“Luc, I’m serious.” Lila laughed. “I need to write?—”
“Shhh,” he whispered in her ear. “As you said,thisis all we will be doing from now on.” He took her scroll from her and tossed it aside. “So let’s finish the terms of our contract first.”
With that statement, Luc slid his hand around the back of Lila’s neck and tugged her face to his. In response, she moved her lips expertly against his and teased the inside of his mouth with her tongue. Her hands cupped the sides of his jaw and clamped it in place, like his bones were a piece of metal she was shaping. It reminded him of the first time she’d pressed him against this very obelisk and kissed him so violently he lost his breath.
Everything in Luc’s existence had been predictable, apart from her. His instructors had fawned and fussed over him, his classmates had hated his guts, but only in Lila’s hands was he a slight, trivial being.
Lila enjoyed logic. She relied only on the evidence in front of her face, and whatever evidence she saw in Luc’s face had always told her he was not nearly as special as anyone believed. He had not yet proven that to her.
This should have annoyed him—and it had, initially. But the problem was, Lila improved him. When she’d corrected him during lessons or groupprojects, he’d always learned from her. No one gave her credit for how brilliant she was—no one else seemed to care. But Luc cared because the truth was, she completed him.
He’d always aspired to be perfect, and he no longer felt he could be that way without her. They did great work together; with her by his side, there was no limit to what he could accomplish.
“I have a question,” he announced, pushing Lila away from him and holding her at arm’s length so he could view her properly. His architect pin accented her collar nicely, as though it were meant to be there. To be fair, Lila should have been an architect; shewasone, in everything but name.
“I’m not giving the pin back if you’re having second thoughts,” she informed him with a wry smile.
Luc laughed.
“I wouldn’t dare ask.”
“How wise of you, for once.”
“How would you like to be attached to me instead of Castor?” Luc rushed the words out, afraid if he didn’t ask right then, he would never have the nerve to do so.
Not that Lila intimidated him. Except when she did. Sometimes.
It was just that she was unpredictable, and he thought that her answer might be different depending on when he asked. But there it was. He’d done it. Their graduation had seemed as good a time as any.
As pressing a time as any.
“Lila?” he prompted when she didn’t answer.
She’d gone rigid, giving him the same alarmed stare she’d given him right after she’d kissed him for the first time. Like she couldn’t believe what had happened even though she had instigated it.
“Li—”
“No.” She shied away from his outstretched hand and shuffled back a few steps. “No.What are you thinking? How could we possibly do something like that?”
“What do you mean?” Luc shifted on his feet. “I’m going to be on the Council. I’ll ask them, of course. I can ask them for anything.”
“That’s not what being on the Councilmeans,” Lila scolded. “It has nothing to do with your personal relationships.”
“But the Council is one step down from the Creator. They can talk to Him directly, and He has the power to grant this.”
“And if the Council says ‘no,’ and the Creator says ‘no,’ what then?What then?”
“Why would they say ‘no?’ Why would they care? It has nothing to do with them.”
“They’ll say ‘no’ because they can. Because they do, and they will. And what then? Can you imagine what would happen if the truth of what we’ve been doing this whole time came out? Can you imagine what the punishment might be? Do you want them to cast me out into the Void?!”
“Lila, no one has ever gottenthrowninto the Void.” Luc scoffed at her absurdity.
“Well, they might start with me,” she argued, clutching her skirts.
“They won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
