I stare at him, bewildered. ‘Well, you certainly fooled me.’
Sheen looks as though he’s about to say more, then thinks better of it. I watch as he turns on his heel and marches away through the trees.
‘No, just stop a second,’ I demand, half running to keep up.
He ignores me.
I lunge and grab his shoulder, yanking him round to face me. ‘I said,stop.’
He shakes me off roughly, as if my touch burns. ‘What is it, Harglade?’
‘Why did you even come after me?’
Sheen blinks. ‘What?’
‘Why did you follow me into a cursed forest crawling with dryads? You knew the voice was a trick – you knew what the consequences might be, and yet you did it anyway.’
He says nothing, his brow furrowed.
‘And that’s not all,’ I continue. ‘When Darrow threw his axe you saved my life with that forcefield. Not even Spinner reacted that quickly.’
He avoids my gaze, looking beyond me into the twisting maze of trees.
‘You kept tabs on us – Blaze and me – across the Firelands and into the Ridge. Spinner had cause, but you didn’t. At first I thought your being here was out of loyalty to her, but if that were the case you wouldn’t have abandoned her in order to come after me. And it doesn’t explain why –’ I hesitate. ‘For days after the third trial I was barely conscious. I don’t remember much, but I remember you. Sitting at my bedside, day and night.’
Sheen’s face is a careful mask, yet a muscle throbs in his jaw.
I swallow. ‘You act like you couldn’t care less whether I lived or died, and yet you’re alwaysthere. Why?’
There’s a long pause. Several will-o’-the-wisps sputter to life amid the shadows, but I keep my gaze fixed on Sheen.
‘Because I’m your chaperone,’ he says at last.
‘Oh, give me a break,’ I snarl. ‘The Choosing is over. You have no obligation to me any more. I don’t understand it. I don’t understandyou. Just tell mewhy.’
Sheen’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his hands balled into tight fists. For a moment I wonder if he’s going to punch me.
Then he crosses the space between us in two strides, grabs hold of my face –
And kisses me.
My entire body turns rigid with shock. My arms hover uncertainly, whether in defence or surrender, I can’t be sure. I’m rooted to the spot, my lips parting instinctively as he crushes his mouth to mine.
He’s kissing me.Sheen …is kissing me.
Am I hallucinating? I must be, because this can’t be happening. It’s impossible. Nonsensical. Totally, utterlywrong.
Only, it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels –
I gasp as his tongue glides lightly over mine, sending a shiver from the nape of my neck to the tips of my fingers.
Sheen clutches me tightly, one hand gripping my waist, the other knotted in my hair. Even the slightest graze of his knuckles sets gooseflesh skittering across my skin. His lips are punishingly soft. I’ve watched them curl in disgust and tug downward with disapproval, but never once did I imagine how they wouldfeel, sliding against my own.
I’ve been kissed countless times before – by kings and courtesans, poets and princesses.
But I’ve never been kissed like this.
It’s rough, unforgiving, so fervent in its intensity I can’t tell whether it’s fuelled by hatred or desire. Perhaps both.The line between the two seems to blur more and more with every spine-tingling sweep of his tongue.
