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“Well… our bargain is one reason.”
“Fuck the bargain,” I growl.
Her tired eyes brighten with heat. “Fuck the bargain? Dagny knows that would’ve been a lovely sentiment ages ago, before I started weaving lies to sweet, trusting creatures who’ve confessed their hopes and heartbreaks to me, only for me to weaponize those truths in the name of helping the male I’ve fallen—” She presses her lips into a flat line. “No. Just, no. We don’t get to say ‘fuck the bargain’ now.”
I stop beneath a tree that’s older than both of us, its violet-veined leaves rustling like lovesick confessions.
“I’m serious, Gwyn. I recognize that this was a stupid idea. I never should’ve—”
“Stop it,” she cuts in, raising a hand. “Don’t finish that sentence. As much as I hate it, I don’t want out of the bargain.”
“You don’t?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
But she does.
Her eyes dip to my mouth.
The silence between us crackles like a storm on the verge of breaking.
“What do you want, little witch?” I press, voice whisper soft, ready to beg for her honesty. She was so close a few moments ago. So, so close. “Say it, and it’s yours.”
What I want to say, what I meant to say, is say it and I’m yours.
“I want—”
Again, she snaps her mouth shut. Reaching into her dress pocket, she withdraws a small vial of shimmering tangerine liquid. She tosses it to me like it’s the key to unlocking everything she wants.
I catch it. Uncork it. Down it in a single breath.
The taste is sweet and full of promise.
I’ve barely tucked the empty bottle away when Gwyn grabs me by the collar and kisses me hard, right there in the middle of the gardens, wild and fearless, for all the brides to see.
Chapter 33
GWYN
Riven kisses me back, and I don’t care who’s watching.
It feels like it’s only him and me, alone in this beautiful garden. His mouth on mine. His hands in my hair. He murmurs sweet nothings as he breaks the kiss and holds me flush against him.
“Me too, little witch, me too.”
It’s a simple declaration, nothing flowery or poetic, but it’s perfect.
When I pull away, I whisper, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you last night. I just needed… time to get my thoughts in order.”
“And what are those thoughts?”
“Well, to start, I don’t want another week,” I say, bringing his knuckles to my lips and kissing each one. “It wouldn’t be nearly enough time with you.”
“It was never going to be enough for me either. From the moment I saw you, I was drawn to you in a way I still cannot explain, but it’s your very essence—your mind, your body, your soul—that has bespelled me.” He smooths his finger over my bottom lip. “When I finally tasted you, I was ruined.” He leans in, capturing my mouth. He kisses me thoroughly, tongue lavishing mine in gentle strokes. When he breaks the kiss, he rests his forehead against mine. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to keep you for now and always.”
