She trembled. Shivered like a leaf in his grasp. Not from cold. His own heart felt like it was tumbling in wild freefall, but oddly enough, his pulse was steady. He moved now with confidence, with the surety of a lover, claiming what was his. Because in that moment, he’d never been surer of anything in his life.
He turned her hand again, exposing the lovely, delicate bones of her wrist. His mouth opened slightly as though to taste her, and he exhaled warm air against her cold flesh before unhurriedly drawing his mouth into the proper shape for a kiss. A kiss which lingered, tender but urgent.
A little whimper sounded from her throat.
Suddenly her body tensed, and she pushed upright into a seated position. Nigel’s heart beat a terrifiedthud.Had he insulted her? But no! No, he wouldn’t let that fear take hold.And he wouldn’t give up this moment, not for anything. Using his other arm, he pushed himself upright as well, angled so that his shoulder pressed firmly against hers. He continued to grip her hand, their fingers entwined. She trembled visibly, from the top of her head down her rigid spine, and he heard the glorious panting of her breaths. How was he to interpret that sound? Was she offended? Was she afraid?
Was she . . . aroused?
Nigel didn’t speak. Even if he could find the words, he didn’t believe he could find the voice with which to utter them. He leaned his shoulder more firmly into hers, his chin hovering close to the collar of her coat. If he turned his head, he could press his lips to the leaping pulse point on the underside of her jaw. The temptation was strong to do so.
Instead, he lifted her hand. Let his lips meet her skin once more, this time rotating her wrist so that he could access the soft flesh of her palm. This was dangerous. He felt craving, long denied but ever-present, yawning wide inside him. It was like he’d been gasping for air all his life, and suddenly she’d given him atmosphere. Desperately, greedily, he kissed her palm, then planted more kisses up the outer edge of her hand and on to her little finger, nibbled each finger by turn. He turned her hand again, his lips molding to the contours of her knuckles. Was that his own voice he heard, vibrating in the depths of his chest like a growl? Was that her voice he heard, murmuring in wordless, breathless answer?
Suddenly, Luna turned. Her shoulder pushed against him, driving him back a little. But her head whipped sharply to the side, those ridiculous shooting-star earrings swinging. Her eyes flashed, locking with his for a fevered instant.
Then they dropped once more. Zeroed in on his mouth.
Her lips moved as though she sought to speak. But no words came.
Though his adoration of her hand had grown ardent and swift, Nigel forced himself to move slowly once more. Releasing her sweet, sweet fingers, he reached instead for her face. Using just the tip of his pinky, he pushed a messy curl off her forehead. Then, still slowly, cautiously, he tucked another strand behind her ear.
She trembled, eyelashes quivering.
He trailed the tips of two fingers along the line of her jaw, tilting her chin. Every nerve ending in his body screamed with need, but he refused to let haste drive him. Not now. Not in this most exquisite sliver of time and space.
His gaze lowered to her soft lips, parted and panting. He knew the shape of them so well and all the little expressions they made. In anger, in sorrow. In laughter, in teasing, in pain. And now this. This expression which he scarcely dared name, but which he knew. Heknew.He wasn’t making it up, he wasn’t deluding himself. She was really here, sitting with him beneath the star-flecked sky. Looking at himlike that.This was real. This wasreal.
All the usual excuses were there, screaming in the back of his head.
You’re no good for her.
She deserves better than you.
You’ll only cause her pain.
She doesn’t know the whole truth.
You must protect her.
But though the voices echoed wildly, they weren’t loud enough. Not this time.
Nigel tilted his head forward. It didn’t take much. Their noses bumped, a tiny collision, and Luna closed her eyes, uttering a little mewling sound that threatened to unspool his very soul.
He leaned in, his mouth searching. His lips met hers. Softly, gently. A delicate pressure, uncertain at first, and wholly one-sided. But the shock of it, the sheer audacity of his choice, sent shards of molten glass shooting through his veins.
Part of him expected her to push him away. To hear her voice, harsh with betrayal, exclaiming,“What are you doing, Mr. Grimm?”To realize with terrible shame that he had done exactly what he had vowed never to do, that he’d taken advantage of this woman who had so graciously bestowed her trust upon him.
But she didn’t push him away.
Her lips were cold, frozen under his for a long, agonized moment.
Then they began to move. Slowly, hesitantly. The shyest, sweetest, most tentative giving back of what he offered, and—
“THERE YOU ARE!”
A harsh beam of torchlight burst the shadows into tatters, blinding and startling and utterly hateful. Nigel yanked his head about to see the imposing figure of Bonnibelle the tour guide, puffing up the final steps of the turret, her flashlight held in a meaty grasp as she trained it upon them. “I knew it!” she bellowed. “I knew you two would be back to give me grief! Get down from here at once, before I call the wardsman!”
Something very dark, very evil bellowed up from the core of Nigel’s being. He felt his eyes flick from human eyes to the black voids of Dire Space, felt the rumbling burn of disastrous and destructive magic striving to rise against the bonds of the Sovereign Troth, which only just restrained him. The outline of a murderous sigil blazed bright in his mind’s eye, bursting with all the strange colors of the Void, and he found himself scrambling to his feet, drawing himself upright, prepared to damn his own soul in a storm of fury.
