Page 122 of Veil of Blood and Bone

“But this...all of this, and all of you...it is magical. It’s insane and fantastic, and I want it.” She glances down to our entwined hands. “I think I want it.”

“You think or you know?”

What I do from here depends on her answer.

Hunger burns hot holes in my abdomen when her thigh brushes mine.

She’s my ruin. My temptation. There is nothing supernatural about heartbreak. Or the pain of loss and having to survive with your chest hollowed out, suffering without end.

Why do I need her to say it?

Snow quiets the world outside, and in the bedroom, the past matters much less than the present. A new story begins right now. What we do and what we say now carries more weight.

She lifts her face to me. Those freckles, her eyes, the warmth of her skin and the delicious scent of her blood⁠—

My head spins.

“I think I want to kiss you, Nicholas.” Her gaze snags on my eyes before she drags them south to my lips.

There is no question now.

She leans closer, her pulse drumming in her chest. The long moment stretches tighter, and her attention flows over my face. I feel it touching me, lighting a fire, a high I’m always chasing and never able to catch unless I’m with her.

And the looming risk of death isn’t scaring me this time.

I draw my hand from hers and glide it up her forearm, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. I cup the back of her neck but I don’t move or pull her forward. Not yet.

She thrums, vibrating.

“It makes sense, you know,” she whispers, her eyes shut. “The whole soul theory. How people can be connected beyond something more than...wanting.”

“Does it?”

She shivers again, and her heartbeat throbs against my fingers. I tighten my grip, claws sheathed and aching. It’s agony to stay this way. To watch her smile soften and stretch, wicked, before her lips fall back into place.

“When I first saw you…god. Was it days ago? It hit me. It was a lightning punch in my stomach. And it wasn’t recognition, like you’d think. It was a voice in my head.”

Should I ask? Will I be able to stop myself? “What did the voice say?”

I hold my breath and wait for poetry or pain.

“It said—Oh. I need to be with you.”

Elation erupts, and my muscles clench, seize. The groan forces its way free from my core. Every tick of her heart tortures me. Hunger vibrates through my skull, and the seconds I’m not touching her are wasted.

Blood and yearning pulse through her in an intoxicating combination I feel.

She licks her lips, expectant.

I lower my head and graze against her and swallow her whimper like the sound is a muffled plea to give her everything she’s never gotten this time around.

I cup her face steady between my palms and press my mouth to hers. The sway of her blood knifes through me as I pull away, and Helene moves with me.

An ache claws its way up my throat and despite the pain, there’s much to savor in this moment. The look of her, the feel of her heat against my skin.

How close am I to losing all I have again?

But Helene is here with me with her rosemary scent and freckles standing out like dried inkblots of blood across her nose.