"Whenever you want me to take from you, tell me. The taste of your fear isn’t something I like, but I’ll endure for you. At least it’s yours. Anything about you is good."
Her throat tightened. "What does it taste like?" she asked to distract herself.
"Like licorice." Cyrus’s tone was matter-of-fact.
Rin gave a wet laugh. She settled into his arms, and he tugged the blanket over her lap, tightening his hold on her—as if she really were a doll he wished to keep wrapped up safe in his possession.
They were all careful with her now—even Rhyden, who seemed resigned to watch her threateningly from a distance. She’d not kissed any of them since before. But right now, she found herself wanting to kiss Cyrus. She was too shy, too broken, to initiate, so she looked at him, hoping he’d understand.
"I know that look, doll. You want my mouth on yours?" His hand slid to her neck, tilting her head back. Even charged with desire, he held her delicately.
"Yes. Kiss me, Cy? I want to—forget."
He made a low, pained sound. "You kill me, and you have no idea. Alright," he purred. "Just a kiss, though. You’re not ready for what I want to do with you."
Rin liked the way he said that—dowithher. As if he wished for her to give as much as take.
Fingers still tangled in her hair, Cyrus leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. He tasted just as good as she remembered. Berries.
She sighed into him.
Cyrus seemed to want to keep it chaste, but he was an incubus.
He parted her lips with his, tongue stroking sweetly into her mouth, teasing.
When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers.
He kept her body molded to his chest, her neck aching from the angle.
"I’ve thought of how I fucked you on Sibeth a thousand times a day. It’s all I dream of at night. Next time, when you let me inside you, I promise I won’t let myself lose control. I’ll put you first. I’ll taste between your thighs, and I won’t stop—no matter how you beg me. I’ll make you come on my tongue again and again, until you’re sobbing and sleepy."
Rin’s eyes dropped to his lips, desperate.
Cyrus shifted, kissing the space between her brows as he released her hair and let her head fall back against his chest. She felt the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her ear. She wondered what hers sounded like; she felt the erratic beat, fit to break through her flesh—from desire or sickness, she didn’t know.
"But that’s for another day. Sleep now, doll. I’ll keep you safe."
She fell asleep in his arms, the soft glow of the Christmas lights sparkling behind her closed lids.
She dreamed of a willow tree and snow crunching under her feet.
She sleptmost of Christmas day, waking softly as the sun fell and the moon rose. The sound of popcorn kernels being popped drifted from the tiny stove in the base’s kitchen. Light, merry music played from Lucien’s phone, stolen by Cyrus.
Her stomach couldn’t handle heavier foods, so she sipped on a vanilla and chocolate smoothie. The others began to converge around the bed. She hated how it made her feel so broken, to be tended to like this.
Suddenly, Rin moved the sheets out of the way, trying to stand.
Auren stopped her. "You need rest. Your body has not yet healed."
Lucien watched intently, as if curious—perhaps envious—of how Auren handled her.
Rin placed a pale hand on Auren’s arm, feeling the soft fabric of his blue sweater under her fingertips.
"I want to get up and go to the couch, at least, Auren. I can’t stand sitting here any longer."
"If that’s what you want, Vesperin, but not alone. Let us help," Lucien said, as he moved to her side and took her elbow. Together, they helped her to the couch.
She sat heavily, legs trembling just from the short walk. Cyrus draped a blanket over her lap, curling into the corner beside her.
