Luc gave her a salacious grin.
“Why don’t you be silent and still if you want me to do anything at all?”
Luc raised his hands in surrender, and Lila swiftly arranged herself on his lap.
“I thought you said no more kissing.”
“I said, after graduation, there would be no more kissing.” After graduation. When she gave in to the demands of her actual existence, as opposed to her near non-existence at the edge of the Void. “But, technically, we haven’t graduated yet,” she continued. “The celebration is ongoing.” Lowering herhead, she touched her lips to his and breathed into his mouth, deciding a near non-existence was as close to an alternate existence as she would get, and that would have to do.
At one time, Lila had wished to be as sweet and compliant as Eva and Adrianna. She’d begged the Creator—silently, but furiously—to rip her desires out of her. She’d felt guilty that she didn’t function properly as part of her pair when she knew the Creator didn’t make mistakes—that the fault must lie within her—but she had no idea why she didn’t find Castor attractive. Why she couldn’t muster the right kind of affection—of late,anykind of affection—for him. Or why she and Castor had such opposite interests, personalities, and sensibilities that it was a wonder they’d come from the same soul. Or why, instead of getting closer to him as they aged, like the instructors promised her she would, she resented him more than ever. So she’d begged and begged to become something different, something that made sense, up until she’d been told she would never be an architect.
And then, with that one true dream stripped from her, she’d decided if she had to spend an eternity bearing the weight of a soul that wasn’t hers, she would carve out a tiny bit of happiness for herself in that eternity. It was a horrible thing, wrapped in shame and secrecy, and it wouldn’t last, but for this brief moment, it was hers.
“It’ll be like this,” Luc rasped in the lull between kisses, “only huge clusters of lights.” He waved his hand over the curtain of the Void. “Spirals of lights and clouds in infinite colors.” Bringing his hand to rest on the small of her back, he stroked her spine.
Lila laughed. Of course, he was talking about his imaginary world. Any other angel would have been annoyed by his drifting thoughts, his inattention to the matter at hand, but she found this quirk of his amusing, having lived with it for so long.
“And the rest of it will be black?” Lila asked, bracing her arm on the obelisk as she leaned over him.
“Well, you couldn’t see the lights very well if it was all bright like this.” His eyes darkened with desire as she lowered her face to his slowly, very slowly.
“So an intentional Void?” she asked.
