Page 74 of A Thief Among Fae

My face warms at the gentleness of his touch, the dimpled smile as he pulls away. “Why bother to reassure me like this?” I ask him.

He lies back down. For a moment, he’s silent, one hand laced with mine and the other on his chest. His skyward gaze is soft and pensive, as if counting the stars. Quietly, he says, “Because I thought you’d understand.”

“Understand what?”

He swallows. “Me.”

As if drawn into a trance, we turn toward each other. We lie with our gazes locked for seconds that feel like an eternity, and my pulse flutters with an anticipatory thrill. For the first time since he drew back his hood, I don’t see him as fae.

I see him.

And he sees me, too.

I let go of his hand, and his brows furrow, but then I cup his cheek. My breath trembles as I sit up and lean over him.

He stares up at me, his beautiful hazel eyes full of wonder and longing. His full lips part, and his lashes flutter. Desmond, while brooding and harsh, is handsome in a lethal way that makes my heart pound. Undone and unrestrained by his rigid mask, he’s gorgeous in a way that makes me yearn to commit every second to memory.

“Cynthia,” he whispers.

I lean down until I’m so close that a tilt of his chin would let me feel his decadent lips with my own. My chest tightens as I feel his warmth, his trembling breaths. His hands find my face, caressing me before burying into my hair.

“No,” he says, only the soft rumble of his throat assuring me I didn’t imagine it.

My heart wrenches like he’s squeezed it in his fist. “No?” I echo, sitting up. I let go of him. “I thought you. . .”

Desmond swallows. Guilt shadows his gaze. “I won’t let emotion compromise the mission.”

I’m too stunned to find words, embarrassment quickening my pulse to a painful throb. All I can manage is a feeble nod as I back away from him. Gods, how could I be so stupid? Of course he doesn’t want me in the same way I want him.

“And you’re not sober,” he adds, a hollowness in his tone as if reminding himself just as much as me. “You would’ve regretted it in the morning.”

I want to tell him that he can’t decide what I’ll regret, but what if he’s right? What if my nervousness, the palpable tension, my desire to feel his body beneath mine—what if they’re from the berries?

“You’re right,” I choke out. “It was just the jam.”

He stills for several heartbeats, and despite the rigid impassiveness on his face, I feel a pulse of sorrow, so strong it makes my breath catch. Then he stands. “Let’s head back.”

He offers me his hand, but I rise on my own. I brush the grass off my pants as he watches me, his jaw clenched and shoulders stiff.

“We should forget about tonight,” I tell him, even though I still want more of it. More of his hands running through my hair, more of his touch.

Desmond only nods.

As we make our way down the hill, it strikes me with painful acuity how I wished we could’ve stargazed until dawn.

Chapter 22

Desmond and I didn’t train this morning. Maeve told me that at dawn, he left the hideout without a word. After last night, I can’t help but wonder if he’s avoiding me.

Auri didn’t summon me for archery training. Maybe she’s deemed me unworthy of her time, or maybe Desmond ordered her to keep her distance. It’s for the best. Until I learn how to withstand glamour, I’m a walking punching bag.

In the stories I heard during childhood, mortals resist fae temptations by keeping a cluster of berries on their person. I don’t remember which one. Why didn’t I listen harder? If I were home, I could ask Evie.

Home.

Now more than ever, I miss it. A yearning for Evie’s reassuring smile sat heavy in my chest all day. I spent most of it in the training room alone. Maeve and Min checked on me a few times, Maeve to chat and Min to train alongside me. Their presence helped still the anxiety inside me, the fear that Desmond and I can’t get past the awkwardness of last night.

It’s dusk now, and as I head to my room, the anxiousness grinds inside me again like shards of glass in my stomach. I push my bedroom door open and freeze as I catch movement inside. It’s not Min.