It was always going to end with him.
I wrap my fingers in his collar and pull him the rest of the way.
We crash together like magnets at first, moved by forces we don’t understand. It’s not so much a kiss as a stunned breath caught, soft and bewildered, between us; we’re almost frozen, afraid to ruin what we’ve won. Neither of us knows what we’re doing. We just know what we want.
But I am selfish, I want more. My hand slides into his hair and he kisses me again, an arm slipping around my waist to draw me closer.
The feel of it, everywhere we press together, sets a match to lantern oil in my blood. Any caution goes up in smoke. What we lack in expertise we make up for in a catastrophic ferocity, claws out, all instinct, all greed. I feel—I feel like I am cracking apart, a glacier tumbling into a heady thaw, the taste of him burning sweet on my tongue. When we finally break apart for air, we’re both staring wild-eyed and entirely astonished.
“So,” I manage to stammer, “about the—the—improper interest.”
Emeric leans his brow to mine, cradling my face in his shaking hands. “Nothing,” he says feverishly, “about how I feel for you . . . is proper.” He lets out a ragged laugh. “It hasn’t been for days.”
“What?” I demand. “No. What?”
“You didn’t notice when the pearls started working differently on me? I almost walked into the door, I couldn’t stop thinking—” He cuts himself off, flushing even darker.
My stomach knots a little. “Oh, right, well,” I babble, “that’s what the enchantment makes me into, it’s supposed to be prettier—” It’s my turn to cut myself off as his lips brush my temple.
“Vanja,” he says, his voice roughening, “what I was thinking of . . . did not involve the pearls.”
That does somethingentirelydifferent to my stomach.
“Oh,” I say, very faintly.
Part of me is furious with the indignity, with what a fool this is turning me into. The rest of me has other priorities.
“Say it again.” My own voice is shaking. He makes a questioning noise and I feel it in his throat, in every inch of me. “My name.” My face is burning, I’m a mess and a fool and I don’t care even a little. “Please.”
His mouth grazes my ear as he shifts closer. Then he breathes, “Vanja.”
A shiver curves my spine, arches me into him, and I feel the answering curve of Emeric’s smile against my jaw. I’d be embarrassed and annoyed, but I can barely think, even less so when he moves to my cheekbone.
“Vanja,” he says again, like it tastes as sweet to him as to me.
I fist my hands in his hair as a shudder sweeps through me. I can’t believe I told him how to unravel me like this. Damn him,damnhim—
“Vanja,” he whispers against my mouth, and I am undone. We melt into another kiss, stumbling back until I collide with the plain altar. I find myself swiftly hefted onto it, my back flush to the wall, eye to eye with Emeric as I pull him against me again. I could get lost on his mouth, in the way his touch makes me feel like a knot untied. I don’t know if this is love like in the ballads, but I’m starting to understand why they write them.
His fingers tangle in mine. Then he presses closer, easing our twined hands to the wall—
And suddenly, horribly, I can’t breathe.
It’s like when I fell below the waterfall, the memory dragging me under, Adalbrecht pinning my hands, ramming me against a wall too much like this, digging at my bodice like a pig, the humiliation, the terror—
I am pinned—helpless—frozen—
This is a trap—it isn’t real—
My feet hit the bottom, the closest thing to a rationalization.
I should have known when he brought up the pearls. It’s all a lie, all a trick, and I fell for it. I should have known better. I should haveknown.
I never escaped the trinity of want.
I am not a thing to be loved.
I am a thing to be used.
