AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She rolled her eyes and waved a hand. “Well, what’re you waiting for? He’s not going to heal himself. Not from this.”
I groaned, made a face, and turned back to him. She was right, the bitch. “Close your mouth,” I instructed.
He looked like a dying fish, gaping it open like he was, and it wasn’t helping anything, anyway. There was obviously no air reaching his lungs any longer.
When he actually followed my directive, I lifted my eyebrows, frankly surprised he was even capable of still working his jaw.
A wave of sympathy flooded me. He had to be in significant pain, and all I’d done is worry about the fact that I was going to have to place my mouth against his for a few seconds.
But the idea of our lips merging caused panic to swarm. Irrational fear flooded my veins.
God, this was stupid. There was nothing to be afraid of. A kiss wasn’t going to kill me; it probably wouldn’t even hurt. And he needed it, or he was going to die. Why the hell was I dawdling?
Surging forward because it felt like I needed speed right now—the type that was required to rip off a bandage and beat back the dread and terror of possible pain—I slammed my mouth to his, causing him to grunt in surprise. My own teeth bumped into the inside of my mouth from the force of the kiss. But other than the jostling crush of lips against lips, nothing hurt.
Except maybe this little spot deep in my chest that throbbed with a fresh and crisp ache. It was need and hope and wishes, I realized. Things that had no place existing in my world.
I’d planned on pulling away as soon as my mouth clashed with his.
But that’s not exactly what happened.
As soon as I broke free, I pressed back, my lips sinking against the pillow of his once more, and I found myself closing my eyes, then breathing in his essence as I kissed him again, going softer and longer this time. A hint of coffee and cinnamon filled my nostrils. Warmth heated my chest, and my fingers curled around the front of his tunic.
A groan rumbled from his throat. He lifted his head from the ground to kiss me back, brushing his mouth past mine with the whisper of heat and need.
My stomach fluttered, my limbs quivered, my head went light. I clutched his shirt a little tighter. His lips cracked apart, and for some reason, I let mine open as well. Our tongues touched. He tasted like cinnamon too. I craved more, so I sucked on the sweet spiciness of it.
His breath caught, and his tongue sank deeper. I shivered, feeling the move between my legs, where things swelled and tightened. I curled my tongue against his and trembled at the resounding response that trembled through him. A hand gripped my arm, and his mouth turned urgent and assertive, giving and seeking with a hungry vivacity.
Tumbling through sensations, I drank deeply and clung to him, reveling in the discovery that kisses were freaking amazing.
Knowing he was just as ravenous and eager as I was made the moment even more intoxicating. I plundered again, wishing life could always be like this: thrilling and—
“Well, if that doesn’t bring him back from the verge of death, nothing will.”
With a gasp, I tore my mouth from his and surged upright before falling down on my haunches next to him and breathing heavily. As I scrubbed the back of my hand over my mouth, I cast the High Clifter an unsure glance.
He’d plopped his head back down on the ground and was panting shallowly with his eyes closed. His shirt front and neck were still bloody, but the gaping hole in his throat was gone. Even though I knew it would be, it was a shock to really see with my own eyes.
I had healed him. My kiss had just saved his life.
Because he was my true love.
A strong emotion moved through me. Hope, fear, panic—I’m not even sure which one it was—but I trembled violently, unsure what to do about it.
Sensing my feelings, he opened his eyes, lashes fluttering briefly before bright blue focused on me. I almost expected him to crack some snide taunt, say something about how long—and thoroughly—I’d kissed him to really rub it in my face how horribly I had slipped. Melaina definitely would have.
But his lips parted as he sucked in a breath. Then he touched a gentle, seeking hand to his throat where he’d been stabbed, and he rasped a heartfelt, “Thank you.
”
“You’re welcome,” Melaina answered, looming above us. “But it’s always my pleasure to prove myself right. Especially when bloodshed’s involved.”
I whipped a glare her way. “You fucking hag,” I seethed. “You just threw a knife at me.”
“Thus demonstrating that our beloved High Clifter here is willing to die for you.” Her eyebrows rose tauntingly high. “Ready to stop whining and complaining about his presence now? Because I’m certainly ready to stop listening to it.”
“I’ll tell you what I’m ready for,” I shot back. “I’m ready to make you pay for what you just did.” And I dove at her legs, tackling her to the ground.
